Making it up as we go

G and I were riding home from my parents house the other day, radio off, just talking. The trip takes the better part of an hour, so we usually manage to cover a variety of topics. Somehow, we meandered to the very broad subject of raising children. G commented about how thought he knew so much about raising kids before J was born and that he found out quickly that he knew very little. Anyone who knows G knows that he seldom admits that he's clueless about doing anything. More often than not, he'll try to figure it out before he'll read directions or ask for help. And he almost never takes my lead on, well, anything. Until, that is, we brought The Nugget home from the hospital. 

I had never in all the years I've know him seen G so uncertain about anything as he was about taking care of our baby. He asked question after question, like I knew much more than he did. I was probably just as lost. I was literally making it up as I went, and I still am. I was a little shocked by this new side of my know-it-all husband, and I didn't really like it. It's hard when you're used to someone always knowing the best way to handle things and all of a sudden you're put in the position of chief decision maker. I'd be lying if I said I handled it well. I was an absolute mess. Think two year old who just dropped her ice cream cone and let go of her balloon at the same time. I tried to pretend that I had it all together, but there were plenty of days that I sat and cried with my pitiful acid-reflux plagued baby. The learning curve was steep. 

The night we brought him home from the hospital we had arranged our room with the Pack-N-Play on the opposite side of the room from our bed. I figured he'd be in the room and when he cried I'd just jump up and tend to him quickly before I laid him right back down. Yep. It was two hours after bed time before I had instructed G to move that baby bed right up next to my side of our bed so our late night rendezvous would be easier.  It wasn't long before I realized that if I ever wanted too sleep more than thirty minutes at a time that I would have to sleep with J on my chest...in our bed. So much for the 'no baby in the bed' rule. Best laid plans, right? That was just one instance when my expectations did not nearly match my reality and I was forced to reevaluate my ideas. 

I remember debating whether to wake J up to bathe him before bed because I was scared getting him of his routine would throw the whole thing out of whack. If J falls asleep before supper after a big day, I usually can't even enjoy my meal because I'm too worried about whether I should wake him up to eat. Just tonight, I decided to workout before I put J to bed, but he fell asleep with G before I finished. Of course I'm struggling with the idea of whether I should wake him up to nurse (I'm crazy, right?!) or just let him sleep. Typing it out now, it seems ridiculous, but I actually stressed over it! I'm sure I'm not the only one either, come on people! All of these 'decisions' are silly and probably won't have much weight in the long run, but that's what I do. I have an inner dialogue running all. day. long. Every day. And, I know I'm not alone.

I hear my friends stressing over how they just don't know how they're going to 'do it all.' Whether it's going back to work after a baby or having a second, third, or fourth child, no one knows how they're going to handle what's coming. But, somehow everyone manages to succeed. I was worried to death about being a working mother, but I've been handling it pretty well. While pregnant with her second child, my friend was terrified that she wouldn't be able to handle raising two children, but she has done a fabulous job loving and caring for both of her girls. I have a friend that just found out that she is pregnant with her third child. Although she hasn't told me as much, I'm sure she is having doubts about how she'll handle her two lively boys plus an infant. 

The truth is, no one knows how they do it all. They just do it. Every day, they get up and do their job as a mother, a wife, a daughter, etc. Before I started my first year of teaching, I worried about how I'd manage my own classroom. When I decided to go to grad school, I wondered how I could possibly handle being a full-time student and a full-time teacher, but I surprised myself. I've mentioned in previous posts how I panicked when I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified by the thought of balancing motherhood and my career, but I've managed. I've adapted. I prioritize. I work harder than ever. I'm sure that I'll panic when and if, God-willing, we ever get pregnant with baby number two, but I'm also sure that I'll adapt again. 

