When You Don't Love Your Baby (or feel that your baby isn't yours)

This post takes some guts. Oy.

As women become mothers, we are conditioned to the thought of "love at first sight" when our new bundle of joy arrives.  But for some moms, that isn't the case.  

I've thought of this post countless times for over two years but haven't written it yet because I wasn't ready.  This will probably come as a shock to my family, my friends, my blog readers and even strangers, but it's something that must be written ... and it can happen to anyone.

My son Mylo was born under near perfect conditions.  I had an amazing birth, breastfed with very little issues and am a champion for natural living and emotionally attentive parenting.  But yet, when my son was born, there were no warm feelings, no instantaneous attraction and very little connection.  I thought it would change.  Maybe I was just too tired or maybe it's just a second child thing.  

But a couple months into this two-child gig, nothing had changed.  Filled with embarrassment, I told my husband.  

I didn't feel like I loved my son as my own.

I felt like I was temporarily feeding and caring and changing and singing to someone else's child.  I didn't feel like Mylo belonged to me.  I loved him and had empathy for him as a human being, a helpless babe, but not the overwhelming, brings-tears-to-my-eyes type of love I had for my first child.  

I suppose I could say that things started when his pregnancy took more of a toll on my body.  Part of me blamed him.  It sounds stupid, but yeah, since I'm being honest here, I did blame him.  Things just weren't how they used to be.

We also had some name difficulties.  My husband didn't have time to talk names before the baby was born so when Mylo was born at 42 weeks (I know, we had MORE than enough time to discuss names), I felt rushed into naming him as everyone needed a name for this baby.  It took us two days to announce his name and I wish I could go back in time and take two weeks to consider names, rather than rush the process and throw more fuel onto the already detached relationship.  I couldn't think about his name without regret and am finally to the point of accepting his name.

And then there was the unexplained that went beyond my body or insecurity in a name.  Something bigger than those things.  Something biologically was off.   I just didn't feel much towards him.  I knew enough to feed him, change him, sing to him, hold him, cuddle him, smile at him, wear him in various wraps, slings and carriers, maintain skin-to-skin contact, attend to his needs, kiss him incessantly, rub his legs at diaper changes, talk to him and talk proudly about him.  I constantly called him Mylo My Love and referred to him as my son, my baby, my precious boy.  Outwardly, I knew these things were imperative for bonding - not just mine, but mostly his.  I faked it, hoping Mylo wouldn't notice. My greatest concern was his emotional attachment.  I didn't want to ruin him.  Inwardly, I wondered if the day would ever come where I loved him with all of my being.  

Searching for an explanation, I googled things like, "I don't feel like my baby is mine" and "I don't feel overwhelming love for my baby".  I read postpartum depression articles and checklists, which didn't seem to fit me at all!  I didn't want him gone, I didn't want to hurt him, I was functioning well, I had no anxiety, I was sleeping and eating just fine and had plenty of energy and interests in my everyday activities.   The only descriptor I accurately fit was something along the lines of "lack of feeling towards baby". 

So what the heck was wrong with me?  Why wasn't I head-over-heals for this adorable little baby, who practically came out of the womb smiling? 

It took seven months for me to start feeling crazy love for him.  I'm not sure how things changed but maybe God heard my desperate cries for connection with my boy.  Little by little, my heart started to beat a little faster when I'd catch a glimpse of him drooling, while chewing on a toy.  When I'd hear him chatter, my lips would curve into a smile, as a deep breath of pride filled my lungs.  When he'd catch me watching him and reach out for me, it was like everything else faded and I could hardly contain myself to rush to him and pick him up and kiss him. His big smile and the spark in his eyes, would bring tears of joy to mine.  When his cries could only be satisfied by me, the butterflies would dance in my tummy, signaling he was mine.  During diaper changes, his chubby fingers would grab mine, distracting me from my task and I'd feel those fat wrists, those tiny bones and those small fingernails, forcing me to take a break and enjoy this little gift.

It was my boy reaching out to me.

In retrospect, I should've talked with my midwife.  I knew she wouldn't judge me and would show me kindness and grace.  But could I do the same for myself?  I loathed myself as a mother because of my deficiencies.  Those first seven months are a bit of blur of motions and that still hurts my heart a bit.  I know I was doing the best I could but I still wish I would've reached out for help sooner.  What if it had gotten worse?  

