What's the Rush? My Fears on Baby #2

My daughter Sabrina, at 16 months, is so stinking much fun right now.  I am loving this age. Yes, she has terrible two tendencies already, stamping her feet and shaking her head no to assert her opinions, but she is growing and changing with every second that passes by. Every day is a new adventure and I love sitting back and letting her grow into whoever it is that she is going to turn into as she grows older and more independent.  

Her independence is as endearing as it is frustrating.  Though I get irritated when she arches her back and grunts her displeasure with different situations, I also remember that this is the daughter I wanted.  One who thinks for herself, one who isn't afraid to speak (grunt, shriek, scream, etc) her mind.  One who would rather do something for herself than have it done for her.  And while some things that she'd like to do just aren't feasible at her age, I am insanely proud of her for wanting to do them.  

My parenting journey hasn't always brought me this much joy, to be honest.  It has been a long, hard battle to this point of comfort and enjoyment.  I was ill prepared for the changes that motherhood brought.  I thought I was mentally (and physically) prepared, but that was far from the truth.  While many women have traumatic birth stories, Sabrina's birth was mostly comfortable, about 1 hour of excruciating hip pain, and a begged for c-section which ended a long 17 hour labor.  That part I'd do over again in a minute.  I had a couple rough days after my c-section, but once I was up and walking around and gaining my strength back, my recovery really was smooth sailing.  Getting my staples out was scary and stressful, but the truth is I didn't feel a thing.  They were out before I even had time to squirm.  Easy peasy, right?  

Sabrina is heading towards that 18 month point at which most couples start discussing planning for baby #2.  Or baby #2, child # 3 in our case, as I have an almost 16 year old stepdaughter, my husband's daughter from his first marriage.  The thought of having another baby crosses my mind each and every day, for one reason or another.  But the truth of the matter is, I don't know if I want to.

I'm sure there is a collective gasp coming from society at large right now.  How dare you not be chomping at the bit to have another baby?  That's what you do in today's society!  You have a baby, then 2-3 years later you have another one.  It's just what you do.  Well, guess what.  I'm not feeling it at this moment in my life.  So why do I feel a huge, overwhelming sense of guilt about that?  Why do I feel like I am less of a mother because I am not charging headfirst into baby #2?

I've blogged before about most of the reasons that I am not rushing to have another baby. This isn't new territory. But what I haven't blogged about is the crushing guilt that goes along with it.  

First off, I was not someone who loved being pregnant.  While my pregnancy was pretty low-key, I slept horribly almost the entire time (you'd think that would have prepared me for the sleep deprivation to follow!), had terrible issues with heartburn, and just generally was uncomfortable.  I had no pregnancy glow about me.  I was simply just a woman who wanted to have a baby, and pregnancy was a means to an end.  People would ask me "Don't you just love being pregnant?!" to which I would snort and reply with some sarcastic comment to signify that NO I did not LOVE being pregnant.  I couldn't wait to NOT be pregnant, as a matter of fact, and I can't say that I have ever really missed that feeling since Sabrina was born.  I am happy to see my feet, to be able to paint my own toenails, and to down caffeine by the gallon if I so desire without feeling guilty or being judged.  

Already mentioned how birth was no big thing for me, and honestly wouldn't be moving forward.  My doctor mentioned a VBAC to me, but if I ever do decide to hop on the mommy train again, it would be on a one way track to the operating room for a scheduled repeat c-section.  Why mess with what already has worked?  I don't know that I would elect for major surgery, but since I already had to with not much of a choice, and I know what to expect, I'll pass on the sitz baths and the fear of using the bathroom in favor of a sore abdomen and temporary lifting restrictions.  Judge me if you like, but I have NO guilt about that part of this conundrum I find myself in.  C section or bust.

But seriously, this is the point in this story where things get dicey.  Pregnancy, eh. Birth, whatever, I'll deal.  The aftermath of birth, life with a newborn, AGAIN?  That's where I have my biggest dilemma.  Newborn phase.  Up every 2-3 hours.  While recovering from a c section.  Only this time, WITH A TODDLER!  Oh my.  It gives me palpitations.  

My Sabrina wasn't and isn't a good sleeper.  Still, at 16 months old, she gets up at least once at night.  A vast improvement from the innumerable sleep issues we've overcome in her life, which my sanity and I are immeasurably grateful for.  But still.  I've had a tough track record with her thus far, generally only getting 2 hours of sleep at a time between feedings in the early months, and with her getting up twice at night until not that long ago.  Forgive me if I'm a little gun shy about going down that path again.  I never again will question why sleep deprivation is used as a torture tactic.  I would have given any military secrets I had, along with my left and my right arm, for a good night's sleep.  With Sabrina, I didn't know what I didn't know.  But now, I KNOW.  I know what I'd be in for.  Yes I survived it once, but at some points barely.  

