That's Enough

Have you ever heard the saying, “Comparison is the thief of joy?” I don’t think that has ever been so clearly exampled in my life until I became a mom.  Do you know what else is the “thief of joy”? Facebook. Pinterest. Instagram.  I can’t count the number of times that I have seen what someone else’s kid is doing, or the creative art project they thought of, or the elaborate birthday party they had, or the gorgeous monthly photo shoot with their smiling, cooperative infant and thought, “I suck.”

And when I talk with my other mommy friends, I quickly realize that I am not the only one that feels that way.  Because we all are striving to be the best mom in the history of motherhood and all feel that we fall short and are not enough.  

Our kids don’t have Pinterest worthy parties and are too dirty for moments to capture and post on Instagram.  Our kid cries more often than they laugh and we so often find ourselves doing the same.  Dinner consists of chicken nuggets and frozen corn, rather than a gourmet organic meal that we somehow should fit into our crammed days.  The laundry is piled higher than the hamper, you can’t remember the last time you washed the sheets on your bed, and your kid is more likely to have a pile of dog hair grasped in their hand than a mind bending educational $25 toy.  And why are our lives like this? Because we’re not enough…or that’s what we tell ourselves.  At least that is what I so often tell myself only six months into this mommy life.

But what do your kids see? Do they measure your worth or that you are “enough” based on all of the things that you grade yourself on? Does Baby Bean Dragon care that she often is covered in dog hair and dust by the end of every day or that she gets the freedom to crawl around and chase after the dogs? Does she care that I gave her non organic veggies or that she gets to experience the different tastes and textures of whatever I throw on her tray each night for dinner? Does she care that her laundry didn’t get done because I was too busy rocking her to sleep and calming her crying for hours that day?  I bet if she could talk, she would tell me that I am enough.

So to my mommy friends that are weary and feel like they fall short of the mark each day, it is time to flip the script and realize that’s enough of thinking that you are not enough.  You care for your children, your families, your spouses, and you give your all and your best each day---that’s enough.

And don’t forget, someone handed you a baby and to them, you will ALWAYS be enough.

Hope for the Weary

My Facebook feed reminded me that this week is National Infertility Awareness Week and as I held the 5 month old Baby Bean Dragon in my arms and looked down at her big blue eyes, I started to weep.  My heart is not that far removed that I have forgotten the weariness on the journey it took for her to be part of our family.

According to the CDC, approximately 15% of all couples are facing some form of infertility---if you are in a room with 8 couples, odds are at least one of them is striving to have a child.

So once again, I implore each of you to be reminded of the often silent struggle that so many women and couples are facing each and every month as they try to grow their family. Infertility is so often covered in shame that we as women are not able to do what we as women are “supposed” to be able to do.  It is something that we are reminded about on a monthly basis of how “broken” our bodies are, whether they’re the issue or not.  I can’t even recall how many times I told someone I was “fine” when they asked how my life was progressing, when within the past week I had stared at another negative pregnancy test and was much less than “fine.”  And how many times I chose not to share my daily infertility struggles because it had been 17 months and I believed the lie that people were tired of hearing about it and my continual broken heart.

These past few weeks, I have been working on memorizing this verse and I think it is so applicable to families who are weary and struggling with infertility and is such an amazing promise that God has given us in his Word…“[God] gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.” (Isaiah 40: 28-31)  I cannot count the innumerable times that God renewed my strength and helped me lift one foot in front of the other as I struggled to conceive.

So friends, look around.  See those friends and family members and co-workers that are struggling this Infertility Awareness Week and as Mother’s Day approaches, which is an especially painful day when your arms are empty. See these women and listen to them.  You may not know what they’re going through on a personal level, but that doesn’t stop you from offering a hug and a prayer.   Even if they’ve been struggling for years, don’t let them be forgotten.  My prayer is that these families are surrounded by love this week and that their strength will be renewed as they persevere in this journey.

And as always, I pray that someone hands them a baby, too.

Tired. Just Tired.

I am so terribly terribly tired.  

The Sir is, too.  If we could safely be put into a medically induced coma and for a low fee, I think we would consider it. 

Baby Bean is still refusing to sleep in any sort of pattern that has any rhyme or reason…she will not nap, she will not sleep, she DOES NOT like green eggs and ham. 