Today, I have an amazing relationship and bond with my son!  He is affectionate, spunky, full of love and a TOTAL mama's boy!  He makes my heart skip beats and tears warm the corners of my eyes daily!
  

I feared sharing this because of judgment.  But I KNOW that I am not alone, as I've had friends sob when they share their stories of ache, betrayal at their perceived ideas of motherhood and confusion.  Maybe, when we as women begin throwing off our masks of perfection and sharing our struggles, we will know it's OK to seek help when things seem off because nearly every other mother around us has felt something similar.  And hopefully the next person who searches "I don't feel like my baby is my own" will find this post and not only learn from my mistakes but know there is hope.

My sweet boy, whom I love with ALL of my heart!

PS: For those of you wondering if Mylo will know all this or are concerned that this post may hurt him down the road ... Yes, Mylo will know all of this someday. It's all written down and explained for him in his journal. He will know that his mama had some problems that weren't his fault at all. However, he will also know that he was wanted, loved and cared for from the start.

Mama's Hands: A Poem

Here's a little poem I wrote a ways back about how beautiful a mother's hands are and how many tasks they complete each day.  Enjoy!

Mama's Hands
Hands that help, that touch, that serve.
Hands with wrinkles, dimples and curves.

Small hands, big hands, plain and extraordinary hands.
Bony hands, chubby hands, hands that show age so young or so grand.

Hands that lift, support and hold.
Hands that build, that clean, that do tasks untold.

Hands that cover,
Hands that cool,
Hands that warm,
Hands that have amazing ability to transform.

Hands that create,
Hands that applaud,
Hands that protect,
and hands that make what's wrong correct.

Hands that move slow,
Hands that move fast.
Hands with scars that tell stories of the past.

Hands that work hard,
Hands that take rests.
Hands that repeat and repeat,
The same daily quests.

Hands that shield,
Hands that teach,
Hands that wipe away tears with a gentle reach.

Hands that heal,
                     that encourage,
                               that hope,
                                          that speak beauty,
                                                       that inspire,
                                                                 that believe.

Hands that without shame,
Complete one of the most important tasks in our world:
To unconditionally love and teach little hands to do the same.

Copyright Genevieve Rostad 2011 

I thought I formed her personality

When India was a baby, within hours of her birth, we learned she was very vocal and extremely content in my arms. 

Within a week or two, we realized we had a very passionate, opinionated, vocal, determined, intense, affectionate little girl who loved attention and being close to people, especially me, her Mama.  She didn't like to change clothes, disliked her carseat, hated baths, was easily distracted, wouldn't sleep 'just anywhere' and she also would never tolerate being alone.  No bouncy seat, no swing, nothing.  That's one of the reasons I bought a water sling - otherwise I never would've been able to even shower.

I remember being slightly jealous of other moms who told me stories of their newborn babies laying contentedly on a blanket, while they made dinner.  Really?  Babies do that??

At the same time, a part of me believed a lie that is prevalent everywhere, especially in the church: if you just do this, this and this with your baby, you'll have a compliant baby.  I sometimes wondered if I was doing something wrong and if I had created India's spirited personality.

When India was a newborn baby, I asked a couple of mothers of older children, "Around what age did your child's personality develop?"

All of their responses:  "Right away.  Looking back, their personalities are very similar to what they displayed in their early months of life."  I worried a bit because I had seen some indicators that India was strong-willed.

But I didn't totally believe what they said.  Nope.  I couldn't believe it.  See, I was under the impression that YOU make your child's personality for the most part.  If you just parent this way, or discipline like this, or follow this book, or teach your child about this, or don't do that so your child won't learn your bad habit.  As time went on and India grew, week by week, I noticed some of the same preferences in her little world. 

But wait, I was teaching her something different, so why was she continuing to dislike her carseat and always cry quickly and loudly?!?  I've spent the last 15 months telling my daughter to be gentle with other children and animals, and she isn't.  I've told her a bajillion times to please stop screaming and tantruming in stores because she wants to either get down and/or grab everything and Mean Mommy won't let her, but she doesn't listen.  I've bathed her for 15 months, and she still screams and cries the second she hears that it's bath time.  She's rode in her carseat hundreds of times, but I still get an arched back and a screech nearly every time she's getting buckled in.  For over 455 days, India has had her clothes changed, sometimes many times a day, and she still cries like I'm destroying her life every.single.time.

