Learning to sit still

To look at my blog, you’d think I go from bedrest to vacations and back…

…but I know you understand how life with a newborn can be, even if I don’t blog the nasty little details (We cloth diaper. ‘Nuff said.)

To tell the truth, I didn’t realize having a newborn would be this difficult.

I knew there wouldn’t be much sleep, that the baby would cry, that there’d be nasty messes to clean up. That part I expected – and I think I’ve coped with it relatively well.

The part I didn’t plan on was how hard it’d be to get anything done.

I expected to be able to at least keep up with the house, maybe start blogging regularly again, do a few craft projects here and there. But my time is fractured, breastfeeding takes more time than I anticipated and there are times Tirzah Mae will not be content anywhere except on me (and not in a sling, either.)

There was a week (okay, maybe a month) there where I cried every evening around 6, frustrated at how little I’d gotten done. Then I started keeping a list. Every day I keep a running tally of what I’ve done – diapers changed, breastfeeding sessions completed, laundry washed and put away, meals made, chapters read. It and my husband’s encouragement (I think he thinks I get even more done than I actually do, but don’t tell him – it’s kinda nice that he thinks I’m superwoman) has mostly alleviated the six pm crying jag.

But now there’s the one o’clock blues.

I’ve learned to not be on too strict a schedule in the mornings, to let it be okay if I’m just emerging from my bath around eleven. I’ve mostly come to a peace about that – sneaking in productivity here and there. But, inevitably, I will sit down with lunch and start thinking through what I’ve still got to accomplish with the day (most notably, dinner) – and then the one o’clock blues will hit.

Tirzah Mae is absolutely unpredictable in most respects – she has no predictable sleep or wake cycles, feeding schedule, or even preferred activities. One moment she’ll love a certain activity and calm down right away, another day she’ll act like it’s torture. We’ll think we’ve figured something out because she slept for three hours in her own bassinet – but the next day we’ll be unable to replicate it. The only consistent pattern I’ve figured out so far is that Tirzah Mae WILL get fussy at one pm.

And NOTHING will satisfy her unless she is laying across my chest with me being absolutely still.

Can mama read a book? Maybe. Once Tirzah Mae is asleep, as long as mom doesn’t move.

Can mama write a blog post? Probably not. That generally implies that mama is sitting up, usually a no-no for Tirzah Mae at one o’clock.

Can mama plan a menu, make a grocery list, fold laundry, or do Bible study?

Take a wild guess.

But here I do her an injustice. I usually can do something – it’s just that I have no idea what it’ll be until I’ve tried and failed at several. Which means that I can’t plan ahead that at one I’ll do [blank].

I can’t plan ahead to be productive during that time. I just have to acknowledge that it’s no-man’s time. I have to set it apart as rest time. And if I get something done? That’s a special unexpected bonus.

I haven’t learned it yet – how to be okay with just sitting still. But I’ve acknowledged that I need to learn it – that’s a step in the right direction, right?


Sanity Saving Stuff: Preemie and Newborn

Don’t you just love those lists of baby “must haves”? My favorite of all is Pop Sugar’s list of 100 (yes, you heard me right, 100) Must Have Baby Products. It was like the car crash you can’t help but watch. Tirzah Mae probably doesn’t have 100 items total, much less 100 separate items.

That said, I have found a few products that have absolutely saved my sanity during these preemie and newborn months (months we’re now leaving behind!)

Hospital Grade Electric Breastpump

Tirzah Mae received expressed breastmilk almost exclusively in the hospital and during the first month at home (we breastfed one to two times a day “straight from the tap.”) This meant that I was pumping a minimum of eight times a day. The Medela symphony the hospital loaned me during Tirzah Mae’s NICU stay saved me. It was fast, quiet, and comfortable.

Once Tirzah Mae was home, I used the Medela Pump-in-Style my insurance provided – and let me tell you, it’s a world of difference. I did everything I could to avoid pumping. I’d pump a couple times a day, hand express a couple more, and empty myself as best I could in the shower. Thankfully, I had plenty of breastmilk in the freezer, so the fact that I let my supply dwindle didn’t hurt Tirzah Mae (I worked intensively over a week to get it back up after I realized what I was doing). But if I’d have had less of a supply initially and was trying to exclusively pump after I returned, I’d have ended up quitting. The Pump-in-Style took longer, was noisy, and gave me blood blisters on my breasts (probably because I was increasing the pressure too much in an attempt to make it as efficient as the Symphony.)

