Working Mom/Childcare Transitions

So I'm almost 5 months into this gig (working mom)...

For the record: I stayed home with Hope for 12 weeks, and then went back to work 4 days a week. At that point we hired a nanny through the agency Your Other Hands to be at the house with her. When she reached 6 months, we enrolled her at the Salvation Army Kroc Center daycare, where she is currently attending.

Although many mothers report having a very difficult time returning to work, by 12 weeks I was ready to get out of the house. I was tired of talking about myself in the third person all day ("Mommy's going to make lunch. Mommy's putting away the laundry. Mommy's going to go crazy if she doesn't talk to another adult sometime soon."), and I had accomplished all of the things on my "to do" list that accumulated while I was too big/pregnant/unmotivated to do anything. I was itching to feel competent again after caring for a newborn. Although I've had a lot of baby experience in my life, there's something about those early days that makes you doubt yourself and every instinct you've ever had. I was literally looking something up on Google at least 3x per day.

I got a trial run at returning to work when I went in for 2.5 days of training over the summer. My mom came to stay with Hope, and it was a really easy transition. Unlike my normal working day, we had a clear cut schedule, and I was able to plan pumping times in advance. Those were actually the highlights of my day, as I got to pump with two second-time moms who had tons of advice and sympathy to share. When I left home those days, Hope was so young that she didn't even seem to notice, and when I rushed home to greet her, she gave me a look that said, "Oh yeah, you. Hey, did you know this nice lady has the same milk you give me? And she's better at changing my diaper too."

Despite my eagerness to return, I did have conflicting feelings. That new friend Mommy-Guilt laid it on thick: "She should be with her mother, not some stranger." "You'll never get this time back." "You'll miss all her important milestones." "You think your job is more important than your baby?" And the crusher (because it contains so much truth): "That nanny's so expensive, you might as well just stay home." The trepidation was not eased when, the day before I returned to work, Hope bawled her eyes out when I left the house to go for a run. She wasn't just crying, she was screaming, red-faced, with big tears running down her face. Apparently she cried the whole time I was gone, and didn't stop until I came back and swept her into my arms. I took her to our room to nurse, and as she calmed down, I picked up where she left off. Lying there sweaty and crying, I watched my tears dissolve in the fabric of her swaddle and wondered if I was really going to be ok after all.

Our first nanny was wonderful, and I felt totally comfortable leaving Hope with her. The first morning went off without a hitch, and I immersed myself in work during the day, only thinking about Hope a handful of times. Coming home at the end of the day, however, I found a sobbing nanny rocking our little monster on the couch. Turns out she was offered a full-time, permanent position, and I was going to have to interview nannies all over again. All of those doubts immediately surfaced, and I started wondering if working was really such a good idea after all. Thankfully, I found someone fairly quickly, and within a few days, Tommy began to worry that Hope preferred the new nanny to us.

I can't begin to explain how wonderful Mercy was with our daughter. One of the best things about her, however, was that she saw a different side of Hope. Whereas we were still treating her like a newborn, Mercy pushed her to play with toys, gave her tummy time, read books to her, tried to teach her to clap. How stagnant we had become! Within one week, Hope could fall asleep without the swaddle, arms and legs askance. She started rolling herself from her back to her front and picking her head up off the ground a few centimeters during tummy time.

Mercy's last day was hard for all of us, although Hope still sees her from time to time when Tommy and I have date night. The transition to day care was definitely the most difficult for me. Now I wasn't just leaving my baby with a stranger, but taking her to a completely new place and leaving her with 3 adult strangers and 3 little ones! We went to visit the week before, and spending time in the room with her teachers and the other kids really helped to calm my nerves. I was still a bit of an emotional wreck the next week, however, when the time came to leave her there. I took a photo with my phone, and found myself looking at it throughout the day to convince myself that she was doing fine. For the record, I did shed some tears in the car that morning.

That first morning was over a month ago now, and it's gotten easier and easier every day to leave Hope at daycare. In fact, I often look forward to seeing her teachers and the other kids. Just like with Mercy, I find that the caregivers there see a different side of Hope. They push her to do new things (art at 6 months?) and help her to interact with other kids her age. In the past few weeks, she's grown at such a rapid pace. She's sitting up independently, eating so many different foods, crawling, babbling, signing, and now even starting to pull herself up on the bars of her crib.  She used to jump at every little noise, and now she seems more able to hold her own in a variety of situations.

