I thought I was a Hard Ass

If I should ever run into the pregnant Elizabeth on the street, I would probably give her a good smack and tell her that half of the things she planned to do on maternity leave would not happen and that she is not a hard-ass and will have a hard time going back to work. To this she will respond, "Whatever. You don't know what you are talking about" while making the judgmental face that my loved ones have come to hate and walk away.
Then I would laugh at her naivete and tell her to just wait.

Maternity leave is a bit of a Catch 22. You don't have anything to do but care for a little blob, but at the same time you have tons to do because your little blob is incredibly needy. His neediness is also ill-timed because as soon as you think he is in a deep sleep and take on the challenge of emptying the dishwasher, he decides he is no longer tired and needs you - immediately.

Toy box I painted for Austin 

My mom was witness to my ignorance regarding maternity leave. I was going to paint furniture for my friends and start a side business. I was going to chronicle my IVF process in a scrap book that would bring Martha Stewart to tears. I was going to read 100 books and, perhaps, write one of my own. None of that happened.

I spent much of my early leave on the couch tending to my girl parts, attempting to nurse Austin (something we both hated), and watching daytime TV. This was totally unexpected and hard to digest, but not even half as shocking as the emotions that came flooding in as my maternity leave came to an end.

Maybe its the thing, but I know a lot of women who spent their maternity leave looking for a new position. I was no exception and, as a fore mentioned, even though I didn't have the time I would have liked to devote to stellar cover letters and resume review, I did scour websites like Higheredjobs.com and LinkedIn regularly. My former position required extensive travel, weekend work, and nights away from home. Although it also allowed me to work remotely most days of the week, 25-30 nights an academic semester in hotels and 6-10 weekends of work a year was incredibly unappealing. On the flip side, summers responsibilities were essentially nonexistent and I was home more often than not, my commute was 12 minutes when I did have to go in, my supervisor was hands-on and wonderful, and I was the maker of my own schedule. Needless to say, I was picky. Incredibly picky.

"What? you want me to come in everyday?"
"8am to 5pm, you say?"
"The commute is what?"
"I see......"

Clearly I had high expectations for my new position. High and, more than likely, unreasonable UNTIL the Working Mom Gods shined upon me and created the position which I, ultimately, accepted.
Long story short, my old supervisor left my previous institution for a new one, had a position open under him, and I met the qualifications. Because we had a good rapport and worked well together, I was able to come in with my list of ridiculous demands, and create a work/life balance that worked for everyone. Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

So why, you may ask, did you only think you are a hard-ass and not actually become one? Well, its still hard to walk out the door that first day back at work and leave your little blob, who by now has developed into an awesome little person, behind. You feel like you are leaving for war and that you will have to write him letters by candlelight in your bunker detailing your day and, similarly, you will receive letters from your loved ones informing you of all the "firsts" you missed while you were away. Yes - it is over dramatic, but you are still coming down over your hormonal roller coast and you're the mom so this what your mind does.

I came home one night at 6:00pm, sobbing that we only had 4 hours together before he went to bed. I threatened to quit after two days and work part-time in a bookstore. I cursed my breast pump for taking ten minutes away from my morning bonding time while I drained the wells. I panicked thinking he could no longer recognize me because I wasn't around enough. I kind of went insane.

But then I realized leaving for part of the week made me a better mom. Stay-at-Home-Moms might find that blasphemous but I appreciated him more. I wasn't stuck on a couch watching him sleep. I had a reason to put on nice pants, have adult conversation, and put all of my academic degrees to good use. Because I missed some of the cries, the fits, the poops, and the pukes, I was more tolerable of the ones I did see.

Austin - sideways. 

  

My Son: The Nudest

Snug tight, nine months in his Mommy's womb.
Patient - a flower waiting to bloom,
Our Austin took his first sip of air
at St. Peters Hospital, unclothed and bare.

Swaddled in the hospital grade wrap
and donned in his matching standard cap,
he took things in, thought "what is all this stuff?
I prefer to live life in the buff!"

Although he could not share those words
His cries and wimpers Daddy heard.
He'd flail his little arms, legs would twitch,
since he wanted to be without a stitch

of clothing on his skin.
To Adam and Eve he'd be akin
then he'd smile as happy as could be
with his stuff all out for all to see.

