Content?

Yesterday I got a Facebook message from a high school friend who I've only spoken to sporadically in the past ten years (which reminds me...I really need to be better about keeping in touch with old friends.  Like, seriously).  She asked me how I liked having kids and mentioned that when she told someone she wanted children someday, that person basically told her that she would regret it and to just take care of her husband and dog.  So she wanted my take on things.  And then she said something that I've been thinking about ever since:  "You seem pretty happy and content, so I wanted to hear what it was like from a different perspective".

You seem pretty happy and content.

I can't get those words out of my head.  Is that how I seem to people?  Or just to people I don't see in everyday life?  Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that that is the image I give off, and it made my day to read those words.  But I guess I've always just thought that when people read what I post on Facebook they got a different picture of my life. Kind of like..."frazzled, crazy children, doesn't know what the hell she's doing".  That kind of picture.  But contentment?  That's something I didn't realize I exuded publicly.  And it makes me happy to know that at least one person sees that.

When I first started this blog, it was all unicorns and rainbows and I'm-so-in-love-with-my-baby-and-can't-believe-how-wonderful-everything-is. And, at the time, that's totally how it was.  But there were also those times where everything just seemed to go wrong and I couldn't get my shit together and Bailey had screaming melt-down tantrums and I wanted to just leave her in a basket on the front porch and hope that someone...anyone... took her.  And I don't even have a front porch.  But I didn't write about all those times because this blog was about my baby and I didn't want anyone to see that my baby wasn't always perfect or that *I* wasn't always perfect.

If you've been following this blog from the beginning, you'll see that things are a bit different these days.  I'm "keepin' it real" and writing honestly.  I'm not sugarcoating things these days (although, you can bet your bottom dollar that when one of my kids does something cute or brag-worthy, I'm totally going to write all about it and gush and be all "mom-like" and proud), and I'm not "hiding" the crazy, not-so-perfect parts of our life.  It's all out there, guys, because these are the kinds of things I wanted and needed to read back before I had kids.  These are the kinds of things I want and need to read now.  I don't want to read about how damn perfect someone's life is or how wonderful someone else's kids are.  I don't want to see pictures of a toddler's room that is so pristine and perfect it doesn't even look like the kid lives in it or pictures of the made-from-scratch cookies one mom baked with her kid.  And I definitely don't want to see pictures with the caption "Johnny was a little devil today.  He absolutely destroyed the house!" and there's just the faintest little handprint on the window in an otherwise picture-perfect, spotless home.

Those are the people who I've always considered happy and content.  I've even gone so far as to bitch to my good friend about how perfect the life of one of the girls we went to high school with is, and what a beautiful house she has and how adorable and well-behaved and perfect her kids seem all the time...based on her Facebook photos and statuses. I don't talk to this woman on a regular basis, but maybe if I did she'd tell me that her life isn't all that perfect and that sometimes her kids are little shits and she'd like to lock them in a closet or something (but I bet she'd never use the term "little shits" because she's not one to curse and I, on the other hand, have a mouth like a sailor).  Who wants to post a status on Facebook about what a horrible day their kid is having?  Or post a picture of their kitchen counter that is now covered in permanent marker because they left their 2-year-old alone long enough to sneak to the bathroom in peace for the first time in 2 years and said toddler got into the junk drawer and found all the Sharpies?  (By the way, if any of you know how to remove permanent marker from a countertop, I'd really appreciate you sharing your wisdom with me).

My point is...no one's life is as perfect as it may seem online.  Especially mine.  Hell, I started writing this post six hours ago.  Six hours.  And I'm only now just sitting down to finish it.  In the middle of my third paragraph, Bailey threw the most epic tantrum I've ever seen over God-only-knows-what.  When talking calmly/distracting/ignoring her didn't work I ended up sending her to her room and locking the door so I could regain my sanity.  She spent a half hour screaming "mommy" at the top of her lungs and banging on her bedroom door.  When I went up to talk to her (calmly and rationally and ending with a smile and an "I love you", 'cause that's how I roll) I found her wearing a set of rosary beads as a necklace.  I have no clue where she found them, but I let her keep them because I figured after the way she just behaved the little demon needed God in her life.  And then after that the baby pooped all over himself, the kitchen was still a disaster from lunch, Bailey had another tantrum, the baby threw up all over himself, Bailey had another tantrum, and the baby decided to join in all the tantruming because I wasn't feeding him fast enough...and so I'm just now getting back to this post.  Six hours later.  My life is far from perfect.  But it is pretty damn good.  Tantrums and screaming and all.  And just when I think I can't handle another...damn...screaming fit, Bailey does something so incredibly sweet or so hilariously funny that I completely forget about how angry I was earlier.  And THAT is when I post on Facebook.