And although my Postpartum Depression is much much better, the sleep deprivation is not helping with the morale of the household.  Lack of sleep is causing me to have frequent migraines and although I didn't think it was possible, humans can indeed fall asleep while standing up.

Apparently, the Bean is supposed to be in the midst of the “4 Month Sleep Regression” which allegedly should have ended ONE WEEK AGO. Haven’t seen any difference, she’s just as crazy as usual.

The girl is the queen of a cat nap despite being born into a house of expert nappers…the beagle naps AT LEAST ten times a day in order to maintain his rosy glow.  The minute we put the Bean down, it’s a race to get anything completed, because we all know she’ll be in up in 30 minutes or less.  She would be a great Jimmy John’s delivery girl.

At night, she goes through her bedtime routine at the same time every day---she gets a relaxing warm bath, her room is infused with lavender oil via a diffuser, she gets a mini massage with yummy smelling lotion, and then is wrapped up in soft footsie jammies---she’s basically going to a baby spa every night.  And although this routine would put me into a coma, it only gets us about three blissful hours of a silent baby before the crazy baby noises of the night begin.  And when she does start to wake up, she’s not necessarily fussy, she just thinks that 1:33AM is a great time to have a deep conversation about her four months of life.

We have tried it all…swaddling/non-swaddling. Putting her to bed drowsy/putting her to bed dead asleep. Pacifier/no pacifier.  Bed by 7 pm/Bed by 9pm.  Wake her up at the same time every morning/Letting her sleep until she wakes up. Changing her diaper throughout the night/changing her in the morning. Snuggling her when she cries/ninja moves into her room so as to go undetected when inserting her pacifier back into her mouth.

And although I know that some nighttime waking for someone so tiny is completely normal, this waking up every hour or less to hear my daughter make yell screaming noises or blowing bubbles is just not working for my mental sanity. 

She sure is cute at 3AM though.

And thank goodness for that, because someone handed me a baby that thinks sleep is optional and if she wasn’t so cute, I would leave her at the fire station so I could nap.

Baby Blues

It’s 1030AM and I have already cried twice this morning.

This baby that I have prayed for and wished for and dreamed of is threatening to push me over the edge into insanity.

The past three months have had so many special moments…watching Baby Bean smile at the Sir, Fletchy snuggling up next to her on her play mat, and Huck giving her a daily smooch on the face after intently sniffing her.  We all desperately love this tiny human.

But as the weeks passed, I also slowly felt this depression seep over my heart even as my love for this baby grew.  And when the Bean was 6 weeks old, I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression and chose to start an antidepressant in order to help manage it.

Postpartum Depression has come with its own struggles and difficulties which are multiplied by a little girl who is an awfully high maintenance baby.   Baby Bean doesn’t like naps, only occasionally likes baby wearing, and will scream if you are not staring her in the eyes a majority of the day.  Even when I’m eating (that is, when she lets me eat), I have to take a bite while rocking her, staring at her, or playing with her little feet in order to get some type of food into my body.  And it is very difficult to “sleep when the baby sleeps” if the baby doesn’t like to sleep. 

We may have a day where she is minimally fussy and lets me put her down for a few minutes, but then I will have a row of mornings where from the moment she wakes up, she wants every ounce of what little energy I started the day with.  And each morning when have a tiny amount of time to myself where she let me put her down for a 25 minute nap, I have to choose between eating, showering, exercising, cleaning my house, doing laundry, checking into our finances, working on a grocery list, or laying on the couch like a blob and watching Real Housewives...and 25 minutes doesn't allow for much of that to get accomplished.  There has been many a time when I have been in the middle of a yoga routine or a bite of yogurt and she has woken up that I have sat there and cried for five minutes before going in to pick her up and continue on with my morning.

In the midst of these things I am also trying to overcome the intense shame that I am dealing with Postpartum at all.  The self talk of, “This baby was so wanted, and now you struggle to hold her…what is wrong with you?” or, “You let her cry in order to eat breakfast….you’re not a good mommy,” cycle throughout my head daily.  I waited three years to raise this child, and now I’m struggling to do so, and I feel guilty about it.

So with lots of prayer and support from family and friends, the Baby Bean and I will continue on this journey together and hopefully come out sane on the other side.

Because someone handed me a baby, and I want to be a good mommy to her.