As many of you know, a third sweet little one is growing inside of me. I’ve been meaning to write something about this third baby pretty much since I found out I was pregnant…but somehow the words haven’t come. With 28 weeks rapidly approaching on Monday, I thought that now was as good of a time as any to finally write about her. But to do that, I have to go back to the beginning…before this baby was even a possibility in our minds.
My kid is the cutest (or smartest or most beautiful)…you fill in the blank.
Your kid is more advanced developmentally than mine? You’re probably exaggerating.
My baby looks tiny next to yours? You must be feeding yours too much.
My baby is really chunky? Yes sir, and I’m proud of it!
I could totally blame my indigestion on the baby and no one would ever know.
I’m trying to remember why I would have put the TV remote in the fridge.
I wonder if the other mothers’ bellies look like squishy biscuit dough?
Child, you are about to make me lose my mind. But somehow I still love you anyway.
If the kids fall asleep in the car I’m totally stopping for a milkshake.
*Note: When I refer to my son as “high need”, I’m referring to Dr. Sears’ description of a high need baby.
My first child was a really hard baby. I feel qualified to say that now because my second baby is significantly easier. In many ways, my laid-back second born has made me feel vindicated. I can now say, “See! I did know what I was talking about! I wasn’t just a hormone-crazed new mama grossly underprepared for motherhood (although I was)! It wasn’t my parenting, eating habits, or personality that made him that way! He was just plain hard.“
One of the mysteries of motherhood, however, is how fiercely in love I was with that colicky, high need baby. Even more mysterious is how that love still grows each day…how I think it always will. Beyond all the incredible love, however, I look back and truly am thankful that my first baby was high needs. Here are some reasons why:
He humbled me and revealed my heart. I came into motherhood with the idea that I had everything figured out. I knew what kind of mother I would be and why. I was prideful and, sadly, judgmental. Then my beautiful, screaming Miles entered this world and threw me for a loop. He wasn’t what a baby was supposed to be, and I quickly had to let go of all that I thought I knew about babies and about motherhood. He showed me how wrong I was.
I had to depend on God for my strength and wisdom. I always felt myself to be an intelligent, capable young woman. However, being Miles’ mom has often made me feel utterly incapable and weak. The beauty of it all is that when I couldn’t go on, God sustained me. When I didn’t know what to do, He led me. I simply couldn’t rely on myself, and instead learned to rely on Him.
I was forced to relinquish my need for control. I have control issues. I really do. While that’s something I’m still working on, I’ve gotten immeasurably better since Miles was born. I had to let go of scheduling anything or the idea that I could somehow control my baby’s behavior (because I really couldn’t). Most of all, I had to get over the idea that I could somehow manipulate my life to create the”perfect” family and “perfect” marriage.
I learned not to care what other people thought. I use to dread people asking me if Miles was a “good” baby or if he slept good. If I told them the truth, I was quickly given advice about how I could “fix” the problem. If I mentioned that Miles was “high needs”, I was often met with raised eyebrows and skepticism. I could tell that certain people thought that my parenting style was to blame. I held him too much. I didn’t schedule him. I didn’t let him cry it out. I was too clingy. I wasn’t persistent or resilient enough. I had to learn to brush off comments like these and be confident in my parenting.
I became less critical and more sympathetic towards other moms. Criticism from other people made me much more careful about the comments I made to other moms. Just as I had learned that my baby and I were both unique individuals, so I came to see that every baby and mom is, in fact, different. I could never know every circumstance of a person’s life and, therefore, I had no right to judge another mom. I began to look at the mom in the grocery store with a toddler way past due for a nap with sympathy, rather than judging her for shopping instead of getting her child a nap.
I learned to pay attention to him as a little person instead of treating him as a generic baby. Miles never went “by the book” as a baby. That used to drive me crazy. I am now thankful for it because it caused me to really learn about him and mother him accordingly. It taught me to be responsive to my children, instead of expecting them to fit into my parenting style.
He taught me how important it was to be proactive in my marriage. For awhile after Miles was born, Andy and I had a pretty strained relationship. Not that there was really anything wrong. It was just that, up until Miles’ birth, pretty much every night was a date night for us. Miles demanded so much of our attention that we spent most of our time tag teaming instead of doing things together. Our own relationship was put on the back burner, and we felt like two ships adrift at sea. Thankfully, we began to learn what was necessary in our marriage in order to keep the flame, and even the friendship, alive. This is something we’re still working on, and I’m sure always will be, but we’re much more on our guard now.
I got a glimpse into how God loves us. Miles wrecked my life. He left my nerves frazzled, my brain foggy, and my self-confidence lacking. Yet, somehow my fierce love for him only grew. Through it, I got a taste of God’s love for us. I began to see how unfathomable it was for Him to love us so indescribably, when we can never begin to reciprocate…when we forget Him and fail Him and betray Him.