As mothers, we're met with situations multiple times every day where we're expected to make the best decisions for our families. We don't know that our decisions are going to the best choice, but we trust our instincts, and sometimes our mothers or grandmothers, and we do what we think is right. We pray, in my case, more that we ever have. I've never been closer to God as I am now. Something about the role of motherhood, whether it is the enormity or the difficulty, pushes me to call on Jesus. We prioritize. Frivolous things that we used to think were important when we were single become less so when we have a family. We plan. Planning comes with the territory. Even if your child isn't strictly scheduled, you still have to plan ahead if you ever want to do anything away from your house. We adapt. Oh, you mean your plans go on without a hitch every time? Yeah, I didn't think so. We are literally making it up as we go. We're not 'winging it' per se, but there is no manual for this life. We don't know what tomorrow holds, but we do know Who holds tomorrow. So, I'm going to trust my instincts and make it up as I go. 

Are you ever worried about handling future responsibilities? Have you worried about it in the past? How did you adapt? 

The Truth About Breastfeeding

I knew I would breastfeed long before I ever even thought about getting pregnant. I mean, why wouldn't I? Isn't that how God intended? Of course I'd breastfeed! I was even pretty judge-y of women who chose to feed their babies formula from a bottle. How could they?! I mean it's not like it's hard or anything. (Apologies all the way around, ladies!)

So in true Emily fashion, I began researching as soon as we found out I was pregnant with J. I read blog posts, journal articles, and online forums about the many benefits of breastfeeding. I spent hours on Pinterest weeding through pin after pin about tips to establish and maintain a successful nursing relationship. I watched YouTube videos teaching me how to achieve a proper latch. I learned the breastfeeding jargon. I knew it all....psshh. I knew nothing. NOTHING.

As soon as Baby J popped out, we got skin-to-skin as my 'training' had suggested. I was half covered by a hospital gown with half of my family in the delivery room, but I was too determined to care. He latched immediately and nursed very well. He was a natural. I, on the other hand, was not. I learned very quickly that there are situations in which preparation means nothing. Breastfeeding is one of them. I thought it would come completely naturally to me...it did not. It was awkward and painful and stressful and embarrassing at times. I was not at all prepared for the journey we were about to embark upon, but we figured it out. We succeeded, and we learned a few things along the way.

1) It does hurt...at first. Pre-baby, I read at least ten different articles or blog posts explaining that breastfeeding shouldn't hurt if you're doing it right. I believed them, but they are wrong. It can hurt. Even if you're doing it right. I had three different lactation specialists come check J's latch while we were in the hospital because I was sure something wasn't right. It just hurt SO bad. And bleeding, surely there shouldn't be bleeding. Each of the specialists that watched him latch said that he was doing it perfectly, but it still hurt. And, it continued to hurt until J was about 6 weeks old. I'm not sure if I just got used to it or if J got better at it. Either way, it was a much needed relief. 

2) It's not easy. I thought it would be. I mean, no bottle washing, no buying formula, no late night runs into the kitchen to make a bottle. Easy breezy, right?! Wrong! The part I didn't really think about was the fact that I was going to be my baby's sole source of nutrition for at least four months. That's a lot of pressure! It's also a full-time job. When baby wakes up at 2:00 am, it's definitely not daddy he wants! I remember resenting G for sleeping peacefully beside me as I struggled to stay awake while nursing our two month old. And if you plan on going to work while breastfeeding, it only gets harder. You'll now have to block out a couple thirty minute blocks of time for pumping during your already jam packed work schedule.

3) It's not really accepted in public. People pretend to support breastfeeding, but you'll quickly see their real opinion on the matter when you have to feed your hungry baby in the middle of a Chuck E. Cheese. If you expect to have a social life with a breastfeeding newborn you will eventually have to nurse said newborn in public. It's unavoidable. I have nursed in restaurants,  while shopping, in waiting rooms, in parked cars, and in public restrooms. (Admittedly, not my favorite place.) I've been given dirty looks and I've been praised. I didn't want or ask for either. I was only trying to feed my hungry baby. I had numerous people ask me why I didn't just pump before we went out. You know, because having a newborn is so easy that you should just throw a completely needless and slightly difficult task in there just to complicate things. Did I mention that I hate having to pump? I never quite figured out why people expected me to go through that much extra effort just to make them feel more comfortable. It seems to me that people are extremely supportive of the idea of breastfeeding...as long as it doesn't affect their everyday lives or make them uncomfortable. Breastfeeding is one thing while you're still in the hospital but something else entirely when you're in public.

