The Switcheroo

Before becoming a mom, I sometimes used to wish that my family could afford to live on one income so that I could be a stay-at-home mom.  But then again, I used to think a lot of crazy thoughts about parenthood before becoming a parent!  Don’t get me wrong – I don’t look down on parents who choose to be home with their kids.  In fact, it’s just the opposite.  I have realized over the past several months that staying home to raise a family is the hardest job anyone could ever have, and I give credit to those who can manage it.  However, after several months of mixed emotions on the topic, I have finally admitted to myself that I was not cut out to be at home full-time.  I love being a mom, but to be honest, I didn’t always ‘like’ being a stay-at-home one. 

As I’ve reflected about before on this blog, I’m a task-oriented person who needs a certain level of structure and predictability in my day-to-day life.  And apparently I didn’t read the fine print when I signed on to be home with Mariah, since those were not actually in the job description.  While some moms dread the end of their maternity leave, I had a strong urge to return to work about halfway through mine.  There were lots of factors that made it tough to be home: feeling isolated without a 2^nd car, being trapped indoors during bad weather, and dealing with my post-partum mood (which is on the top of my blogging priority list and I promise to get to one of these days!).  I envied Ivan’s ability to be a parent when he was home, but also have the escape of adult-life when he was at work.  At first I felt guilty about wanting time away from Mariah, but have realized that it’s a very normal thing to want a career outside of the home, to create a sense of balance.

Lucky for me, while I was busy envying Ivan’s life, he was busy doing the same.  In some ways, I wanted to hand him parental leave as payback, like ‘fine, you think it’s so easy…then enjoy’!  But to be honest, Ivan has done a great job of validating how hard being home with a baby is, and how much he appreciated me for doing it.  And for any of you who know Ivan, you know it would be unfortunate if he didn’t have an opportunity for some parental leave.  Ivan is a rare breed of man – the type that not only enjoys cooking, cleaning, and taking care of a baby, but is also amazing at all of those tasks!  In fact, my sister-in-law & I sometimes complain to each other about how our husbands make domestic work look so easy it hurts our ego.  But I suppose that really isn’t a marital issue to complain over, is it? 

So with Mariah being 9 months old and essentially weaned from breastfeeding, we decided that I would return to work and let Ivan take the last 3 months of parental leave.  Just one week into our new lives – we are all much happier people.  I feel great to put on something other than pajamas or sweats in the morning…and am actually motivated to wear a bit of makeup and attempt to be somewhat fashionable, despite having minimal interest (and skill) in either of those pre-baby.  Driving, making phonecalls, going to meetings, and even doing paperwork, bring me a sense of identity beyond being a mom.  I’m sure a lot of my comfort in returning to work also has to do with the fact that I am at ease knowing Mariah is in good hands with her dad at home.  Ivan is a teacher through and through, so I usually return home to witness his impressive skills at making anything into a game.  And needless to say, Mariah is having a ball with her new best friend too.  Whereas she used to cling to me, she is now quickly developing an equally strong and important bond with her daddy.  Her face lights up when she sees him and she always has a smile for him.

I’m sure life will become a bit more overwhelming and stressful when we’re both working in a few months.  But for now, I’m enjoying the luxury of a smooth transition opportunity for the three of us.

Asleep at last

After 9 long months, our family is finally basking in the luxury of full night's sleeps.  Before Mariah arrived, Ivan and I weren't exactly sure where we wanted her to sleep.  We both have fond memories of sleeping in our parents' beds, so we wanted that same coziness but also bought a bassinet and crib just incase.  The night Mariah was born, the midwives asked us where she would be sleeping and Ivan & I both looked at each other unsure of the answer.  She was so tiny and fragile that we wanted to keep her as close as possible, but were also a bit scared of squooshing her in our bed.  We ended up keeping her nestled between us, and there she stayed for many months to follow.  At first I told myself that I would move her to the bassinet once I recovered from childbirth, since it was physically difficult to get up for each feed.  But by that time, she (and we) had become so used to co-sleeping that it was nearly impossible to peel Mariah away from us.  In fact, even when we placed her in the middle of our bed as a newborn, she would somehow find a way to squirm her way over to mommy for cuddles at night.  Since co-sleeping is very 'normal' in our culture, our families assured us that it was perfectly fine, while others warned us that it was the worst thing we could do.  As an impressionable and indecisive person, I was emotionally torn and felt like I was 'failing' at the job of getting Mariah into her crib.

