These Fleeting Moments

A newborn baby: what a ride. Ten weeks into our new life with baby Benjamin, I am awed at how it just feels so right for him to be here with us. These past ten weeks have been tough, brutally so for some of it, but I wouldn't give up a second of it because it is all exactly meant for our little family.

Benjamin's first ten weeks has been full of challenges. Not related to Ben at all, our fridge was out when we brought him home from the hospital, and now our water heater has been out for almost two days. My sweet boy has had a myriad of struggles in these first weeks of his little life, too. First, the jaundice. That stupid light box and hospital trips and heel pricks were miserable. Then the tongue tie. He did so well when he got it clipped, but leading up to it was terrible because he was always so exhausted but so, so hungry. Then he wasn't gaining weight as quickly as he should, mostly because of the tie. He also had this massive amount of nasty eye goop from a clogged tear duct for basically the first six weeks. Then the colic set in, and then it escalated - three weeks of absolute misery for all of us. I figured out the major trigger to his colic (coffee: it upset his little tummy so much, and then the caffeine kept my poor baby awake), and Ben felt worlds better as soon as I cut it out of my diet. Although he he was definitely still colicky, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. Those weeks were rough. A coffee-less life with a newborn who wakes up throughout the night is tough, but it is nothing compared to the hours and hours and hours of wailing from my baby boy. Then the vaccinations happened and he hated it (don't we all?) and was so fussy and uncomfortable for a couple of days. On top of it all (six weeks of recovery notwithstanding), I had been to the dentist three times. Patrick has had two sets of nearly three-week-long sessions of 13-14 hour days, 6 or 7 days a week since bringing Ben home.

And in the midst of that, right at the 8-week mark, we started having all the breastfeeding issues at once: lazy eating, diminishing supply, increased appetite, weaning from the nipple shield only for him to later refuse both me and the shield (that was fun), struggles with feeding in public, inability to pump as often as he was eating, all while knowing that I was going back to work in two weeks. I knew our journey with breastfeeding was coming to an end, and I was blowing through my freezer supply of milk at an alarming rate, so I contacted our pediatrician and we started the transition to formula. Then, my dentist told me I needed to take an antibiotic but I couldn't take it while breastfeeding. Another sign that the door was closing.

My emotions were all over the place, and they still are if I'm being honest. Mom guilt over not feeding my son the "best" way; mom guilt over not missing breastfeeding at all; mom guilt over "needing" to pump as much as I can for as long as I can; mom guilt for having to take my boy to daycare and spend more time with other people's kids than with him; mom guilt over making him spend the majority of his time with people he has never met; mom guilt over wanting to give my all to my baby and my husband and my job and knowing I'm going to have to let some things slide because I am only one human; mom guilt over being a working mom instead of a stay-at-home mom like I had always wanted and planned. Basically, mom guilt over all the things. Which totally isn't of the Lord, but it's there.

God really has been so sweet to me this week, my last week at home with Ben. Sweet friends have loved on our boy by showering him with love and gifts, not for the first time. My mom has offered to watch him during the day two days in a row so I could get things done (mainly work... which turned into mostly errands), then fed us a homemade meal and let us use their shower/tub. Tomorrow promises to be filled with good meals provided by people I love and who love us well. And best of all, my dearest friends have helped me navigate these mom-guilt and anxiety emotions; they have lifted me out of my despair and have assured me that I am doing the very best for our boy, that I'm giving him my everything, that these upcoming transitions are also filled with positive changes for everyone.

I get to have a bit of "me" back when I go back to work next week. I felt it slowly returning yesterday as I worked on lesson plans in a sweet little coffee shop close to home. I felt it when my former student let me know that I was missed via a group photo on Instagram. I felt it when another former student sat down at my table as I worked and visited with me, told me that she was ready for me to be back in the halls. I felt it as one of my dearest friends talked me off my ledge, told me that it will be difficult but I will get through it, told me that it will be so good to have the "gang" back together again, told me that I'm doing what God has called me to do in teaching these rascals. And, when I officially end my relationship with my breast pump, I get to reinstate my oh-so-wonderful relationship with coffee. I won't have to pump at work, and I will get to have my caffeine to get me through my demanding work day. Then, I will live for 3:10pm, the weekends, and breaks from school. Our family will live for summer vacation. And that's okay.

This post is all over the place, but that's exactly how life has been for us lately. Dealing with the most urgent matters first, then stemming out into various tasks as they come up. We're planning less these days, learning to go with the flow, learning to savor the quiet moments when they come, learning that the miserable moments won't last forever. And as my sweet ten-week-old baby boy (as of tomorrow) sleeps away all snuggly in my arms, I take a deep breath and remember to savor this moment, too, because it won't last forever either.