4) It requires teamwork. People assume that the act of breastfeeding involves only the mother and baby because those are the only two active participants, but success relies heavily on the support of your husband. At first, G was super supportive of my choice to breastfeed. I had educated him on the benefits and he had agreed that it what was best for J, then we had to reenter that land of the living. Nursing in public was a big hurdle for G to jump. I'm not sure if he was uncomfortable with the actual nursing in public or if he was just worried about whether my nursing J would offend someone. Eventually he came around and he has been amazingly supportive ever since. He brings me the things I tend to always need but forget to grab before J and I settle down in our chair. He's understanding when he knows I've been up with a fussy baby half the night. He knows how much I hate pumping, so he takes the burden of washing and assembling everything off of me. If it wasn't for his support and help, I'm positive that we'd have never made it this far.

5) It doesn't help lose all that much weight. Yeah, it burns a lot of calories, but your body tends to try to make up for lost calories. And do you know how it makes up for those calories? By making you a hungry, hungry hippo. Yes, my post-baby weight is the same if not lower than my pre-baby weight, but it's not like the fat just fell of as I ate to my heart's content. I held on to a good ten pounds until I decided to make a conscious effort to cut calories. But, you have to be careful when dieting while breastfeeding. There's a sweet spot in your calories intake. Too many calories and you won't lose weight, but too few calories and you'll really cut into your milk production. It is definitely not worth breastfeeding if the only outcome you are hoping for is a smaller jean size. You'll never succeed if you aren't in it for the right reasons. Dieting and exercise is just too easy.

6) It's a choice. It's a great choice, but it's still just a choice. You make so many choices on the journey of raising a child; how to feed them is just one of them. Breastmilk is very beneficial to a growing baby, but it's not some miracle elixir. I decided that I would breastfed my baby because I thought it was the best choice for our family. It will not make your baby superhuman. It will not ward off all illnesses. It will not make him a genius. There is research to show that it benefits children in all kinds of ways but so does proper prenatal care and a loving, safe home. There are plenty of ways to raise your children to be smart, healthy, and secure. I know women who were driving themselves crazy trying to breastfeed. Your child doesn't need a crazy mama who is fighting the urge to cry at every turn; he needs a loving, nurturing, caring mama who responds to him with love. A happy mama trumps a crazy mama every day no matter what the child has in his bottle.

7) It is not a superpower. I've seen shirts that say "I breastfeed. What's your superpower?" That's dumb. God gave all women the physical ability to breastfeed their children. That would be the equivalent to saying we are superhuman because we can give birth. No. It is amazing. It is awe-inspiring. It is humbling. It is a gift. It is beautiful. It's not a superpower.  #getoveryourself

I've learned so much along this journey. Much of it may be specific to our lives, so maybe this is my truth about breastfeeding. It hasn't all been easy or effortless, but it has definitely been worth it. I'm so proud of my happy, healthy baby boy, and I'm delighted that we've made it this far. I contemplated quitting more that a few times during those impossibly difficult first weeks, but I look back and pity myself. I had no idea how effortless it would become after we figured it all out.

I'm looking forward to getting my body back after he weans. I'll be able to drink coffee without worrying about the last time J nursed. I can cut calories without stressing over a dip in supply. I can quit timing parent conferences and make up tests around my pumping schedule. But, I'd be lying if I said that I don't get the slightest twinge of sadness when I think about. I'll be all too happy to pack that pump up though!

How did you choose to feed your baby? What have you learned along the way? Would you have done anything differently?

