so this is the one where i eat my words. because we're all perfect parents till we become parents. saw this online (sorry can't find original source and credit!) and it really sums up the standard i aspire towards but am failing so miserably at.
in many ways i'm my own nightmare. give a paranoid, anxious person a baby and watch the neuroses increase a 100fold.i thought being medical might help (it doesn't) and i've fast lost credibility with our paediatrician (thank you, husband's insurance) by fearing he's leukaemia (he doesn't) and a squint (still undecided). it's weird how i 'round' my son and present it to the paed in SOAP (subjective, objective, assessment and plan) format as i would've in the patient's notes and thankfully he's been ok-ing my 'plans'. so i'm not that cray, yet. i thought i'd be more chilled out, but i'm not.
everyone said 'it'd be different with your own baby' and of course i didn't believe them.
i thought i'd be ambitious enough to bounce straight back to work, who cares if he's languishing in subpar childcare.
i thought i'd breastfeed for a bit then wean him on to solids ASAP and be done with it. little did i know i'd love breastfeeding, tiring and frustrating as it can be, and be determined to donate an immune system to the NICU babies because i'm fortunate to produce more milk than my baby can drink. also, vanity says BF is natural liposuction so bring it on.
i thought i'd be firm about boundaries and showing him who's boss. the little clown has been co-sleepign since day 1 and shows no sign of being relegated to his cot.
basically i've turned into my own nightmare - this crusty hippy dippy wannabe earth mother type. i still do believe in vaccines, though.
i suppose motherhood has really done a number on my psyche, all that neuroplasticity is true. mom brain exists. my attention span is shot. i no longer reply texts / emails. save the odd gratuitous facebook (and now blog) post i don't really want to engage with the outside world. all i want to do is roll around mom cave with the baby, nesting, feeding. then i get the odd burst of desperation for grown up company and trek across london to meet the ward team i left for drinks / dinner. all with baby in tow. and when the mom cave gets too much, we go a little further. copenhagen, vienna and most recently como. planning isn't my strong suit and we've had a day up to a week between in between these jaunts. baby is portable enough and as my dear friend W reminds me, cannot remember anything at this age anyway so it's not like this travel is bad for him. disruptive, yes, but i pay the price more than he does. i've learnt my lesson the hard way about missing naps and overstimulation. screaming baby? no fun.
but he's generally a placid little boy, bright eyed and curious about his surroundings. although he'd probably be just as happy in the little park next to our flat as he is on a sunseeker traversing lake como! i assuage my self-imposed guilt at this excess and extravagance by telling myself i won't always have this time off, he won't always be this tiny and we should make hay while the sun shines. he's growing too quickly, i finally fully comprehend that parent lament, and every moment is fleeting. i just want to lie next to him as he sleeps and smiles in his sleep, loving his milky dreams, and soak it all in while he's an infant for he's no longer a newborn.