My biggest and most real fear in having a second baby is opening myself up to the possibility of having postpartum depression. Again.  For the first 3 months of my daughter's life, maybe more, I lived in some sort of drug-like fog.  I felt everything and nothing all at the same time. I felt more like a bystander in my life than a participant.  I had a physical, visceral fear of nighttime.  Because nighttime brought the hardest hours of the day for me, the hours from 12-6 when my saint of a husband went to bed and I was left on my own with a baby that they told me was mine but I had very little attachment to.  This baby that ate and cried (a lot) and slept (a little).  This baby that I knew I loved somewhere deep inside of me but that I more often than not felt annoyed with. What the hell kind of a mother was I?  One that was just going through the motions, I can safely say now on the outside of my fog.  One that knew what she was supposed to do and did it, but not because of some deep seeded motherly instinct.  My husband, my parents, they tried to pull me from my fog, but the truth was I just had to heal, whatever that meant. Time, I think, was the healer.  It healed my body, healed my hormones, and eventually, after a long while, started to heal my mind.  But there were days that were so dark, so unhappy, so scary, that I wasn't sure how I was going to make it.  

There's no guarantee it would happen to me again.  But there's also no guarantee that it wouldn't.  Only this time, it wouldn't affect just me and the new baby, but also my Sabrina. My Sabrina that has already been negatively impacted by her mother's battle with postpartum depression once in her short life.  Could I really do that do her again? 

I keep telling myself that everyone seems to have a second baby.  It can't be that hard, can it?  Every day I see stories in my Facebook feed about friends of mine with one baby adding to their family with baby # 2 on the way.  I am honestly overjoyed for them.  I know that having a sibling adds something to a child's life.  Teaches them to share, teaches them that sometimes others come first, gives them their first friend. But right now, I am not in a place where I am ready to make that decision for our family.  

There are many practical implications to the decision to have a second baby.  We technically do have a fourth bedroom that we could turn into a nursery, but it has significant drawbacks. It is a tiny little room that has no heating or cooling vent in it.  In the winter, it wouldn't be hard to run a little space heater in there; in fact, we still use a space heater in Sabrina's room and it works just fine.  But cooling the room is a more difficult feat.  It has one mini-window that cannot hold a window air conditioner.   So in the heat of the summer, I honestly do not know how that room would be temperature controlled.  Another downside is that room happens to share a wall with my teenage stepdaughter's room.  Our house is old, has little insulation, and certainly isn't sound dampening.  A teenager and a newborn aren't really meant to share close quarters like that, as teenagers are up til all hours in their rooms and newborns are doing the same...  in far different ways.  I just don't see that dynamic playing out well.  Finally, turning that room into a nursery takes away our guest room, which is used when my parents come to visit but mostly is used as my dog's room.  Yes, Baby has her own room and sleeps on the bed in there every night.  Previously she slept in the bed in Sabrina's room.  She obviously made the move to the guest bedroom when that room turned into a nursery.  If our guest room were a nursery, she'd be out of luck, and so would I, as my dog does not do well with change.  She'd be forced to sleep downstairs, which I don't really see going over too well.

We often go to Pittsburgh to spend time with my parents there, visit extended family, and watch our beloved Steelers and Pirates play.  Traveling 6 hours in a vehicle with one child is painful enough, but throw in a newborn and a toddler?  Those palpitations I mentioned earlier are back.  I do everything but stand on my head to amuse Sabrina on those never-ending rides, but throw in a baby to boot?  Mama might opt to stay home instead.  

I know there are always difficulties in life if you look for them.  And yes, I admit that I am not a glass half full kind of girl most of the time.  But the decision to have another baby is one that is life-changing, and I am not willing to make that decision based on societal pressure, real or imagined, or just because "it's what you do".  I may never be fully ready, but the fear and the guilt that I feel is enough to know that I have to trust my "gut" (as Leroy Jethro Gibbs would say) and just wait.  And if, in the end, our family doesn't add Baby #2, I hope that people won't judge me or think less of me.  It isn't a decision that I am taking lightly, that's for sure.

My Feelings Matter. I Matter.

Photo from www.slideshare.net 

Today has been a rough day for me.  I got very little sleep last night.  Up at 11 to pee, up at 12 to put the dog to bed (no joke, most nights she comes in to get me to take her to her bed to tuck her in), up at 12:30 to take her out, up at 2 to feed Sabrina, up at 3 with the dog having a seizure.  Up at 6:30 for the day.