By the grace of God, we were able to switch to exclusively breastfeeding (at the breast) around Christmas-time, meaning an end to my pumping days. I know many mothers of preemies are not so fortunate. I’ve got one word of advice for those mothers – RENT A HOSPITAL GRADE PUMP. It’s totally worth it.

Hands Free Pumping Bra

Despite Tirzah Mae being born early, I had an abundant milk supply – which meant that I only pumped 15 minutes at a time (with the hospital grade pump). But even pumping for a shorter time than many women, I still spent at least 2-3 hours a day pumping (and much more than that cleaning parts and labeling and storing the breastmilk). That’s a fair bit of time to spend doing nothing with your hands. Being able to pump hands-free meant a lot to me. (Initially, it allowed me to massage my breasts while pumping – relieving the clogged ducts I had from the beginning and helping to increase my supply to prodigous amounts. After my supply was established and clogged ducts were less of an issue, it let me email my family updates on Tirzah Mae, read a book, or browse blogs.)

Now some of you may wonder about the best hands-free pumping bras. I can’t help you with that one. I just had my husband buy cheapo sports bras, which I cut slits into to allow the flanges through. I wore them alone at night and over my nursing bra during the day. It worked great for me (although if I were to have needed to continue pumping exclusively, I would have done a buttonhole stitch around the slits and possibly used a tube top for the same purpose during the day for increased wardrobe flexibility.

Supportive Nursing Bra

At first, I thought maybe the backache I had almost immediately after delivery was from the c-section weakening my abdominals. And undoubtedly that contributed. But the biggest contributor was swollen milk breasts and insufficient support. Having delivered two months before expected, I didn’t have any nursing bras already ready – and there was no way my mom-breasts would fit into my second trimester bra (I hadn’t yet gone shopping for a third trimester one despite the fact that it was becoming clearly necessary.)

Since no one carries nursing bras my size (actually, very few stores carry bras, period, my size), I had to create my own nursing bras. I went to my local Dillards to get fitted and was delighted when the salesclerk announced that they’d just increased the size range of my favorite bra up to the size I was currently at. I took them home and used this tutorial to make myself some well-fitting nursing bras (I used the hooks and eyes off of several old bras, how’s that for being a frugal genius – or a packrat who can now justify herself?)

My back felt better almost immediately.

Get a good bra. Your back will thank you.

MOBY wrap

I’ve known for years that I wanted to be a baby-wearer. But I was plenty willing to admit that babywearing is just one of many legitimate ways to carry and care for a baby. Now I’m convinced that the MOBY has absolutely saved my sanity.

Tirzah Mae in the MOBY

You see, when we were in the hospital and when I was reading books about preemies, I kept hearing one thing: preemies must NOT be exposed to crowds. No shopping malls. No movies. No church. For a year.

Now I don’t have any problem with leaving movies and shopping malls behind. But church? I can’t just not go to church for a year.

I talked with Tirzah Mae’s neonatal nurse practitioner about it and she agreed with my proposed solution. Tirzah Mae would go to church with us in the MOBY. The MOBY holds her close, covers her up and sticks her face in my chest – meaning that no one else can get very close to touch her or cough on her (they’d have to get pretty close to my chest even to just breathe on her.)

We took her to church the Sunday after she came home and she’s been to church with us every week since then (except the week where none of us attended because I had mastitis).

Yes, the MOBY saved my sanity by letting me worship with the body weekly.

One-piece sleepers

When it comes to clothing, babies aren’t picky – which is a very nice thing. They don’t care how stylish clothing is or whether it’s matched or anything like that. What they do care about is getting in and out quickly without too much pulling and tugging. Moms care a little more about matching and cuteness and all that.

I love these one piece sleepers
One-piece sleepers answer both. Mom doesn’t have to worry about matching clothes bleary-eyed after baby has a blow-out at 1 am (after mom has gotten exactly 7 minutes of sleep, none of them consecutive, in the past 24 hours.) Baby doesn’t have to worry about something going over her head. And, if you choose the sleepers that snap all the way up the legs, you can avoid uncovering that little chest during non-blow-out diaper changes (which is a nice plus.)

I put Tirzah Mae in the adorable little onesie, pant, and sock combos often enough – but when things got crazy and I was at the end of my rope, the one-piece sleepers were sanity savers.


Looking back on your kids’ infancies, what baby products did you find absolutely essential? What were your sanity-savers? Pray tell.