For the record, I am content.  Very content.  Most days, I feel like I've got this mom thing down and like I really do know what I'm doing.  On those days, I've had a shower and my hair looks halfway presentable, both kids are bathed, fed, happy and well-mannered, my house is (semi)clean and dinner is on the table. And also, I've gotten both children to bed with no tears and no arguing over "just one more show".  But then there's a day or two (or four) where, at the end of the day, the ONLY thing I've successfully accomplished was to keep my kids alive. And that's okay.  Because even if nothing else gets accomplished and we've had 14,000 things go wrong, these two still make my day a million times better than it would have been otherwise.

Content?  Absolutely!

3 Weeks Old!

Gerry was three weeks old yesterday.  I can't help remembering how differently I felt when Bailey was just three weeks old.  I remember looking at her on the day she turned one month old and thinking how I couldn't believe that just four weeks I had given birth.  It seemed so incredibly surreal at the time, and right up until her first birthday I would randomly think to myself, I gave birth ____ weeks/months ago.  I was in awe of the whole experience, in awe of the fact that I had had a baby, in awe of the fact that she was here and she was mine.

This time around, I don't feel the same kind of wonderment.  Don't get me wrong, I'm still completely in awe of what I did and the fact that I had a baby (and, yes, I will shout to the heavens that I had an 8 lb. baby without an epidural)...but I think I'm just so busy this time around (plus, it wasn't so new to me this time) that I haven't really sat down and processed how awesome it is.  And it IS awesome.  HE is awesome.  The fact that I was blessed to grow another life and then bring that life into this world is awesome.  But I don't have the luxury of hanging out at home and just gazing at my little boy for hours like I did with Bailey.  Despite the busy-ness of our everyday lives, though, I'm still completely smitten with him.

Good Morning!

A little play yard fun

So here's a quick rundown of how our first three weeks have been.  In a word, it's been fantastic.  I mentioned in an earlier post how wonderful Bailey has been with him, and I still stand by that.  She just adores him and it makes me so proud to see her with him, whether it's just sitting next to him with her hand resting on his head, giving him a bink, or consoling him when he cries ("It's okay, Baby Gerry.  I know, I know.  I'm here, it's okay.")...to see her show him such love and empathy makes me happier than I ever thought it would.



  

I woke up the other night and found Bailey laying on the floor (in our bedroom) next to Gerry's bouncy seat.  He sleeps best in there so we've foregone the cradle for now, though we'll try putting him in it again soon.  Anyway, I found her laying on the floor next to him.  They were both wide awake and she was just talking to him about God-knows-what and he was kind of looking at her...like he really knew what she was talking about.  I would have just let them go and let Bailey talk his little ear off...if it hadn't been about 3:15am.And speaking of 3:15am...darling Gerry has not been sleeping as well as he was last week.  I'm chalking it up to (hopefully) a growth spurt and hoping that he goes back to "normal" soon.  The past few nights, he's been waking up every 1 1/2-3 hours and yesterday he would not nap for anything!  God bless him, though, he only really cries if he's super hungry and I'm taking too long to feed him.  He just keeps wanting to eat and eat and eat and would only sleep if I was holding him.  The second I put him down he'd wake right back up and fuss for a bottle.

FEED ME!!!

 Speaking of bottles...I'm no longer breastfeeding.  And I think I'm okay with it.  I mentioned in this post about not being able to nurse Bailey and how I really thought that contributed to my PPD.  Well, I gave it my best shot with Gerry, and he nursed right away after birth.  I was thrilled, and really thought that we'd be good to go.  I saw lactation consultants while in the hospital and spoke to a good family friend to get tips and advice.  I was told that we had a good latch and that I was doing everything right, but by the third day I was in pain all over again.  I was putting nipple cream on around the clock and making sure that I had Gerry latched on properly every time but it was still excruciatingly painful for me.  I was pretty determined, especially since he had nursed right away with no problem in the hospital, but the pain just wouldn't let up.  It got to the point where, just like with Bailey, I dreaded every feeding.  My mom knew how badly I wanted to breastfeed, so she had armed me with everything I could possibly need to have a successful nursing experience.  Thanks to her, I had nipple shields, cooling gel pads, comfort heating pads, nipple cream, nursing bras...basically anything and everything I could possibly need.  And I used the hell out of it all.  But nothing was helping ME.

