My darling daughter,

Today you are 1 year old.

 

In 12 short months, you have had your first breaths, your first tears, your first smiles, your first meals. Your first owies, your first baths, your first friends, your first laughs. You’ve learned that when you are hungry you will be fed, and that mommy and daddy are never far from your bed. When you’re on your tummy, you’re moody. So forget crawling; you scoot around on your booty! You’ve become strong willed and curious. When you’re tired, you get furious. “Dada” was your first word. No fair! It was mommy who labored! But you say “mama” now, and lay your head on her shoulder. You’re not walking yet, but you are getting bolder. When you enter a room, you give a high-pitched “hi,” and when someone leaves, you wave bye-bye. Whenever there’s music, you wiggle and twist. When you’re away at daycare, you are desperately missed.

 

One year ago, you came into our lives with a roar. Now we can hardly remember what life was like before. You came to us and we were blessed. No matter what happens, you’ll always be our little princess.

 

Happy birthday, sugar.

 

Love,

Your mommy and daddy

Look how far you've come!

Today, Paul and his dad built us a porch swing while Regan, Ann and I sat in the shade in the front yard. I envision many happy memories involving that swing!

New concept

I'm going to try something new here. Instead of holding out until I feel like I have something really major to write about, I'm going to try to write just a few sentences about the day every day or so. I just want to be able to look back at these posts and remember and relive these moments. I'm also not going to worry too much about these being very well-written or anything because that tends to hold me back from just jotting down a thought.

So here goes.

Today, Paul sat Regan on the recliner chair and sat on the floor in front of it so they were face to face. He played with her like that for a long time, and she laughed and laughed, and we all laughed and laughed. Later, she practiced her backwards army crawl maneuver for a while and got so frustrated by it that she kicked her legs and smushed her nose into the carpet. As I was putting her to bed (after winning the daily changing table wresting match) I looked at her face and had a moment of pure love and peace - her soft little head nuzzled in my elbow, her hands curled up under her chin, her soft pink striped blanket tucked around her, and her little green and yellow pacifier nearly falling out of her sleepy mouth. It was one of those moments when I wished my brain had the power to perfectly capture a memory and an emotion and file it away for another day.

Sorry about the blog-lag. Been busy! I'm going to keep blogging over here instead of tumblr. I like tumblr, but since I already have several posts here, and I'm using this as a sort of scrapbook, I don't want to lose what I've already written. I'll use tumblr for other things. :)

There was a brand new mom and dad and teeny-tiny baby girl at Regan's daycare when I visited at lunch today. Mom was peppering the teacher with a thousand questions while dad silently rocked the little one to sleep in his arms. As I sat on the floor reading and playing with Regan, encouraging her to stand up and crawl, I could hear the slight panic in the new mommy's voice. "Where will Sophia sleep?" "How do you keep the toys clean?" "What if you can't get her to stop crying?" I remembered that feeling and recognized the look in her eyes - like a nervous bird ready to fight or flee at any second.

The week before Regan started daycare, we visited several times. "She likes to be swaddled in this blanket best." "What if she won't drink from a bottle?" "How do you sanitize everything?" I looked at the veteran moms, all relaxed and well-rested, and wondered if I'd ever get to their state of calm. Today, as Regan chewed on a toy that probably came straight from another baby's mouth, I realized I was now the calm (or at least calmER) mother that I'd looked up to a few months ago.

Those who know me best probably don't think I'm terribly calm when it comes to being a mom. I can't help it, I get a little frazzled still. But believe me, I'm calmer than I was a few months ago! It took me a good 6 months to finally feel like I might actually keep this little creature alive for a while longer. I've never sugar-coated how difficult being a brand new mommy was for me. In fact I may have been a little too honest for my non-parent or soon-to-be-parent friends. Sorry about that. Really. No one likes an over-share and I didn't mean to scare anyone. Still, even though being a new mom was much harder than I expected, becoming a working mother was much easier than I expected. And now that Regan is doing incredible things like laughing and playing and (forgive me, sleep gods, please don't jinx me) sleeping through the night, it's so much more fun than I ever imagined. And even though I still sometimes lay the screaming little diva in her crib, close the door behind me and bury my head in the pillows, I also laugh, play, love and bask in the moments a hundred times more than I ever did. Those moments make it all so much more than worth it.

