Breastfeeding is something that I had a difficult time doing. I tried really hard and did everything that my lactation specialist told me to do, but I just never seemed to produce enough milk to adequately feed my baby.
I felt like a bad mother and like I had failed my perfect little baby in some very profound way. Read more…
OMG! When thinking about the whole idea of having a second child, my husband and I forgot a number of crucial data points, which, unfortunately, have now reared their ugly heads. First, exhaustion. I mean, our toddler (20 months, now) is so precocious - she’s in to everything.
It’s fun, at times, to catch her studying how a chip clip works for minutes upon minutes, and I realize the wonder that has yet to unfold before her. Then, when she decides to remove each and every item from the pantry while I’m loading the dishwasher, it’s not so fun.
Just when I think I’ve gotten the house straightened up, I turn around to find hurricane Sophie has blown through, leaving bits of paper, stuffed animals and books strewn about. Everywhere. Now, add to that the exhaustion that comes with breeding a baby and you see where things get tough.
I never guessed that toddler-hood would require so much of my waning energy when I thought about getting pregnant. I based my decision on the facts I had at the time - little, docile 14-15 month old teetering from couch to chair back to couch. That was fun to watch, and I could do it sitting down!
Then, let’s address the whole morning sickness cover-up. I mean, the first time I was pregnant I was sick straight through, morning till night. No relief. Of course, on looking back I *remembered* it as being not so bad. When I had to lay down, I did. When I had to take it slow, I did. When I had to run to the bathroom (or pick up the nearest bucket), I did.
Oh oh, not so lucky this time…hormones are a wonderful curse - they cause all sorts of memory loss that, let’s be frank, is the only reason humans have continued to reproduce. If we actually remembered the hell that is pregnancy and childbirth, we, as intelligent, liberated women would NEVER choose to do it again. But, magically, we forget. At least I did.
Now, when I have have to puke (read: all day long) I can’t just lay down and bury my head…I have to *play* with my little one. Granted, no one watching me do this would regard it as playing for either adult or child, more like mild torture for both parties. But, hey, I do my best to at least throw up discreetly into a plastic baggie behind my back.
There is more - trust me - there is more, but full on complaining won’t get me anywhere. Although, a little venting is always good for the soul. Suffice it to say, if I knew then (ok, remembered) what I know now, my daughter would be a happy, well attended only child. That’s not to say I’m not looking forward to this little baby arriving - I am only too happy to get the tiny little thing out of my body and safely in to this world…it’s just that sometimes I wish I could skip the whole pregnancy part.
image credit: wilpf.org