My little man wasted no time in making his presence known. This kid seriously knew how to push my buttons from the instant he was conceived. I spent the next nine months either throwing up, or crying in bed because it hurt to walk. L.M. found a nice comfy spot on my spine right around 4 months, specifically on my sciatic nerve, and refused to budge for the remainder of his incubation. I am not kidding. Multiple doctors, chiropractors and massage therapists attempted to dislodge him, but he was stubborn from the start. This also ensured that his sex was a delivery surprise, since after 5 ultrasounds, no one could determine anything about him, except that he did in fact have a spine.
As I neared the end of my pregnancy, I was assured that I had a big baby on my hands, and I should be prepared for him arrive a few weeks early. I went to bed every night for a month convinced that tonight was the night, and woke up morning after morning in tears. Finally, a week after my due date, my water broke. It was 4:00 in the afternoon, and I had actually just made it to the doctor's office because I was feeling ill. I started to undress and then noticed I was standing in a small puddle. I was sent home to wait for labor to start, and told to come back to the hospital when the contractions were strong and regular or at 4am, whichever came first. Can you guess which came first?
When we arrived at the hospital (yep, in the middle of the night), the nurse at the ER desk looked at me like I was the most naive thing she had ever seen. I suppose only first time mom's arrive to be induced with an entire entourage. More experienced moms know that the family has more than enough time to sleep in and come up later. Oh well, I was excited and she was bitter, so the heck with her. Anyhow, we got all settled in, and they started a Pitocin drip to kick start labor. Little did they know that there drugs were no match for my little guy. He was not coming out until he was good and ready. By mid afternoon the following day, I was finally starting to feel contractions. My in-laws asked if I was excited to finally be finding out if we were having a girl or a boy and I responded that I didn't care if it was a freaking raccoon, I just wanted it out. Here is where I will skip over the details, because it was the absolute worst delivery, ever. Like, should be used in high school sex ed classes. I promise you it would have had the ability to prevent pregnancies. I know it involved lots of screaming, eyes rolling into the back of heads and a terrified husband and a vow that I would NEVER, NOT IN A MILLION YEARS go through it again. Have I mentioned that I am not that great with pain? No... well, I may be a bit of a wuss.
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| L.M. Born 2-22-08 |
The next two weeks are heaven. Our new little family spends every waking minute laying in bed, watching movies, snuggling. I think I actually spent hours each day just staring at my perfect angel baby. So what if he only slept during the day for an hour or two at a time. What was the big deal if he refused to nurse for more than 30 seconds at a time. He was brand new, still adjusting, he would get the hang of things. At his two week check up we were advised to start supplementing his feedings with formula. He had lost a little weight, but otherwise was healthy.
The time had come to get out of bed and get back to reality. My husband started back to work, and L.M. and I tried to get into our new routine. Within a few days of that, L.M. started crying, and I am pretty sure he didn't stop for the next six months. Even then it didn't really stop, I think his lungs just finally needed a few hours break each day. We went back to the doctor. Again and again and again. We were assured that our little man just had a bad case of colic, and it would magically disappear around 12 weeks. We counted down the days for that magical number to hit, but either our calendar was busted or L.M. had not been keeping track properly. Back to the doctor. Don't worry, he has all the symptoms of GERD (gastro esophageal reflux disease), and a combination of (ridiculously expensive) hypoallergenic formula and acid reflux medicine would fix everything. Months on the meds, and there was no change.
We started to notice some patterns as L.M. got older. Eventually we would learn that he had a Sensory Processing Disorder, but at the time we learned to recognize what upset him, and then we avoided it all costs. We found that everything was worse when we were anywhere loud, bright or strong smelling. We limited the time we spent at family gatherings and didn't go to restaurants unless we had to. We spent the whole time we were out taking turns walking, and rocking, and soothing. We ate dinner in the car most nights, seeing how long we could keep driving without being stuck at a red light. The silence in the car was one of our few reprieves. We spent a fortune on fast food and gas, but it was so worth it. I gave up attempting to get anything done during the day and got used to L.M. not napping unless he was on my chest.
We rearranged our entire lives to revolve around L.M. and his quirks. We practically moved in with my ridiculously accommodating in-laws. They were one of the few reasons we kept our sanity. I cannot tell you how much better it can feel when someone else actually sees what you go through day after day. That one safe place where you don't ever have to defend yourself against assumptions that you are being dramatic or are a bad parent, because they have first hand knowledge that proves otherwise.
It is easy to look at a screaming child and assume that he or she is a spoiled brat. But if you took a minute to look closer, you might see a child that is so overcome by their environment that they can't do anything but scream. Instead of shooting them a dirty look, give them a sympathetic smile. Even if the kid really is just a brat, that one smile will do more than a million of your glares ever would.
Stop yourself the next time you want to tell an exasperated, overwhelmed new parent that they need to stop "coddling" their baby and then the baby will be forced to conform. Maybe that approach worked for your child, but for the kids who can't just "figure it out", it most likely will not. Unless you have been there, you have no idea what these parents are going through. Instead of offering up advice, offer to babysit for a night. Maybe they are unnecessary coddlers, they are still new parents, and could use a break.
I know three things for sure. First, L.M. was not just a brat; he was unhappy, uncomfortable and unprepared for his new world. Second, my little man was not a conformist then and he definitely isn't a conformist now. But you know what? He doesn't have to be. Third, he is mine and I wouldn't trade him for anything.
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