CherylKatz.org

Baby in truck!

Originally uploaded by cinediva
Pay no attention to the green blobby reflection of me in the window. But just above my head is a cute cute cute baby girl, whose daddy leaves her outside in the truck every day when he walks his son into day care for 5 or 10 minutes. This makes me very angry.

I called the police and they told me to call 911 while the truck is still there when I see it again. I will.

I may be butting in to someone else’s private business, but if my nosiness saves a child from abduction or worse, then I consider it worth it.

I saw the most distressing thing, this morning, that I have seen in a long time.

When I pulled in to the parking lot of Sami’s day care, a father with a preschool boy and an infant girl was getting the boy out of his truck.  I didn’t think anything of it until I noticed that he had walked away leaving the baby girl in the truck alone!  He walked to the OTHER preschool, next door to Sami’s, maybe 30 yards away.

I rarely have panic attacks, but this really nearly pushed me into one.  I could not believe that someone would leave their child alone, unattended, in a locked truck in a parking lot.  I got Sami out of our car, but I stayed by the truck until the dad came back.  I didn’t say anything, because honestly confrontation when accusing someone of negligent parenting is never productive.  But I did find out from the director of Sami’s day care that leaving a child unattended in a vehicle for any length of time is illegal in several different areas of law, not to mention dangerous and negligent.

The baby was OK, but I did go into the other preschool and explain what I had seen, and just asked if someone there could mention that the father’s behaviour had been observed, and that on top of the risk for the baby, if reported he could be in a lot of trouble.  I hope the message gets across; my heart really goes out to that kid.

It started for me when Sami could finally crawl - she didn’t need me to get around any more. That was a small step, so joyful and not as bittersweet as the developments yet to come.

A month ago, Sami started sleeping in her own room. After an initial adjustment period, she sleeps better and I sleep better when we are in our own respective beds. I miss her a lot; at times it’s all I can do to keep myself from bunking down in the twin bed in her room, and when she wakes mid-night, nurse her back to sleep cuddled up. (Truth be told, when she wakes for her 4 AM feeding, sometimes I do fall asleep in there. But that isn’t by design, and I recognize that it’s not the best thing for separating our sleep habits.)

Letting go affords us both a better night’s sleep; hanging on lets me feel closer to my baby for a little bit longer. I’ve chosen letting go, because I think that’s what every mom must learn to do gracefully, and because I think it’s better for us both in the long run.

Besides, if I hang on to babyhood, how do I find out what comes next? Toddlerhood looks like it’s going to be pretty cool.

Going to day care and then preschool are next steps in her growth from a baby to a kid. While I’m wistful about the transition, it’s exciting to see her take off, form relationships with other kids, and ultimately to watch the ways in which she needs me change.

She eats real food; she doesn’t need to nurse all day long. She walks, and doesn’t want me to carry her (as much, anyway.) She expresses herself through babbling, gesturing and signs, and doesn’t need me to trial and error her needs any more. She’s turning into a real little person with not just personality (she’s had that all along) but her own unique ways of interacting with and conquering her world.

Letting her sleep in her own room, letting her to go to educational environments where she can play and learn with other kids, letting go so that her world gets a little bigger; this is all practice for the bigger steps I’ll have to take, like letting her go to the mall with her friends, letting her drive a car, letting her get her first job, go to college, move away from home.

I’m just thankful these changes all come in stages, and the stages go quickly. There isn’t time to mourn the last change before a new one is upon me.

When I outlined this post in my head, it was intended to be a positive follow through on last night’s post. However, my one year old is recovering from shots and grappling with her second (and apparently final) round of teething. She goes down to bed easy as pie, but her sleep is choppy at best, and so is mine.

So above all, I have to say that the key to overcoming the general overwhelm of early motherhood and the mild to moderate baby blues is to get your kid to sleep as much as possible, as early as possible. It was so easy for me to become trapped in my own confusion when I wasn’t sleeping enough to really recharge at night.

I can say this with clarity because for about three weeks, Samantha was sleeping for 6-8 hour chunks in her crib, in her own room. The time before the season of sleeping is nearly a year-long blur, and now that I am in a period of upset sleep, I can identify just how valuable it was.

Beyond just a laundry list of the last several months and all the problems that cropped up, there is a point. Becoming a mother is a difficult transition, harder for some than others. It’s okay to admit when it’s hard and ask for help, whether that’s extra hands to get the dishes done, a sympathetic ear over coffee, or a regular monthly therapy session.

I think it can be really difficult to identify what the problem is and how to solve it. It took me nearly a whole year, because the very idea that something was wrong clashed so loudly with the mental picture I had painted of How It Was.

I’ve been keeping my head down and working on some domestic and personal problems since early July. But I’ve regained my stride and I’m ready to peek above the surface again.

When I decided to stay home full time to take care of my daughter, I was met with many raised eyebrows. I met those eyebrows and raised them some self-sustaining arguments about how thrilling motherhood is, and how I could barely imagine working ever again.

This was the truth, right up until it wasn’t, but somewhere along the way I lost track of how I really felt about it. While I was “basking” in the “glow” of being a new mom, and coming to terms with the depth and enormity that is truly loving my child, I wasn’t owning up that every minute at home was not uncontrollable bliss. It was uncontrollable, yes. But it wasn’t always bliss.