 
Then Gerry started to get agitated at every feeding.  He'd nurse for a few minutes and then pull away.  I'd put him back on, he'd nurse again for awhile, and then start batting at me and rooting around for more.  He seemed frustrated and I was in pain all throughout the feeding.  He lost weight, and hadn't gone back up to his birth weight by the time we had our weight check at around 2 weeks old.  When he was born, he had blood sugar issues and jaundice that almost kept him in the hospital after I was discharged, so I was constantly worried about these things on top of whether or not he was getting enough to eat.  When he wasn't nursing, I was pumping to keep up my supply and it felt like all I did was either nurse or pump all day and night.  I wasn't spending time with either Gerry or Bailey because of it, and I started to feel stressed and sad.  Luckily, I realized it early and made an appointment with my OB. 

She conferred with another OB in the practice and they came to the conclusion that breastfeeding is a "trigger" for my PPD.  It doesn't come easily to me and I put too much pressure on myself and on my baby to do it.  The doctors made a good point...stressing out over breastfeeding was keeping me from enjoying Bailey and the new baby and was causing unhappiness at a time when I should have been excited and looking forward to spending time with my children.  And a stressed out and unhappy mommy can only lead to stressed out and unhappy kids.  If I'm not enjoying my time with them, what's the point?  So I started giving Gerry formula.  I wasn't thrilled about it, but he took to it right away and I found that I was able to really enjoy him and I looked forward to feeding him instead of dreading it (he looks right into my eyes and squeezes my finger with his little hand, and it's one of my favorite parts of our day).  I was also able to enjoy Bailey more.  The constant dread of feeding time left me with little patience and a lot of irritation, and poor Bailey had to take a back seat during that time.  Now, I could sit and talk to her  or read a book or just generally give her some much-needed attention while I gave Gerry a bottle and I could see that she was happier, too.  I wasn't spending my "downtime" worried about feeding the baby or constantly attached to the breast pump, and it felt good.  I was able to pump and store enough that I can give Gerry some breast milk whenever he gets a bottle (at least until it runs out), and I feel good that I can give him at least a little bit of "the good stuff".  I promised myself that this time around if nursing didn't work out that I wasn't going to beat myself up over it.  I did cry a time or two while I was weighing my options and making my decision but, ultimately, I think I did what was best for all of us.  Gerry is happy and thriving, Bailey is happy and loves to help feed her baby brother, and Scott and I take turns giving him a bottle in the middle of the night.  Do I wish that I could exclusively breastfeed?  Hell yes, I do.  But I'm not beating myself up this time around.  I did the best I could.  And the added bonus is that I'm not suffering with PPD and am on no medications for it...happy mommy, happy family.  

Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of the happy family.  I do, however, have a few pictures of Gerry.  And one of Bailey.  Miss Independent doesn't sit still long enough these days to get a good (read: non-blurry) picture.  So for now, I leave you with these...

Listen up, lady.  Stop taking my picture!

Snuggled up with mommy

Sleepy Smiles

My Happy Girl

                                            

Lost and Found

Scott and I decided to venture out to the mall with both kids last night.  We didn't need anything, but it was nice to get out of the house for a bit and the mall, for whatever reason, is one of Bailey's favorite places to be these days.  So off we went.

We enjoyed a nice dinner at TGIFriday's, grabbed some ice cream and walked around for a bit.  Bailey's in this total independence phase and refuses to ride in the stroller anymore and since we didn't have the double stroller with us I figured it was no big deal to just let her walk "like a big girl".  We had to go through Penney's to get out to our car and Bailey decided to take a little detour...again, no big deal.  Scott was pushing Gerry in the stroller down a different aisle and I was walking with Bailey, so I let her go a few steps ahead of me and just kept reminding her that she had to stay close to me or she'd have to sit in the stroller.  She was doing fine and jogging a bit ahead of me.  She's 2, how fast could really jog, right?  So I stupidly just followed her at my normal pace.

