I've worked on a blog post about 100 times to sum of the first year of the child's life, and it's all been garbage. How do you even start to put into words what was the most challenging, life altering, incredible, and difficult year of your life? I don't even know. So here are my ramblings about it, almost 17 months later:
The number one question/statement I hear almost daily is "I don't know how you do it, I couldn't do what you do". Newsflash, you could. You just wouldn't like it. I mean, lets be real. You wouldn't lie down in the fetal position and die. You'd put on your big girl panties and deal with it, just like I do. So don't say you can't. It's not a compliment.
So what was it really like? I didn't take things one day at a time. I took them one hour, sometimes even one minute at a time. Sutton and I have hung out on our own for about 75% of the time (depending on the season, winter is not as busy) since he was born. Jacob left to go back out when Sutton was 2 weeks old. 2 weeks. I can't even let that sink in. I wasn't even cleared to drive for 6 weeks. How was I supposed to survive on my own? To be perfectly honest, I didn't know what in the holy hell I was doing. Like, someone gave me this baby and I'm supposed to know how to keep him alive by myself and stuff?! I might as well have been 17 years old, because I was terrified and felt completely ill-equipped. Thankfully, I had his nurse (shout out Lee Wayman) to answer all of my ridiculous questions and keep me from losing my mind. I won't lie, there have been some lonely nights and some dark times. I can remember lying in bed at 2 am sobbing because I was so tired that my body physically hurt and I didn't know how I was going to survive. It seemed like every stomach virus, every cold, the horrible hand foot and mouth, they all happened when I was alone. Luckily, the dreaded ear infection happened when Jacob was home. He took him and just stayed in the spare bedroom with him and rode it out. I needed that. This life isn't easy, and it just wouldn't be fair for me to pretend like it is. It's not glamorous. Not by a long shot. My husband may be on national TV or playing live in front of 150,000 people, but there are no fancy award shows or cool parties for the wife. (Okayyy, I did get to meet Taylor Swift and totally lose my cool that one time, so I can't say noneee). But to say I've never wished things were different would just be a lie. At the same time, when you love someone, their success is your success. I signed up for this. I wouldn't trade the amount of joy and pride I feel seeing him live out his dream for any amount of stress I feel. There have definitely been some real honest conversations with God. There have been a few times (luckily not for a while now) that I just had to tell him that I was at my limit and I couldn't handle anything else. This summer was probably the worst. There were weeks when we would only see Jacob for 12 hours before he was gone again. I think the month of September he wasn't even home 5 days total. Saying that was anything other than miserable would be a lie. It was hard and I hated it. People would try and trivialize it by saying things like "you'll want this time back, don't wish it away" or "I'm sure Jacob is sad being away" or my personal favorite "cant you just quit your job and go out with him" (that last one still makes me break into a crazy sounding laugh) and it was like a punch to the stomach. Here I am, barely holding my head above water people. I haven't eaten a real meal in 2 weeks. Those comments aren't just unhelpful, they hurt. What I would've done for those people in that first year to say "I'm coming over so you can go get a hair cut for literally the first time in a year." At the same time, there were people who I couldn't have made it through the last year without. Mostly it was emotional support, which I needed immensely. I could cry right now thinking of how thankful I am for those people. I can't even name all of the friends, family, and the "mothers" I have at school, not to mention my mom and mother in law who come any time I ask. I've also learned more about myself than in the first 28 years of my life combined. I've met some absolutely amazing people who I can't imagine not being a part of my life now. I've also become amazingly appreciative of even the smallest amount of help. I constantly battle guilt and the need to repay people who are just trying to do something nice because it's so out of what's normal for me. Acts of service is definitely my new love language.
I could keep reliving that first year, but I don't want to be a Debbie downer...so instead I'll tell you what I've learned on this freaking crazy bus called life that apparently I'm driving:
First, when you think you can't, you can. Life isn't always easy. It's not always fun. And it's definitely not always what you thought it would be. Life is messy. Sometimes, it slaps you right across the face with a hot piece of bologna. But it is in those times of deep helplessness that you realize what you're really made of and who is really in this with you. You won't know that if things are always roses and rainbows and kittens.
