On one hand, babies seem to thrive on chaos. Jasper upturns baskets full of toys with glee, dumps drawers joyfully and flings my neatly folded laundry into crumpled piled behind him with squeels of happiness. Luckily, I love to organize. (It calms my mind, which is something I need these days.) I love neatly stacking things, putting stray objects into containers, straightening book spines and stuffed toys. So as you can imagine, it all works out.
On the other hand, babies thrive on normalcy, routine (to a point), and most of all, repetition. I am not a routine type of person, generally. This comes in handy in a few areas of our life, as I feed Jazz when he acts hungry, not based on a clock, and put him down for naps when he acts tired, not based on any predetermined time. I just follow his lead, watch for his cues and act accordingly, and it feels right. We do have our routines, though. Bedtime starts at 7:30, with solids (in which his interest waxes and wanes) then bath, lotion, jammies, bottle, book, bed. I try to keep this pretty rigid, in the hopes that his overnight sleeping will improve. It has, slightly. He's still up 4 or so times at night, crying out, reaching for me. (still better than hourly) I'm exhausted, and some days it's hard to deal with. But I remind myself that it won't be like this forever. Some day he won't need me like this anymore, and I know I will feel a pang of sadness, against all logic and understanding, remembering the time when I was the one thing he needed. Snuggling him and feeling him breathe next to me, kissing his head while he slumbers, I try to remind myself of this fact. While I will feel relief once he sleeps through the night, relief in finally being rested, finally getting to sleep next to my husband, I know I will miss being needed this way.
I guess the conclusion I'm coming to in that Jasper and I balance each other out pretty well. And one of the very few things I know in this world is that balance brings harmony, and harmony brings happiness. And of all of the things in my life right now that are precariously unbalanced, maddeningly unharmonious, this, Jasper and I, we are a much needed, neat little yin yang.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
No rest for the wicked
My goodness. Has it really been over a year since I've written? I guess that shows how chemo brain (plus mommy brain) can effect one's ability to write. I just began really getting back to reading, as well. My thoughts and memory are a mess, and it's definitely been difficult coping with this new foggy brain so much treatment has left me with. Anyhoo, I guess this is my attempt to start writing again.
Jasper. We call him Jazz. He's almost 9 months old, and I am like every single other mother out there when I say that he is amazing. He's tall and skinny, strong, smart, sweet, funny, talkative, energetic, incredibly happy and very strong-willed. He has taught me so much about patience and the unbelievable lengths of love. His eyes are ice blue, with a quarter of brown in the left. He babbles, saying da da and ma ma and the occational ba and ya. He crawls everywhere, pulls up on everything, and excitedly chases the cat when the feline gets brave enough to venture downstairs. His two front teeth came in just before Thanksgiving, and he's already working on both lateral incisors. No half-assing it for this kid!
I gave birth epidural-free at The Birth and Women's center after 48 hours of labor. Brandon was my rock. He reminded me to keep my mouth loose and moans low, and was an all around amazing labor partner. Jasper came into the world early in the morning on March 4th, small and skinny, dark red-skinned and silent, with a full head of brown hair. I felt him slide, warm and tiny, onto my chest, and I stroked him, telling him "Welcome, baby. I love you, I love you, I love you." He wasn't breathing well, so we spent a day and a night at the NICU, but it was mostly a precaution. He was fine. So strong, from the second he was earth-side.
I know it's been said a million times before, but I've never known love this strong, this unrelenting.
That being said, being a mother is the hardest job I've ever had. I've always been a perfectionist, and nowadays I'm a terrible multitasker. Parenthood is teaching me not to quit, even when things aren't perfect. Quitting isn't even an option. So I just try to wake up every day and be the best I can for Jazz and Brandon. And when it comes to my inability to multi task, well, it just explains my complete lack of a social life. Being a stay at home mom is overwhelming enough. Not to mention, he just stopped waking up 7-12 times a night in the last few weeks, down to about 4-5 wake-ups a night (when he's not teething.) I'm exhausted. But I know I'll get there, back into the world. Soon. Until then, I'm doing what I do best: taking it one day at a time.
Jasper. We call him Jazz. He's almost 9 months old, and I am like every single other mother out there when I say that he is amazing. He's tall and skinny, strong, smart, sweet, funny, talkative, energetic, incredibly happy and very strong-willed. He has taught me so much about patience and the unbelievable lengths of love. His eyes are ice blue, with a quarter of brown in the left. He babbles, saying da da and ma ma and the occational ba and ya. He crawls everywhere, pulls up on everything, and excitedly chases the cat when the feline gets brave enough to venture downstairs. His two front teeth came in just before Thanksgiving, and he's already working on both lateral incisors. No half-assing it for this kid!
I gave birth epidural-free at The Birth and Women's center after 48 hours of labor. Brandon was my rock. He reminded me to keep my mouth loose and moans low, and was an all around amazing labor partner. Jasper came into the world early in the morning on March 4th, small and skinny, dark red-skinned and silent, with a full head of brown hair. I felt him slide, warm and tiny, onto my chest, and I stroked him, telling him "Welcome, baby. I love you, I love you, I love you." He wasn't breathing well, so we spent a day and a night at the NICU, but it was mostly a precaution. He was fine. So strong, from the second he was earth-side.
I know it's been said a million times before, but I've never known love this strong, this unrelenting.
That being said, being a mother is the hardest job I've ever had. I've always been a perfectionist, and nowadays I'm a terrible multitasker. Parenthood is teaching me not to quit, even when things aren't perfect. Quitting isn't even an option. So I just try to wake up every day and be the best I can for Jazz and Brandon. And when it comes to my inability to multi task, well, it just explains my complete lack of a social life. Being a stay at home mom is overwhelming enough. Not to mention, he just stopped waking up 7-12 times a night in the last few weeks, down to about 4-5 wake-ups a night (when he's not teething.) I'm exhausted. But I know I'll get there, back into the world. Soon. Until then, I'm doing what I do best: taking it one day at a time.
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