it's hard to believe

Maura's first Christmas is next week, and she'll be four months old on Sunday! While I'll never ever forget those early days with her, they seem like they happened to another person in another lifetime. Here's a peek at her now:





She is truly our joy. She rolled over for the first time last week, from front to back. She's only done it one more time after that, and I got it on video (which I tried to upload but can't figure out how). We practice a lot and she's come close a few more times. I feel like our days with a fairly immobile baby are numbered. She's got such a personality now -- so happy almost all of the time, but boy, if she's tired, you better watch it. She gets a high-pitched shriek out of that tiny mouth, and fusses like a crazy until you curl her up in your arms. It's profound how much I love her, even when she's screaming her head off. She is still sleeping thorough the night, too, which is such a blessing. She goes down by 9 p.m. and not a peep until at least 5 a.m.


She's super vocal, too, which is quite funny. I wish I could understand the stories she's telling herself that make her smile and talk the way she does. Jay even gets her to laugh, which I can't wait to see myself. She's definitely a Daddy's girl -- we had a few rough days where she didn't really want to come to me when Jay had to leave for work, and that was hard. She's definitely fussier in the evening when she's with me, but I try not to take it personally. All in all, though, we're all adjusting better with each day and it certainly is awe-inspiring to marvel at what we've created and how wonderful she is. We both say all the time that one little smile from her makes EVERYTHING better.


I've been thinking a lot (as this is what I do sometimes, to a fault) about how my fears that Maura will be taken away from me by me dying, or a plane crash, or me getting murdered, etc. stem from some deep-rooted feeling that I don't feel like I deserve to have something as wonderful as her in my life. I don't believe that "all good things must come to an end," but I do feel like I've always identified with being someone who feels like I basically deserve nothing unless I work for it. Certainly I "worked" for Maura, and my marriage to Jay is something we "work" on together, but in a very basic sense of "I'm a good person and I deserve to be sublimely happy for no other reason than I just DO" -- yeah, I don't feel that so much. But I think other people should certainly feel that way about themselves, so why don't I about my own life? I don't feel like I've screwed up royally and need to be punished by not having good things come my way effortlessly. But deep down I feel like maybe I don't deserve all this, to feel these wonderful things and to love two people as profoundly as I love Maura and Jay.


I guess ultimately it's the universe's way of bonding us to each other as parents and partners and to her as our daughter, teaching us to never take for granted a minute we have together. I feel like I would just wither and die if I didn't have them. I've never known anything quite like this. I have a lot to be thankful for this Christmas.

the cuteness continues

Sorry for the substantial lack of updates! All is well in our world. Maura is getting roll-ier and poll-ier everyday, and much to her chagrin, we've instituted a tradition of fairly frequent photo shoots to capture the cuteness. Recent highlights include:

Look at those water sausage arms!! She's doing so well. I hesitate to whisper this too loudly, but she's definitely sleeping through the night now, which is so wonderful for us. It makes Jay's job so much easier, and I have one less thing to worry about, which makes my life easier. We head to the doctor at the end of the month, but I imagine she's close to 12 lbs. now. She's finally fitting into her 3 month sized clothes (kind of) and I can tell she's growing every day. She can also hold her head up, and I think will probably be sitting on her own pretty soon. I, like every parent, think my child is advanced. Can you tell?

I'm getting a bit better about work, although most days it's still not easy. I alternate between thinking I need to just get over it and thinking that I must be losing my mind. I think, more likely, it's a little bit of both. It's no secret Ive struggled before when faced with issues about how I define myself, and it's hard for me to walk away from Jay and Maura every day and still feel like I deserve the title of mother and wife. Even though I spend every minute of my day at work clinging to memories of them, I feel like a major failure that I'm not there with them. How can I call myself a good wife and mother when instead of spending the day with my husband and daughter I go to work?