So I wanted to tell the brand new mommy that it's hard to go back to work, but she'll be okay - both mommy and baby will be okay. That she shouldn't let anyone scare her into thinking that leaving her baby at daycare will be the most heinous and awful thing she'll ever have to do. I wanted to tell her that my daughter is happy at day care, I'm happy at work, and we're all blissfully happy at home. I wanted to tell her that no matter what, she is the mommy and her baby will be happy to see her at the end of the day - at least most of the time. But I didn't. I just smiled a little as she took in the slight chaos that is infant daycare. As she left, I silently wished her a good night's sleep and knew that I'd see her again soon, without the panic in her eyes.

Regan and her best daycare buddy. Regan is just barely 6 months old here.

Hey all. I'm moving my blog over to Tumblr. It'll be more fun! http://baylieve.tumblr.com/

I'll keep this one too, just in case it turns out that I like it better.

Not ready

Dearest Daughter, this is the first of many times that you'll grow up faster than I'm ready for. Someday you won't let me hold your hand any more. Someday you'll want to ride your bike to school. Someday you'll tell me I'm awful and unreasonable. And someday you'll take your teddy bears and your first car to college with you. I won't be ready for any of it, but you will be.

Every day and night for 6 months we've snuggled together in our rocking chair. The soft-focus brochure photos of a nursing mommy and baby are beautiful, aren't they? After weeks of struggle and a sense of stubbornness and determination I didn't know I had, we finally got there. I could hold you close, feel your breaths in your belly and tuck your sweet, soft baby hairs behind your ear. Your tiny fist laid on your face. Your eyes closed in complete peace. I'd lift you to my shoulder, cheek to cheek, pat your back and lay you down with a kiss.

The truth is, I didn't really mind the night feedings. Well, once we got those feedings down to once or twice per night, that is. Half asleep, I'd hobble into your dark bedroom and scoop you into my arms. In our rocking chair, your cries would stop, your muscles would ease and we'd fall asleep together in our quiet corner. You and me while the world slept around us.

Then the day came when it was time for you to learn to drink from a bottle, and time for me to learn to be okay with it. Part of raising a child is doing what's hard for me so she can be healthy, learn independence and strength, I told myself. Over and over. Finally, you did it. And you got good at it.

Now, at only 6 months, I cherish our nighttime nursing routine because it's the only one left. You've grown curious, stubborn and independent. You're like your mommy. Six months is far too young, but so is 18.

What I'd do differently

Haven't done much blogging lately. It's true what they say: being a working mom keeps a person busy!

Anyway, I've been hearing about several friends either having babies or about to have babies lately, and since they haven't all asked me for my advice, (rude!) I figured I'd just give my advice to my blog. Here's the advice I would have given myself if I knew what I know now.

Bottles: don't be afraid of them. In fact, embrace them. The Internet and the world seems to be chock-full of people who seem to imply or outright state that if you give a newborn a bottle, you're a bad mother who can't figure out the simple act of breastfeeding and your baby will grow up to be a psychopath. Also, that once you give baby a bottle, he or she will never return to the breast. Pregnancy hormones and the desire to do everything "right" enforces those beliefs. Therefore, I was absolutely determined to exclusively breastfeed.

If I had it to do over again, I'd probably give Regan at least one bottle every single day, and it would probably contain formula. Gasp! In the beginning, that would have helped me get a bit of sleep (which would have made me a better mother), it would have allowed my husband to bond with the baby faster and feel more needed and competent, and it would have allowed me to get out of the house easier (more important than we realize!) without fretting over whether I'd be able to nurse the baby in a new place or that she was at home starving. As she got older, we could have avoided the "weaning" process before she started daycare, which was rather traumatic for both of us. Plus, she'd be used to formula in case something happened and she couldn't have breast milk. After the first few weeks, it takes more effort to make a bottle than to nurse, so I would have had to be determined to stick to this plan.

Truth is, there is some sense of pride that my daughter has only ever had breast milk. I do believe it's the best thing for her. However it is also important, no matter how much we as new mothers don't want to admit it, that the baby can be cared for by someone else. Sure, there's a sense of pride in breastfeeding; in being the only person that can calm her, feed her, and put her down to sleep. But after the first week or so of daycare, I realized that there was also a sense of pride knowing that the baby will be okay without me. After all, that's ultimately what raising a child is all about.

