Thursday, August 13, 2009

I don't recognize her.

So, I guess this is just a going to be a big old WHINE post... We had another rough night last night. Aaron wakes at his "normal" wake-up time around 3:30 and won't settle without Motrin.

Anyway, I don't even recognize this mother that I've become. I'll admit, I held Ian when he was an infant. A lot. I held him constantly and it probably caused a lot of his attachment issues now, but seriously, I was a SAHM and what ELSE was I going to do but hold my darling infant and watch him sleep.

I didn't ever really WANT to breastfeed. I felt a lot of outside pressure from my mom, sisters, etc. and so I decided there wasn't really any way out of it. So I breastfed. And it was hard. And my original goal was 6 months. And then, breastfeeding was really easy and I didn't know how to stop, plus I loved being the one person my baby really NEEDED, so I kept going after we hit 6 months. After 15 months of breastfeeding, my toddler gave it up. I didn't wean him, he weaned himself, and made room at the table for his little brother who was coming to dinner just 3 months later. So now, the girl who never really wanted to breastfeed in the first place is breastfeeding her 2nd child and has been for almost 10 months. Even though I'm totally burnt out on it and my sweet nursling is shredding my nipples up with his new [s]razorblades [/s]teeth, I keep going. I don't know how to quit. And my little attached baby doesn't like bottles. And, I don't want to quit. I like it. I'll miss it when we're done.

Oh, and then there's the sleeping...

Before Ian was born, I had this grand picture of how things would go in the realm of sleep. I'd having this delightful baby who would only ever smile and coo, never cry. I'd feed him, change him, and put him to bed in his crib, where he'd happily fall asleep and sleep all night. Ha ha. The first night home from the hospital, dear Ian was up every hour on the hour, screaming bloody murder. He was cold even though he was swaddled. At 4:00am, completely exhausted and desperate, we put him in our bed between us. And he slept. It was glorious.

SO we let him sleep there. Until he was 10 weeks old and that was IT. We put him in his crib, cold turkey, and that's where he stayed. Until the wee hours of the morning, when I was so tired I was delirious, so I brought him back to our bed. And then he got his first cold, and he slept with us.

Finally, his brother was born and Ian had to learn to sleep in his own space. But, the baby now sleeps with us.

If you would've asked me before Ian was born if I would ever cosleep with my children, I'd have told you, "hell no!" And yet, here I am, 2 years later, with a baby in my bed.

I'm frustrated. A victim of my own changing views on mothering. I hold my babies. I wear them. I nurse them. I don't like Cry-it-out. My baby doesn't take a bottle. And he doesn't like being held by anyone other than me for any length of time, even his daddy. I am tired.

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