I'm sure everyone's a bit tired of my griping, so I guess the bottom line is that I'm going to buck up and realize I have it SO good; I have everything I ever wanted. And I'm lucky. And grateful.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

priceless

I am having a terrible day today missing my girl, and Jay sent this along to brighten my spirits. Clearly she's happy as a pig in shit during her Costco trip with her daddy. Isn't she the cutest?!?

on being a mom

Maura is 12 weeks old this week, and I feel like our life is finally settling. I've been sick for the past two weeks (sinus infection AND a virus) but the blessing in all of it is that I got to spend a few extra days at home in the past week or so and feel like I've finally solidified the bond with my girl. We played together, napped together, smooched and cuddled a lot, and overall, it feels like she knows I'm her momma. My jealously has subsided a bit with Jay; I know for sure we're in this together and that if we could switch roles, he would do it in a second. And it's been a greater joy than I imagined watching the two of them bond. Sometimes when I leave in the morning the two of them are cuddled in bed or on the sofa, and the misery I feel at leaving them is softened by the fact that they seem just melded to each other, like some cheesy physical manifestation of the love between them. She's a lucky girl.

I've been feeling a bit out of sorts, very much missing being pregnant with my girl. In an effort to come to some kind of peace (always a struggle for me), I've been trying to examine what I loved so much about being pregnant that didn't carry over into being a mom. Don't mistake me -- being Maura's mom and Jay's wife has brought me more love than I ever thought possible, and is a thousand million times more fulfilling then I imagined -- yet I very much miss being pregnant, carrying Maura in my belly and protecting her all by myself (and I didn't even do a very good job at that; poor thing got no nourishment from my body from 34 weeks on). I am getting more peace from being a mom than I thought I would, and it's not as if I feel something is missing, but I think I realized today what is going on . . .

(Please note I am not at all fishing for compliments here, and I know to some people I may sound delusional. Be that as it may . . .)

I have never been comfortable with how I look. My biggest issue is that I have never been anything above ordinary. I'm a little shorter than average, a little fatter than average, and while I certainly have my talents, I wouldn't be considered one that stood out in a crowd, particularly physically. My only defining characteristic was that I had big boobs, and I had those reduced when I was 20 years old so I wouldn't be defined by it anymore. But I guess since then, I've had nothing that physically gave me character. I've always done my hair a bit different, cut it short and dyed it many colors. Yet now, at 31 years old, I have finally stopped dying my hair, a trend that started when I was 14. I always wanted to be a little on the saucy side, and I so admire women who are, yet I feel like I've never quite achieved that. But yet when I was pregnant, I was SOMETHING. By belly made my thighs less ginormous (my other obvious characteristic), my belly made people smile, made people notice me, made people care how I was doing. Frankly, my belly looked better in clothes than my non-pregnant body did. Finally, I had character. I had something that defined me physically. And now, as a mom, I'm back to invisible.

I know new moms struggle all the time with their identity and that my feelings are nothing new, but it really does give me something to contemplate. I worry that I'm not as good of a mom as I could be because these stupid things occupy my brain space, and I worry more that my beautiful and perfect daughter will one day think these same things about herself, which might literally break my heart.

But it's a concern; it's there, no matter how much I try to ignore it. And I've tried everything I can: gotten some new clothes that fit my new weird body, cut my hair when needed, gave myself a pedicure. Yet in a little tiny bitty way I feel like I'm losing it.

But then, I look at myself in these moments with my daughter, moments that truly matter, moments I'll never get back, and I know that my love for her is truly more important, and more real, than any feeling of insecurity I face:
Good God I love her.

growing like a champ

We officially have a 10 lb. girl on our hands! Last week's visit to the doctor was a success, minus the first round of vaccines she had to get that made her cry her poor little head off. She's growing really well, and is even up to almost 22 inches! That seems remarkable to me that she's grown almost 4 inches in 10 weeks. Her little bones must ache! She's been having some growing pains lately we think, and I totally can understand why. She's finally filling out her newborn-sized clothes, and has jumped from the 10th percentile to the 20th for height and weight.