First sickness

Last week was my first full week back to work, and it was quite a week. On Monday, I was late to work because I forgot to bring milk to daycare for Regan. Also, my (borrowed) pump broke and I had to go buy a new one, take it home, wash and sterilize everything and pump in the middle of the day. On Tuesday, I was late to a meeting because I was pumping, then late to training after that. Then I had to leave training early to pick up Regan and come back to finish with a crying baby in my arms. On Wednesday, Regan started getting sick so I had to go pick her up at about 3:30. On Thursday and Friday, she was still sick so I had to stay home with her. I got a little work done at home, but still... On Saturday morning she was worse and her wheezy breathing was getting scary, so we took her to the ER. We weren't there very long, and they ruled out all the scary stuff like pneumonia and bronchitis. She did have RSV though, which is basically like a super-cold but can get worse, especially in young infants. They gave her some medicine to help her breathe that contained steroids, which made her wired and impossible to get to sleep. It has been like having a newborn all over again for a few nights. Her longest stretch of sleep was 4 hours. She's been getting better and better since then though. It was a 3-day weekend, thank goodness, and she's ready to go back to daycare tomorrow.

I never really believed people who said that work was a break from being at home, but at least this week, it has been true. Oh, and Paul caught Regan's cold yesterday, so my holiday was soothing a sick, crying baby and trying to get her to take a bottle again after several days without one, cleaning up, making meals, grocery shopping, etc.

Sorry, I think I'm just whining now.

Anyway, my boss has been amazing. I felt so guilty about missing work, but not because of anything she did or said. I'm really hoping that we'll have a nice, smooth week this week and I can make it up to her. If everyone is feeling better next weekend, and we can finagle a babysitter, I think a movie with friends is in order. Crossing my fingers.

Back to work and new-self discovery

 I think one of the biggest shocks to me as a new mom was realizing that there were times when I didn't absolutely love every second of being a parent. Sometimes that's hard to admit, even to myself. I knew it would be tough at times, but I thought parenting would come more naturally to me, and that I'd enjoy even the tough times. I underestimated "tough." When taken as a whole, I absolutely love being a mom and I wouldn't change it for the world. But there are moments that I don't love ... some that I don't even enjoy. Maternity leave is like boot camp (or so I imagine.) I've been torn down as an individual and built back up as part of a team that includes my daughter and my husband. It's great to be part of that team, but I'm starting to realize that it's okay, even important for my daughter, that I hold on to some of myself while being a mom. How can I expect her to get to know herself if her mom doesn't do the same? Here's the bottom line that's sort of hard to admit: I like having time away from my baby. I know! Mothers aren't supposed to admit that, are they? I was surprised myself.

Early in my leave, Regan was so all-consuming to me that I basically came to the conclusion that a good mom sacrifices herself for her child. All of herself. In a way, I thought that being a mother meant that I could no longer really be anything else. For the last 3 months, my opportunities for leaving the house on my own were limited to only a couple of hours here and there, all the while knowing that Regan was probably hungry and driving her daddy crazy at home by crying the whole time. But I started to notice that when I did get out of the house for a while, I came back a better mother. Her fussing and crying didn't get under my skin quite as much and I felt more like holding her and playing with her. Now that she'll take bottles, I'm able to be away for longer periods. To me, there's nothing more satisfying than nursing my daughter. But it's also very satisfying knowing that she will be okay without me.

Since about month 3 of my pregnancy, I feared the day that my maternity leave ended. Being a mom felt like what I was meant to do more than anything else. It didn't help that I'd be going back to a job where I didn't feel supported or trusted by my boss. My family would be my new priority, and I didn't feel like he understood or supported that. I started looking for other options. Nothing panned out until the last month of my maternity leave, when I was offered a position working for someone who seemed much more supportive of my new priorities. The day I feared has come and gone now, and it has actually been really good. I really enjoy my new job and I really love my new boss. She has a teenage son, meets her husband for lunch regularly and pumped milk at work when her son was a baby, like I am. She takes vacations. She delegates. She totally gets it. It's a night-and-day difference from what I'm coming from at my old job. Instead of being treated like a potential criminal who will only screw things up, I am trusted and treated like a competent adult.

I loved my maternity leave, I really did. I've only been back to work for three days, but now that I'm not with Regan 24 hours a day, I love more of the time I get with her. I'm so excited to come home and see her smiling and playing, and to be the one that gets to nurse her and put her to bed with a kiss. I truly want to be with her instead of feeling sort of trapped. Being a mom is getting easier too. Regan usually sleeps 10-12 hours a night right now, she's great at smiling and loves to grab her toys and coo at us. Sometimes she's perfectly content to play or swing for hours. It's so much fun to watch her grow.

I never used to know what to say when someone said "tell me about yourself." Now I know the first thing I'd say, without hesitation, is that I'm a mom. But I also am starting to understand that it's okay, even good, to have other things to say as well.