As parents, we picked up on this trend
and when cries needed to be on the mend,
we provide a little interlude
and let our son play in the nude.

Of course the diaper stays in place
to avoid an excremental disgrace,
but still there's clearly no mistake
my son is happier when he is nake.

For now we will support this game
since at two months, its innocent and tame
but punishments we'll have to seek
if our Austin starts to streak.

January 2013

Breast Pumping - a tiny memoir

At your baby's birth a nurse comes in,
chanting the mantra "breast is best"
and before you know it, she's got your baby
and pushing his face toward your chest.

He huffs and puffs, breathes in, breathes out.
Frantically looking for his food source
and the nurse's cold hand is on your boob -
something natural, she's trying to force.

You get the latch, there's a suck or two
then baby says "I'm done with this"
But you know he wasn't fed enough -
from "cradle" to "football" you try to switch.

You take him home and begin to plead,
harness your chi, say some curses,
"To hell with this!", you finally say.
No wonder the Tudors had wet nurses.

You invest in a pump to measure your goods,
finding comfort in each milliliter
and all of a sudden your finicky boy
has turned into quite the eater.

You may think "nipple confusion" is just a myth
but your newborn is no fool.
"The boob," he says, "is too much work,
but this bottle she's got is pretty cool".

So you resign to pump exclusively,
which once you accept, brings peace of mind.
You can see your output, plan ahead, and
some solace you start to find.

BUT the pump is not all peaches!
You're at the mercy of this machine
and between the cups, the tubes, the pumps,
the Mandela Freestyle is cruel and mean.

You put your nipples in a vice,
not once a day and more than twice.
Pulled and stretched, the milk "plunks" down
to the rhythmic sounds of the device.

Expelling the food from your knockers
like a million tiny mammograms
You begin to question your sanity,
putting your bosoms in such a jam.

You watch your supply collect.
Two ounces, three, four and growing
and even though your tatas hate you,
there is comfort in knowing

your giving baby what he needs,
enough to keep his tummy round and full
so you wake up at night, lift up your shirt,
and give your nips a little pull.

Austin's Christmas Gift to his Grandparents 

Venturing Out

Once you get home from the hospital, you will spend your first few days in a "rot spot". Whether this spot be on your couch, in a favorite chair, or in your bed - you will be at the beck and call of your baby, especially if you are breast feeding. You will also have little reason to brush your hair, put on anything but sweat pants, or look presentable in any other way. Clearly, your "downstairs" will still be pissed off at you for various reasons and your movements will be limited so, at first, this sedentary life style will work; however if you are like me, it will also wear off quickly.

After a week or so you will start to look for reasons to put on pants and leave the house.You may even resent your husband as he goes about his day, goes to the gym, and has happy nether-regions. This is not good. Find some place to go - even if its just for a half hour.
Austin's first outing was to Target with my mom and me. It was good for both of us to get some air, break in our over priced stroller, and move. You will still protect your baby from onlookers who want to peer over the stroller and gawk at your baby. You don't want him to get infected by anything and you are convinced everyone has something to contaminate him with.

You are also supposed to wait 6 weeks before exercising but I am vane and shallow and didn't want to wait that long. By November 9th, I got my butt into the garage and created some hybrid heavy bag/kettlebell/ tae-bo work out. I was pleasantly surprised with my performance and became a much better person to be around in the house. Clearly use your judgment and listen to your body as you work out, but if you are like me - endorphins are a wonderful thing. Since then, I have increased my workouts and yesterday I was able to run 6 miles at a decent clip  and my uterus didn't fall out. (sshh - don't tell Dr. B)

This leads me to my next mini-rant.
I chose not to gain 80 pounds during my pregnancy. I gained 22 - 7 1/2 were baby and about 8 were miscellaneous fluids and gunk. This left me about 7 pounds to lose once I got home. Good news! Maybe I could have cheated more - I never did get the carrot-cheesecake muffin I promised myself at the 7th month mark - but I chose not to because I am shallow and didn't want to be a fat mess. This said, I'm sorry Jessica Simpson got huge but that was her decision. I don't need to see her and all these other celebrities all over the place with their post-baby bodies. If you exercise during your pregnancy, make smart choices, and work your ass off afterwards (literally), you can wear your pre-pregnancy clothes home from the hospital. I was able to do it without a personal trainer, a nutritionist, a Weight Watchers endorsement, or paparazzi.
There is more I can say on this topic, but I am going to move on.