Over the last several months, our sleeping arrangements have taught me that, like most parenting practices, there really is no right or wrong.  Now, I'm a black and white thinker who thrives on following rules and specific instructions.  So needless to say, this realization has been a challenge for me.  But the I am learning that there are benefits and consequences to every option, and that parents need to make the decision that works best for themselves and their children.  The benefits of co-sleeping include priceless bonding, a sense of reassurance for baby and her parents, and our doula even told us that it has been proven to reduce SIDS since a mother's breath helps circulate that of her baby.  This last piece is highly controversial since public health insists that co-sleeping is an unsafe practice due to the possibility of suffocation or injury.  I would never argue that they are completely wrong, since some studies have proven an increased risk in certain situations, like when a parent is obese or under the influence...but I don't think it's fair to cast co-sleeping with a blanket statement (pun intended) of being unsafe either.  As with many other practices, (like midwifery for example!), co-sleeping has been done safely in various indigenous and traditional cultures around the world for ages and is finally starting to receive recognition in North America.

However, one major challenge of co-sleeping is that it can make it tough for nursing moms to sleep.  As Mariah grew, she learned that if she bullied me enough at night, I would give-in and breastfeed her.  When teething started at four months, she began to wake every hour or two...which meant I had to wake every hour or two.  And since every minute of sleep is crucial for a new mom's mood and energy levels (which I promise to blog about one of these days)...we decided to try transitioning Mariah to her crib around six months.  We started by using an attachment method in which you go to baby each and every time she cries to settle her, with the hope that her need for reassurance will diminish.  Throughout Ivan's summer holidays, we gave it our best - taking turns waking all night, but nearly 2 months later - no such luck.  Mariah continued to wake throughout the night and I was too exhausted to continue tending to her, so I gave up and she returned to our bed for another few weeks. 

Just when I was at my wits end, I heard from some friends that Dr. Ferber, who had made a name for himself in the 80s with his controversial sleep training program, had written a new book that was a bit less harsh.  Ferber's "progressive waiting" approach involves putting baby in her crib when she's sleepy and leaving her alone for an increasing number of minutes each night so that she learns to fall asleep on her own.  It was definitely torture to hear Mariah crying her heart out and then walking into her room to check on her, only to leave her again.  But sure enough, after just one weekend, Mariah learned how to sleep through the night in her own crib.  In fact, she even seems relieved these days when she's dozing off and we lay her down on her familiar blanket.  I still take naps with her to squeeze in some extra cuddle time, and we hope to have some cozy family slumber parties in the future when she understands that it's just a treat.  But for now, the three of us seem to be much happier and better rested with Mariah in her crib.  I'll try not to jinx myself, since I realize we may have some hiccups down the road with teething and colds.  But if this week is any indication of Mariah's resilience, we're doing alright: we're on vacation visiting Grandma and Mariah is sound asleep in her playpen...hence the opportunity to blog!

My personal legend: A mother and a singer

I’m the type of person who has a very peculiar memory.  I rarely remember birthdays or what I did over the weekend, but my mind has stored vivid images of scenes from my childhood, as if they happened yesterday.  One such scene was in grade 2, when a substitute teacher asked our class to write down what we wanted to be ‘when we grew up’.  While most of my classmates wrote things like ‘teacher’ or ‘doctor’, I wrote ‘a mother and a singer’.  These two plans felt so personal and embarrassing that I folded my paper in half and asked the teacher not to share it with the class.  She later came over to me and with a gaze of respect and admiration, she assured me that my plans were just fine.  I thought back on that day for years to come and was amused by how sure I always was that I wanted to be a mom…and how hilarious it was that I thought I would be a professional singer considering I don’t have much of a singing voice.  (That idea was likely inspired by the fact that both of my parents are musicians, and that Whitney Houston and Janet Jackson were my idols in the 80’s!)

Anyhow, decades later, when I was pregnant, my sister gave me a book called ‘The Alchemist’.  She knew that I wasn’t much of a reader, but that I was at a place in my life where I was trying to come to terms with my sense of spirituality and purpose.  So I picked up the book and, sure enough, couldn’t put it down.  It took me on an amazing reflective journey of self-awareness and critical thought about the meaning of success.  The author, Paulo Coelho, wrote about the concept of ‘a personal legend’ – one’s authentic calling in life.  Like many of us, the main character spent many years traveling and trying various careers in search of what he was meant to do, only to realize that the answer was within him all along.  He didn’t need education or wealth to fulfill his potential, he just needed to look inside himself to acknowledge his strengths and interests, and choose a path that allowed him to let them flourish.  This story brought me a sense of peace and satisfaction with my own life.  As an anxious and ambitious person, I often second guess my decisions and wonder if I’m where I should be in life.  The alchemist taught me that a personal legend is special and meaningful, no matter how big or small; no matter how simple or complex.