The Soundtrack of our Childhood

I’m not a music person like some people are music people.

I’m not musically skilled – I don’t play an instrument or read music. I can’t harmonize unless I’m trying to sing melody while my sisters are singing harmony beside me (in which case I start singing their harmonies – completely ruining the intended effect.)

I’m not a music connoisseur – I never really spent time just listening to music. While my older sister and just-younger-brother would sit on the living room floor under the stereo system reading through the CD inserts or record covers as they listened, I preferred to be dancing around or reading a book or otherwise doing something while music was playing.

Not that I needed (or currently need) music playing. Unlike some, I don’t need music on while I’m studying to help me concentrate. I don’t need music on while I’m working out (oh – that might be because I don’t work out :-P). I don’t need music while I’m driving or doing mundane tasks. I’m content to just be in my own mind (or to be making my own noise.)

Nevertheless, I love music.

I am not musically skilled, but all my siblings play the piano and both my sisters have worked to train their voices. While my mom didn’t play apart from picking out melody lines, she reads music and attempted to teach us some of the rudiments of music theory.

I am not a music connoisseur – but, as I mentioned, some of my siblings are.

I don’t need to have music playing to conduct my daily life – but I spent my growing up years surrounded by music. And I’m so grateful I did.

My parents got a CD player when they were still new and we had a complete collection of the Hosanna worship albums and a large collection of classical music. Music was always playing in our house. We sang and danced and washed dishes and did our schoolwork immersed in music.

And I’m so glad we did.

Today, I have a song for every situation. Singing truth to myself (or hearing truth sung in my head) is oodles more effective as a “relaxer” than any of the fancy relaxation exercises we practiced in our Bradley class. I don’t need to have music playing while I walk because I’ve got a soundtrack playing in my head, spurring me to worship and to pray as I walk. And when I do turn on the music? I am suddenly amongst my faith community – my family worshipping together as we stemmed beans, the church I grew up in singing “Ah Lord God”, the church we went to after that, my church in Columbus.

Music is important – and I’m so glad it was a part of my family’s life while I was growing up.

I’ve long known that I wanted music to be a part of my children’s life. But as an adult, I’ve often been content to let the music in my head be my only soundtrack.

When we were expecting Tirzah Mae, I knew it was time to make a change in my habits. I got a Spotify account, made some playlists of those Hosanna albums and of other songs I love, and started playing them while I went about my daily tasks.

I realized though, that something was missing. One of the most wonderful aspects of music, for me, is the connection it gives me with other worshippers – and I want my children to be connected to the church through music as well. I added another playlist to Spotify, one that I add to weekly. Every week, our church bulletin publishes the titles of the songs we’ll be singing as a congregation. And every week, I save my bulletin until I have a chance to search for each song on Spotify and add it to the “First Free” playlist.

Because music is important.

I have the honor of designing the soundtrack of my children’s childhood – and I want that soundtrack to be for them what mine was to me. I want their soundtrack to inspire them to worship the One True God. I want it to encourage them to plant truth within their hearts. I want it to draw them into fellowship with the body of Christ.

Is music important to you? How have you incorporated music into your life?


Meeting the Greats

This last weekend, Daniel and I and Tirzah Mae took a trip into Missouri to see Daniel’s grandparents – Tirzah Mae’s great-grandparents.

We had a sweet time visiting with Daniel’s grandparents, who were enchanted by our little Tirzah Mae.

While we were there, I took the opportunity to take some photos (of course!)

Tirzah Mae and her great-grandpa Garcia

Jack was delighted to hold his littlest great-granddaughter.

A closer look

Grandpa’s live-in caregiver and Daniel’s cousin really wanted him to shave his beard. Daniel and I thought it was fun (and I think Jack’s inclined to agree with us!).

Tirzah Mae and Great-Grandma Garcia

Tirzah Mae sits with her great-grandma Garcia – who told me again and again how glad she was that I was “nursing.” “They really discouraged it in my day, dear – It just wasn’t done.”

Daniel fruitlessly tries to get Tirzah Mae to look at the camera

Another three generation shot – Irene and Daniel are looking at the camera, but none of us could convince Tirzah Mae to follow suit.


Family is clamoring for more photos, so I’ve jumped out of order (skipping November and December photos) to give them a more recent photo album. If you already have a password, follow the link to the January album and enter the password to see the album. If you don’t already have a password, e-mail me at b3master@.menterz.com to get it.


