"Parent"dox: When You're Hungry, They're Hungry

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #25:  When You're  Hungry, They're Hungry

This "parent"dox involves traveling back in time for me a few years, but I remember it all so very clearly.

I distinctly remember meal times at our house when both of my children were newborns.  I think the biggest learning curve was with my son, as he was our firstborn, but this "parent"dox rang true with our daughter as well.

Without fail, my sweet, precious, angelic baby would be sleeping away.  They were so adorable, I could lay there and watch them sleep.  Sweet little nose, sweet little fluttering eyelids, sweet little chest rising up and down ever so slightly.  Oh, this is love, without a doubt.

Whether we were preparing a meal at home (read as: heating up something in the microwave or pouring a bowl of cereal.  Come on...these were NEWBORN days, remember?!) or actually eating out as a restaurant, as soon as a plate of food was set in front of me, my baby, without fail, would start stirring.  I would plead Please, please, PLEASE stay asleep!! even thought I knew it was a lost cause.  There was absolute, 100% certainty that baby would be awake by the time I shoveled my 3rd bite of food into my mouth.  By the 5th bite, they would be in an all-out screaming bout, ready to eat.

That sweet, angelic, precious baby was now standing between me and my food.  

Not a good place to be, mind you, not a good place to be.

Words like "sweet," "precious," and "angelic" were no longer coming to mind.

It was like they had super sonic smelling and hearing, and when they so much as smelled a hot meal and heard it hit the table in front of me, it triggered them to wake up.  It didn't matter if they had been asleep for 5 minutes or 2 hours, they were definitely going to wake up at that moment.

I'm pretty sure their baby line of thinking in that moment went something like this:

What?  What's that?  Mom is hungry and ready to eat?  I don't want to miss out on this action.  Surely, surely, that must mean I need to eat now, too.

RIGHT NOW.

Not after the meal is over.  Not in 5 minutes.

NOW.

People say that when you nurse, it also helps you to lose weight.  I'm pretty sure this is only because you never actually have a chance to eat real, hot food.  By the time you're done feeding your tyrannical baby, your once lovely, delicious meal is now cold and doesn't taste nearly as good as you had hoped.  You choke down a few bites, and that's all you can muster.

That, my friends, is really where the weight loss comes in to play.

Although I will say the first time in my life I ever ate cold pizza was after my son was born.  I had never, ever been a fan of cold pizza, even in high school or college.  I just couldn't bring myself to eat it.  But enter New Mom mode, and I was just happy to have food around.  Period.  I didn't even bother sticking it in the microwave...just bit the bullet (or cold pizza, in this case) and went for it.

And knowing how very, very healthy cold pizza is, maybe there is actually something to that whole "nursing helps you lose weight" thing...

Hang in there, Moms of Newborns and Infants!!  There will come a day when you will eat foods -- hot if they're supposed to be hot and cold if they're supposed to be cold -- once again.  

When somehow, miraculously, everyone in your family actually gets fed, You Are a Good Mom.

*******************************************************************************************************

If you haven't already, be sure to stop by and check out the "You're a Good Mom" page on Facebook.  "Like" it and any new blog posts will be delivered right to your news feed!  Thanks!!

"Parent"dox: Full? Or Empty?

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #6: Full?  Or Empty?
When my son was an infant, there were many a time when I wished he had come with some type of gauge to let me know if his little tummy was full or empty.  (The first time being when he was about 5 hours old...)  I would have gladly paid for an upgrade at the hospital, or extended the warranty, or whatever needed to happen.  Unfortunately, none of these were options or I missed the paperwork somewhere along the way.  Alas, I had to learn to rely on and trust my Mom Instincts.  

Let me explain...

My son was a serious "spitter-upper" as an infant.  When I say "spitter-upper," I actually mean "empty the contents of my stomach-er."  He was a great eater, and we were blessed that breastfeeding went really well right from the start.  

Almost a little too well.  

The little man would eat and eat and eat, and from time to time, immediately follow that up with spitting up his entire feeding.  At least it felt that way when it ended up all over me.  After a while, I learned that I needed to cut him off before he would have chosen to himself.  To be honest, he comes by this voracious appetite honestly.  I have been known to eat way beyond "I'm full" myself.  Wait, there's chocolate cake?  Oh sure, I can make that happen...piece of, well, cake.

One of his most infamous instances was on a trip to Mackinac Island when he was 2 months old.  We had just stepped off the ferry, and found a quiet, secluded spot where I could feed him.  The sun was shining, a cool breeze was blowing, and we had a day full of fun and adventure was waiting for us.  Fudge.  Historic forts.  Ice cream.  Arch Rock.  Salt Water Taffy.  Carriage rides.  Fudge.  (Remember that voracious appetite thing?)  I finished feeding him, put him up on my shoulder to burp him, and it happened.  He got rid of that entire feeding all over my back.  There I was, literally minutes into our trip, covered in regurgitated milk.  Try not to be jealous.  

Lucky for me, the only thing Mackinac Island has more of than fudge shops, are t-shirt shops.  I am now the proud owner of a souvenir Mackinac Island t-shirt which holds one too many memories from that trip.  

Here was the "parent"dox I struggled with in those early days:  Is he full or empty?  

I just fed him.  I know he did actually digest some of what he was eating because he started eating 20 minutes ago.  I also know he expelled from his body what feels like an entire feeding.  So is he full?  Or empty?  Do I feed him again?  Or consider that his feeding?  It was a learning curve for my son and I, and we eventually got the hang of it together.  

When you are covered in bodily fluids from your kiddo, and all you want to do is cry, You Are a Good Mom.  When you are covered in bodily fluids from your kiddo and you still love them beyond words, You Are a Good Mom.  (C'mon...you know you've been there...)