Her personality has also blossomed. She's smiling all the time, reacts when we make funny faces, and loves being sung to and danced around. She's such a joy. Her sleeping has gotten a bit more regular, although I don't think we'll ever get used to being so tired. She's the most portable baby I know, and loves to be taken just about anywhere. We went on an airplane last weekend for the first time to go to my brother's engagement party, and she slept through the whole thing. Jay and I still haven't recovered from an overnight trip, but its as if she never missed a beat.

All in all, things are going well. The stress of our schedule and the lack of sleep are making things a bit difficult for us to be rational at times, but I think that goes with the territory. And maybe because of stress, tiredness, hormones, whatever, I can't seem to shake this terrible habit I've gotten into of preparing myself for worst-case scenarios. It started with the terrible thought I couldn't shake for the first few weeks she was home: one day I'm going to die and leave her. I still think this daily. (Is this normal? Someone please reassure me.) But now I've started to play out circumstances in my head in which this happens. Case in point -- the airplane ride. I had planned out what I would try to do if the plane crashed. I figured that if we were on the ground, crashed and engulfed in flames, I would use all my strength to try to throw her as far as I could away from the burning rubble, thinking she would survive the impact of the throw better than she would survive the flames. In fact, I thought, if it looked like there was a way to throw her out of the plane right before impact, there would be a better chance of survival than if she stayed with me on the plane and burned. And when they found her, they would know who she was because we had registered her for the plane trip even though she didn't need a boarding pass to get on.

The next scenario is that I have her out with me on a walk, strapped to my chest in the baby bjorn. It's dark, and someone comes up to us and tries to murder me. I plead with them to let her go and they do, and they let me toss her into some bushes nearby before they kill me. Then, when they find my body, I will have been carrying my wallet on me and they will be able to ID us. But who carries their wallet on a quick walk? I never did, but because I'm so scared of this circumstance, I actually went out and bought a special wallet that has a place to hold a cell phone, so no matter what I'll always have my wallet and phone on me, my wallet containing her health insurance card to ID her. Of course, this morning I decided that wasn't enough, so I made up an emergency contact sheet, wallet-sized, with my name, her name, Jay's name and all of our info on it, in case something bad happens to me and they need to contact Jay, or if they need to ID the baby. Trust me, I understand now why people advocate for microchips to be implanted in all children with their emergency/medical/personal info on it.

Am I nuts? Could be. I've never been a paranoid person, and I've always been one to feel very safe. I took risks when I was younger that I would DIE if Maura repeated, and I came out OK. My life has never been in danger, and I've never been traumatized. I'm hoping this is just a normal (OK, maybe the far end of normal) reaction to loving Maura and wanting to protect her and that it will go away soon. Good thing I work at a psychiatric hospital if it doesn't . . .

my beautiful girl

(Excuse the bizarre blogger lack of formatting...not sure what's happening.)

I could just eat her up I love her so much! Look at that face! Ahh! It kills me not to be with her all day, but my desk is cluttered with pictures to remind me of what I have waiting for me when I get home.

Things have gotten a bit better toward the end of this week, once I got done my big work event that kept me at work for 16 hours on Tuesday and 10 hours on Wednesday. I'm so happy it's over I can't even speak of how horrible it was to be away from her a whole day. I really am trying to black out the memory of it, and I hope she'll never remember either that I left her so long when she was so young. I know she's in good hands with Jay, and I just can't helping feeling like I missed a WHOLE DAY and how terrible it really is.

But, I've decided since everyone is adjusting fine to me being back at work EXCEPT for me, I need to buck up and get over it. I don't have energy to waste anymore on feeling guilty or sad about something I can't do anything about right now, and it would do her no justice at all if I lost my job because I was unable to perform. We'd sink, and that's just not a chance I want to or can take. For her to have a good life, I have to make enough money for us to live, and there's no way around that. One day, when she's older, I hope she can understand. And one day, when she's older, I'm finally going to write the books I've always wanted to write and will make enough money to give her whatever she needs at that time. And if what she needs is more time with me, I'll be able to give her that, too.