My previous belief that I determine her behavior from Day 1 is debunked.  If that was true, after a couple of weeks of bathing her, she'd be fine with the bath.  If my consistent, disciplined actions controlled personality, she'd stop the hysterical meltdowns when it's time to change her clothes.  Also, I see parents of multiple children, all parented the same way, with different personalities. 

India at 5 months, throwing a pretty big tantrum (for a 5 month old) because I wouldn't let her eat the Christmas lights.

Over the last month, we've been to several weddings. I've sighed a bit while I've watched other children her age sit in their parent's laps for the entire wedding ceremony!  Then they sit contentedly in a high chair during the meal and reception and maybe even take a nap in their dad's arms.  All the while, my child climbed out of my lap hours ago and hasn't stop running around and screaming since.  Heck, she won't even sit long enough to eat!  I watch my nieces who are her age sit and play nicely at family events (until India comes and terrorizes them).  They don't scream and tantrum and attack other children every 3.5 minutes.  Not much has changed since her first days - she would aggressively hug her cousins since just a few months old. 


She's still loud, vocal, aggressive, affectionate, passionate, constantly moving, fearless, an entertainer, loves to be around people, hates to change clothes, doesn't play on her own or with toys, hates baths, doesn't like her carseat, and will only sleep under the perfect circumstances. 

And you know what?  Nothing I've done has created those things.  In the same way, nothing I've been able to do so far has been able to persuade her otherwise. (Really, I've tried) 

But I'm SO proud of my girl.  I love her spirit!

And really, can I expect anything different?  She has two outspoken, aggressive, passionate, determined, loud and outgoing parents. :-)

Of course I don't let her run around like a little hooligan at all times.  She stays in the cart at stores.  If she screams or tantrums at church, we leave the area.  Throughout the day, I tell her no, we re-direct, I praise her for her accomplishments, express my sadness when she disobeys, and watch her experience natural consequences.

I get the stinkeye from some people in churches, you know, the Christians who have the answer.  Some people look at me with the your child shouldn't be so loud look, or the if you taught her correctly, she wouldn't scream look or the if you made her do that everyday, she wouldn't do that look or the you should be doing this right now in response to her look. 


I think when you aren't a parent, or maybe even when you are a parent, you are quick to judge on how you would do XYZ and problem ABC would be solved.  But that's not always the case.  There is no 'book answer' that works across the board.


I could make my daughter into the little girl others want her to be. 

I could do all the things some popular Christian parenting books tell me to do.  I could control her.  I could break her will.  I could swat her over and over again until she obeyed.  I could make her fear me.  I could yell at her.  I could threaten her.  I could make her submit.  I could do all those things and more to get a quiet, little child.


And those things might calm her outwardly, but it would quench her spirit, crush her trust, and equal outward obedience without a heart change.  It would ruin who God has made her to be. 
 
There are some things in her personality that as her mother I need to work with; to help gently carve, to encourage and to instruct, but ultimately, I love who God has made her to be and see great value in all of her personality traits - even though some need refining with time and growth.  I know that God has created her brimming over with passion and charm and I know He has amazing plans for my zesty, passionate, fearless girl.


God has made her magnetic and full of life, shining and entertaining wherever she goes. For now, I'm learning to shrug my shoulders at the judgmental eyerolls and I just need to remember that I can't control everything about her and I also can't control their judgments.   After all, this is good practice for the rest of our lives and whatever adventures she may partake in, because I have a feeling this is going to be an adventure!  ;-)

My spirited little girl, making her cousin Xiomara hug her (I think we have 30 pictures like this, some of them with Xiomara in tears)

Do you have a spirited child?  When did you realize they weren't just going to 'lay down and roll over'?  What has helped you the most in parenting them?

I take her for granted

A couple I know lost their precious baby boy this week.  Devastating. 

My heart aches and breaks every time I hear these stories no matter if it's a good friend or someone I've never seen because it would be one of the most crushing circumstances that we can imagine as mothers. 

