Dear Noah - Week 20

Dear Noah,

This week you turned 20 weeks old and I still haven't figured you out.

You're a mystery to me. A complete and utter nonsensical little person that I wish so very much I could understand.

The constant guess work is starting to get to me. As are the constant questions and comments from concerned, yet clueless bystanders: "Do you think he hungry?"

Yeah, he's hungry, I'm just not in the mood to feed him right now.

"Maybe he's wet."

Uh huh, he's been in the same diaper since Tuesday, he must be a little damp by now.

"What's wrong with him?" (this has to be my favourite)

Do you think if I, his mother, knew what was wrong, that he would still be screaming his head off?

I'm tired sweetie.

Mommy's tired of smiling for you when I feel like crying because you've been up since 5 a.m. and haven't napped more than 30 minutes and you've done nothing but whine, cry and fuss for 3 hours straight.

Mommy's tired of worrying whether she's doing it right - anything right. Whether you're going to be forever scarred and have permanent sleeping issues because I can't get you to nap for longer than 45 minutes at a time. Because that ass, the author of the book from hell, Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, has convinced me that you will develop insomnia, because I can't implement proper sleep training.

Mommy's tired of being tired. I feel like I've been tired for the last 5 months. I worry I will never remember what it's like to get a full, uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep again.

But then I remember those words, "this too shall pass."

Yes it will. It will pass by like the last five months, in a blink, a flash...

I barely remember what it was like to hold you when you weren't wiggling to be set free, when I was waking up every three hours like clockwork to feed you a 4-ounce bottle.

Although it was out of my control, I regret having postpartum depression, because looking at photos of your first month is painful. Although you were well taken care of, I felt as if I was in a fog, that none of the love I felt was getting through.

I clearly recall several nights feeding you, and putting you back into your cradle, where you would wail and cry almost instantly.

I'd get out of bed, rock you until you slept and again lay you back down. I would do this dozens of times a night, refusing to spoil you by bringing you into bed with me. How naive I was.

There were only handful of times I would lie you on my chest and let you sleep there, or put you between your dad and I in bed. I wish I'd done it more.

You're only 20 weeks old and already I have enough regrets to fill a novel and I know there will be many more to come.

Just know, with the regrets come learning - for us both - and with learning comes wisdom.

I am learning not to rush, to take my time enjoying the little moments with you. Moments of scraping more oatmeal off your face than what you're eating. Moments of laughter as we roll on the floor together.

I'm learning that being a mom is not meant to be fun 24/7. That I'm allowed to dislike parts of it and it's okay. It doesn't make a me a bad person or a bad mother.

Just know that no matter what mistakes I make, that I have done my best. I will always do my best to help you become your best.

Love,

Mommy

xo

Dear Noah - Week 18

Dear Noah,

You turned 18 weeks old on Saturday. It's taken me this long to write to you because, in all honesty, I've been a shitty mother. And when I'm shitty at something, I hate it - this isn't to say that I've hated you - I've just hated being a mom.

It's not easy being a mom (not that anyone told me it was), it's just a lot harder than I thought it would be. I thought I was more patient, giving and selfless, but I realized that those were things I had to learn along the way.

I am happy to say that I am at peace with being a mom, your mom.

However, I'm no expert; I screw up daily. Like when I want to toss you in the snowbank or scold you rather harshly for screaming in my face, but slowly (sometimes at a snail's pace) the words, "it's so worth it" are beginning to ring true.

The joy you bring me on a daily basis outweigh your tantrums, which, really, is the only grief you cause me.

So with this momentarily happy moment in mind - because they are, at times, fleeting - I wanted to write to you.

Maybe not weekly, but at least monthly. Somehow I figure even if you - or anyone else - don't find any of my ramblings, or stories about your infancy and my inner turmoil interesting, it will comfort me in remembering them when you're all grown up

This week you've been nothing short of spectacular to me. You're changing, growing leaps and bounds - smiling, laughing, rolling, "talking", almost sitting on your own and eating homemade oatmeal cereal - you amaze me.

My favourite time to spend with you is bedtime and your nighttime feeding. Not only because I get a quiet snuggle - you're quite the chatty wiggly worm - but because it's the only time that your still my little baby. I feel at times as if you're literally growing into a boy before my very eyes.

It's during those moments that I hold you as close as I possibly can to my chest and kiss your tiny, fuzzy head over and over and over. I whisper the song that never fails to make you smile: "Let it Snow" and tell you I love you. I've spent many a night in that rocking chair, sobbing with the love that just pours out of me, especially when you sigh so contentedly as I'm kissing you, nuzzling your forehead with mine.

It's then that I feel, despite my own shortcomings and faults, I must be doing something right, because it seems as if you love me too, in your own way.

Love,

Mommy

xo