This morning, Sabrina had her 9 month well-child visit.  No shots for the 9 month appointment, so what could go wrong??  Try EVERYTHING.  She basically cried from the minute the nurse came in until we were walking out of the building.  I became sick in the middle of the appointment and had to go sit on the floor in the cold bathroom until I felt better.  (Long story that I don't want to share, sorry, some things even I don't want to talk about, other than I AM NOT PREGNANT!)  Worst of all, we found out via the "Cover Test" that both of Sabrina's eyes are pointing inwards and that she needs a referral to a pediatric ophthalmologist.  My mom had mentioned a couple weeks ago that she wanted me to talk to the doctor about Sabrina's eyes but I had never before saw what she was talking about, and really only notice it in pictures.  So I was a bit in denial, hoping that it was nothing.  Apparently it's more than nothing.

So back to work I went after her appointment, feeling queasy and like someone had punched me in the gut.  I talked to a few people about what was going on, and I kept hearing the same thing over and over again:  "It could be worse."  Yes, I know it could be worse.  It could be much worse.  One thing about the internet is it puts people and situations far worse than yours right in front of your eyes.  There are several pages that I like on Facebook that follow the stories of kids with cancer or chronic seizures or other debilitating conditions.  The Ice Bucket Challenge is everywhere, bringing to light conditions such as ALS.  Without a doubt, our situation is not grave, is treatable, and is certainly not life threatening.

But I am Sabrina's mother.  She is my only baby.  Am I not allowed to feel some amount of sadness for my child and for myself?  This is the first issue that we've really faced with Sabrina, other than "typical" things like jaundice and acid reflux.  I myself have had glasses since early elementary school.  Chris also has glasses.  So why do I feel this horrible sense of sadness and devastation over something that is certainly not devastating to the logical mind?

Because she is my baby.  Because she sat screaming in that office this morning, breaking my heart in two to the point where I felt physically ill.  Because she matters, and in the same way, I matter.  My feelings matter.  I know people only meant well by saying that it could be worse.  But in trying to possibly put a positive spin on something negative, they inadvertently made me feel worse, because I felt as though my feelings were inconsequential because someone out there is going through something far worse than I am.  

So many times, we unintentionally dismiss other people's feelings because we or someone we know may be going through something similar or worse.  It is human nature to try to relate your feelings or experiences to others.  But the unintended result of doing so could be making the other person feel as though their feelings aren't important or valid.  I think as mothers we do this to each other far too often. 

And we do this to ourselves. We are so busy worrying about what others are thinking and feeling that we forget that our own thoughts and feelings matter a great deal as well. During our days filled with long workdays or keeping the kids entertained, filled with being a mommy taxi service or sending e-mail after e-mail in which it feels like you're talking to yourself, we do not acknowledge our own feelings, nor do we talk about them enough. But sometimes that exactly what we need to do. We need to talk, to vent, to make our feelings known.  Whether that is through coffee with a trusted friend, talking to your mom, or seeing a therapist, we should all be aware of and acknowledge our own feelings more. Start a blog, write a journal, join a moms group, talk to someone at your church or place of worship. As mothers, we need to build each other up. We may not share the same feelings or views on things, but we need to create a culture of motherhood where we matter.

I am still inconsolable about Sabrina's possible vision issues. Luckily she goes go the specialist on Friday, so hopefully we will get some answers soon. And even though I acknowledge wholeheartedly that it could be worse, I know that it's okay for me to be upset.  I love my daughter and I want what is best for her, as we all do with our children. So I am going to give in to the sadness and hope for the best. 

If you encounter someone who is saddened or upset about something that is happening to them, empower them to go with their feelings and encourage them that tomorrow is another day, hopefully a better one. 

Our Infant Sleep Saga

See how happy she was in her Rock n Play?

It's no secret that I love to sleep. Seriously, I love it. I haven't really been able to sleep in since I joined the adult working world, but I had no issues with retiring early to make sure I got plenty of shut eye. 

During my pregnancy, I slept miserably. Especially my first trimester. I don't know how one can feel so tired that your body literally hurts but then doesn't sleep. It's one of the many mysteries of pregnancy and motherhood. I remember thinking that I was prepared for the lack of sleep that came with a newborn since I wasn't sleeping anyway. HAHAHAHAHAHA. I just gave myself a good laugh at that one. 

No way in hell was I prepared for the ongoing drama that was, and still is, Sabrina's sleeping. I read The Happiest Baby on the Block when I was pregnant. I had my 5 S's all ready for when Sabrina made her entrance into the world. I even made a promise to myself to not use a bassinet and instead just put her in her crib from day one, since I've heard so many stories of people's kids having a hard time adjusting to their crib. If only I'd been able to stick to my plan. (Plan? With a baby? HAHAHAHA again. Cracking myself up here)

Sabrina slept pretty well in the hospital, but I did take advantage of the nursery to try to recover from my c-section.  Our first night home with her was an utter disaster.  Between my milk not being in and her flat out refusal to sleep in her crib, we basically got no sleep.  Thus began the swing sleeping phase of our sleep saga.  When she was in her swing, with the motion on, she slept.  Not for long stretches of time, as she was still up every 2-3 hours to eat, but she still slept.  

