In the Motha' Hood

Motherhood has blown into my town in a flurried blur. I have officially been a mom for almost a month now. I want to say that things have been a sparkly journey and that things are great and full of flowers and sunshine. I can't really say that is true. There are a lot of things about being a mother that I was not really prepared for. Sure, I've read books and I go online to forums and chat sites. Sure, I pick the brains of my new-mom friends. I just have found that no matter how much I prepared for this role in my life, I was not really quite as informed as I believed.

Nowhere in the books does it say that you may possibly go through four diapers just to get your child into a clean and fresh one. This morning, as an example, I heard a big "explosion" in Brady's diaper. I figured, a good mom would not let that sit on his butt. The acid in the poo can hurt his behind and I didn't want him to get a diaper rash. So I started changing his diaper. (Kyle calls this green/blue/black poo "mortar poop". He claims that this stuff can hold together the Empire State building.) While changing Brady, the air sparked a "fountain experience" and not only was Brady covered in poo (he likes to kick his feet into it), it rained pee all over him. Luckily, I didn't have a new diaper on him yet. He likes to hum a very specific "Poo Song". I know this from getting to know him in the past month. It's very different from his content hum that he likes to do while he sleeps. This "Poo Song" is very deliberate and performed at a lower decibel. Usually while I'm cleaning him up from his first mess, he will begin a soft-serve-effect-poo during his "Poo Song". I waited for this song to be over. And diapered him. Three diapers later, I learned he likes to perform encores. Several minutes in between.

I learned that being a new mom can be so exciting and so new, while at the same time, really hurt. In more ways than one. I learned this when I decided to breastfeed Brady. From the beginning of my pregnancy I was fairly certain that I would not be breastfeeding. I figured since I was a formula-fed baby and so were my siblings, that it was perfectly fine to use a bottle. Even my mom was formula-fed. I liked the idea of getting help to feed the baby as well. I hate to admit this, and have admitted to a very non-judgmental friend, that I found breastfeeding really unappealing. Not to seem barbaric and ignorant, it just kind of weirded me out. I know it's a natural process and it's so good and wonderful. I just didn't think that it was the right thing for me. Until Brady was born. I immediately wanted to try breastfeeding. It just felt so natural. So I did it. And he was latching properly and he seemed content and I felt that I had finally found the perfect role for myself. Mom. I felt so empowered and enabled. It thrilled me that I could provide all things needed for my child.

Well, that feeling was short lived after my stay at the hospital. I was on a lot of prescriptions to help ease my pain. I guess it must've numbed my nipples as well. I had third degree tears in and out of my perineum from Brady's delivery. I couldn't even sit to urinate. I had hemorrhoids the size of a cluster of grapes. I know this for sure, because I witnessed them first-hand when I requested a mirror during the birth. I was physically tortured from top to bottom. Cracking nipples and all, I was determined to keep feeding my baby the natural way.

Then we had a check up at his pediatrician a couple of days later, and she said he lost an alarming amount of weight. We needed to supplement him. I know that most breastfed babies lose some weight (safely up to ten percent of birth weight) first before the milk comes in. He lost more than 8.8 ounces. I was just so hurt. My feelings of inadequacy and the hormonal "dumps" had me feeling especially sad. I was not only physically in a tremendous amount of pain, but I was unable to do what I thought was so magical and important for my child. I feared family and friends would say that my giving up on breastfeeding was just because of laziness or lack of perseverance. I know that if I continued to breastfeed I would have spiraled to a sort of depression. Being unable to sit and also having pieces of flesh sticking to my bra from soreness and tearing was going to make me feel worse emotionally as well. I truly believed that if I hadn't been sore in the perineum and bum that I could have muddled through the initial stages of breastfeeding. The pediatrician even admitted that some women are just unable to provide what is needed for their child. The milk just does not come in as quick as it needs to. So we switched Brady completely to formula. I felt that I did more than I planned to, as long as he got the colostrum, he got a lot from me. After struggling through much guilt and disappointment in myself, I decided to be satisfied with that.

Another part of motherhood that evolved, that I was unprepared for, is how mortal I feel now. I don't believe that I felt immortal before I had Brady... I just feel even more aware of how human I am. I am hyper aware of everyone while driving and with everything that I do now. I noticed that I stopped at a yellow light instead of blowing through it like I used to do. I'm aware that it's not just my life in the truck anymore. I have to protect Brady as well. I think I'm especially paranoid because I never really felt like I was needed before. Now I realize that Brady needs his mom. I also have a nagging fear in the back of my mind that I might drop him. Not sure if this is normal, but I find myself watching my footing at all times. Just to be sure that the pathway is clear. He's just so fragile. While I don't want to wish away his "baby" time, I do look forward to when he can hold up his head and feel a little less "new" in that way. He's just so tiny and defenseless. I have to be extra protective of him.

There are some things I worry about as far as being a mom. I worry that my identity will be lost. That I will be confused in the midst of dirty diapers and bottles. I hope to retain myself in this transition from just wife and daughter to mother. I want to offer Brady all that I have. I hope that he never wants for anything. That we can provide for him. Not only physical things like clothing and food, but love and support. I hope that Brady knows how much we love him. Now I know how my parents felt when they raised my siblings and me. The saying is true that you never know how your parents feel until you are a parent yourself. Now I know that my parents would do anything for me. That they love and worry about me. I know that is a feeling that will never disappear.

My heart has changed. It loves deeper than it ever has. I worry more than I ever have. I try not to let the worry consume me, I just accept it, and have faith that I will be the best I can be for my son. I know that I will not be the most perfect mother in the world, I do know that I will be the best mother that I can be for Brady. I'm okay with not being perfect. I hope to teach my son the same.