"Cause if we're talkin bodies..."

Opportunities to hold Lewis while he sleeps are few and far between these days as we work on getting him to sleep on his own in his crib. But on the rare occasions it still happens (like today), I soak it up. I know to many he is still a little baby, but to us he seems so much bigger every day! Because when he lays on my chest, I think of how not long ago, he was such a very teeny tiny baby who found such solace from hearing my heart beat. And how not long before that when I was still pregnant, I was all he knew.

As he laid on my chest and I reminisced about how far he has come and how far we have come together, I started to think about bodies. Josh and I have had plenty of conversations about how unfair various aspects of motherhood vs. fatherhood seem, many of which are because they take their toll on a woman's body physically. Pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding...each of these by themselves is not for the faint of heart. But pile them on top of each other one right after another and it has the potential to lead to some difficulties.

I've never really struggled with self-image or body image save a short stint freshman year in college when I thought I was fat thanks to a stupid personal trainer. I worked out a little too much, went on a cabbage soup diet, and then was thankfully saved at Thanksgiving when I remembered how much I love real food. But I've pretty much always worn the same size of clothes and could most of the time walk into a store and find something that I liked on me.

After having Sloane, there were physical aspects that were devastating that I've mentioned previously, but I had the luxury of being able to run as much as I wanted anytime I wanted. This was crucial to my healing and recovery, plus as I worked hard, I was able to get back to my pre-pregnancy size relatively quickly.

With Lewis, while I have this sweet babe to hold in my arms,  I am more limited in how much I can exercise and when I can exercise. Added to that is the cumulative effect that pregnancy and childbirth seem to have on most women--the second time around your body changes even more and it seems a little more permanent.

So I've found myself on a bit of a journey with my body in the past few months. I will always carry with me the emotional and physical scars from the births of my two babies. But I don't mind the C-section scar, and I really don't even mind the stretch marks. The hardest part for me has been having that pile of clothes that I love in the back of my closet that juuuuuust don't quite fit. And walking into a store and not loving everything that I try on, but having to be more strategic about how to dress this strangely new curvier body I now have.

A lot of days, getting dressed, looking in the mirror, and not recognizing the image looking back at me can be frustrating. But then there are those now-rare moments when I get to hold that sweet baby boy while he's napping, and with his head over my heart, our bodies still seem to fit so comfortably together and I know I would do it all again. The heartbreak, the waiting, the tears, and now the bigger clothes and different body...I would do it all again to have this little boy asleep in my arms. I know I won't be able to hold him like this for long. As he learns to crawl and move more on his own that distance between us will grow more and more and our bodies will feel less comfortable together than on their own. So I will work on soaking up that feeling and remembering the great and wonderful things my body has done for me and my babies.

Grief

The funny thing about grief is that it sneaks up on you when you least expect it. You'll be walking along in your life dealing with the day-to-day, then all of a sudden, BAM. It hits you like the trauma just happened yesterday, and it is there, and fresh and raw and you have to deal with it. And the difference is that hopefully by now, you've learned to deal with it better than you knew how to at first. Maybe not always, but maybe sometimes you're more equipped. You have more tools in your toolbox to get through this wave.

For me, one of my tools to deal with grief is writing. Writing in my blog, writing letters to Sloane, writing letters to Lewis. My emotions process more easily on paper than they do swirling around in my brain, so I get them down and write people are usually so nice about what I write. That's an added bonus when people actually get something out of what I write.

Today is September 1. Two years ago, this was going to be the month I would meet my baby girl! I was starting my new job as a first year school psychologist, and anxiously awaiting baby girl's arrival. I was due 9/22, but hopeful like most pregnant women to go a little early. So perhaps this is why the grief hits me today. September means the start of fall (in most places besides Mississippi...), and fall means the birth of my little girl. But history shows us that Sloane did not come in September, silly girl waited until October. It seems both of my children are stubborn and have minds of their own, waiting until they wanted to come. So maybe it is because her birthday is just a month and a day away, and I find myself thinking of what we will do this year to remember her and celebrate her birth while still honoring her death. It's hard to celebrate a birthday and a deathday all at once.

Regardless of what brought on the grief, I found myself writing today. Mind you, I am no poet, but sometimes words come out of my head and this time that took the form of a poem. Lewis and I had a rough morning and night, so these words poured out my mind effortlessly.

When my arms grow heavy from carrying you,
I think how grateful I am to hold you.

When my eyes burn and tears fall from lack of sleep,
I think how grateful I am you are here to keep me up.

When all I want is 5 minutes of peace or to take a shower,
I think how grateful I am you demand my attention.

When my ears tire of your cries because you hate falling asleep alone,
I think how grateful I am to have the chance to rock you.