Once you know you can put on your pants, you will want to go out and socialize with the world. My first adult outing was bridesmaids dress shopping. This was an excellent idea as well as a not so excellent idea. The morning of the 10th, I was so excited to blow dry my hair, put on make up, and not talk in 3rd person. As I drove up the Garden State Parkway, I felt like Thelma or Louise, minus the cliff. I love my son dearly, but there is something to be said about adult conversation and applying foundation. It was so nice to see my friends, feel clean, talk about something other than poop, and look at bridesmaid dresses with one of my absolute favorite people in the world.

I was resigned to just offering my opinion and not trying anything on since some of my parts were still soft and others were still angry; however when a bride-to-be finds a dress she loves, a dutiful bridesmaid tries it on. The dress was beautiful but the lighting in the dressing room was not. It's also not easy when one of the bridesmaids is a fabulous 5'9 and itty bitty and another is my height, but also itty-bitty. Even though I was back in my jeans, somewhere between hormones, the industrial sized pad in my undies, and my extra cushion, I was not the bridesmaid goddess I had hoped to be. At this point, I started to feel sad. Mommy-guilt started to kick in and it was time to go home. In hindsight, I took on a little too much too soon and should have started with a lunch or a walk and waited before trying on clothes and getting measured. Lesson learned.

First Thanksgiving! 

Bringing Baby Home

I intended to write this a week after Austin's birth - then a week turned into two - and now its been over a month BUT here I am with a few minutes to spare for an update. There are a few things I want to cover in this post so it may be broken into a few sections - starting with the first nights home, maternity leave, venturing out, and a few little firsts.

At the hospital, as much as the nurses come and go - your baby also seems to sleep more often and less fitfully. Then they release him to his parents, who naively expect this sleep pattern to continue at home, and he becomes bionic in his baby strength, baby arm-flailing, and baby lungs. One thinks babies cry because they are hungry or dirty, but at bedtime there is a whole arsenal of sounds they can pull from. There is the wimper, the grunt, the fart, the fart-wimper, the pre-cry, and the full fledged breakdown - among others. If you can catch him at the pre-cry, you may have a shot at soothing him in a reasonable amount of time and putting him back down in about a half hour but if you miss that opportunity and don't respond in time, you could find yourself shushing, feeding, bouncing, and pleading for 90 minutes. I don't know how the nurses do it in the hospital, but the joke is on you when you get home and think you can just put your baby to bed.

The hospital pediatrician suggested we sleep with Austin in our room for the first 6 months. 6 months!! Long story short, this lasted 2 weeks. When your baby is in your room, you hear every single sound - most of which mean nothing but still have you out of bed checking on him. Then, when he isn't making a sound you assume he isn't breathing so you are out of bed again to make sure he is still breathing. Between the sounds and non-sounds, you clearly aren't sleeping. Also, we do not live on the salary of a pediatrician therefore its not like Austin is in one wing and we are in another. His room is 10 feet from ours so monitor or not, we can still hear all the things we need to and everyone is much happier about life.

DJ and I found solace in swaddling or "taking away his arm privileges"  as we called it. Babies tend to wave their limbs erratically in their sleep, often waking them from the slumber you worked so hard to achieve. Don't undo your hard work and swaddle the heck out of your little one. He will look like a silly little burrito person, but that's ok! Its definitely worth it. Also, you have to put a little muscle into it, since you have to pin your babies arms down at his side - but remember this could equal an extra hour of sleep. Priceless.

Also! At the hospital, allow the nurses to take your baby for a few hours. These will be your last nights of sleep for a few months and relish in them. Plus, as the mommy, you have so much other stuff going on between your hormones, your boobs, and your angry girl parts - not having the extra worry while you are trying to take a pee is worth it. DJ and I didn't know any better so we had Austin with us 90% of the time - which was beautiful and loving of us, but  again - blissfully ignorant.