So, I cry and I hold my baby close, smell her head, kiss her a million times, apologize a billion times and ask God to help me remember what a blessing she is.  And I pray for those who are hurting because of such a traumatic loss.

It's easy to take my daughter for granted in the routine or even difficult moments.  It's easy to yell at her, sigh as she ruins one more thing, lose my patience as she cries and whines at my feet, curse under my breath as she arches her back in a tantrum, and ignore her when 'I have things to do'. 

I have many friends who have lost children and would love to have even a few hair-pulling moments with their child right now....if that meant having a few more minutes with their precious baby.  I don't want to forget what a gift she is, to thank God for this little person and be grateful for this beautiful piece of my husband and me.

I love.love.love....

-the sweet smell of my daughter's breath

-her little and big tooth bite

-when she pulls close to me and kisses me

-her chubby wrists

-the endless sounds, shreiks and shrills

-her signs, communicating her needs

-how she dances the instant music turns on

-her whisper voice

-her call for 'Mama' - "mamamamamamaaaa"

-the way she walks around the house, calling for me, not satisfied until she's right back at my side

-her smile when I hide my face

-her sleepy eyes while she breastsfeeds

-her smiles and giggles when she breastfeeds

-how she has been a little ham since forever

-the way she mimics everything I do

-when I whisper in her ear that there is nothing she could do to make me love her less and she giggles

-the way her lower lip quivers when she cries

-her excitement when Dada comes home

-the way she tucks her lip in

-how she opens her eyes wide and says 'Oh' as soon as she wakes up and many times thereafter

-her desire for comfort

-how she takes apart and climbs on everything

-how she MUST have a baby in her arms at all times

-how she signs 'baby'

-her inhale giggle

-the way she says and signs 'outside' - "ouss-ide"

-her smart mind

-the smell of her head, it's delicious

-her proud smile - big and cheesy

-how she MUST as 'was sat?' (what's that) a hundred times even when she knows full well exactly what it is

-the way she explores everything

-her wispy curls

-how she pats my back as we cuddle

-her tiny tears that take a lot of emotion in order to appear

-when her little hands find their way to my mouth

-her shreiks of glee as she is the center of attention

-bright blus eyes that love me

-when she wears tight shirt or pants and I can see every roll

-the way she makes friends with EVERYONE by yelling 'hi', flashing a big cheesy grin and waving

-when I ask her if she's Mama's baby and she shakes her head and says 'yah'

-the way she says goodbye to al her new friends by blowing kisses and waving 'bye'

-her nekkid body

-her big hugs

-the way she runs away from my laptop when she gets caught pounding on it

-how she thinks she's hilarious when she signs 'potty' and makes the SSSSSSSSSSSsssssss sounds

Every single minute of her life, this life, is a gift.

India trying to wear my flip flops. :)

Her mom day & NIGHT, but sometimes I fail at the latter

We've been awfully spoiled with India.  In her almost ten months of earth side life, we've only had four or five wake-up-and-scream-for-no-apparent-reason episodes. 

Yes, only four or five.

I know many of you reading this have a one month old that is waking up hourly, or a 10 month old who wakes up every three hours to nurse or a 3 year old who wakes twice a night, or any combination of the above, and you're cussing me out under your breath.

I'm not here to complain about my daughter's sleep habits.  No, sir, I'm not.

This post is a complaint against me.

Normally if India wakes up at night, it's so easy.  Either Dallas or I get her, bring her to bed, she nurses, and after she will either stay in our bed or go back to hers.  No sleep lost on either part, and we're all happy.

Last night, India woke at 1 am, I tried to shush her back to sleep, but she wasn't having it.  I brought her in bed with me to nurse, which she did for a couple of minutes, then she turned restless.  At that moment, I knew we were going to be up for a while, as this is almost exactly what she's done the handful of other times she's got up during the night. 

I was immediately frustrated.  Let me tell you a secret. I turn into this different creature in the middle of the night.  I'm normally a pretty chill mom, my baby cries, I comfort her, no big deal.  But I was angry last night.   

She started crying and screaming, no matter what I did and no matter what my husband did. 