Through the long days and sleepless nights,
I think how grateful I am to hold your warm body and feel your breath on my cheek.
Your very existence is a miracle, and that will never be lost on me.

Parenting a Rainbow Baby

I have been quiet on the blog lately bc our lives have been consumed with packing tape and moving boxes! While our house is far from done, it is livable and I have found myself needing a break this week from the craziness of moving. So back to the blog!

We have come a long way in the three months since Lewis was born. Newborn life was absolutely terrible and no amount of time or amnesia will ever let me forget how terrible it was. The combination of hormones, trouble breastfeeding, reflux or something like it was not pretty and was not handled well by me. But we survived and I now know that life with a baby indeed does get better! So if there will be other children in our future, it will not be because I have forgotten the horrors that are newborns, but it will be because I know that time is relatively short and there is hope and goodness to follow. (Like this adorable cheesy grin below!)

My thoughts lately have been on my short experience thus far parenting a "rainbow baby," or a baby born after loss. Pregnancy after loss had it's own ups and downs, as does parenting after loss. 

I found myself in Lewis' room last night rocking him to sleep crying. Crying because of the weight of him in my arms, and the warmth of his little body, felt so sweet. Crying because I will always remember all too well the physical emptiness that my arms and my body felt after Sloane died. But I don't feel that physical emptiness anymore. While my heart will always feel as though it has a hole from her absence, it is more than wonderful to have the physical emptiness taken away by my sweet baby boy. 

I know that having Sloane, and losing Sloane, has made me so much better of a mother than I ever would have been otherwise. It sucks that that is how it had to be, but I appreciate literally every second with Lewis. I don't think I am naturally cut out for this whole SAHM gig, and I already miss my school psychology, but I appreciate so much that I get to be home with Lew because I know that tomorrow is not guaranteed for my sweet babe. And if the day ever comes that he too, is taken, I want to know that I gave him too many kisses, too many hugs, too many snuggles, and that we read too many books, went for too many walks, and played too many silly games. I feel so much more motivation to be an amazing mother to him (or try...) because I don't have that opportunity to physically care for Sloane. So he gets all the love for both of them! 

I am sure these feelings on parenthood in general and parenthood after loss specifically will change as the stages of my life and of Lew's life change. But for now, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for his presence and place in our family, and for the many lessons that Sloane continues to teach me. 

Baby boy at baby girl's grave, May 2016

#NewbornLife

Newborn life is so crazy hard! I think Josh and I had no idea what we were in for. With losing Sloane, it was easy to idealize what we were missing out on and not think about the difficulties of what we were missing. I knew our lives would be different having another baby, because they were forever changed after we had Sloane; I just had no idea how different they would be. The past three weeks have definitely thrown us for a loop and I can only hope at this point that someday we will find another new normal.

The two biggest challenges have been breastfeeding and sleeping (or not sleeping). First, breastfeeding. After having gut wrenching pain, bleeding, and painful engorgement the first few days home, we called a lactation consultant to come help. At the hospital, we had one lactation consultant say Baby L had a minor lip and tongue tie, another one say he did not have either, and his pediatrician said he did not have either. The one we hired to come to our house said he definitely did, and showed us what it looked like. She recommended having it lasered off, which we did the next day. Baby L did fine-he cried, but was pretty easily soothed afterwards. I on the other hand, was a mess and it took me like an hour crying in the upstairs waiting room until I could get it together to leave. I felt so terrible putting my little man through this when he was only a week old! Josh had to do massages on the wounds for the following week to make sure scar tissue didn't build up, but it looks great now and Baby L can move his tongue all over!

The lactation consultant also gifted me with a nipple shield to use to protect myself from the crazy pain in the mean time while we worked on L's sucking. What a world of difference that thing made! It was a life saver. I am forever grateful to it because it likely has saved our BF relationship. I also dealt with the engorgement by pumping myself empty, using cabbage leaves, ice, and ibuprofen. Hallelujah. 

So we had taken pretty major steps towards working on BF, but it has been such a process. I expected overnight results with each intervention we have tried, and that is just not how BF works, at least for us. There have been many tears shed (by mama and baby) and frustrations vented (by mama) in the past three weeks. While I love the shield, it is a hassle. You have to wash it every time you use it, sterilize it every day, and if you go anywhere, it's just not all that convenient. It never felt like a long term solution to me, and it's not meant to be. I tried repeatedly to get L to feed without it though, with little success. At first, it still pinched. Then, he wouldn't even latch at all without it, which may have been the most frustrating because there was just milk dripping everywhere, he was screaming because he wasn't getting it, and I was crying because I couldn't understand the disconnect between me and him. I just kept trying however, because what else was there to do?? 