Looking back on it now, having been back at work since early July, I can honestly say that being a professional mom destroyed me a little bit. This has nothing to do with Sami, and everything to do with the critical eye I always have trained on myself. I’m torn over my feelings on the subject, because I know that the year I spent with her full time was immeasurably good for her, and we are incredibly bonded and in tune. On the other hand, I completely discounted everything that I was able to accomplish with her, and began to think of myself as lazy, unaccomplished and worthless.

This is what all those raised eyebrows were seeing, months before I saw it for myself. It is hard to come to grips with giving up a life full of quantified goals and tasks and leaping into motherhood, where problems and solutions aren’t always very clearly defined or easily solved.

I really admire women who can stay home with their children; this is not to say that stay-at-home-motherhood is for suckers. Actually, I believe precisely the opposite: staying home is a challenge that ultimately bested me. But for my own sanity and the future of my family, I need to be back at work.

I don’t claim my own destruction lightly. The damage I did to myself had an enormous impact on my family: at a rough estimate, $20,000 of debt we didn’t have before Samantha was born. I took all my exhaustion, frustration and feelings of powerlessness and expressed them through the power of my credit cards. I spent to feel better, but ended up feeling worse as I struggled to hide purchases from my husband. The hole kept getting bigger, and I kept shoveling deeper with every attempt to fill it in.

Eventually my husband found out, and the cycle ground to a halt. At first I struggled with the shopping addiction alone, feeling even more trapped by the limitations of recognizing what I had done. With time, I sought therapy, and the treatment has allowed me to learn to control my kneejerk reaction to purchase things when I am feeling unsettled.

Working - having a sense of responsibility that has tangible requirements and results - has been immeasurable. I feel that I’m contributing to the household (while in reality as a professional mom, I *was* contributing, but I wasn’t able to recognize that in my own personal case.)

For the first two months back at work, I had Samantha with me. (Our family business afforded me that temporary convenience.) I babyproofed a play area for her in my office, and when she became cranky I’d tie her to my back in a baby carrier so that she could be soothed to sleep while I still got work done. The past month, Sami has spent with her grandmother, having a blast every day at the park, and we have found a preschool that will take her in the near future

Sami is almost 13 months old now. She’s been walking since 11 months, she babbles happily, and she is a sweet, bright and loving child. She shares her binky with new and old friends alike. She’s blowing milestones away, and is healthy as a tiny horse. As far as motherhood goes, I couldn’t ask for better results. I’m grateful for the flexibility I’ve had, and the precious time I’ve been able to spend with her. (Working makes me appreciate every second a hundredfold more.)

But it’s time for me to get back to a place where I feel like I am a fully functioning member of my family and of society, and not just the devoted slave responsible for the care of my child. In the long run, Sami will benefit from a mom who can identify and meet her own emotional needs along with the material and emotional needs of the rest of the family.

I had the very long beginning of a very bad post written and saved in drafts; an objective list of the awful ways in which moms eat each other alive for their choices.

Posting such a post is really deflecting attention from what I really want to say, which is that I’m tired of being told what I should be doing, how much my husband should be doing, and how much time I should take off.

No one walks in my shoes. No one else is part of my family dynamic. And no one else is responsible for my daughter’s health and happiness.

I’ve tried scheduling, and I’ve tried being flexible with her schedule. What I’ve discovered is that she may follow a general pattern, but it isn’t tied to precise times that are identical from day to day. So if she is tired at 8:30, I let her sleep then. And if she is clearly not tired until 11 pm, then that’s when she’ll go to bed. I’m tired of fighting to implement and maintain a regular schedule, when it results in more stress and less sleep for my husband and for me.

Sami is not a fan of eating yet. I offer her food at least once a day, but I’m not willing to turn meals into stressful occasions for her. So if after 5 bites, she remains uninterested, I give her some safe baby finger foods or a mesh feeder to play with, and call it a day. She’s still gaining steadily through nursing, and showing small signs of interest in food. I don’t need her to eat just because everyone else’s kids do. She’s crawling, practically walking, and I trust her to start eating when she’s ready. (I also suspect that she’s not terribly interested in food because her teeth are going to come up soon - the lumps on her gums must be very painful - but that’s another story entirely.)

My daughter sleeps with me, nurses on demand at 9 months, and is not rigidly scheduled. She gets a bath every day, is well nourished, blowing away her developmental milestones, and is a happy, well adjusted, caring, sharing, gentle and friendly baby. She spends tons of quality time with me and with my husband every day. He may not always be the one to give the bath or take her to bed, but that’s really for our family to decide and not for anyone else to criticize.

Ultimately, I’m your all around crunchy hippie of a momma. I won’t say that I agree with everyone’s parenting choices, but I will tell you that what others choose for their children is their choice, barring abuse. I don’t expect the majority of other parents to understand why I make the choices I do. But I do expect them to be respectful and keep their unsolicited advice to themselves, if it is going to be unfriendly and derisive.

Edit: I’m recognizing that it’s not reasonable for me to expect others to keep their thoughts to themselves. This is a reminder to me that I don’t have to feel pressured by advice of others; having a different view doesn’t make me wrong or uncertain. I just need to let things roll off my shoulders.