Once we transitioned to formula feeding, I began sleeping downstairs on the couch.  The bottles, formula, and swing were all downstairs, so it seemed like a no brainer.  Plus, keeping Sabrina downstairs would allow Chris to get some decent sleep before he had to go to work.  I remember wondering why she was still getting up to eat every 2-3 hours even after being on formula for awhile.  Somehow I expected there to be a magic sleeping switch that came in the Similac container.  Here's a little nugget of advice: If the main reason you are considering switching to formula is so that your baby will sleep longer, let me be the first to tell you that I believe that to be a total lie that someone made up, either to push formula or to make formula mothers crazy, wondering why their dang kids aren't sleeping more.  Either way, at least for this mama, there was no noticeable change in her sleep habits from breastmilk to formula.  She still didn't sleep.

The most maddening phase of Sabrina's sleeping saga was the witching hour.  Or hours.  Eventually we found out that she did not have colic, but she did have acid reflux.  No matter what we did, what time we fed her, where we fed her, if we gave her gas drops, gripe water, stood on our head, prayed, cried, screamed, whatever...  every night around 7:30-8:00, she completely and utterly lost her mind.  Screaming bloody murder like you would not believe.  We would walk circles around our downstairs, we would hand her off from one of us to the other, we would hold her, put her down, pick her back up, try the swing, pick her back up again, walk, run, jump, spin in circles...  We were sure she was teething at 2 months, tried

Probiotic drops, gripe water, gas drops. Many nights she refused to take a bottle at all, arching her back and screaming. I called the doctor, who put her on Zantac liquid. At first, they told me to give to to her in a bottle nipple straight. One problem Sabrina never had, until then, was spitting up. That day, I swear she spit up a dozen times. Called the doctor again, and this person told me to mix the Zantac in with her bottle, just to make sure she took the full amount. Phew, much better.  That did help quite a bit. 

But it also created the biggest obstacle of Sabrina's life of sleep (or lack thereof)...  The Fisher Price Rock n Play!  Now at first, let me not mince words here. It was a savior. A godsend. I can't over-stress how big of a difference it made. The elevation of her head in the Rock n Play made a huge difference with her reflux. She began sleeping 4, 5, occasionally even 6 hours in a stretch. Finally!  I loved that thing so much I wanted to hug it. Eventually we moved it up to her room, and I got to sleep in my own bed again.

Not sure if you can tell from the pictures I've posted, but Sabrina is definitely ahead of the curve size wise. As in, wearing 18 month clothes at 9 months. She also is very long. Therefore, there came a time when the Rock n Play started to look a little crowded. And then it happened. She rolled over in it. We had never bothered to belt her in there. Thankfully Chris saw it. So in her crib she went. She could only cry for so long before she'd give up, right?  WRONG. After several hours of screaming, I waved the white flag of surrender and put her back in the Rock n Play, this time belted in. But it got to a point where she was so smushed that she wasn't comfortable, so she'd cry from discomfort. That's when we knew that it was TIME. Time for the dreaded crib battle that we both knew was coming. 

We did not do cry it out. I don't subscribe to a "sleep training" theory. I just try to know my baby, her cues, and use my mommy intuition. We did let her cry, usually for way longer than I wanted to, but we would comfort her and try to calm her down while leaving her in the crib. We started for a stretch of a few hours per night for a few days- the rest of the night she went back in the Rock n Play. Chris ordered a Woombie online. I am not one to push a product but this swaddle saved our lives and our sanity. It made her feel secure like she was in the Rock n Play.  With much time and many prayers and partially sleepless nights, she finally got the hang of sleeping in her crib. 

Sabrina, at 9 months and 2 days old, has only slept through the whole night (8 or more hours) maybe once or twice. On a normal night she still wakes up twice.  Just this week, she started to cut teeth (finally) so she's been crying a lot more, very restless seeming. 

During her crib training, I posted many hopeless posts on Facebook, and was surprised by the number of parents who responded that their kids too had sleeping issues. I felt so alone in all of it, like everyone else's kids were perfect sleepers and my kid was the only one still waking up or having other issues. To this day, I can't express my gratitude to all those who reached out to me, during one of the lowest lows I've experienced as a parent. When you haven't had enough sleep, and you are upset, your mind goes some crazy places. It was so reassuring to hear from others that I wasn't losing it, and that I was going to be okay. 

I'm sure there will be many more chapters to this sleep saga. I am sure that I will be tired every day from now til kingdom come. But at least I can say that my sanity is still intact (mostly), that I at least feel mostly rested some days (way better than it used to be), and that everyone happily sleeps in their own beds now. It was an epic struggle to get there, but we did. To new parents, you will too. Eventually. Until then, I recommend coffee, sugar, and going to bed at 8:00.