Shhhhhhh don't tell my Mother...

Don't tell her because she would be horrified by what I am about to confess. I wish I had explored the whole co-sleeping thing more. When Olivia was a newborn and we napped during the day it was always together, side by side...I loved it. She spent all her naps in my bed and only slept in the crib at night. Actually if we are being totally honest...as a newborn at night she slept in her swing until she was about 4 months old. Hey you may care about what all the sleep experts say about these "motion junkie" babies...but back then I was just trying to prolong her asleep time any way I could. She was in that swing swaddled so tightly it was a wonder she could breathe, the swing going full blast with the classical music playing loud enough to drown out Mitchell's snoring and of course don't forget the pacifier.



Sometimes you just gotta do what you can, and at that time we relied pretty heavily upon the swing at nighttime. It's funny how you forget things, because I had forgotten altogether we even had a swing. But we used it practically every night up until about 4 months when I decided she needed to get used to her crib and it was a fairly smooth transition. Because no matter what bad habits you may establish in a newborn (swing sleeping) the good news is they adjust beautifully at that age...probably the only time in human life that change isn't that big of a deal.



Anyways again I seem to have gotten off on some tangent. When what I mean to talk about is how I wish Olivia could sleep with me. Before moving home I was used to sleeping next to another person. Now I am really not much of a cuddler, but just having someone next to you is something you get used to and I had slept next to Mitch for the past 2 years. Then Olivia came into my life and we slept together every night for 9 months...you know pregnancy and all. And then naptime after she was born. I miss her alot at nighttime, even when she is just a few feet away in her crib. She is soooo on the go all the time these days, "very very busy" is what Mitchell's mom and grandmother call it. She will cuddle up to you when she is tired or hurt but other than that she's happy to just explore this new freedom of hers and it makes me feel pretty sad. Breastfeeding used to be a nice way to connect with her even after she became mobile. She would settle down and be calm for however long she wanted to nurse. But that stopped at 9 months. When she weaned herself, because believe me it was not my choice, I felt very hurt and sad. I felt rejected and unnecessary and I missed my baby and that time together. So after that I began to hold her at night. When I went to bed I would pick up her little sleeping body, take her over to my bed and just lay down and hold her.



They say that just a mother's embrace can calm a restless child, ease any fear, settle any uneasiness in their baby. This is true. This is why that even adults seem to want their mothers when they are scared, sick or hurt. I know I have never called out for my mother as much as I did when I was in labor with Olivia. She couldn't do any more than Mitchell as far as easing the pain. But just having her there to reassure me that it was okay, that I could do this was more believable coming from her. We all need our mothers but I have found that I need Olivia just as much. When I have had a rough day, when I feel stressed out or sad I just wait for nighttime. I wait for the time when I can hold her while she sleeps. Feeling each rise and fall of her chest reassures me that it's okay, that I can do this. A calm washes over me and I just relax. I have found that as a mother I need Olivia probably just as much as she needs me. Nothing can ease my troubles as well as that heavily asleep little body molded against me feeling how her life connects to mine. How she is an extension of me that reassures me that I will never have to feel alone again. I am just so in love with that crazy baby...I hope she never leaves me :)

Another post about my hair...

Those like 5 of you who actually read my blog probably only log on to see pictures of Olivia. I mean I don't kid myself, I know that she is the star of this website. I know I mostly look at other people's blogs to look at pictures of their kids. But that being said I also use the "blog" to ramble and entertain the thought that someone might actually enjoy my "clever" repartee. It's an outlet, like a journal. It seems journaling feels more gratifying at times knowing that somebody might read it. But like the title implies this post is about me. More specifically about my hair and my long suffering quest to grow it out. So I don't know how entertaining it will be...I mean how entertaining can hair be? Which got me thinking about why I want long hair anyway.

When I graduated from High School I had really long hair. It was past my bra line and I had dreams of growing it down my butt...it didn't happen. I cut it to my shoulders right before I went away to college and from there ended up with a really short a-line bob. This was courtesy of watching "With Honors" way too many times and becoming obsessed with not only Brendan Fraiser but also with the "Courtney Blumenthal" character and her sassy shorter in the back and longer in the front do'.

This was the look for me, this was the new college me! Having never had anything but blonde hair my entire life what possessed me with the nerve to dye it practically black I still can't imagine. I really don't remember thinking twice about it...just did it and then shocked my whole family when I showed up at Easter looking nothing like the blonde Emily they all knew. My sister in law actually saw me from afar and was confused as to who this girl with her family was.

And so it began....my love of coloring my hair. No don't get confused I had dyed it many times prior to this but it was always just a WAY lighter blonde than I was naturally blessed with, never anything but blonde. I kept it dark the rest of the time I was at college that year and then when I came home for summer my high school long distance boyfriend let me know that he preferred it not only longer but also blonde. What did I do? Bleached it back blonde and cut it short pixie style. Ehhhh can't give them all exactly what they want, he can have it blonde but it's gonna be short. Also bleaching out black hair is not a kind process and well cutting most of it off seemed the only way to not have that frazzled fried look.

The next ten years I have bounced between blonde, red and brown. However the length of my hair never really reached much longer that my jawline. Then I got pregnant and my hair grew like a weed. It was a novelty to have my hair grow so fast. My hair went from a chin length bob to past my shoulders in 9 months! It was long! Then after Olivia I got in that funk and needed a change....I cut off a significant amount. Then I dyed it dark. Then I decided I wanted it long again...and not just as long as it was before but really long. Here is my theory as to why I want it long, really long. My pregnancy with Olivia was a huge surprise and I spent the better part of that pregnancy terrified of where my life was headed and just what kind of stability I would find in my life with my new baby. A fear I still struggle with even though she is now a year old...but that is another blog altogether.