Tirzah Mae and her Mother’s Wonderful, Beautiful, Very Good Day

6 am-My husband brings me breakfast in bed while I breastfeed Tirzah Mae.

7 am-I take a chance and take a bath while Tirzah Mae is sleeping in bed. She stays asleep.

8 am-Tirzah Mae wakes up and I go to pick her up with my shower cap on. Tirzah Mae stares at my forehead, a frown furrowing her own. I take off the shower cap and as Tirzah Mae sees my hair she breaks into a wide, truly social smile – her first. I change her and set her in the swing while I rinse her dirty diaper. I return to find her gurgling at and reaching for the mobile above her – another first. We breastfeed and leave for Tuesday connection. Tirzah Mae makes no complaint when I load her into the carseat – she’s too busy looking around, as if seeing the world through new eyes.

9 am-We arrive at Tuesday Connection (our church’s primary Women’s Bible study) almost on time. There is delicious food. There is good discussion. There are several enjoyable conversations. Tirzah Mae stays alert on my lap during small group time, sleeps in the wrap during large group time.

noon-We breastfeed and Tirzah Mae falls asleep in my lap, affording me the opportunity to get something done on the computer. I open a new document and open my Bible to Exodus and lose myself in the word for the next couple of hours, breaking only periodically to reposition Tirzah Mae when she wakes for a second and third and fourth course.

2 pm-A sunny 70 degrees, the afternoon is too beautiful to stay inside. Tirzah and I set out, with her in the wrap and a song in my heart. We walk along the river for a couple miles. Tirzah Mae sleeps and I pray.

3 pm-I realize I’m thirsty as we approach the Douglas street bridge. The library is just a couple blocks down, I figure I’ll grab a drink before our return trip. Tirzah Mae gets hungry so we settle ourselves in the seldom-used lounge by the board room to breastfeed. We strike up a conversation with the switchboard operator, who used to work in a hospital nursery and doesn’t stop asking questions about Tirzah Mae. I’m glad for the conversation.

4 pm-We head home, Tirzah Mae now facing outward in the Moby. She watches the cars go by and explores the shadows on the ground. We start supper and sit down to breastfeed again.

5 pm-We breastfeed and Tirzah Mae allows me a free hand, giving me opportunity to read Nightstand posts and to peck out comments with one hand.

6 pm-My beloved, Tirzah Mae’s papa arrives home and we sit beside each other, eating dinner and discussing our days.

Tirzah Mae and her mother had a wonderful, beautiful, very good day yesterday.


A Much-Needed Holiday

Many people might describe my personality as driven – and, when I think of it, that’s probably a rather apt description.

Driven recalls to mind an animal with a man behind it, cracking a whip or wielding a cane. So long as the animal keeps moving and moving as fast as the driver desires, he is comfortable enough. But should the animal slow or stop? He feels the whip upon his back.

That’s me.

I am the driven and the driver, weary and wanting rest but beating myself up when I slow or stop.

Adding a newborn to the mix adds a layer of fatigue I never imagined was possible. The driver insists that I get something done – that the house be cleaned, the dinner prepared, the blog post written. The daughter insists that I hold her rather than sleep.

So is it any surprise that I emerged from bed yesterday after a highly productive but exhausting Saturday followed by an utterly sleepless (okay, I got four or five thirty minute stretches) night and announced to my husband that I wanted a break.

“I just want to take a day off and read all my library books,” I told him.

Which got me thinking. Could I read all my library books in a day?

Obviously, I wouldn’t be able to literally read them all completely in a day – but could I even read a chapter of each?

I asked my husband for permission to take a 24-hour holiday – and at 1:30 pm yesterday I began my holiday.

I breastfed Tirzah Mae and made dinner – and I read, and read, and read.

By 1:30 pm today, I had read one chapter each of 41 books (40 nonfiction and 1 fiction), leaving just 4 nonfiction and 3 fiction books unread (also 24 children’s picture books that I didn’t even try to read).

I feel great.

It was a much-needed holiday (and I didn’t feel the whip crack even once.)


Back on bedrest…

… but this time it’s self-imposed.

I woke up for our early morning feeding yesterday with pain and hardness in my right breast. Not particularly surprising considering I’d been sleeping on my right side and we’d gone longer than normal between feedings.

