fail

I've never been so afraid of failure as I am now that I'm a mom.  Every decision revolving around AJ seems monumental and life altering, and its pressure like I have never felt before.  Even though its self imposed, and I know that really everything is ok, its  still feels like a pressure cooker!

When I pack up and leave the office every day, I'm overwhelmed with anxiety about getting home in time to see him before he goes to bed.  When my days are busy and I don't have time to pump on my regular 3-4 hour schedule, I panic that all of a sudden I will have no more milk for him.  When he won't go to sleep and he just cries and cries, I worry that he wont get the rest he needs to grow, and that his late bedtime will screw up his naps the following day, and therefore cause Joe to have a harder day than he should. To name a few.

This week is the start of a very very busy season at work.  Tomorrow will be 3 days that I am overdue on a deadline for my boss, and I can't concentrate enough to get through the work that needs to be done.  In the scheme of things, I feel most apathetic to failing at work stuff right now.  This is not like me, but my concern for the other parts of my life, Joe and AJ, outrank anything I could do or not do for work right now.

This week we've begun the conversion of trying to get AJ to fall asleep on his own, instead of Joe and I rocking him until he falls asleep...which has been SOP since he was born.  While we love him falling asleep in our arms a) sometimes it takes a really long time b) he's getting heavy and c) he started to wake up every time we put him in his crib starting a very awful and lengthy cycle where none of use were sleeping.  Plus we know he is old enough now to do it.  For the most part, AJ is getting really good at going to sleep on his own, but I'm convinced that nothing makes you feel more like a failed parent (of a 4 month old) than hearing your baby cry and letting him.  I think we are past the worst part though.

In summary, I'm having a pretty hard time right now.  I've never been so afraid of failure as I am now that I'm a mom, and we're only through 4 months.  Plus, I feel like I have PMS x 10 which would be icing on the cake that no one in my household needs!

Dipping my toe in

September 22, 2009 was the last time I ran.  That was the run where the pain in my hip made it more obvious than ever that I needed time off.  The following several months were filled with doctors appointments, anti-inflammatories and a lot of disappointment when the verdict was that I shouldn't run anymore.

June 2010 is when I found out I was pregnant, and as pregnancy progressed two things happened:  Physically, it was clear that my body was not going to allow me to work out vigorously as it grew.  Mentally, I felt invincible and convinced myself that if I can grow a person (miracle of miracles) then someday I could try running again.

June 4, 2011 I made it a point to finally get out for a walk.  Exercise had been non-existent for so long, and the craving to strap on my ipod and watch and try to elevate my heart rate, in combination with a sleeping baby, made for the perfect opportunity.  So I ventured out for a few laps around our Circle, aiming for 30 minutes.  It felt great.  And I didn't want to push it, but I got curious, and wanted to dip my toe in.  So, for 60 seconds I started to run.  Ok, jog. Ok, it might have been just a faster walk with some bounce to it.  But I did it for 60 seconds, walked for 60 seconds and then did it again.  Pain free, I quit while I was ahead.  2 minutes total of something like a distant second cousin of running.

And the  next day I did it again, but on the second day it was 6 minutes total interspersed with walking.  My hip still feels ok, my back doesn't hurt, but I was feeling some pain like weak pregnancy muscles...odd tiredness around my incision scar.  Nothing major, probably just some stretched out muscles and ligaments that had been roused from their slumber.  Still to be safe, again I quit while I was ahead, and today I rest.

Its too early to be excited, or to know whether I will ever break into a comfortable stride again, or run the local 10k that I've had my eye on since we moved in 7 years ago.  But it feels good to know I at least tried again, and lived to tell about it.  I've been trying to get my mind back to where it was SO many years ago when I started exercising.  Before it was a daily part of my day it was a very Govt-guideline sounding 3-4 times per week which was "good enough".  Thats all that fits right now, and thats finally ok.

Money makes the world go round

I haven't been to the ATM since February.  Amazing but true.  Since AJ was born and I barely left the house I guess I didn't need money.  Then I came back to work and I have been very diligent about bringing breakfast lunch and a snack each day, no need to take money out.  Plus I have a stash of change in my drawer that I use to buy coffee.  Ridiculous amounts of decaf coffee.

Anyway, today I didn't pack lunch.  I was up late last night and didn't have any food made so I figured I'd just wing it today and buy some food in the cafeteria for lunch.  I brought my breakfast, and a snack of 3 gigantic strawberries.  Lunchtime came, and when I opened my wallet it was like the cartoons where moths fly out.  Nada.  I managed to find a single dollar bill in one of my desk drawers, so I now had $1 and 3 strawberries.

No problem though, work has an ATM so I could just take some money out.  Or, rather, I could if my ATM card hadn't expired in February.  WHAT????  ATM cards expire?  Apparently they do, and mine expired almost 4 months ago.  Ooops.  Ok, back to $1 and 3 strawberries.

I called the bank to see about getting a new one, and I can.  It will be here in 10 days.  Ten days.  I think I can buy a gun faster than I can get a replacement ATM card.

The moral of this story is: when I don't pack my lunch there is trouble. And, shopping for everything on Amazon only gives you the illusion that you are not spending money.