I now get to watch him blossom into an intelligent, intuitive toddler. Miles was a hard baby and he’s definitely a challenging toddler. Yet he’s also so very sweet and fun. He loves to talk and is very communicative. He’s also very observant and intuitive. He quickly picks up on people’s emotions, whether they be his mama’s or a strangers. His hawk-like eyes miss nothing, and he’ll often bring up things later that I had already forgotten had happened. I love it, and I love him.
I’m enjoying having a more laid-back baby this time around…and getting more sleep. Yet, I wouldn’t trade Miles and his personality for anything. I firmly believe that I am a much better mother to Nora because of what I learned from Miles. God doesn’t make mistakes. He knew the children that I needed.
I’m going to be real honest: breastfeeding and I have a love-hate relationship. As much as I loved nursing my son and am very pro-breastfeeding, I don’t believe that breastfeeding is always the best way. There are way too many moms out there (me included) that are made to feel like less of a mother for either struggling with breastfeeding, not enjoying it, or choosing not to breastfeed altogether.
This was circulating recently, and it was awesome, but I think that some women forget that there are other reasons besides health ones that can prevent moms from being able to nurse their babies. For some, the stress of nursing is just not worth it. For others, breastfeeding is a struggle and at some point the benefits of fighting for it don’t outweigh the physical and emotional exhaustion. For still others, their supply, their physical attributes, or their baby’s mouth keeps them from being able to breastfeed.
I’ve not really shared this here before, but I really struggled nursing Miles in the beginning. I had dreams of effortlessly nursing my newborn in what would be a completely natural and incredibly bonding experience. Unfortunately, a combo of issues between me and him made latching impossible. For several months, the only way I could get him latched was with a shield. Even then, it was a struggle. There was a lot of screaming and frustration. Finally, though, he got the hang of it and became a pro. Breastfeeding became a beautiful, peaceful thing, and I loved it. I couldn’t understand how anyone who could breastfeed would choose not to. I was terribly proud of myself for sticking with it and persevering.
When Nora was born, I prepared myself for another struggle. To my surprise, only minutes after she arrived she latched right on. She was such a good little nurser that she wanted to nurse constantly. My poor husband had to go to Walmart at 5 am to get a pacifier and give me a break. I was in proud Mommy heaven.
Then engorgement struck. Terrible, painful engorgement that I wasn’t able to get to go down for several days. Suddenly my nursing champ couldn’t latch. After a sleepless night of trying unsuccessfully to get her to nurse, and her not getting more than a few drops of milk, we gave in and gave her a bottle of pumped milk. One bottle. That’s all it took for my nursing pro to decide that nursing was simply too much work.
My dreams of easily nursing my newborn whenever and wherever crumbled into a heap. I can’t even begin to describe to you how hard it is to have your own child screaming in rejection of you, in favor of a cold, artificial substitute. Meanwhile, all you can think of are the many, many friends whose baby’s latch right on and never have any trouble nursing. You know it’s not true, but you can’t help but feel like a failure.
You see, I know from experience that not being able to “Exclusively Breastfeed” (or “EBF”, as it’s known in the cyber world), whether by choice or necessity, is never easy. Something deep down whispers that you are less of a woman. After all, women have been doing it for thousands of years so why can’t you?
Then there’s the judgement from other moms, especially those that don’t know the pain it is to struggle to nurse your little one. Whether imagined or not, you feel the stares when you pull out that bottle. You hesitate before posting that cute anecdote about your child on Facebook because it includes the world “bottle”, and you know what certain moms will think. You cringe inside when that mom who doesn’t understand the whole situation gives you advice on what will help with your “problem”. You skip over that article someone shared for the millionth time about how much better breastfeeding is, implying that your kid will be less healthy, smart, and developed than those lucky kids who nursed until they were 2.
Mamas, if you’ve struggled with breastfeeding or have had to give up on it altogether for whatever reason, take heart. You are not less of a mama, and your child will not lack because of it. My grandma likes to remind people that all of her three amazingly smart, high-IQ, beautiful children (which include an orthodontist and a PhD psychologist) were, in fact, formula babies, as were my sister and I. If you can breastfeed, that’s wonderful, but breastfeeding alone will not dictate the future and health of your children. What’s far more important is for our children to have a mentally stable mama who loves them with all of her heart.
To those of you to whom nursing comes easily, think twice before passing judgement. If you haven’t struggled with breastfeeding, you can’t fully understand the struggle of those who have. Make the choice to support other mothers, whether they breastfeed of bottle feed. What is best for one family and one child will not be best for another family and another child. We need to embrace one another and the unique paths that we are all on. Remember that breastfeeding your children does not make you a better mother than the woman who bottle feeds.