I put Tirzah Mae to the breast and we breastfed for two hours. But instead of feeling better by the time we were done, I was feeling worse. Not only was I exhausted, I’d started shaking uncontrollably and the pain was bad enough that I couldn’t change positions.

By then, there wasn’t a question in my mind. I was sure I had mastitis. But on a Sunday morning, what is one to do?

I hung out on the couch, breastfeeding on the affected side first every two hours and sleeping while Daniel took Tirzah Mae in between.

When I was sure my sister would be home from church, I texted her seeking sympathy. She concurred with my self- diagnosis, offered sympathy, and ordered me to the doctor for antibiotics.

I’d been planning to call first thing Monday morning – the last time we went to urgent care on a Sunday, we waited 4 hours. Neither Tirzah Mae nor I could go that long without breastfeeding – and I didn’t relish exposing Tirzah Mae to a waiting room full of sick people for four hours. I texted and then called my sister to explain my predicament. She agreed that it was a tough one but couldn’t in good conscience recommend anything but that I start antibiotics immediately.

We went to urgent care.

The receptionist asked what I was there for – I confidently told her that I had mastitis. She asked if I’d been diagnosed, and Daniel’s voice beside me answered “self”. He’d come in unbeknownst to me from parking the car. I tried to defend myself – “and by my PA sister”. In my head, I was pleading, “I’m not one of those I-Googled-it self-diagnosers. I know what I’m talking about.” But really, it wasn’t important.

We waited maybe 15 minutes before I was called back for vitals. My temperature was just 99.4 “Great,” I thought, “now they’ll just think it’s a clogged duct. My sister sent me here for antibiotics and they won’t give them to me.” But then I was back in the waiting room.

Daniel read. I held Tirzah Mae. I nursed Tirzah Mae. I tried to relax the legs that were starting to tremble. Tirzah Mae started to fuss. I stood up and she calmed, but then the room started to sway. I asked Daniel to take Tirzah Mae. He did and tried to strike up a conversation – but my energy was completely focused on enduring. Nothing was left for conversation.

After an interminable wait, they called my name. They took me back to the exam room where I waited again. This time, it was only for a short while before the doctor walked in. I gave a brief history, explained apologetically that my temperature had been higher when I’d taken it at home. She brushed aside my explanation – “That temperature was just a point in time – and the hot and cold and shakiness and achiness you’ve described is consistent with fever.” She did a quick exam. “I think you do have mastitis,” she confirmed.

She instructed me to not quit breastfeeding (yay for doctors who follow best practices – there was a time not too long ago where physicians encouraged quitting – or at least pumping and dumping – for mastitis.) She encouraged me to try to empty that breast at each feeding. She gave me the okay to use Tylenol to manage the pain and fever. And she prescribed me an antibiotic.

I put myself on bedrest.

The only time I’ve felt worse is the day before we delivered Tirzah Mae – the day I felt so weak and awful that I gave up on the vaginal delivery I’d dreamed of practically my whole life. Thankfully, the Tylenol has worked wonders (as long as I take it consistently every four hours.)

I’m not going to try to be heroic with this one. I’m going to focus my efforts on getting better. Which means Tirzah Mae and I are staying in bed and breastfeeding frequently. I’m getting out to go to the bathroom, change her diaper, and get food. That’s it.

‘Cause I’m gonna get better, darn it, and I’m going to get better QUICKLY!


In which I am no longer employed

Today marks a last for me – and tomorrow a first.

Today is my last day of employment. Today, I remain a WIC dietitian.

Tomorrow is my first day of…

Well, what exactly is tomorrow my first day of? What exactly am I as of tomorrow?

Calling today my last day of employment might lead one to think that tomorrow is my first day of unemployment. But that wouldn’t be true. You see, the technical definition of unemployment is that one is not working for pay but IS actively seeking work for pay. That’s not me.

Maybe I’m joining the ranks of the underemployed-as one who is highly skilled but working a low wage job that does not use her skills. I doubt that. For one, unless you count my monthly “allowance” (Daniel and I both have one), I will have no wage whatsoever. Secondly, I disagree with the idea that what I’ll be doing is low-skill or won’t make use of my education or expertise.

Maybe if I told you what I’d be doing, we’d be able to come up with a better label for my employment status.

But what exactly will I be doing as of tomorrow?

I’ll be at home, taking care of my daughter. I’ll be feeding her, changing her, bathing her, rocking her to sleep, and making sure she gets that all-important tummy time. But I don’t intend to be a stay-at-home mommy.