I was frustrated, so he got up with her, which turned her cries into hysterical, overtired screams.  After he had reached his limit, I intervened, holding her and singing, getting her so close to sleep time and time again, but to no avail.  When she has one of these episodes, there is no reasoning with her, no joking with her, no distracting her, no cuddling her, no nursing her - nothing works.  I was beyond frustrated after an hour of screeching.

Then, I had to walk away, leave her in her crib, while she screamed the most horrible screams.  I had reached my limit.

I went into my living room for a few minutes with my husband to cool off.  I was both mad and sad.  We do not believe in crying it out, because of the biological and emotional implications but mostly because that's not how our heavenly Father responds to us when we need comfort.

But at that moment, I said, "She can lay in there all night and scream!  I DO NOT care!"

I sat on the couch, and rambled a prayer like this while my baby cried in the background, "God, I know when I cry out to You, or I'm distressed or confused, You answer me.  You never let me sit alone and scream and cry and leave me disoriented.  You always bring me comfort and peace.  I'm really trying to do that right now with her!  Please help me be patient with her as I try to comfort her.  I really don't understand right now."

II felt a lot calmer and had more resolve, so I went back into the bedroom, held her, rocked her, continued to pray over her, sang over her, and got her back to sleep.

I woke up this morning to a smiley, cuddly, giggling little girl, I was in my right mind and I felt awful.  I apologized to my daughter for leaving her when she needed me. 

You see, when I signed up to be a mom, I signed up to be a mom day AND night.  I can't selfishly say, 'No, it's only convenient for me now' because that is not being wise with my talents.  I have to invest in her day and night, night and day.  I felt like I had failed in my duty, in my commission as her parent.

One of the things that scared me the most though, was that at that moment, I was willing to give up some of my most sacred parenting convictions...all for an hour and a half of sleep.  Is that what's really at the core of me when things get tough?  I'm ready to throw in the towel?

I was cleaning with India a bit this morning, and we had a mix of children's songs playing on iTunes.  The second song that came on was a song by Plumb, called 'Me', which was ironic because it's not really a kid's song.  As soon as it started playing, I started crying, and I knew that God was comforting me in my conviction.

God heard my cries for understanding and once again reminded me how 'crazy blessed and oh so lucky' I am to be her Mama - day AND night.

Please listen to this beautiful song by Plumb.

Mama's Hands

Hands that help, that touch, that serve.
Hands with wrinkles, dimples and curves.

Small hands, big hands, plain and extraordinary hands.
Bony hands, chubby hands, hands that show age so young or so grand.

Hands that lift, support and hold.
Hands that build, that clean, that do tasks untold.

Hands that cover,
Hands that cool,
Hands that warm,
Hands that have amazing ability to transform.

Hands that create,
Hands that applaud,
Hands that protect,
and hands that make what's wrong correct.

Hands that move slow,
Hands that move fast.
Hands with scars that tell stories of the past.

Hands that work hard,
Hands that take rests.
Hands that repeat and repeat,
The same daily quests.

Hands that shield,
Hands that teach,
Hands that wipe away tears with a gentle reach.

Hands that heal,
                     that encourage,
                               that hope,
                                          that speak beauty,
                                                       that inspire,
                                                                 that believe.

Hands that without shame,
Complete one of the most important tasks in our world:
To unconditionally love and teach little hands to do the same.

© Genevieve Rostad, Uniquely Normal Mom 2011

Why I think it's OK to be an older mom

I'm an old (er) mom.  Not that old, but for the community I live in, to have your first child when you're 28 is a pretty rare thing (I'm 29 now). Most in our small town get married and have children at a young age.


I planned on doing that too as I thought "that's just what happens next"!  I got married a month shy of my 20th birthday, and purposed to start having babies about two years after we were married. 


Right before our two year anniversary, we moved away and joined a mission organization, and all plans for kids went WAY on the back burner.  When we'd visit home some people couldn't believe that we didn't have kids.  When we were back in the city, people couldn't believe that we knew people who were married and done having kids by the time they were 25.  Both parties could not understand the other.


When we were on the mission field, we were surrounded by dozens of other couples our age, who put parenthood on a stop to finish their education, enjoy time as a couple and most often, to engage in mission work.  With the work we were doing, it would've been tough to have kids, and our role of service would've drastically changed and surely lessened. 