Why losing my wedding band was a blessing in disguise

As I got ready for work one day last week, I realized that I couldn't find my wedding band. It's actually my engagement ring, wedding ring, and another matching wedding ring that G bought for me on our first anniversary. All gone.


As you can probably guess, I was frantic. I looked for it as long as time would allow. Like most mothers, I don't have much time for anything except the absolute necessities in the mornings before work, so I had to quit and hope I'd find it that afternoon when I got home.


I fretted all day. I've never actually used that word, fretted, but it seems very fitting for this. I was a mess. Every time someone casually asked me how I was doing I exploded on them about how I lost my wedding rings and my morning was horrible and blah, blah, blah. I would even tell random coworkers who had the bad luck to be walking through the hall at the same time I was. Students who walked into my room trying to score some brownie points with a "How was your morning?" received a long explanation about how it was an awful, horrible, terrible morning. *Insert southern, sarcastic tone here* I was just a ray of sunshine.


When I got back home, I searched high and low for those rings. I searched everywhere that I thought it might me. Everywhere I have ever put it for safekeeping while washing dishes, bathing J, cooking, etc. I even looked in places that I knew it couldn't be. I searched in potted plants, in the air conditioning vents, in the bed sheets. Everywhere. Every. Where.


Eventually I had to give up. There was nowhere else to look, and along with my house I was an absolute mess. All I could think about were my rings. Finally after watching me sulk around for what must have been too long for him to stand, G told me not to worry that we'd buy a new ring if we couldn't find mine. I refused. I didn't want a new ring. I wanted my rings. 


At that moment, I realized the real value of the rings that sit on my hand everyday. A new ring, no matter the monetary value, would never be able to replace my rings.


My husband, all by himself, went to pick out those rings on the hopes that I would agree to build a life with him. He poured over the entire case of rings until he found the ring, his wife's ring. It's a reminder that he only ever wants what's best for me.


He held that ring as he planned how he would ask me to marry him. He twirled that ring between his fingers as he mustered the courage to ask my daddy for my hand in marriage. When the time was right, he felt that ring as heavy as pure lead in his pocket. It's a reminder of all the things I love most about my husband.


That is the ring that I fell in love with as soon as I laid eyes on it. It fit like it was made just for me. It is a reminder that he knows me better than anyone else in the world.


As our engagement waned, it was that ring that I studied for hours on end. It was that ring that I prayed over as I asked God to bless our marriage. It was that ring that my husband slipped on my hand on our wedding day. That ring is the symbol and reminder of our covenant with God.


It's the ring that my husband bought me for our first anniversary. He bought for me it even though there were plenty of other more useful things on which we could spend our money. It is a reminder that he's always trying to make me happy no matter the request.


It's the ring that I made sure I had with me as I went to the hospital in labor with J, even though it barely fit on my swollen finger. It is a reminder of the love that made way for so much more love and happiness.


That ring is reminder of our best days as a couple..even on our worst days.


There are plenty of much more valuable rings, but none will ever be that ring. 


Luckily, I found my ring. They were in the most unlikely place, exactly where I left them. As I absentmindedly took off my jewelry to bathe J, I hung my ring on a hook that I use for my necklaces. I never thought to look there. Why would I? But, I glanced up there as I got ready for bed and there it was. Those three beautiful pieces of jewelry soldered together to be one ring. The ring. The ring that means so much more than money to me. The relief of finding that ring was so enormous that I almost cried. I never knew a ring could hold so much love and meaning.


I never really put much thought into what that ring really meant to me, but I know now. It's funny how God speaks to us in some of the most unlikely ways. I know that my ring is just that, a ring. I would not have made us any less married if it had been lost forever, but it means so much. It's irreplaceable. 


So, all you girls out there pinning beautiful, expensive engagement rings and wedding bands. Think past the superficial value of that ring; think about all of the love that is going to represented by that one piece of jewelry. All of the hopes, the dreams, the faith. There will be so much good represented by that ring.

 Be blessed.