Anyways I didn't feel prepared or at peace with what was happening with my life or my body when I was pregnant with Olivia. Every girl, at least every girl I knew growing up, imagines what it would be like to be pregnant. You see those pregnant woman at the store or out and about and you think "oh one day when I am pregnant I am going to be one of these cute woman, with a cute belly and beautiful hair and cute little pregnant clothes". These thoughts are very romantic notions because you find once you actually are pregnant....you don't really feel all that cute or attractive most of the time. Add to that the fact that I was not mentally prepared to be pregnant and well that makes the precarious state of your pregnant body all the harder to accept. So here is why I want long hair...stupid as it sounds. I plan on next time around, if there is a next time, that I will be one of those beautiful pregnant women. I will have the long silky locks that graze my baby bump....again some stupid romantic hippy-like mother earth type notion of what pregnancy should be...but hey this is my dumb notion, I'm sure you have your own. Think Nicole Richie...

Only I will never have a face or arms that thin...especially while pregnant....again another blog another day! So one day when I am planning on it and my hair is long I will get to be pregnant again. And for those of you who remember how much complaining I did while pregnant the first time...this next time will be different. Whenever that next time will be....

Until then I will be growing my hair out and looking like this...

Drew is my hair style icon BTW....only my hair will be brown.....sigh....

A most heartbreaking sign....

That my baby is getting too old! On her 1 year old birthday my weekly babycenter update email was titled; "Your 12 month old toddler". You see from conception you can subscribe to these updates. They tell you what is happening with the growth and development of your fetus and then once the baby is born. They are usually titled "Your (insert months here) old Baby". So I knew there was no turning back once the "baby" turned to "toddler". (And imagine a dramatic cry of NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! here)

So a month ago today miss Squids turned one year old. The whole month before I found myself in a very bad mood most days. Planning a birthday party did not help...it seemed with every new detail I got more and more stressed out and irritable. Why you ask? I think it was my subconscious passive aggressive way of being very very sad about this growing up milestone. Where did the time go? How was she crawling, walking, talking, communicating her thoughts and needs to me? Where did my squishy little mound of newborn baby flesh go...how did that slip away in what seemed like a most sudden way?

Being a new mother is soooo not fair...as in new mother, never had a baby before. No one tells you to stop, to breathe, to slow down and see what is happening in this little constantly evolving being. And because you have never had a baby before you don't know to do it. Those first 3-5 months are just about adjusting, surviving, finding the energy you never knew you had to just put one foot in front of the other, to blink, to inhale and exhale... even in pure exhaustion. For the first time in your life you really can't be selfish...not even in the slightest sense of the word. Going to the bathroom or taking a shower feels like your only moments of free time. I remember when my little sister first came home to visit after having her little Liam. There was a night where she was mentally just spent. She had tried to put the baby to bed for what probably seemed like an eternity and in that rare "he's quiet, he's still, is he asleep", she put him down. Moments later I heard the shower going and not too soon after I heard the unmistakable cries of a frantic newborn. Her husband was out on the couch....

"Liam is crying", I say.
"Oh I think Katie is in there with him", he replies.
"Nah, she is in the shower".
"Oh, Okay", he says quietly and heads towards the bedroom.

And I smiled. I sooooo remember waiting for the calm before the storm type quiet in Olivia. Knowing she is not really asleep but momentarily checked out...so I better book it and get in that shower before she realizes I tricked her into quietness for a few moments. That way once she realizes she has been duped Mitch will have to get her...cause I need a moment to myself, I need a shower...even if I already had a shower, even if I already had three! And it is things like this that define new motherhood.

I know I spent alot of times admiring her sleeping face. I know I spent countless hours nursing her while gazing into her gently dozing off eyes, holding her petite hand, amazed that this little thing exists because of me. I know I kissed every inch of her small body and marveled at the perfectness and completeness of its tiny size. I know I appreciated her being a newborn, I know I did. But what stands out most clearly in mind is the exhaustion...physical and probably more significant mental. Because becoming a mother really is a metamorphosis. Once that change starts everything changes and you just aren't "you" the way you were before. And until you become a mother that will never make as much perfect sense as it does once you have a child of your own.

"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"

I guess I realize now that no matter how much time you spent admiring that little thing as a newborn...it will never be enough time...it will always seem too short of a time...you will always look back and wish you had spent more time with patience as you rocked the fussy baby to sleep. I know I spent many times rocking her to sleep with so many feelings of desperation,

"Oh my gosh, OH MY GOSH....she is never going to go to sleep, my child IS JUST NEVER going to go to sleep. She is trying to make me lose my mind....and it's working".

I think at times a new mother is completely justified in believing that that baby just might be some sort of diabolical genius...constantly scheming on how he or she can drive her mother to the brink of insanity. Completely ridiculous to think that a newborn knows exactly the extent of the frustration she is causing...but I will tell you from experience that it seems like it at times.

Now that time is gone. She now puts herself to sleep and her cries of protest are much shorter and don't bother me the way they did as a new mother. And there is so much more calm and peace in me as a mother...but I miss those first few months now. I long to hold her and not have her try to squirm free. I feel the sense of tears coming on when I try to remember the exact sound of her newborn cry, a cross between a duck and a kitten. I feel a dull ache in my heart to know that I will never breastfeed her again...maybe other babies but never my Olivia. So much so that I still have my Boppy right next to my bed, even when I stopped nursing at 9 months. I just cannot believe how fast she has grown into a little person. How everyday she moves farther and farther away from her babyhood and into her childhood.

And it makes me sad.

And it makes me happy.

And it makes me grateful.

And it makes me regretful.

And it makes me....

Well I guess it makes me a mother.