We have a doctor's appointment on Monday to get the official word, but she is THRIVING! I unofficially weighed her last week on the scale with me and she is at least 10 lbs., which makes us so happy and reassured. And she's eating more, and sleeping better. We're trying to get on a 10/2/6 feeding schedule, which gives us only one wake-up at night at 2 a.m. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, but for the most part, she's only getting up once in the dead of the night.

Jay is the real trooper in all of this. He gets up for the middle of the night feeding, and then has to get up again at 6 when she needs to eat her breakfast. They do get to nap together afterward, but he's the most tried of the three of us. I'm learning to survive with 4 hour chunks of sleep, and even though I usually wake-up in the middle of the night when she does, it helps not to have to actually get out of bed.

I will say though the only thought I can't quite get rid of yet is the utter jealousy I feel that he gets to be home with her during the day, catching up on sleep with her in his arms. I know I have my nights with her, but her days are when she's the most awake, alert and happy. But again, that's how the dice roll right now. I'm grateful for what I've got, which is more than I ever thought possible.

lamenting

The return to work was as I expected -- dreadful. It was the hardest week I may have ever had, emotionally. I'm so conflicted -- how am I supposed to care about anything else besides my family now? Can everyone at work tell my heart's not in it? Do I look like the faker I feel like? The first day was BAD. I had to go home at lunch just to give her kisses. The second day was worse, because I now knew how bad it REALLY was. Jay had to bring her up for lunch, and I cried when they left. I knew I would miss both Jay AND Maura. What I didn't expect was how much missing them both would control my mind. During the day I'm overhwelmed with missing Maura and during the night I'm overhwelmed with missing Jay. We've basically get 5 minutes together as a family in the evenings once I get home from work before he has to rush off to work himself.

It's not yet about feeling like I'm missing some kind of milestones by being at work -- her first time rolling over and her first words are a ways off -- but I just feel like doing anything other than being with them is a total waste of time. It's hard to reconcile that I am choosing to be at work rather than be with her. But I need to cut myself some slack, I think. I'm not choosing it because its what I'd prefer, I'm choosing it because its the best way to provide for that family I love so much. I knew it would be hard, and I can't change the work situation, so I know I need to let it go. I'm really struggling though. Even though I'm well aware that I should only worry about the things I can actually change, the things I can't still make me very sad.

All in all though, the one to come out unscathed was Maura, and that's what matters the most. Jay did great with her, and although he's tired, he's adjusting well, too. It's kind of a sweet routine -- I put her down to bed around 8:30 p.m., she gets up when he gets home from work at midnight and he feeds her. She gets up again usually around 4 a.m. for another feeding that he handles, and then she's up again around 7 a.m. At the 7 a.m. feeding, he takes her out onto the sofa and they both fall asleep with her on his chest. It's heartbreakingly sweet. She loves it, he loves it, and it's nice for me to be able to get some solid sleep before a long day at work. This weekend, I got up and did the night feedings so Jay could have a break and sleep. And I got to get up with her in the morning and sleep with her on my chest. It's an exhilarating feeling, warm and cushy and magic. To feel her chest rising and falling against my chest is a feeling I know I won't get to experience forever, so I take full advantage. I even sneak her on to my chest to sleep when she should probably be put in her crib, but I don't care. I'll never get these moments back and I'm going to get them whenever I can.

The second week is off to an OK start, mainly because I had off work yesterday. We had a great weekend of visiting with my friend Amy and her baby girl and running errands and cleaning. And then Keegan came into town late Sunday night around 11 p.m. from the Buddhist monastery to visit with us and Maura. We had a wonderful day together yesterday, and I took him back to the bus station at 2 a.m. today to return to his life there. He's doing FANTASTIC, and is loving the experience. It was so good to see him, my little brother that I used to baby so much. I couldn't resist it even now that I have my own child; I had to buy him some jeans and food and offer to get him new underwear and toothbrushes. He, of course, knows how to appease me, and let me do it.

Another big work event is on the horizon, and I have to work this Saturday to prepare for it, which makes me very sad. Remember the 12 hour day I had when I was 7 months pregnant? We're trying not to repeat that.

Duty calls . . .until next time,