Two days ago, I noticed that on one side after using the shield, my nipple had four little dots on it in the same shape as the shield. It turns out little man has become such a proficient sucker that he was sucking me right through the shield. That's a good sign it's time to stop using the shield! So we have been without it for the past 24 hours! While I have required positive affirmations and neck rubs from Josh while feeding L, I have not cried (about BF)! This is progress, people. So we are feeling hopeful about this currently. 

The other crazy hard part is the sleeplessness. The recommendations these days are for babies to sleep on their own, on a flat surface, on their back. If you can find me one newborn who this works for, I will call that child a miracle. Newborns are used to being snug inside their mommas, not isolated in a cold little bed! So we have struggled with guilt when he does not sleep like this, and fatigue to the point of being crazy (legit crying/screaming/yelling CRAZY) when he does. The problem is he will only sleep in his bassinet for about 1.5 hours. This means you get between 30 minutes-1 hour of sleep at a time. Which is madness and not sustainable. So we have no solution to this problem yet, but we try something different every day. Mostly, we're just holding out until 6 weeks because that's when people and the internet say it will get better?! Let's hope we haven't gone mad by then. 

Other hard things about newborns, or at least this newborn: they cry all the time! Not like a cute little whimper, but an all out "my life is terrible, do something NOW" scream. This is our routine: baby sleeps, wakes up screaming, baby gets changed, baby gets fed, baby may fight getting fed if he is too hungry OR feeding may go well, baby screams during getting burped, baby falls asleep getting fed again OR he has a blissful 20 minutes of peaceful and happy awake time in which you think "aw, newborn life is beautiful! Hurry, take a picture so this is what we remember!" Then he screams because he is tired. The bottom line is there is a lot of screaming. 

It is also so hard because there a million chances to doubt what you are doing. Should I burp him longer? Should I eat that broccoli or is that why he was gassy? Did we swaddle him too tight? Did we swaddle him too loose? Should we swaddle him at all? Should I wake him to eat? Should we try and set a schedule or let him sleep and enjoy the peace? If we wake him will he sleep longer tonight? Should we give him a pacifier? What about a bottle? What if that ruins breastfeeding before we even figure BF out? ............You get the idea. I don't think I ever realized that he would totally, 100% be reliant on me for everything. Every second of his life right now is dependent on what I do (or Josh). That is a huge responsibility and so incredibly terrifying and daunting. 

So this whole baby thing is crazy hard. Don't get me wrong, there have been moments of peace, joy, love, and happiness. They have just been few and far between in these initial weeks, although I think they are becoming more regular as we all adjust to each other a little more. Some of the highlights of having baby L home with us: 

• seeing Josh as a dad. I did so well when I married this man. He is the patience and voice of reason at 3am when I am crying hysterically. He is already the fun one who does tummy time, songs, and otherwise engages our child when I am laying on the couch exhausted. He is the one who helps us get out of the house successfully. And he has changed 95% of the diapers so far. Baby L is one lucky little man to have such a great papa. 
• seeing Baby L's newborn smiles while he is sleeping. We like to think he is playing with Sloane when this happens :)
• Looking down at Baby L at 1am after he has fallen asleep after eating and seeing the resemblances between him and his big sister. I love knowing they are siblings and they know each other. 
• hearing L's coos when he eats
• seeing L's big blue eyes when he is looking around this new world and us as his parents
• seeing his big belly after he eats and feeling pride knowing that he is growing because of me and the pain and sacrifice I am putting into BF

Life is all about the extremes right now: when it sucks, it REALLY sucks, but when it's good, it's REALLY good. 

I have been so lucky to have so many amazing, incredible female friends who are a step or two ahead of me in this journey of motherhood. Friends who can say, "yes, the first few weeks are terrible, but you will make it!" Friends who I can text endlessly about my nipples and they aren't weirded out, but instead offer encouragement and suggestions. Friends who check in regularly because they know my sanity is at stake if they don't.  Friends who validate every crazy, hormonal, emotional feeling you have because they have felt it, too. There are friends who are a little further down the journey of motherhood and who can look back at the newborn stage with fondness- maybe one day I will get to that point, too. Friends who bring meals and ice cream and sushi and subs. Friends who mow your lawn. And friends who reassure you, over and over and over and over and over and over again, that you are doing the right thing and you are doing your best. If he uses a nipple shield, if he gets formula, if you have to pump every feeding, if he sleeps in your bed, if he sleeps in his bassinet, if he sleeps in his swing, YOU ARE DOING YOUR BEST. I should get that tattooed on my arm, but instead I will rely on my friends (husband included!) to help me through.