It's so exciting watching her develop into her own person. And it's ok with me that she does a lot of that developing with a new group of friends. I know that she's in good hands, and I really appreciate that I still get to be my own person too. Going to a job four days a week that I find challenging and fulfilling makes me a better, happier, more well-adjusted person, and I believe that ultimately, that makes me a better mother for Hope.

Mental Gymnastics

As a new mother, I've struggled with two cases of mental gymnastics that I feel need to be brought to light. They have to do with:

"Natural birth" vs. epidural (or other interventions)

Breastfeeding vs. formula

In each case, the only way to make it through the former is by completely committing yourself to it and rejecting the latter. By telling yourself it's the best for your baby. By a lot. It's the healthiest, the most natural, the most authentic. It's the only option. You have to want it really bad, and then work really hard to make it through. Through the long hours of contractions that get stronger every time, the transition stage when you get no breaks in the intensity, the pushing stage when you experience the worst pain you've ever felt in your whole life. You tell yourself you can't give up, can't give in, have to make it through. Through the cracked and bleeding nipples, the self-doubt and feelings of incompetency, the multiple feedings every night, the ridiculousness of hooking yourself up to a machine like a dairy cow, the fears of mastitis, the inability to go anywhere or do anything for longer than two hours without worrying about both how the baby will eat and what you will do with the excess milk. You have to tell yourself this is the BEST FOR YOUR BABY.

Meanwhile, you have to SIMULTANEOUSLY prepare yourself in case the former doesn't work out. You have to be ready to accept the epidural or to give your baby formula. Because for many women, for myriad reasons, natural birth and/or breastfeeding just plain don't work. And that's ok. It's ok. Say it with me, IT'S OK. It really is. But if you've been psyching yourself up to get through the former, accepting the latter often causes feelings of failure, feelings of guilt, feelings that you weren't able to do what's BEST FOR YOUR BABY. You gave up, you gave in, you weren't strong enough, you didn't try hard enough.You're not a good mother.

And so the whole time, as you struggle through, you do these mental gymnastics. You tell yourself on the one hand that natural childbirth/breastfeeding is absolutely essential and on the other hand that an epidural/formula is also a perfectly valid alternative. It's enough to make a person crazy.

No one really talks about this. People ask you as a pregnant woman which of the two you're "going to do" and it seems like a once and done decision. But I realized that for me, at least, natural childbirth ended up being a choice I had to make multiple times throughout the delivery process. Each time I had to take into account a variety of factors. And I experienced a true feeling of liberation when I realized that breastfeeding is also a decision I make over and over. Instead of feeling trapped to do what's BEST FOR MY BABY, I feel free to choose between two viable alternatives. And if one day I choose the latter, it won't be because I gave up or gave in or because I wasn't strong enough. It will be because what's best for my baby is complex. And it has a lot to do with her having a happy and well-adjusted mama. Enough with the mental gymnastics.

[DISCLAIMER: I've been fortunate to not have medical concerns influence my ability to make decisions in either situation. I know for many moms this isn't the case, and I'm sure that leads to a whole host of other frustrations.]

That Moment

when the time came, i knew i was ready, THIS IS IT
nobody had to tell me when to push, how long and how hard
I just pushed, pushed, pushed harder than I could ever imagine was possible
I wouldn't stop because I knew THIS IS IT--
this is the moment I've been waiting for, nine long months of waiting
and so I pushed
and I felt the fire
and I was tearing and burning and I thought--
THIS IS IT, this is my ultimate limit, this is all I have--
but then I pushed a bit more
and then there you were, slipping, tumbling, falling into the world
falling out of me
(caught by capable hands)

and for a moment I felt empty, gaping

but then there you were,
squirming, pasty, warm, slippery and screaming
lying on my breast

SCREAMING
you were screaming like nothing I'd ever heard
my greatest moment of relief, of exaltation, of proud accomplishment
must have been the most terrifying moment of your young life.

and yet now, months later, you've adjusted to this outside world--
it's got so much more room for you to grow, to dream, to thrive.
you rarely scream anymore.
and we can look each other in the eyes.
in fact, we can't seem to get enough of it.

and now i find that the empty space you created inside of me,
your expanding body pushing it bigger and bigger week by week,
somehow,
you still fill it perfectly.

i watch you sleeping peacefully and I know
THIS IS IT.

Update on Life with Boo

Summer Nights
After spoiling us in the early days often sleeping as much as 6.5 hours at a stretch, Hope has adopted a more typical newborn schedule. We try to put her down at 8pm every day, and most days that works out for her just fine. Some days it takes a bit of work on our parts, but she always goes down eventually, and in her crib in her own room. She loves to be swaddled and of course has her noise machine to mimic a womb-like environment. She always wakes for a feed around 1 or 2am and then  usually goes back to sleep until 5 or 6 am.