I’ll be doing laundry, doing dishes, making dinner, and scrubbing the toilet. But I don’t intend to be a housewife.

Let’s call it being a stay-at-home wife. My goal is to care for our daughter and care for our home in such a way that Daniel is able to be happier, more productive, and better loved.

Yes, I’m leaving paid employment to be at home with our daughter – but ultimately, I’m leaving paid employment so I can be a better helper to my husband.

I’ll be taking a pay cut, sure – but I have a feeling this job will require every bit of skill and education I possess.

I’m not going to be unemployed or underemployed – I’m going to be a happily unpaid full-time helpmate.

Employment statisticians can make if that what they will.


The Incarnation: God become infant

** This post was copied from our Christmas letter this year – so don’t feel bad about skipping it if you’ve already read it. Otherwise, you are definitely obligated to read it in its entirety :-) **

It’s cliché to talk about how having children changes your view of God – but having a newborn this Advent season has definitely given me a whole new perspective on the Incarnation.

God became man. It’s a weighty thought any time – but this Advent, I’m struck with the reality that God became infant.

Part of being a human is having physical and psychological needs – a need for food and clothing and shelter, for comfort and companionship. And part of being a human newborn is having no way of fulfilling those needs by oneself – and only one way of expressing those needs to others. An infant cries.

As Tirzah Mae squalls in her bed or on a blanket or in my arms, I contemplate that Jesus – God Himself – cried. And as I run through the list of possible causes of Tirzah Mae’s distress, I contemplate that Jesus had an earthly mother who was just as clueless as I, who struggled to meet the needs of her newborn. I contemplate how the Creator of the Universe became dependent on His creation. What humiliation! And for what cause?

Philippians 2:6-8 tells us why Jesus came: “…though he was in the form of God, [He] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”

Jesus had all the needs humans have save one. Everything my Tirzah Mae needs, He needed – except one thing. Tirzah Mae, perfect though she may seem, was born sinful, under the wrath of God. Jesus was not. He had no need to be saved from the wrath of God because He didn’t deserve the wrath of God. Yet Jesus Christ came, bore the humiliation of being a human infant so that He could go to the cross – so that He could bear the wrath Tirzah Mae and I deserve. I can feed and clothe and comfort my Tirzah Mae, but I can never save her. Yet Jesus – Jesus came as a little infant like her so that He could save her.

Cliché though it may be, as I reflect on and care for my wonderful early Christmas gift, I am reminded of the greatest Christmas gift of all – and I am thankful that God became infant in Jesus Christ, that God became sin in Jesus Christ, that God bore the penalty of my sin in Jesus Christ, and that in Jesus Christ my greatest need is met.

I pray this Christmas that we all may come to know the great salvation for which Jesus humiliated Himself.


This Year, I have a Baby

Come January first of every year, I have a list of a hundred dozen things I want to do that year. Some years I even blog about those things.

Last year, I had a goal game.
Two years before that, I was going to do 2012 Things in 2012.

This year, I have a baby.

My Early Christmas Gift

That doesn’t mean I don’t have plenty of things I want to get done this year, plenty of things I’m not itching to get started on (or finish up). But it does mean that I’m not making any beginning-of-the-year resolutions.

Every year past, I knew that my grand schemes would peter out somewhere between February and April – and I was okay with that. Grand schemes are fun while they last and I have no problem abandoning them once they’re dead. Generally, I still glean a few good things, establish a few good habits, and get a few things done to make them worth their while.

But this year, I know that any grand schemes would never even hit the ground.

Two unplanned months of being a stay-at-home wife and mother of a newborn has taught me that.

I used to talk about all the things I would do once I was a stay-at-home and didn’t have to devote 40 hours of every week to an outside job. Now I’ve learned that I replaced a 40 hour a week job (teaching mothers how to feed their children) with a job that’s at least as time consuming (feeding my own child). Between pumping and breastfeeding and cleaning pumping supplies and dealing with spit-up, I’ve spent at least 40 hours a week over the past 8 weeks just feeding Tirzah Mae.

So I’m adjusting my expectations down.

Maybe come February to April (when my usual grand schemes are sinking into oblivion), I’ll be ready to scheme grand schemes again – or maybe I’ll discover that life post-newborn is still too taxing for grand schemes.

That’s okay.

I’m a different woman today than I was last year and the year before and the year before.

This year, I have a baby.

Gazing into each others' eyes

She’s changed my life. And that’s okay.