There are many great things about being a younger mom, I don't mean to discount those, but I want to highlight some of the reasons I like being an older mom.


1. My husband and I enjoyed each other and the world.  For over 7 years, we got to do things that you  read about in National Geographic magazine.  We were young, ambitious, no health problems, nothing holding us down, no debt, no house, and had willing hearts.  To say we thoroughly enjoyed those years of full time ministry together would be an understatement. Yes, there were times when we wanted to have kids, and when we would come home we faced a lot of pressure.  But there were also times when we seriously considered not having children and spending our lives in uninhibited service instead.

 Of course, kids play a valid role in ministry, but we couldn't have done all that we did with children.  Would I be happy if I had just had kids right away?  Probably, because I wouldn't have known any different. We have seen and been a part of some incredible things, and it has greatly formed how we see the world and how we will raise our daughter. 


2. I had time to think about how we want to raise our children.  I was the first of my friends to get married, and they got to watch and learn about marriage through my failures and successes.  Now, being one of the last to have kids, I have learned from them.   


We also have met thousands of children along the way, and watching how they respond to people, their parents and God, influenced our decision to parent the way we do.  Dallas and I would look for kids who responded not out of obedience, because lots of Christian kids respond in obedience out of fear of consequences or judgment, but for those who responded from the overflow of their heart and when no one was watching. We saw great fruit from families who practiced natural or attachment parenting and seek to emulate how we have seen our friends interact their children. 


3. I try to enjoy every moment and try not to stress. :-)  Several friends told me that I don't seem stressed when things don't go as planned with India (ha, they don't see me when she poops her diaper, her pants, her shirt, her socks, her shoes, right as we are leaving for church).  Someone else mentioned that it's nice to see that I don't treat India as an inconvenience or something that 'needs to be quickly taken care of' so I can go off and do my thing.  That's very easy for me to do, as I had plenty of time to go off and do my own thing and I'm happy in Momville, surrounded by my baby 24 hours a day.  :-)  That may be harder for an unwed mother to say or hard for the young married couple working minimum wage with bills surpassing their income.  I don't pass judgment on those situations; they have burdens to carry that I know nothing of, but I think "being ready" does make a difference.  I have watched friends struggle with infertility and some lose their children, all experiences which make me thankful for every screaming moment.  For us, after 8 years of marriage we decided we were ready to have a baby.  We were at a good spot in our lives to introduce a child and are cherishing every moment. 


Are you an older or younger mom?  Do you sometimes wish that you were the opposite or are you happy with your decision?

All the things a SAHM should do!

I'm pretty much a SAHM (stay at home mom) and I LOVE it.  I do work, teaching piano lessons from my home and I help my mom about one day a week, but mostly, I'm home.

I had a lot of ideas of what it was going to be like to be home most hours of the day.  I thought about all the tasks I would accomplish and all the free time I would have.  Ahhhhh, what a luxurious life!

What??? You're laughing???  Pshh.

Here is a list of things I was going to do in all my spare time as a SAHM, and behind them is my list of accomplishments related to them. You'll see I've done real well.

- Clean my house. Everyday. Oh, it was going to be SO clean. Mopped floors, dusted baseboards, no cobwebs. (Ha! The dishes get done. Most days. Maybe more like every other day.)

- Bake scones, souffle, creme brulee and other fancy things that include cranberries, white chocolate and poached pears.  All things my friend Annalise does with two babies! (I'm still working on box brownies thankyouverymuch.)

- Or I was at least going to bake cookies. (Grocer's refrigerator section, frozen cookie dough. Yes and amen.)

- Drink tea, burn incense and worship God.  In my long hippie skirt, of course. (Does wearing my nursing pajamas while crying, "please God, help me with this crying baby" count?)

- Paint my bathroom. (No. It has to be cleaned first.)

- Bake treats for my piano students every other week or so. (I'm just glad I make it to piano lessons, dressed, mind you.)

- Visit and talk with my friends, Carma and Devora. (Hi, ladies. How ya doing?)

- Walk with my friend, April. (Yeah....)

- Play piano and sing with my friend Beth. (Beth and I did that. In 2009. Oh yeah, that was pre-India.)

- Go to the Y and workout.  Everyday.  With Jen, Beth and now Tami. (One time I did this!!)

