WW:We went to the park-Kinley

And at home…



Bright spots

Being a mom is crappy sometimes. You have to deal with hard shit sometimes and it can be completely draining on your psyche. But then? You get those moments that make it obvious why you would do it over and over again if you could go back and rewind. Moments like my son getting his groove on after dinner on Monday night.

Sorry the camera work is a little shaky. I was hiding and trying not to laugh so he wouldn’t get distracted.

Second child syndrome

It’s becoming increasingly apparent that Kinley will be my “difficult” child.

Isn’t that usually how it goes? Your first one is a dream and then your second one is a complete terror.

*However* Caitlin wasn’t, and still isn’t, exactly a dream. She was very quiet and not colicky at all, “regular” in all the good senses and easy to please. She was, and still continues to, a gymnast tho. Constantly climbing on everything, constantly swinging from anything that is swing-able. A chair? Climbed. A couch? Climbed. A box or empty clothes basket? Climbed in. The bars connecting the jumper/exersaucer? She does the parallel bars on that shit. But, she continues to be the sweetest, most friendly child you will ever meet. We never had any issues with reflux or with separation anxiety.

If the seemingly unstoppable reflux wasn’t bad enough, Kinley is quite possibly the shyest child Chris and I could have ever produced. The separation anxiety this little boy has is so severe, he won’t allow anyone to hold him if I’m within eye sight. People will hold him, he will search for me. If he sees me, he starts reaching. He won’t take a bottle or even eat baby food for anyone else. If I place him on the floor to clean or just sit by myself for 5 minutes, he is usually fine for about 10 seconds, and then starts heading my way crying and whining to be picked up. He is only truly happy if he is sitting on my lap or laying next to me.

I love him and I love his little smiles that are just for me, but honestly? Little vomit covered hands grabbing your ears and hair to pull you in for vomit covered kisses is only cute until about 830 pm after it’s been done about 6 million times. At that point it’s just sheer overkill.

Secret mommy-hood confession

So my confession this week?

I am so over spit up.

Just. Done.

Kinley has always had awful, AWFUL reflux and nothing seems to help. As a newborn, it was hard for me to convince people that it wasn’t a normal amount. I was constantly drenched in it for the first few weeks of life. I hated nursing him, I hated holding him. It was a constant battle and it didn’t help my PPD.

At his two months I told his doctor how he spit up for what seemed hours after every meal, how he didn’t sleep well at night because all he wanted to do was nurse and then spit up and nurse again. But he was gaining weight well and he was two months old so bpth she, and my mom, and everyone but Chris, shrugged it off as normal. So he continued to spit up.

When he was four months old, his doctor put him on Zantac in hopes it would help. The issue with that, however, was he HATED it. Absolutely detested it and we couldn’t get him to swallow any of it. If it was grape flavored, he’d be all over that, but it’s not. Only peppermint or citrus. So he continued to spit up.

So here is he, almost seven months, and still always spitting up. I hoped it would help starting solids, and it did, for about a week. Then it got worse.

We’re at the point where it is an everyday occurrence. I have ninja like reflexes now to avoid it, and am used to chasing him around with a wipe to clean it off the floor when he is crawling around.

But to be honest, I still hate nursing him in public. I hate it and only do it if I absolutely have to. I count down to the day that this ends, but it just doesn’t look like it’s in sight.

And that, honestly, devastates me.

Missing days

I miss the days when Kinley was tiny and new born, with his lack of movements and noises other than whines and cries from being hungry and dirty. Those were the days…

And now, as I look at him making his way across the bedroom floor the best way he can? I miss them even more. When I could get out of bed and surround him by pillows and check on him every so often, knowing he was safe. When he slept 90% of the day away, and the little time he was awake was sporadic and involved nursing.

At first, I missed it because it meant he wasn’t up at 7 in the morning laughing and giggling and ready to play. Now, as I write even more, I realize it’s because, suddenly, I have no infants, I have a toddler and a baby. Two individuals who are turning more and more into individuals. His long, delicate fingers perfecting their ability to grab anything within reach; anything out of reach, his strong legs propel him towards.

He scoots around the floor throwing his pacifier forward, then eagerly moving towards it. When he reaches it, he rewards himself with placing it in his mouth before throwing it forward again. Every time, he responds with squeals of delight and joy, or groans and grunts of frustration.

No longer an infant, but a baby. A growing boy. A boy that will soon be moving smoothly on his knees to discover new things. A boy that will soon be talking and laughing and playing even more, only to be followed by walking and feeding himself. No more infant.

I miss those days where he was small and fit so carefully in the cradle of my arms. I miss when he was my teeny boy.

The little things

It’s the little things that drag me through long days and long nights.

Little fingers caressing my cheek.
Little toes to tickle.
Little coos.
Little “I love yous.”
Little smiles.
Little giggles.
Little hugs.
Little cuddles.
Little her.
Little him.

The little ways they show me they love me is what will get me through the next few weeks.

Matters of the heart

Chris called me out last night. We were driving in the car, and he’s talking to me. “You’re fucked up right now, and I can’t fix you. I don’t blame you for being fucked up. You’re not in your house and you don’t have a car to escape. You just had a baby who, whether or not you want to admit it, you’re not bonding with. You miss what you have with Caitlin and you wish you could spend more time with her.”


He had asked me to just let him talk, so I did. I didn’t know how to respond at that point anyway. Every way I imagined bringing it up made it seem like I was relieved that he realized this (which I am) or made it seem like that wasn’t the truth at all (which it is). I could not, for the life of me, think of a delicate way to bring it up, so I didn’t at that time.

“What made you say that I wasn’t bonding with him?” I asked him, trying to ease into the subject without seeming hurt or defensive. Surprisingly hard.
“Because you’re not. And that’s normal.” I made sure not to make eye contact. “Are you?”
“I’m trying.” Kinley was laying in my arms and I stroked his cheeks with my thumbs.
And that’s normal.

I remember when Caitlin was first born, he was all over her like white on rice. He immediately had that love for her that I didn’t, that I struggled with. It took me a long time to come out and tell him that I wasn’t connecting with her. I would try to hint that something was wrong, asking him if he loved her from the moment he saw her. He always said “yes, from the second I saw her.” It’s hard not to feel like something’s wrong when your husband loves your child and you don’t. It wasn’t until that text with my sister that saved me from feeling like a monster. I may not love her, but I would, in time. And I do. I adore her.

I spent months struggling to love her. And then months struggling to feel excited for Kinley to come. And now, he’s here, and I’m struggling once again. It seems like every time I accept one, another thing comes.

But, it’s weird, I feel different this time. I don’t feel rushed to love him. I don’t feel like I have to fake that he is my world. All I have to do is take care of him and myself, and the love will come in time. I don’t know him, we only met six weeks ago. I can be honest with myself, and those around me, that this isn’t something that happens over night. It’s just a matter of time before he is as big a piece of my heart as Caitlin. It feels freeing knowing that it’s okay, and that Chris is there for me, not rushing, not judging, just waiting.

It will come in time. I’m just not there yet.

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