Nora is almost three weeks old now, and she’s had more bottles than I can count. I’m producing more than enough milk, so it’s all been mama’s milk, but it’s still not my preference or my choice. Pumping often enough to produce enough milk for your little one is exhausting (especially when that includes pumping in the middle of the night after already having fed your baby a bottle). There have definitely been days that I’ve wondered how long we’ll make it before switching to formula. Being a busy wife and mama makes exclusively pumping for the next year impossible. I had to come to terms with the fact that, should she not return to breastfeeding, my sweet Nora might end up on formula…and I had to be okay with that.
Thankfully, taking it one day at a time has worked. By the grace of God (because it’s certainly nothing I’ve done), my sweet Nora has suddenly decided that she really does like nursing after all. It’s 3 in the afternoon and she hasn’t had one bottle all day. Yet, I know that that could change in a heartbeat, and that’s perfectly fine. My worth and value as her mother is not tied up in my ability to feed her the “natural way”. Instead, it’s found in the love and devotion I have for her, whether she’s fed formula in a bottle or right at my chest.
I’m pleased to announce that Baby Girl Baker finally made her grand entrance into this world!
Compared to my first, this pregnancy has been no picnic in the park. In the beginning, I felt guilty for not being as excited about this pregnancy as I was with the first. Then there was a worry about baby girl’s brain ventricle being too large, and more recently such bad contractions and cramping that I almost went to the hospital.
I realized the other day, however, how long October seemed away, and how impatient I was for it to get here. The time has slowed and I find myself counting the days until sweet Baby Girl Baker makes her arrival. I’m excited and expectant and eager…all things that I wasn’t in the beginning of this pregnancy.
You see, all the trouble and worry has made Baby Girl’s life all the more dear and precious to me. I’ve come to realize just how much I love and cherish her…and that I’d do anything to see her safely in my arms. The contractions, the excessive water, the aches, and the insomnia are insignificant to me in comparison to knowing that, Lord willing, in a few short months I’ll be able to kiss her tiny little toes.
I don’t mean to say that God gives us troubles and heartaches, but I do believe He has allowed these things to happen because He knew they were exactly what I needed. He knew that I needed those worries to prepare my heart to receive my daughter.
Sometimes hardships are exactly what we need to make us stronger. Sometimes there is beauty in our troubles.
Storing and organizing children’s clothes can be overwhelming…especially when you factor in how many clothes they go through in a day, and how quickly they move through sizes. Paring your child’s wardrobe down to the bare essentials is an easy way to make things a lot more manageable. Here are 5 tips that have helped me simplify my children’s closets.
1.) Figure out how much you need of each size and for each season. This will depend on how often you wash clothes, how often you have to change their clothes, and how hard the child wears them. I try to wash clothes twice a week, and my toddler son doesn’t need a change of clothes during the day that often. You just never know, though. For him, I try to have 6-7 casual tops and 6-7 bottoms.
2.) Decide if you really need all those extras. I have never bought my son dress shoes. He hasn’t needed them, and I feel like they would just be a waste of money and space. When we go to a nicer function, Converse sneakers or sandals seem to work just fine. But…if your kid wears a suit (or fancy dress) to church every Sunday, you’ll want to invest in some nice dress shoes, obviously. I also buy limited amounts of nicer clothes. For my son, a few pairs of nice long-sleeve button ups work just fine, paired with jeans or khaki shorts. I don’t typically buy short-sleeve button ups, and instead just roll up his long-sleeves in the summer. Other maybes would be snow gear (do you even get that much snow?), jammies (will old outfits do?), and bathing suits (how often do you take your baby swimming where they’d have to wear one?).
3.) Keep your favorites and donate anything extra. Sometimes this is easier said than done. It can be really hard to get rid of something that your child has worn, especially if you can’t even remember them being that tiny. Really, though, keeping more than you need is a waste of space. When I went through my son’s old clothes recently, I realized that I had 30 short sleeve onesies in the 0-3 month size. There’s no way I’d ever need that many, even if I had another boy someday. I went through and got rid of a lot of them, even though it was hard for me. If you’ll miss something that much, take a picture of it to reminisce by.
4.) Organize the remaining clothes by size, then season. I have bins and old diaper boxes full of baby boy clothes that I’ve kept in case I ever need them again. I’ve started to do the sa
me with bigger toddler sizes, as well as the new baby girl clothes coming in. I try to keep the right sizes and seasons together, both for sizes we’ve outgrown and sizes coming up. It’s so much easier to see what you have, and figure out what you need, if it’s organized well!
5.) Keep track of what you have. I’ve started using Evernote to organize my children’s clothing. I keep a file for each size and type (long-sleeve shirts, for instance), and then take a picture of each item I have. This gives me a visual guide both for seeing what I have, and figuring out what I need. If I’m out and about and see a pair of pants in my son’s size, I pull out my phone and can quickly see if he needs any more pants like that, and if they’ll match the shirts he has. This keeps me focused and keeps me from buying things that he’ll never wear or that won’t work with the rest of his clothes. This seems to be even more important as I purchase baby girl clothes, as there’s a lot bigger selection of colors, patterns, and styles.