A Mom is Born

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born.  She never existed before.  The woman existed, but the mother, never.  A mother is something absolutely new."  ~Unknown

I'm A Mom...!...?

The first time I realized that I was indeed someone's "Mom" was not all that long after my first baby was born.  I know that sounds very silly, but it's true.  My son was born at 11:15pm. 

[For those of you keeping score, those 45 minutes did indeed count as our first "night" in the hospital.] 

We were absolutely elated.  Delivery had gone well, I was able to nurse him shortly after he was born, and we were then able to welcome our family into the delivery room to meet the little guy.  They had been waiting patiently all evening and into these early morning hours to meet the new addition to the family.  We finally made it to the room we'd be staying in for the next two (read above comment...more like one...) days by about 2:30am.  We chose to keep our son in his bassinet in the room with us that first night.  When I was wheeled into our room and looked up to see the clock, I remember feeling like we were running on pure adrenaline and joy and couldn't believe we had a healthy baby boy that was our son.

Our son.

Does Anyone Know They Left This Baby in Here?

That feeling hit me like a tons of bricks in the middle of that first night.  Around 3:30 or 4:00am, my son woke up and was crying.  That cry.  That was the cry of my baby.  I had been around a lot of babies in my life, and every single other time I had ever heard them cry, I knew there was a Certified Mom around to comfort them, cuddle them, console them.  That was now, somehow, me.  
Was I ready for this?  Was I prepared for this?  Was I supposed to have a license or some kind of seal of approval or something to do this?  Medical professionals had knowingly left this poor, innocent 5-hour old baby in this room with my husband and me.  I wondered how long it would be until they realized this.

Upon hearing the cry of our son at that middle-of-the-night hour, I carefully got out of the hospital bed, and tried not to wake up my sweet husband, who was attempting to "sleep" on the pull-out chair contraption they deceptively called a "bed" near the window.  I walked over to my newborn son's bassinet and picked up his teeny, tiny swaddled body.  I put him up on my shoulder and patted his back and began walking him back and forth, back and forth, in the dim light of the hospital room.  I was somehow hoping maybe once I picked him up he would just magically fall back asleep in my arms.   I was trying to conjure up all these images of the videos we had seen in our birthing class, the pictures in the books I had read, the visions I had of other moms I had witnessed do these things hundreds of times.  I kept pacing back and forth, back and forth.  I had this crazy feeling of "What am I supposed to do now?  I am his mom.  I am the one who is just supposed to 'know' what do do!"  

At that point, my husband was awake.  We both had a little of a "deer in the headlights" look, and were looking to each other for what to do or what to try next.  After about 10 minutes, a nurse came in our room to check my vital's or the baby's vitals or give me meds or one of the other 476 reasons they come into your room that first night.  I remember thinking "Thank God!  She must have heard him crying and come in to check on him!"  She went about her business of whatever she had come in to do, and wasn't phased in the least by our crying newborn.  

"Ok," I thought.  "This is a good sign.  She is not acting as alarmed as I feel right now.  She is not looking at us like we are the worst parents on Earth.  This must be somewhat normal."

After a couple of minutes, I said "I'm not quite sure why he's crying.  I've been walking him and patting his back and 'shush'ing in his ear, but nothing really seems to be working."  

With very kind eyes, she looked at me and asked "What time did he last eat?"

EAT!  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  How did I not think of that?  A basic survival need, and it had never even crossed my mind.  I have to feed this kid.  How in the world can I be a mom if I don't even remember...wait, even think...to feed my little guy?  

I instantly flashed back to what I had read, what I had heard.  That newborns eat every 2 hours.  That their stomach is the size of a marble.  Those thoughts had not surfaced in all my walking and patting and 'shush'ing.  It had been nearly 4 hours since he had his first meal.  The poor kid was hungry!

The amazing nurse and my incredible husband helped me get our little 7 pound miracle fed, changed, settled and back to bed.  I took a deep breath at that point and thought "This is it.  There is no going back.  I am now a mom.  I am now his mom.  God, please help me to not screw up too badly and to know what to do at least some of the time.  Grant me wisdom, as I'm pretty sure I have no idea what I'm doing, and somehow, the people in this hospital trust me with this precious child.  Your precious child.  Please walk with me every step of the way."  I have prayed that last line, or some version of it, nearly every day for the last 4 1/2 years.

Getting to Know All About You...

In the days and weeks that followed, our little family of three got the hang of being a family.  Feeding, napping, bathing, changing.  We spent time figuring each other out.  When I look back on it now, those are truly some of my absolute happiest memories.  Yes, we were sleep deprived.  Yes, we didn't really know what we were doing.  But it was us.  It was the three of us, and we had each other.  It was in those days that I started trusting myself and trusting my instincts more and more.  I owe a lot of this to my husband, my own mom and the other moms who stopped by to visit.  I could see it in their eyes and hear it in their words and feel it in their warmth-- they trusted me.

I was his mom.  He was my son.  I loved him more than anything on Earth.  When he was hungry or tired or just needed his mom, that was me.  I was that person.  I had walked into that hospital as a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a teacher, but walked out as a Mom.  I knew something had forever changed within me.  

A Mom had been born.  

So whether your little tiny miracle hasn't yet shown herself to the world or your baby is now taller than you, You Are a Good Mom.  You will always and forever be.  You are the one who knows them best.  You are their comfort and their safe place.  You are their Mom.

*************************************************************************************************
If you are a Mom-to-be or a relatively new Mom or know someone in those categories, you may want to check out this little addendum post, too!  Just a few more thoughts on this topic that didn't quite fit into this post anywhere.