Summer Days
We're over halfway through the summer, and Hope and I have settled into something of a routine.  Every other day I leave her with Tommy at 6:30am while I go for a run/walk (I'm starting the Couch to 5K program up again). Then we spend a few hours in the morning in bed, dozing/feeding/pooping (well, she's the only one who does the last two), and then I try to get a few things done while she takes a morning nap. I'm not too ambitious here: I try to get a shower, water the plants on the deck, take a prenatal vitamin, drink a cup of coffee, and then load the dishwasher or do a load of laundry. On days I didn't go running, I do post-natal yoga with a DVD. After her morning nap, we both get to eat, and then the afternoons are either spent with me trying to get things done around the house (sorting through maternity clothes, organizing photos and videos, processing vegetables from our CSA, etc) or out and about. In the early days, before I could go running, we'd take a walk to the zoo or the grocery store or just down by the banks of the river. Now it's just so hot and we often have other errands to do during the day so we don't walk as much. We've been to various breastfeeding support groups in the area, and on Fridays we go to Ardmore for Mommy Coffee Time at Milkboy Coffeeshop with other new mothers and babies. Our doula organizes this gathering, and it's great to both get out of the house and also get to connect with other people who are going through similar things. Since I'll be going back to work only Monday through Thursday, it's exciting to think that we can continue to stop by as she gets older. 

The Joys of Breastfeeding
First of all, let me say that I'm so glad that we've been able to breastfeed so far. I know many people who truly want to but are unable for a whole host of reasons. I know others who have persevered through tremendous obstacles to make it work. I also know the health advantages for both of us are massive, and it's a great bonding time for mother and daughter. That said, breastfeeding is HARD WORK. I knew this going in, but I don't think I really had any idea about how emotionally exhausting it would be. Sure there's the physical pain from bleeding nipples and engorged breasts, but the emotional toll can be even worse. When things go wrong or are difficult, you have thoughts like, "What is wrong with me? This is the most natural thing in the world--why can't I get it right?" or "I can't believe she needs to eat again! She just finished 20 minutes ago" or "It hurts too much, I just can't do it" or "Am I doing this right? Is she getting enough hindmilk? Am I going to get mastitis? Can I stop burping now?" or worse lately: "Is that little bit of dairy I ate the other day causing her this pain and suffering?"

No More Moo
RE: That last thought. Following an after-hours call to the pediatrician where Tommy and I debated the relative color of our daughter's stool ("Is it black-black or just really dark brown?") where the answer indicated whether or not she needed to go to the emergency room, the blood in Hope's stool resolved itself in a matter of days. Bloodwork ruled out serious issues, but we really don't know what caused it. It could be just a hiccup in the workings of a developing digestive system, it could be a food sensitivity, or it could be something else entirely. Because dairy is the most common culprit (and because cutting out major dairy products had improved earlier symptoms), the pediatrician recommended a total elimination of all dairy products from my diet for at least two weeks. Considering that I named all of my cats after types of cheese, this has been a big lifestyle change for me. Also, I've come to learn that dairy is lurking in many food products where you wouldn't expect it. The bread I buy, for example. Cereals and salad dressings. Peanuts. Peanuts! So, I've found it easier to stick to fresh foods prepared at home for the vast majority of my sustenance. I did take a trip to Whole Foods yesterday (in which I spent more money than a family of 3 should spend on groceries in a month) and read the label on every food I picked up. The upshot: I was able to find some acceptable prepared foods as well as substitutes for those dairy products I most miss (coconut ice cream = not so bad). The really good news is that she's been feeling better and that any food sensitivities are most likely temporary.

Spreading the Love

The best parts of this summer for me (aside from time spent snuggling with or cooing over Hope, of course) have been visits to and from friends and family. It's been so wonderful to introduce our daughter to the people we love and to see the joy she brings them just by being her: it seems everybody loves a baby. We've had many friends and family members stop by the house; we met some on a trip to the zoo; and I even got to take Hope to a work-sponsored Happy Hour. Both sets of grandparents have come to see her, and she had her first overnight trip on July 4th to see (translation = sleep through) the fireworks at Pappy and Grandma Stone's house in Ephrata. Finally, we were able to make the three-hour journey to northeastern Pennsylvania to spend time with my grandparents (Hope's only living great-grandparents) and assorted aunts, uncles and cousins. Although we were happy in our wedded bliss before Hope's arrival, we truly feel like a family after this magical addition.