Then all of a sudden she morphed into a Nigerian sprinter at the Olympics and just took off.  

It took me a few second to realize that she was really moving with some speed...and weaving in and out of the bedding and towel aisles.  Thinking I'd be a cool mom, I hauled ass caught up with her and made a game out of "finding" her at the end of each aisle she ran down.  As a mother, there is nothing better than hearing the sound of your child giggling and knowing that you were a part of it.  I was thinking this same thought when I realized that I didn't hear any giggles.  And Bailey wasn't standing at the end of the next aisle.  Or the next one.  Or the next one.

Oh my God, I lost her.

I was trying not to panic but after a few seconds of not seeing her anywhere I started to freak out a little.  I ran up and down the aisles and called her name for what felt like hours.  I tried to be calm and thought, Scott's here.  He'll help me find her.  Until I realized that I couldn't find him, either.  And he had the baby with him.

Good God, I've lost my whole family!

Now I REALLY started to panic.  I always joke around with Bailey that if she doesn't stay close and/or hold my hand when we're walking that she'll end up going home with a stranger and now I was having these horrible pictures in my mind of someone snatching her up and running out the door with her before my dumb ass realized that I was the only one playing our stupid game anymore.  What kind of mother am I?  I lost my kid...in the mall.  The rational part of me just completely broke right there and I started to cry (like any sane woman, right?).  I ran up and down the aisles calling her name again and again...no answer.

I finally hear this little voice a few aisles down.

"'Dis a booby holder, Buzz.  It for you boobies."

Sweeter words had never been spoken...and I knew where she was!  I took off toward the lingerie section and found her trying on bras with her stuffed bear, Buzz Lightyear.

She had no clue that I'd lost her and couldn't understand why I was crying.  I tried to be stern with her and tell her how much she scared me and that it was NOT okay for her to just wander off.  But, technically, it was my fault.  What parent in their right mind makes a game out of wandering down aisles with their 2-year-old?  Lesson learned.  No more games.  And she MUST hold my hand while walking.  For my sake as much as for hers.

I honestly think that I've never been so scared in my life than I was in those few moments it took me to find her.  Truly terrifying.  Days later I'm STILL kicking myself for it.  So if any of you start wondering why I haven't left the house with my children in months...please refer back to this post.

Double the Pleasure, Double the Fun

So now that we've got just about two weeks under our belt, I figure now is just as good a time as any to come here and post a little update on life with 2 kids.  I never thought I'd say this, but...

It's amazing.

Gerry is a dream baby.  Seriously.  Our first 3 nights were rough (two in the hospital and one at my mom and dad's), and he wanted to nurse every hour on the hour from about 11pm until 6am.  THEN he decided that it'd be cool to sleep pretty much all day.  But something magical happened our first night at home.  Gerry fell asleep at 9:30pm...and didn't wake up until 5 the next morning.  Scott and I both bolted out of bed and ran around frantically checking his breathing and making sure that he hadn't somehow smothered overnight.  But he was totally fine, if annoyed that we'd woken him up.

And he's been this way ever since.  We get 5-6 hour stretches of sleep every night and when he's awake he is the calmest, most "chill" baby I've ever met.  He just stares at his surroundings and hangs out.  TOTALLY different baby than Bailey.  I love her to pieces but she was a freakin' nightmare of a baby.  Didn't sleep more than two hours at a time until she was almost a year old and did nothing but cry when she was awake.  She was truly frightening, and I was pretty much expecting a repeat with this one.  But it's like God decided to throw us a bone this time around and I couldn't be happier.  I realize that I'm probably jinxing myself and that there's still plenty of time for Gerry to turn a corner and become a demon-baby...but I'm hoping that doesn't happen.

This is pretty much what he does all day

Now that his umbilical stump fell off, we decided to give Gerry his first bath the other night.  I can't get the video to upload at the moment, but suffice it to say there was a lot of screaming.  He's not a huge fan of being unclothed and definitely prefers to be snuggled up and/or swaddled so getting him naked and submerging him in water was like his worst nightmare.  But he survived!

