Okay. maybe that’s an exaggeration.
I know I didn’t truly FAIL at motherhood, that would take some effort on my part.
But, I did do something I said I never would. You know how before you have kids you’re all “ohhh, my kid will never need that, or act like that or, do that”?
Yea. Me too.
And so far, I can say I’ve done pretty well, in the first two and half months my child hasn’t had any all out temper tantrums, he hasn’t talked back to me, he hasn’t bit, hit, or scratched anyone, he hasn’t said any dirty words, and he goes to bed and takes baths without completely losing it. Pretty good if you ask me.
However, he has been awfully needy in one particular department. Since the day we brought the little guy home, he has looooved to nurse. I’m talking, he’d nurse all day every day if it was his choice.
Around three weeks, we attributed it to his growth spurt, he ate for 45 minutes, was happy for about 10 minutes, and then fussed for another 15 or so until I finally gave in again, and we started the cycle all over again. Around 6-7 weeks this cycle took about 2 hours, sometimes 2.5 if I was lucky. And lately he’s been doing really well at going 3-4 hours in between feedings. So what sounds so wrong with that? Well he normally takes about 45 minutes to nurse…normally. Lately, he pushes an hour. He’d go longer if I would let him, but the hour mark is my limit.
It’s a little ridiculous.
Isn’t he supposed to be more efficient at this by now? I mean, where are those 20-30 minute nursing sessions everyone tells me will come around? The past two mornings, he has woken up at 4am, nursed for 45 minutes, gone back to bed, fussed for 15 minutes, and wanted to nurse again.
Yesterday, I hit my limit.
On top of this cycle he’s created, it is the ONLY way he will let me sooth him. I mean, I can rock him, sing to him, hum, bounce, sway, shush, walk, dance, stand on my head, and do jumping jacks, and he continues to cry.
I want to look at him and say “Landon, I love you, but I am more than just a source of food for you. I promise. I can do more.”
Yesterday, I did something I said I hoped I wouldn’t do.
I gave my child the pacifier.
I know its not a big deal. We offered it to him when he was three weeks old, the week we lovingly refer too as hell week. The week when we cried when he cried. The week when we looked at each other and said, “what do we do? what have we done? HELP.” We were desperate, and so we offered him the pacifier that week. And he spit it out. And cried harder. And louder.
Yesterday was different. Yesterday, after thirty minutes of failed attempts at getting my child to go to sleep and stop crying and rooting on me, I gave him the pacifier.
And he took it.
And smiled at me.
Seriously? Oh….well…if that’s what it takes.
This morning we went on a walk. And when I put him in the carseat to go, he lost it. I knew he wasn’t hungry because he had just eaten, so…in order to have a more peaceful morning walk around the neighborhood, I did it again.
And he was happy as a clam.
My sweet little clam.
So there you go. Baby 1. Momma 0. And you know what, I’m okay with it. Its called showing yourself some grace. Its called cutting yourself some slack and realized you need a break, and if that little plastic and silicone doo-dad takes care of it, then that’s what happens.
I’m a momma, not a baby whisperer.