Thanks for following our journey so far. It's exciting to think that it's only just begun...

Hope's Home Movies

Fridays With Hope

12.8 Pounds

Bath Time with Hope

Hope Speaks

Hope Talks

The First Two Weeks

The Hospital

Our stay at the hospital lasted from Thursday at 4pm to Monday just after noon. Aside from Tommy's sleeping arrangements (see photo at left), it was pretty comfortable. In our Pavilion room (the last available single in the whole hospital), we ordered our meals off a real menu (the fruit plates were amazing and we had real tablecloths and napkins) and received outstanding nursing care. Since I had avoided an epidural, I was eager and able to do walks around the postpartum ward three times daily as recommended. The nurses laughed every time I passed their station and called me "the marathoner." Grandpa and Grandma Stone visited on Saturday, and were delighted to have a chance to hold their granddaughter for the first time.


Healthy Baby
Hope's only medical concern in the hospital was slightly elevated levels of bilirubin (a product of the breakdown of red blood cells in the liver) that can result in jaundice. She measured a 12 on the day of discharge, but after exposure to sunlight and lots of feedings and diapers at home, she dropped to a 9 two days later when we saw the pediatrician for the first time. After two weeks, she's nearly back to her birth weight, and she has a check up in two weeks to be sure she continues to gain. The pediatrician remarked that she is amazingly healthy, with strong limbs and a head so perfect she must have been a c-section!


Progress with Breastfeeding
We had some initial problems with breastfeeding that were eased somewhat when a lactation consultant gave us a plastic nipple shield and a pediatrician clipped Hope's frenulum (a small fold of tissue under the tongue that is inherited and restricts the tongue's movement). We were lucky that a doctor was available at the hospital to do this relatively painless procedure as there are very few in the Philadelphia area who do. Although we were nursing regularly upon leaving the hospital, latching on was still extremely painful for me and we attended a breastfeeding support group the day after being discharged. No other mothers showed up, so we had the lactation consultant's full attention, and she gave us tons of tips for pain relief, advice for the future, and confirmed that our latching and breastfeeding technique (jokingly dubbed "froggie-style" by the nursing staff at the hospital) is actually a new trend in the field. I'm planning to continue attending the breastfeeding support group weekly, and hope that many of the mothers who delivered in late May and early June decide to join me.

Adjusting to Life with a Newborn
We were so lucky to have my mom come stay with us for our first week at home. Upon arrival, she immediately went to work, cleaning up the kitchen, vacuuming the cat hair off the couch, starting the laundry, and beginning a string of delicious meals that would last us until even after her departure. Our neighbors brought lasagna and spinach dip in a thinly veiled attempt to spend as much time cuddling Hope as possible. They're in the early stages of starting a family, and we can't wait to see our little ones toddling around together in the courtyard. One of the side benefits of being induced 10 days before Hope's due date was that her Grandparents Barker were able to make the trip from Massachusetts to meet her before Grandma's scheduled surgery.

Week One
My only job that first week was to recover physically and make sure Hope was eating as much as possible. Tommy is in charge of diapering, swaddling, and calming Hope between feedings. This, combined with cheering me on through a few painful and exhausting nights of breastfeeding, have once again proven to me that I found the chose the perfect partner for this adventure. [Which reminds me--we're planning to celebrate our 3-year anniversary next week with a nice meal while Grandpa and Grandma Stone babysit.]

Week Two
Now in our second week, with Tommy back at work, Hope and I have settled into a little routine at home during the day, and between her naps and the Moby wrap given by a high school friend, I've been able to do laundry, cook some meals, and even do some household organizing. We take walks daily, and yesterday we headed to the zoo, where we've got an annual family membership. Although Hope slept through the whole trip, my legs were glad to get some exercise, and all the way through the exhibits I envisioned us making the same trip with her as a toddler.

 
Although I can't help myself fast-forwarding in my mind to all the delights that await us as she grows, I am striving simultaneously to be as present as possible in each of these moments of her earliest days. Her brilliant eyes seeking out the brightest light in every room, her contented sighs as she falls asleep, the hilarious faces and gestures she makes when she's feeding, and yes, even her blood-curdling screams while her diaper is being changed, all of these are treasures I'm storing up in my heart. I know I've only just begun, but so far, motherhood is pretty darn cool.