My sweet little man

Bailey has been so, so amazing with him and she's SUCH a good big sister.  Before Gerry was born, Scott and I had talked about what Bailey was going to be like with him.  Would she hate him?  Would she ignore him?  Would she resent this little person who took away some attention from her?  I can't tell you how many days I spent stressing out over how to make her feel loved and like she was still Mommy and Daddy's "favorite girl".  Turns out all my fears were for nothing because she has been fantastic. 

When Gerry fusses, she stops what she's doing and immediately runs to him, ready to give him a bink.  She'll just randomly walk over to him and give him kisses.  She's always asking to hold "Baby Gerry".  She wants to help give him a bottle, and she looks out for him when the daycare kids are here.  Yesterday, the kids were being kind of loud and she swooped in and said, "Shhhh!  You gotta be quiet, my baby brother is sleeping!"  And she's been really good about things if/when I'm busy with the baby, whether it be feeding or changing him, pumping, giving him a bath, etc.  So, so, sooooo much better than we were expecting.  I fall in love a little bit more every time I see her with him, and I can't believe I spent so much time worrying about how we'd do with another little one in the house.  I need to get more pictures of the two of them together.  In the meantime, though, here are a few pictures of Bailey from the wedding she went to when Gerry was born.  I can't get over how beautiful and "grown up" she looks!

Her flower girl dress was just adorable!

Putting on her perfume

 I need to mention here how awesome Scott has been, too.  When Bailey was born...I'm just gonna put this out there...he was not much help at all.  He had NO idea what to do with a baby and so he just kind of went about his day like she wasn't there.  That's not to say that he didn't do something if I asked him to...it just never occurred to him to take the initiative when it came to feeding, changing, clothing or general baby care.  I was stuck in the haze of PPD for what seemed like forever and it just felt like I was doing it all alone, from the minute I went into labor until she was almost a year old.  This time, though, Scott is a seasoned pro at the dad thing and knew what to do and expect.  And I can say with 100% honestly and sincerity that he has been absolutely wonderful.  He never let go of my hand while I was in labor and while I was pushing and screeching like a madwoman with no epidural (mostly because I had a death grip on his hand and refused to let go), and he's been phenomenal since we got home.  He gets up with the baby and me in the middle of the night (usually, it's closer to 4 or 5am when Gerry wakes up, but still), he changes diapers almost better than I do, and he hangs out with Gerry and Bailey as often as he can between his work and sports schedules.  I feel like he and I are a team this time around, and that's something I didn't have when Bailey was a baby. It's made the transition from one to two kids easier and made us more of a team, and I think we're all happier for it.  Scott is a wonderful dad, and it makes me so happy to see Bailey's eyes light up when he comes home from work or to watch him holding and talking to Gerry.  I am one happy lady these days!

The  transition back to daycare after only a week's maternity leave has been fairly easy (thank God Gerry is such an easygoing baby), although I definitely could have done with a few extra weeks off.  But that's a post for another time.  For now, I leave you with Gerry's very first smile.  Also, it could just be gas...who knows, really?

Happy Birthday, Baby!

You might have noticed that I've been away for a little while.  I have a good excuse...I was having a baby!

Okay, so I didn't have an-almost-month-long labor and delivery, I've just been really busy in the days leading up to the baby's arrival.  But he's finally here!  I'll post the full birth story at the top of the blog, just like I did with Bailey's, so you can get all the lovely details there.  But to keep things short and sweet here, I'd like to welcome...

Gerald Anthony ("Gerry"), born on January 3, 2013 at 5:13am and weighing in at a whopping 8lbs. 11oz.

Happy Birth Day!

He's sweet and perfect, and has been SUCH a good baby since we brought him home.  Once again, I'm in love!

Here are a few more pictures from our first few days with Gerry (minus the million that I can't retrieve from my phone just yet)...

Mommy, Daddy and Gerry...all a bit sleepy!

Bailey meeting her brother for the first time

Time to go home!

Sleepy little guy

Friends of ours got married on Saturday, the day I was supposed to be discharged.  Bailey was their Flower Girl so we couldn't miss the wedding!  Since Gerry and I were stuck in the hospital, Scott and Bailey went together.  Here she is getting ready for the "fancy dance"!

My beautiful girl

More to come later!