- I was going to garden with my friend/neighbor Jessica. And probably look at interior decorating magazines with her. (I wave to her across the street as we come and go.)

- Make homemade bread. (The only bread we are eating is pre-sliced from a plastic bag.)

- Make lots more homemade food for that matter. (I have perfected "fancy" Mac N Cheese.  Mac N Cheese with lemon pepper.)

- Re-finish my kitchen table. (Tablecloth.)

- Sew curtains for our house, and toys and accessories for India. (Peeping toms are welcome. As are store bought toys.)

- Garden, garden, garden. (It's winter.  Sheesh, people.  I have HUGE plans for spring! You just wait!)

- Play piano, guitar and bass guitar. (I play piano. Have for years. Still playing the same songs I played years ago too.)

- Sell all my crap on eBay. (I have nothing to report on this.  I have however, bought a few things on eBay.)

- Do exercises videos while my baby plays alone on a blanket. (hahaha, "baby plays alone..." hahaha)

- Go out and shop at stores.  (If I was dressed, I would do this.)

- Look smokin' hot, nicely perfumed, dressed in an apron everyday when my husband came home to the smell of fresh baked cookies or bread.  Or creme brulee.  (Most days my glasses are still on as well as yesterday's smudged make-up. I also still smell of yesterday's spit-up.)

- Do my hair and make up everyday. (Does yesterday's make-up count?)

- Get dressed. Everyday.  In real clothes. (Pajamas.)

As you can see, I haven't been very productive as far as that list is concerned.  I guess didn't know that taking care of a baby would demand more time from me than when I worked before India was born. 

She wakes up from a nap, diaper change, time to nurse/check Facebook, puke on clothes, change clothes, start laundry, play, send an e-mail, eat a little bit of cold food(me), baby gets a hold of food and spills it everywhere, clean up spilled food, baby falls down, calm crying baby who bumped her head, put baby in carrier, begin dinner prep only to realize you don't have milk, google "milk replacement" and get sucked into a vegan website, answer phone, entertain baby, put clothes in the dryer, diaper explosion, diaper change, shush baby to sleep, clean up poo-splosion, baby prematurely wakes crying, shush her back to sleep, fold laundry, finish eating cold food, work on blog, start more laundry, baby wakes. I didn't even get to start on dinner, the dishes, the bills, or get the bathroom cleaned.  Repeat every 2-4 hours. 

Forget about souffle.  I just have my eyes set on a shower!

Ahhhhh, just think of all the time I'll have once I have a second baby and they can entertain each other.  I'll be free!  Yep, I'll save this list for then. ;-)

Now that I'm a mom, I understand ________.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand naps. Praise God when India gets a good nap in! I used to get a little irked when moms would say that they couldn't partake in such and such activity because their little one needed to nap. I fully understand now. If naptime is missed, my baby may be OK for awhile, but eventually all the missed nap hours compound into mini bits of hell as I try to get my overtired child to sleep later on.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand MOMMY'S SHOWER TIME. These precious few minutes are a gift; the only chance to stop working, relax and clear my mind. I get to breathe my own air. I get spit up, pee and poop washed off of me. I actually look in the mirror and look at myself. I shave my legs. I can actually have my boobs exposed, and no one is touching them.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand how amazing it is to go to the store, all by yourself. It's WAY more exciting than an anniversary date. Just sayin'.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand checking on my baby to make sure she's breathing. I thought moms who did this before were a bit crazy and overprotective. I do it, and actually, even did it as I was typing this.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand why moms don't take a lot of time to look super fly. A lot of moms I know didn't workout, wore clothes that didn't fit right, abandoned makeup and started coloring their hair from a box and I swore I would never be that mom. I am. You can usually find me at home, in yesterday's clothes, with the day before yesterday's makeup on, wearing my glasses, with a ponytail in and something stuck in my teeth because I haven't looked in the mirror (other than to look at my babe's reflection) since the night before.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand the crazy, throw-yourself-in-front-of-a-moving-bus-to-save-your-child-from-a-pin-prick type of love. I loved my husband (still do!) and am fiercely protective of him, but the voracious need to protect and keep my daughter safe is something unparalleled.

What things have happened in your life that bring you understanding on something you previously didn't understand?