It’s tough out there for mommas. Who knew? I sure didn’t. Until entering this part of my life, I had no idea how harsh and opinionated the mommy world could be. Breastfeeding vs bottlefeeding? Cloth diapering vs disposables? Working mom or SAHM? I believe that as a mother, or parent, only you know what is best for your child and your family. What works for one family may not work for your own. Everyone is different. Every baby is different! Below are my very honest confessions as a new mom.. someone who loves her girl with all of her heart and is just trying to navigate this whole new world.
If Lorelai was a boy, she would have been named Everett Milo. We are still madly in love with the name Everett Milo and pray that we will get to use it someday. (L, did you hear us calling you “Everett” in there sometimes?) The hard part of not finding out the baby’s gender is that you kind of fall in love with both a boy and a girl. More fun facts: if I was a boy I would have been named Dallas.
We had every intention of cloth diapering Lorelai, but once she was here we changed our minds. It's not that we didn’t want to do it, but it was hard enough keeping up with the laundry for her clothes, burp rags, blankets, bedding, etc. We just didn’t see benefiting much from the cloth diapers at that point. Disposables are working for us now, but maybe we will tackle cloth in the future.
Lorelai still sleeps in the Rock n Play and still in our room. We are currently working on transitioning her to a co-sleeper for our room and then eventually to her crib in her room. But she loves her Rock n Play and sleeps so good in it that it is hard move to make.
I use Baby Magic lotion on her every single day and I swore up and down to Timbuktu that I wouldn’t use anything with any chemicals on her baby skin. But seriously, this stuff is MAGIC.
Lorelai is a breastfed baby that also gets formula. This was hard for me at first because I never had any intention of giving her formula. But little did we know of the many, many struggles we would face breastfeeding. I am so thankful that we both worked so hard and are continuing to breastfeed, but my girl needed more and who was I to deny her what she needed? I consider it “medicine” that she needs to grow stronger and continue to work on my supply and we are both very gosh darn happy with that.
I am terrified of crib bumpers.
But she does sometimes get a blanket over her in the Rock n Play. For someone that is obsessive over SIDS this might be surprising, but we keep it very low (nowhere near her face) and only because she can’t move to reach it yet. Her footsies get cold at night, even in the sleepers/swaddle!
I still ride in the backseat with Lorelai while Brian drives.
I’m too terrified to let her sleep in the bed with us although I am so envious of those who bedshare.
I let my dog kiss her as much as he wants.
We play our music for her more than traditional lullabyes. Her favorites are Johnny Cash, The National and Birdy.
Brian changes more diapers than I do.
I have a problem with buying her clothes. I buy them at Target. I buy them at Gap.com. I buy them on Instagram, you guys. It’s a serious problem.
I’m learning that I can’t control her nicknames. Some I love, some are cringe-worthy.
I cried hysterically (I mean, HYSTERICALLY) after she first projectile spit up (or as we call it, “waterfall”).
Once, I told her to “shut up”. I said it nicely and quietly, but it was in the middle of the night and I sort of meant it. Then I felt so terrible that I woke Brian up crying to tell him what I said. Sorry, L. I did still get up with you little love.
I had the baby blues from about 4 days postpartum to 12 days postpartum. And I was embarrassed about it. And they scared the crap out of me. It only affected me around each night, but it was HORRIBLE. I cried and cried and cried and cried. Brian did not know what to do for me. I am so glad that this went away naturally, but I will never forget the nagging, overwhelming feelings that took over my body. Any mother that deals with true postpartum depression is a freaking warrior.
I already want to be pregnant again.
It is not easy. Being a mother is my dream. It is all that I have ever wanted. But it is draining and terrifying and overwhelming. And rewarding. It is the hardest/best thing I have ever done.. will ever do.
I have never let her “cry it out”.
She has already watched episodes of Dexter and The Walking Dead… we should probably stop this soon.
On more than one occasion, Brian has come home from work and takes over for L, while I crawl into the bathtub with a jar of cookie dough and a Coke.
I am irrationally terrified of SIDS. I even have nightmares of me holding her in the water and suddenly the waves become too high and I can’t hold her head up above the water.
Lorelai doesn’t have a schedule. So far, we have been letting her tell us what she needs/wants. I feed her on demand (but never longer than 3 hours during the day) and besides that she naps when she wants, plays when she wants, eats when she wants. Her baths are never at the same time and she doesn’t go to bed at the same time every night. I felt horrible about this for a while because I thought that her schedule was so important, but soon realized that she is doing so wonderful on her own and why not just let her tell us? She sleeps through the night almost every single night and is sooooooo happy, so it’s working for us. After starting daycare I think that more of a routine may develop naturally and I kind of hope that it does (I’m very type A you know) but for now I am enjoying going with her flow.
If there is one thing I have learned about parenthood, it’s that you make your own rules. I know that I cuddle her too much, let her stay up too late, and wake her unnecessarily to make sure she’s breathing… but that’s just being a parent. It’s funny the things that you end up caving in on that you swore you wouldn’t do and the things that you obsess over more than you ever imagined. I wholeheartedly support any mama out there that is doing her best.. whatever that may be.
Thank you for making me a mama, sweet girl.