Hurricane Sandy

Hurricane Sandy had been described as the Perfect Storm, Frankenstorm, or Storm-a-geddon. She was the 2nd largest hurricane on record and the 2nd costliest, losing to Hurricane Katrina in 2005. She also decided to hit the mid-Atlantic on October 29th, the day after Austin was born.

The Casino Pier Roller Coaster at Seaside Heights, NJ 

Like Hurricane Irene last year, I probably didn't take the storm seriously enough but once I was admitted to the hospital, home maintenance went out the window. Our room was facing the inside courtyard/roof of the hospital so we were incredibly secure and probably safer there than anywhere else. For this reason, we couldn't see much of the storm from our window.

Monday night the hospital lost power and switched to generators. All things considered, this wasn't a big deal for our new family recovering in Labor and Delivery, but selfishly - we lost TV reception. Sleep deprived and limited to activities, space, and entertainment - things got very boring very quickly. Try as we might to dose off in between feedings and crying, it proved near impossible since we were constantly getting interrupted by the hospital staff for one reason or another - food delivery, blood pressure checks, hearing checks for Austin, introducing the new nursing staff, paperwork, etc. I'm glad we were in good hands, but I didn't need a formal introduction and life bio of everyone that walked into the room. We felt the need to be nice to everyone because we are nice people, but this resulted in way too much conversation, fake laughs, and a lot of "no, thank you - we are really ok.".

Flooded parking lot of taxis

Meanwhile, DJ's parents had come up Sunday night to meet Austin and stayed at our house while we were in the hospital. As the storm came Monday, we were told by the staff that only First Responders and Hospital Staff were allowed in and out of New Brunswick, so no visitors allowed. This was nice because it allowed the three of us to spend the day as a family, but again - with no TV - it wasn't super thrilling.

Monday evening we were told there may have been water issues, so the hospital staff came in and filled a bucket with water so the toilet would flush. Then Tuesday we were told the hot water was being turned off at 11:30am so I took a quick shower, along with every other able bodied patient in the hospital so it wasn't exactly warm. Oh well. At this point we were so ready to get home it didnt matter whether I was clean or dirty.

Meanwhile, at home we had lost power and a branch was on the roof. I'm still not entirely sure of the damage, but I know our gutter is messed up and there is a tarp on the roof. We may have lost a shingle and there may be some damage to the siding. DJ's parents held down the fort which was much appreciated and we came home to a secure home.

Powerless, DJ and I spent Wednesday and Thursday shuffling back and forth between our house and my parents. Compared to other parts of the area, we were certainly lucky, but it is hard coming home with a new baby and feeling displaced. We also didn't want any one set of grandparents to feel neglected so we did our best to split time evenly. It was certainly doable but stressful.

Power came back Thursday afternoon (yay!) but now the gas situation is out of control. Lines can be up to three hours long with a 10 gallon limit on purchases. Last I heard, cars with odd number plates could receive service on odd days and even number days for even plates. DJ was able to skip the line and fill up as a first responder at a nearby gas station, but a lot of people are rationing their gas.

Labor Remix

All of the birthing lists suggested bringing things to distract you during labor and pass the time. Well, we didn't have time but had a kick-ass labor mix planned for Austin's arrival. So our hard work doesn't go to waste, this was our playlist:

Ausitn and Me - Day 8 

1. Push It - Salt & Peppa

2. Bad to the Bone - George Thorogood and the Destroyers

3. 1812 Overture

4. Push - Matchbox 20

5. I'm Coming Out - Diana Ross

6. Pressure - Billy Joel

7. Under Pressure - Queen

8. You can do it, Put your back into it - Ice Cube

9. Hips don't Lie - Shakira

10. Breathe In, Breathe Out - Machine Head

11. Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash

12. I Wanna Be Sedated - Ramones

13. I want a new drug - Huey Lewis and the News

14. Don't Stand So Close to Me - The Police

15. Got to Get you Into My Life - Beatles

16. Born to be my Baby - Bon Jovi

17. Baby Got Back - Sir Mix A Lot

18. Born to Run - Bruce Springstein

19. Ice, Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice

Cool list Mom! 

20. Your Momma Don't Dance - Poison (even though she really loves it!)