When you have a baby, you will want to kill your husband (frequently), and you're also pretty certain a jury of your actual peers would never convict you for it. Not if they heard he just did, said, *insert many things here. No matter how "amazing" that man is and how much he helps, things will still disappoint you. They won't live up to your expectations. Mostly, it's because they won't care about everything you care about as much as you care about it... And that's ok. At some point they'll meet you in the middle. They'll get with it a little more and you'll learn what you need to let go. You will (at some point) bond over this perfect little miracle you created... It just might not be until that perfect little miracle starts interacting with you, sleeping, and until you can get over the fact that your husband literally did nothing to get him here. It's ok for that little resentment to hang out for a while before you recognize it and try to let it go. ***A push present does help.
Speaking of husbands, I learned there can be no uncertain talk. It's time for real talk. For example, if the trash needs to go out and I need help, I can't try to "be nice" by phrasing it in a way such as "the trash is getting full and it runs tomorrow." Seeee, that is a statement, not a question or a request. Bless their little hearts, men's brains are simple. Things like "I need you to take out the trash now so I can put this 10th dirty diaper I've changed today in it" leave it in no uncertain terms. Bonus points if you can add in a smile that day.
I learned that Amazon Prime is a necessity for life. A. Total. Necessity. Then, Amazon Now was a freaking game changer. I would marry Amazon if I could.
I started automatically feeling camaraderie with other mothers, even if I didn't know them. I would see a baby screaming in the grocery store and mom who looked like she hadn't slept or showered in a week (and you know she probably hadn't) and all I wanted to do was give her a hug and hold her baby for 5 min so she could just get some stuff done in peace... But then I would realize that I'm a stranger and that's freaking creepy. It's like you're initiated into this weird, smelly sorority where no one sleeps and everyone cries a lot, but yet you are more bonded than a 12 year old's braces to their teeth.
True fact: not all feelings are nostalgia. Sometimes I look back at time hop and instead of crying because he was so little, I get the sweats at the thought of living that particular day over again. Hearing things like "Just enjoy rocking them and staring at them sleep, they're only little once" would make me go into fits of rage. I don't think anyone is super ready to relive a baby who didn't stop crying for 3 days straight for no apparent reason and hated food, sleep, and basically everything until he was 4 months old.
I completely understand now what it means to have your heart live outside your body. Ugh, that sounds so cliché, but I have never in my life felt love like I feel for that little boy. It's truly indescribable. It is all consuming if you actually let yourself sit and think about the overwhelming responsibility you have, and at the same time the absolutely unconditional love you feel. It's both fantastic and terrifying. With it comes a level of worry I've never felt. Worry about if he is eating enough vegetables, if hot dogs really cause cancer, if he's sleeping enough, if he's too hot, if he's too cold, if a convertible car seat is really better than an infant seat, if he's happy, if his bath water is the right temperature, if he's going to be short and get made fun of, if he will ever eat anything besides cheese again, if some girl is going to break his heart one day, if he's going to be smart, if things are going to be hard for him, if I'm doing anythingggg right.... it feels like it never ends. I'm guessing it really never does.
Finally, I've learned your expectations for basically everything change when you have a baby. What is considered clutter free, what is considered an acceptable amount of days not to wash your hair, what is an acceptable food combo that can be considered dinner (wine and dry cheerios, ok)... Basically that first year is a constant paradigm shift of what is normal. I just learned to roll with it. To be prepared for everything I thought would happen to basically be opposite. I would have friends who had babies that loveddd and could not live without their expensive 4 moms swing, so I shelled out hundreds of dollars for my baby to hate it. Some of my friends loved the newborn stage because their babies slept all the time, I didn't think I would make it out alive. I thought formula was evil, until 2 days in when real life hit. People would say "mom by day, mom by night" like not getting sleep for months on end isn't a tactic Al-Qaeda gets excited to torture people with. I realized that yoga pants and coffee were better friends to me than a lot of people, and mostly I realized that it does get easier. Above all else, I leaned that it's so, so worth it. Even on the days that test your very sanity. Even on the days that I wished for things to be different. Even on the worst days, that little meatball found a way to make them the best days too.
