Parenthood: When You Think Your Life Is Over

The first three months of Jack’s life were the worst three of mine.  Because I was the one with the boobs and without a job, I had to wake up every 2 hours of my life.  I didn’t have postpartum depression.  I had postpartum exhaustion. When the nurse left me alone in my hospital room with Jack, I had a total panic attack.  I didn’t know how to breastfeed, soothe, or even hold my baby.  I didn’t know I was supposed to be changing him (I assumed they were doing that).  I didn’t know ANYTHING.  In that moment, with my husband passed out on the couch, I felt so alone.  It was seriously terrifying.  A week later, my mom left and it was just me and Jack, every two hours, non-stop.  I remember thinking my life was over.  What had we done?  This was my life now.  It didn’t help that every day from four to seven, Jack would scream.  He just screamed his little heart out for no apparent reason.  The only thing that calmed him was being swaddled so tight he couldn’t budge and walked around the house briskly.  So, when I wasn’t sleeping, I was either nursing or bouncing around the house singing “You Are My Sunshine” in the happiest voice a walking dead person could muster. Continue reading

Why It’s Totally Cool To Have A Meltdown When Your Child’s Forehead Is Hot (See what I did there?)

Every time Jack has even a low grade temperature, I go into panic mode.  As a nurse, I know that fevers are actually a good thing.  They are your body’s way of getting rid of foreigners that are trying to take over.  By increasing the body’s temperature, organisms that don’t belong are (in a nutshell) heated to death.  The nurse part of me says, “Becca?  What’s your frickin problem?  He’s fine.  Take a chill pill and go to bed.”, but the mother part of me says “No. Way.  We CANNOT rest until the tiny human is back to normal.  It is your JOB.  It is YOUR fault if his temperature increases to 104 in his sleep.”  The mother part always wins.  Any other kid and I would give them some Tylenol and check on them in the morning, but Jack?  Jack is MY kid, and the only way to get any sleep is to sleep in his room and listen to him breathing. Continue reading

Walking Is For Losers

My 13 month old baby boy has asked me to type the following message.  As, I have agreed to be his secretary until he is able to read and write, I had to follow orders.  Here we go: 

Dear Babies of the Internet,

I feel it is my duty as head of my household and president of all babies everywhere to inform you all of a terrible mistake you are making.  No worries, I will also outline how to properly reverse it. Continue reading