I am sometimes a mass of negative feelings about motherhood. It's much easier to blog about the happy, fun times. I don't have to worry about Ladybug reading the posts later and feeling bad, or about making my own mother feel guilty. I also don't write up the negative times because I am naturally trying to focus on the positive to improve my mood. Then there's the old standard, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."
So this post has been burning on the back burner while I came up with a way to say something useful and not just rant and complain. The whiny part is: I live hundreds of miles from almost all of my family. I have one sister in town, who is young and busy trying to make her life work. (Like us, she does not own a car, which means we see her about twice a month when things are good.) Lately I cannot read or hear people talking about the family support they receive without drowning in jealousy. When people ask me how I like motherhood, I answer honestly, "It's good, but unrelenting." Unrelenting to be on call 24/7, and to never get a break unless it's at your spouse's expense. For all of Bug's life, it has been my husband or me caring for her. There have been a handful of evenings in almost two years where friends put her to bed, or came over after she was asleep so we could go out. My sister watched her for us on our wedding anniversary.
Every other moment has been my husband and me, learning to parent this daughter with a big, sparkling, demanding personality. We never worry that this girl won't speak her mind. Throughout her infancy I avoided the phrase "high needs baby" because I didn't want to sound whiny. Isn't that something mothers just claim to get extra sympathy? We all have a hard job as parents. Very hard. But, as Bug approaches two years, I am finding that I resonate with the descriptions in Raising Your Spirited Child. The intro made me tear up, because I am exhausted.
I hear other people talking about how their mother comes over every week. Or how they "prefer not to use babysitters," when I know they have family regularly watching their children. I want to scream. I love my baby so much, and I have noticed that a few hours away is all I need to refresh myself, see her as the darling child she is, and parent her the way she deserves.
Time for the personal responsibility: why haven't I been arranging those few hours for myself? Why have I let myself get to the point where I don't know when I could schedule a doctor's appointment, let alone a pedicure? I had a great conversation with a set of newish parents who have been friends of ours for several years now. I admit they are among those who bring out my jealousy, because they are so much more relaxed, and consequently happier than I am. Anyway, they mentioned how getting a sitter happened early in their son's life because Dad's birthday fell soon after baby's birth, and they wanted to celebrate. Being able to have a sitter became a regular thing, and they say getting one early is one of the best things they did. I agreed wholeheartedly that it's a good plan. There are no bonus parenting points to be won for doing everything yourself.
I look back at Bug's early days and wonder if I really could have done anything differently. I left her with her dad at 6 weeks so I could go to my postpartum appointment. She screamed the entire two hours I was gone. Every subsequent time I left her, she did the same thing. Around three months, my husband held her and tried to comfort her for four hours while I dared to go shopping with a friend. I reflect on those days and think that I must have developed a habit of doing everything myself, of writing off time to myself, because my newborn would freak out otherwise.
But things have changed. Bug can now self-soothe. She actually screams much less at other people than she does at me! Time to contemplate a solution. This has proven to be a long post, so I think I will continue in "Part Two."
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