Moo

So one of the challenges of coming back to work was going to be how and whether breastfeeding would survive.  In my typical fashion, I assumed that pumping during the day would be impossible, my milk supply would be compromised, and AJ would be drinking formula (and throwing it up [another post for another time]) in a matter of weeks.  Week 3 back to work is proving that I might actually be wrong about all of that.  Despite my challenges on Day 1, I've been able to manage pretty well getting 3 pumping sessions in over the work day.  Having a dedicated room is a huge help and my schedule has been pretty flexible and has allowed me to make it a priority during the day.  Based on what I have read, when you change to exclusively pumping or 'mostly' pumping versus actual breastfeeding, your supply tends to diminish.  I have been obsessing over supply since AJ was born.  Amazingly, thankfully, it was never a problem for me, even when I thought it was.  Now that I've gone to pumping, amazingly, thankfully, its still not a problem.  I am sure I am jinxing it by even writing this post, but I feel lucky that we have a substantial stash saved up in the freezer that continues to grow daily.  In fact, it kind of forced our freezer into overdrive, and we now have a second refrigerator in the garage that has become milk storage central.  I am positive that I will have nightmares about the electricity going out or some other device malfunction that will spoil what I've worked so hard to collect.  This picture does not even do it justice.

So yes, I'm married to the pump.  Yes, it dictates most of my day.  Yes, sometimes I am almost in tears because I can barley fit in 20 minutes to pump when I'm very overdue.  And yes, I am bitter about getting up to pump when AJ is sleeping an extra long stretch at night, and its my boobs that wake me up and not his fussing.  But, every time we go to the Dr and he has put on weight, I remind myself that I'm lucky enough to have given him that weight, those chubby cheeks and those chunkier-by-the-day thighs.  And that makes the obsession pretty much worth it.

It gets worse before it gets better?

Week one went pretty well.  Week 2 is off to a weak start.  Maybe its because the weather is super dreary today and its supposed to stay this way all week...but I'm having a much harder time today.

AJ (I'm giving up on not naming names) turned 3 months yesterday and so we are attempting to embark on getting him on a schedule.  This means getting him into a nighttime routine and to bed early.  This also means I only get about an hour and half with him, and thats if I leave work a bit early and get a jump on the traffic. Thats an hour and a half out of 24...maybe another hour if I feed him during one of the night feedings.  It seems so unfair that now, when he has become so smiley, and moving ever closer to being interactive, that I have to miss out on 90% of his day.  How does this work?  I just don't know how so many moms do it.  How is he supposed to learn who mommy is and create that bond when we're basically only together on the weekends?  I'm sad that 12 weeks is the generally acceptable 'bonding' time in this country.

Hilariously, I should also mention that right now AJ basically just sees me as one big nipple.  Any time we are together, he tries to suck on whatever part of me happens to be near his mouth.  My arm, my chin, my shoulder, doesn't matter.  It cracks me up actually.  But also makes me sad to see the eye contact he makes with Joe for minutes on end...while many times he won't make eye contact with me.  I think he's too young to mean anything personal by it.  At least I do get his undivided attention when I change his diaper at 4am.  I'm actually convinced that he sees my tired face and tries to cheer me up with him smiles and almost-giggles at that late/early hour.  It works. :)

Every day I look at him in awe and just wonder how we can be so lucky.  What have I done to deserve the limitless happiness that he brings?  No wonder I want to be near him all the time!  Here's to hoping next week is a bit better.

One Week Down

Well, I survived week one back to work.  As I suspected, the tired totally hit me this week...12 weeks worth.  I cannot believe how quickly the day goes once I am home.  I walk in the door at 5:30 and before I know it I'm falling asleep standing up at 9pm.  Those hours are filled with things like:
--hugging and kissing the little munchkin
--feeding, changing diapers
--eating dinner in less than 10 minutes
--pumping
--washing bottles
--washing more bottles
--pumping
--washing more bottles
--preparing breakfast and lunch for tomorrow
--making a list and checking it twice to make sure I have everything I need for work the next day
Thats about it.  Sometimes I can answer an email or two, sometimes I squeeze in a phone call on my drive home.  Anything else?  Well, to quote my long lost high school friend Francine, I'll fit everything else in "between peeing and wiping"  Graphic perhaps, but hilariously true!  I need to develop some short cuts.

By the way, the dramatic conclusion to my last post is that I did indeed end up spilling about 2 precious ounces of milk all over the carpet before that day was done.  I wanted to cry, and if I still had raging pregnancy hormones, I bet I would have.

Literal Balancing Act

So here I am sitting at my desk back at work (My it feels weird to sit at a desk!  I miss the couch!) A quick post because it seemed appropriate.
Just a little while ago I took my first "pump break".  I was feeling good, got my key to the nursing room (I'm the only one using it so can even leave my stuff in there during the day!).  I got in there, started to set up, and then I realized I forgot the bottles.  The bottles screw on to the pump so you can pump directly into them.  Kind of necessary.  Luckily I had milk storage bags with me, so with a bit of balancing and dexterity was able to pump directly into them, without spilling breastmilk all over my shiny new work pants.  And I thought I was so organized!  I better make myself a checklist for when I leave the house in the morning!