Adventures in Baby Rearing (and Breathing)

Have you guys ever seen the 80's movie Adventures in Babysitting?  It's a quirky comedy starring Elisabeth Shue as Chris Parker, a responsible babysitter watching her two regular charges on what seems to be an average evening. She receives a call from a frantic friend in need of a ride home.  Chris packs the kids up in the car for what was to be a quick trip to aid the friend.  In typical cinematic fashion, nothing goes as planned.  The trio are forced to weather a wild night punctuated by a shootout, singing in a blues club, and a fraternity party.  Chris makes some questionable choices, which lead to comedic chaos.  But by the time the credits roll, a happy ending is had by all.  That parable sounds a lot like my life lately, except I'm not just sitting a kid, I'm raising one.  Which means I am less adept at seeing the comedy in the chaos, and more likely to wallow in the drama, at least right now.

As I shared in my last post, Baby D had an exciting visit to the hospital a few weeks back.  He's healthy and happy now, but it was a fairly traumatic event for a new mother such as myself.  I've found myself even more worried and anxious about his well-being than I was to begin with (which was plenty).  I also stated in my last post that while difficult, I was finding breastfeeding to be a rewarding experience.  Well, it ceased to feel rewarding after I endured a multi-day migraine, the result of which was a dwindling milk supply and an inability to care for Baby D properly since I was unable to get off the couch and out from under my ice pack.

I made the difficult decision to move to formula feeding.  After a day of feeding him formula, everything seemed to be going well.  I went to make more bottles for the next day, read the side of the formula can, and gasped in horror.  I realized that I had been making the bottles at double the correct concentration.  Somehow, I had committed the ultimate in mental lapses.  And I was convinced I had killed my child.  His pediatrician assured me everything would be fine and that no lasting damage had been done.  Disregarding this, I spent the next few days tied up in knots, watching Baby D for any signs of distress, fretting over every grunt (which for those of you with newborns know, is rather a frequent occurrence).  Baby D was of course, just fine. So I allowed myself to breathe.  For a split second.

Then this weekend I came down with a mild cold.  Probably because all this stressing had weakened my immune system.  Which meant of course, that should those germs spread to Baby D, he would become sick again, no doubt be hospitalized, and it would be all my fault.  And I was convinced I had killed my child (are we seeing a trend here yet?).  I used excess amounts of hand sanitizer, stifled every sneeze, and feared I was spreading disease just by looking at him.  Well the weekend came and went, and Baby D was of course, just fine.  So I allowed myself to breathe.  For now.

This evening was spent with my darling son, fabulous and patient husband, and loyal canines.  We had tummy time with Baby D on the floor.  I marveled at his wide innocent eyes soaking up every new sight and reacting to every new sound.  I delighted in watching the dogs lick his toes and keep watch over him as he napped.   I giggled at his goofy faces as he let out an adorable toot (not so adorable was what inevitably followed).  I sighed with happiness as I looked around the room and silently gave thanks for this wonderful gift, my family. It was a quiet moment of reflection that allowed me to realize that I am never going to be a perfect mother.  The mistakes I've made recently are likely the first of many.  However, I love Baby D fiercely, and will do anything and everything within my power to protect him and keep him safe in this crazy world.  And that truly is enough.

I can't say I won't ever worry or feel guilty again.  I can say though that I will be making a concerted effort to live in the moment, and cherish every second of this beautiful time.  I will do my best to not get bogged down with the details.  They say kids grow up so fast, and that infancy is over in a flash.  Well then - I will give him millions of kisses every day, inhale as much of his baby smell as I can stand, take thousands of pictures and videos, and enjoy each minute.  And maybe someday I'll be able to see the comedy in the chaos too.