A few days after Mariah was born, I was rocking her and singing her the chorus of a song I love, “Oh Mama” by Justin Nozuka.  I may have changed keys a few times and probably even went off pitch, but Mariah just gazed up at me like my voice was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.  It brought me back to that moment in grade 2 and tears started rolling down my cheeks.   In fact, it was the first time I had cried since Mariah was born.  I had never fully understood what I had written on that little piece of paper until this moment.  At last, I was “a mother and a singer”, perhaps not in the same way I visualized when I was a child, but in a way much more powerful and meaningful than I ever could have imagined – I was realizing my personal legend. 

The Alchemist has taught me that perhaps we should not be asking our children what they want to be ‘when they grow up’.  But rather, we should be asking them who they are, and respecting their answers.  If our personal legends are truly within us, then perhaps they’re predetermined at birth, perhaps we know exactly who we are as kids and just lose track of it when navigating the complex world around us.  So take a minute and ask yourself if you are living out your personal legend today.  And if the answer is ‘no’, maybe you need to chat with your inner child to remember what it is you were put on this earth to do.  (I know this post is a bit Oprah-esque, but just humour me!)

A little part of me...

Although Mariah used to enjoy being passed from person to person as an infant, she’s recently started to become very fussy when she’s away from mommy & daddy.  During visits with family and friends, she prefers to cling to us than to be carried by anyone else.  When I leave the room, even for a moment, Mariah starts to cry and chases after me.  Background noises that didn't use to phase her, like the shower or vacuum, now send Mariah scurrying to my feet in a panic.  And my poor aunts have been tortured by her loud and dramatic tears & screams when they try their best to babysit.

I was beginning to think we had somehow ‘spoiled’ her already, but I did a bit of research and learned that it is all quite normal for her age (http://www.babycenter.ca/baby/development/socialandemotional/independence/).  Around 6 months, babies usually start to experience some separation anxiety.  Apparently this sense of ‘stranger danger’ stems from the fact that they are starting to realize that they are individuals who aren’t actually part of their mommies.  When I first read this, I thought it was so cute, in a condescending sort of way – that a baby could mistakenly believe they were part of their mommy.  But when you think about it for a moment, a baby is created inside of mommy’s tummy and lives there for 9 months, so at one point, Mariah truly was ‘a little part of me’.  While it’s taken her several months for her to realize that she’s now a separate person, maybe it’s taken me the same amount of time to forget that we were once physically connected.  In fact, I wonder whether a mother's sudden adjustment to losing this part of themselves during childbirth is one of many factors that contribute to post-partum depression.  Another reason for separation anxiety is that babies under one year haven’t yet established an understanding of ‘object permanency’ (i.e. when you leave their sight, even for a moment, they think you’re “gone” and may not return).  Again, my first reaction was ‘silly Mariah, of course I’ll come back’.  But when you put yourself in baby’s tiny shoes from a survival perspective, it’s perfectly logical to fear separation from your parents since “cavebabies” really didn’t know whether their mommy or daddy would return each time they left.  

So I’m starting to give this kid a bit more credit and trying to see things from her innocent eyes.  Next time she gets startled by a dog barking and scoots her little self over to me, I’ll just give her a hug and assure her it’s not a predator (and I’ll try to enjoy those moments of closeness since I’m sure she won’t want to cling to me forever!). 

A mother's touch

To me a good mother is the perfect blend
of honesty, support, and love.
The kind so strong, you can feel her warmth
whether she's near, far, or above.

You call on her for guidance
when you don't know what to do.
She helps you find your inner voice;
to choose what's right for you.

And even when that choice
differs from her own,
She stays right by your side,
so you need not stand alone.

She holds your hand just tight enough
to let you know she's there.
Yet loose enough to let you be,
content in knowing she cares.

A mother doesn't push you

to do the things you fear.

Instead she gently pulls you

and whispers "don't worry, I'm here."

The softest skin you've ever touched,
a scent you'll never forget
Whenever you think her job is done,
she reminds you there's still time yet.

For no matter how old you grow,
and no matter how wise you become,
you will always be her baby;
she will always be your mom.