It feels so lovely to sit down and write again after a short respite that included welcoming the newest member of our pack, Miss Eloise! That’s right, The Nugget’s identity is finally known! And although coming up with a name for her took some time due to the fact that I was convinced she was a boy for nine months, we couldn’t be more enamored by the little one who God sent to complete our family. Her birth story was a somewhat amusing and unique one, and while I certainly look forward to sharing it with all of you, today’s topic is more broad- the part harsh, part bittersweet and part amazing reminder of what it’s like to be a new mom all over again. And even though I have been a mother for going on thirty months now, I really do feel like a new mom. I’m as new to Eloise as she is to me, and in a way, I’m now a new (kind of) mom to Clara as well. So without further ado, I offer my readers a bit on insight into what it’s really like to be a new mom, the good, the bad and the ugly.
Being a mom to a newborn is hard. There’s no other way of saying it. And let me just say that I’ve been very fortunate… I was with Clara and I am again with Eloise. She’s a great sleeper and a good eater. In the grand scheme of infanthood, we’ve had two total rockstars. But even rockstar babies cluster feed on their second night because they’re so hungry and their moms’ milk hasn’t come in. And I’m sure every nursing mom out there can agree, that second night is really hard. For me, it included a lot of sobbing in my hospital bed, waiting for my husband to come rushing back to my side after I had insisted he go home to be with Clara. I had done the whole baby thing before, after all, and I didn’t need any help. Turns out, I was wrong. I needed all the help and support I could get, and my amazing team of nurses just wasn’t enough. I needed to hear that I was still doing a good job despite how hard it was. I needed to hear that it was okay that I missed Clara desperately and that it was normal (whatever that means) to feel more love in my heart for my toddler than for my new, unknown, hungry baby. I needed to be hugged and to be reminded that I was tired, that I didn’t have to do this by myself, and that Eloise would become an essential member of our family over time. That long, hard night soon turned into a warm spring day when we brought our beautiful girl home with us. And just as we were about to start living our new normal, we learned that Eloise had elevated jaundice levels, a common problem in infants but a scary one to parents who don’t know anything about it. All we knew was that the day after we brought our sweet girl home, we were sent back to the hospital for blood tests. Luckily she wasn’t readmitted, but we spent the next week trekking back and forth to the hospital for daily heel pricks to monitor her levels. I learned throughout this process that the only treatment for jaundice levels that doesn’t qualify for phototherapy is feeding. Eloise needed to eat as much as possible so her little body could learn to process the bilirubin in her blood. Needless to say, that’s a lot of pressure for her only food source, aka mom. And as if that wasn’t enough, as her jaundice cleared up, she wasn’t gaining weight. More feeding. More pumping. More struggling to keep her awake during the night. More drinking lactation tea that smells (and tastes) like celery. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Like I said, there are parts of motherhood, especially with a newborn, that are harsh. It’s raw. It rocks you to your core. It tests your strength, your endurance, your ability to function without sleep, and above all, your patience with those around you who are just trying to support you. I’ve learned that I need to continuously communicate what I need from my support system, and I’m thrilled to share that Eloise gained seven ounces in a week and is no longer jaundiced. I would say we may be out of the woods, but that’s just a cruel joke… everyone knows we’re just getting started, which leads me to the bittersweet.
Ever since Matthew and I became serious, like marriage serious, we’ve always talked about having two kids. Well folks, here we are. Kid number two has arrived. Now what? Sure, it’s everything we’ve ever hoped and dreamed of, and everything we’ve ever prayed for, but does that mean this is the end of everything new motherhood has to offer? Eloise is twelve days old today. Will I never have a twelve-day-old again? Her kissably soft skin will soon fade into dirty, scraped knees and popsicle smiles. Her peach fuzz hair will soon be long locks slicked back with sweat from chasing her dog. Her big, blueberry eyes will likely turn to brown just like her sister’s did. Watching her sleep the day away will become less and less possible as she grows strong and mobile, and one day, she won’t need to be swaddled anymore. With Clara, I always planned that it would happen again. With Eloise, I need to focus on soaking it all in. You never know it’s the last time for something until after the last time. When will I nurse her for the last time? When will I watched her little lips curl into a smile and sucking motion in her sleep for the last time? When will I dress her in newborn-sized clothes for the last time? When will I tuck her into her swing and watch her peacefully drift off to sleep, completely unaware of her big sister hammering and singing three inches away for the last time? She’s quiet, she’s still, she’s perfect, and while I’m hopeful that I’ll always see her as perfect, Clara is living breathing proof that she will not always be quiet and still!
And finally, the best part, the part that I live for! Becoming a mom to a new person is the most amazing experience and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. The newborn smell, the late night snuggles, the sweet squeaks and grunts, the exhausting attempts at tummy time, the undying passion for milk… it’s all just so beautiful and it’s what human life is all about. It has been even more amazing this time around because in addition to bonding with my new baby and learning who Eloise is, I also get to watch Clara grow into a big sister. Matthew and I are both only children, so we a truly in uncharted waters here, but Clara has really soared in her new role. She loves “Baby Ellie” so much; she loves kissing her head, holding her hand, and counting her toes. She asks where Ellie went when she can’t see her, and she brings her toys, books, and blankets. And sure, she’s also overusing the word mine, but overall, I couldn’t be happier with Clara’s transition. When the going gets tough, I just remind myself that I have brought two best friends together and it makes everything seem better. I know in my heart that sweet Baby Ellie is the missing piece to our family’s puzzle and now that she’s here, we are complete. I absolutely cannot wait to see who she will grow to be just as much as I cannot wait to watch her and Clara grow up together.
So to all the moms out there, whether you’re in the weeds of infanthood, toddlerhood or beyond, I say this to you: You’re killing it. It’s not easy and it’s not supposed to be. In your lowest of low moments, just remind yourself that there is no right way of doing things. You’re going to feel like a failure. If it’s not because of breastfeeding, it will be because of sleep training, watching your child struggle, potty training, tantrums or the myriad of other things that we go through. We’re hard on ourselves because we think we shouldn’t be able to be vulnerable, or dare I say to fail. But if you love your kids and you’re doing the best you can, then you’re already a great mom and your kids are lucky to have you in their lives. All I ask of my readers is that the next time you see a mom who seems to be having a hard time, reach out with a helping hand or a kind word. I’ve been there many times and as a mom of an infant and a toddler with Autism, I guarantee I will be there many more times than I want to count. Sometimes just a knowing I’ve been there too, you got this look can make all the difference. It’s about time that we start building each other up rather than judging and tearing each other down. I have spent the last twelve days basking in the beautiful sunlight of my family and I plan to do so for the rest of my life. I welcome all of you to do the same.