Hope's Journey to Our Arms

So, I went in for my weekly check up with the midwife at 2:45 on Thursday, May 31st. My blood pressure was 140 over 90 when read by the nurse, which is officially in the pregnancy danger zone. The 1st midwife (there will be a total of 4 in this story) re-checked me to be sure, and  it was 138 over 90. Although there was no protein in my urine (another sign of pre-eclampsia), she sent me to the hospital for a non-stress test and blood work to be safe. Thankfully, she advised me to eat first since she wasn't sure how long the testing would take. I had no idea in that moment that I would not be heading home that evening and definitely would not be heading to work the next day because a different kind of work was in store for me shortly.

I arrived at the PETU at Pennsylvania Hospital at 4pm. I was immediately hooked up to fetal heart monitors and a blood pressure machine that automatically checked it every 10 minutes. Both my blood and urine tests came back fine, but my blood pressure was still elevated. At 6:30pm, the 2nd midwife gave me two options: 1) go home today and complete a 24-hour urine test and come back in a day or two (probably to be induced) or 2) induce today. After talking it over with Tommy, we decided to reduce the danger to Boo and to get started on this exciting journey that we'd both been waiting so long for. Thankfully, the midwife advised me to eat before everything started, so Tommy ran down to the cafeteria before it closed and brought me a chicken salad and three sugar cookies (pickings were slim).

At 10:30pm, we were moved to a labor and delivery room, and Tommy went home to get a good night's sleep as the induction process was unlikely to produce results until the morning. After he left, Boo's heart rate dropped and the 3rd midwife explained that the chemical induction was now not advisable, so she'd be using a balloon catheter to start the dilation process. (If you want details here, I'd be happy to share but I'm sure not everyone reading shares your interest.) Literally 30 minutes after insertion, at 12:20, I was dilated to 3 centimeters, and it was time to start the pitocin. Poor Tommy got the call to come back as contractions were likely to start soon. Thank goodness he arrived quickly as a lady next door was having some serious problems with her delivery, and her screams could definitely have unsettled me had I been alone. At 5:15 I was able to sleep a bit, and although I was having contractions that were registering on the monitor, I wasn't able to feel them.

At 6:45am, the 3rd midwife confirmed that I had dilated to 4 cm (just 1 cm in the past 5 hours), and to speed up the process, she broke my water. We made it to 5 cm by 10:30, and I handled the weak contractions that started every 3 to 4 minutes by breathing deeply through them. By this point, the midwife had changed again, and ironically, my 1st midwife was on rotation at the hospital, so we worked with her throughout the day. I was actually excited to think that she would catch our baby as I had seen her often throughout the pregnancy, and she had started the whole process the day before.

As for our other birth support, as many of you know, we had arranged to have a doula assist through the active labor process. Unfortunately, it turned out that another client beat us to the punch, and she had to send us her back up. From the moment the new doula entered the room, I knew she would be a perfect labor coach for me. After introducing ourselves and discovering our similar musical tastes, we were laughing together between contractions. She arrived around 12, and I'm so glad she was there when I got the news at 1:15 that despite almost 3 hours of contractions, I was still at 5 cm dilation. Over the next 4 hours, she coached me through contractions that kept getting stronger until a check at 5:45pm revealed that I had progressed only 1 more cm. I won't lie, my resolve weakened as I realized that it would probably be a 4th midwife, coming on at 8pm, who would deliver my baby.

I don't have a great recording of what happened next because the contractions kept getting stronger and stronger. The trip from 5 cm to 8 cm was the most difficult, as fatigue started to set in and I started to doubt that I would be able to continue this process without pain medication. I sent Tommy out of the room at this point as I had no break between contractions and had to focus all my energy on breathing and trying to relax. It was during the transition phase that I came very close to giving up and really felt desperate. I had remained quietly breathing until this point, but eventually was unable to keep the screams inside as the contractions came stronger and faster and I felt myself falling behind. My doula kept me as focused as she could, though, and when the urges to push were overwhelming, I only had to wait a few minutes for the confirmation that I was indeed dilated fully and was one last stage away from seeing our baby. After laboring for most of the day, I could finally push!

We sent for Tommy at 10:42pm, and he grabbed my hands across the bed for support as I squatted and pushed and squeezed his hands HARD. The midwife caught her at 10:58pm, and passed her awkwardly up through my legs so I could put her on my chest immediately. She cried and cried at the injustice of it all, but even red and screaming and covered in vernix and blood, she was clearly the most beautiful, perfect baby that any two people have ever produced in the history of the world.

Now, after knowing her for two days, we can confirm that she is indeed the coolest, cutest baby ever.