touch beginnings

Growing Pains.

So the "Miracle Blanket" swaddling blanket is not so much a miracle anymore.  This straight jacket, funny looking blanket has officially lost its mojo.  It used to work wonders, but now that my little one is bigger and stronger, the guaranteed gift of sleep that comes with the purchase of the blanket is null and void.  It kinda sucks because my little one started to sleep 5-6 hour stretches with another 3-4 hour one before she finally woke up for the day, but now our nighttime schedule is back to nursing every 3 hours.  My midwife told me it was common for babies to change their sleeping patterns suddenly and for no apparent reason. I, along with my sore nipples, were holding out hope that the 5-6 hours would turn into sleeping through the night, but alas it is not so.  And if there's one thing I'm learning about parenthood is that you are filled with an abundance of acceptance and patience from a divine and bottomless spring.  Now there's a useful miracle. My little one is getting so big.  When I took out the first bunch of newborn clothes that she outgrew to give to other moms-to-be, I was so sad.  I heard stories about that happening and thought it was silly.  I imagined myself just being happy that she was growing.  And I am.  Everytime I realize my husband and I have kept her safe, healthy, and happy enough to keep reaching milestones and to keep that amazing smile on her face I beam with pride and am about to burst with joy!  But putting the NB clothes in a bag did make me start to think that she wasn't the tiny little thing that I held on top of me in our warm birthing pool anymore.  And that one day she'd big.  One day she'll say "mommy" and "daddy".  One day she'd be off to school (that is, if we don't home school her).  One day she'd learn to ride a bike and maybe scrape her leg.  One day she'll graduate from high school.  One day she'll fall in love.  One day she'll be as big as me.  Just writing this down makes me teary eyed.  And now I'm laughing at myself. This is parenthood.  A mish mosh of tears and joys, ups and downs, finding your way only to get lost at the next turn.  The biggest oxymoron of them all.

One of the wisest things my midwife said to me was at our first post-partum visit.  She told me to always remember that as old as my little one is is how old I am as a mother.  I go back to that statement constantly and let it warm me up like a nice hot cup of tea.  When I get overwhelmed, full of doubt, like I just cannot breastfeed anymore or feel like an unfit mother, I remind myself I am only a 3 month old mother.  A lot of times, it feels like I will always feel like a very young and inexperienced mother.  But time never stops. I remind myself that time doesn't even exist.  There is only evolution. Forward motion.  As yummy as those first few days were with her, I hold them in my heart, but let the grip on them go a little more every day so she and I can both grow.