Noah Says I Have to Practice Leaving the House

Last week Momo and I had our first baby group. I hesitated to sign up for something like this because I felt like I somehow wouldn't belong or wouldn't relate, but what I realize now is that I do, and just the fact that I do kind of blows my mind. I never thought the day would come where I would belong in a baby group. One of the first questions the group leader asked was about what is challenging about being a new parent. We went around the room doing standard introductions and then answered that question. Most people talked about issues with nursing or being tired, and when it got to be my turn all I could really say is that I struggled to conceive for several years, was on bed rest for most of my pregnancy and then had a traumatic birth, so compared to that I really can't complain about the challenges of a newborn. I shared my nap anxiety and agreed about being exhausted, but when I left the group I took a moment to think about the challenge of just getting to the group and realized maybe I lied when answering that question. 

Just leaving the house is a challenge. I usually don't, aside from walks and trips to the various stores and restaurants in my immediate neighborhood, because it's kind of a nightmare to get myself and Momo together enough to be among the general public.

The morning of baby group I had approximately 38 minutes to get showered and dressed, pack up the diaper bag, get Momo dressed and changed, then dressed and changed again when she poops through her outfit. Noah helps too, but he also has to get ready for work, so the moment Momo is awake and done nursing we are all racing against time. I always feel insane. I'm always starving and do everything at triple speed. Half way through getting dressed I realize all of my nursing tops and bras are dirty so I rush to get a load of laundry in. I pack and repack Momo's diaper bag realizing that she no longer fits a size 1 diaper (yes, she is only 10 weeks old), and quickly replace the size 1's with a size 2. I glance at the dishes piled in the sink and remember a time when I curled my eyelashes and wore mascara. Brushing my teeth now feels like an accomplishment. With six minutes left I try to make a cup of tea. That cup of tea sat on the counter all day and got microwaved at least four times before it was actually finished. With two minutes left I try to jam Momo into the carseat. The straps are now too low for her but I can't deal with it. She is screaming. I buckle her in but the sound of her screaming concerns me so I unbuckle her and take her out, check her fingers and toes and she lets out a huge burp and promptly spits up all over both of us. Now I'm sweating. I change her, wipe myself down and think I might pass out if I don't shove some kind of food into my face. We are all out of protein bars so I put some dry cereal into a small tupperware, jam Momo back in the seat and shuffle to the car. We are several minutes behind schedule but so far we are looking good. Just as I pull out of the garage, that dumb mirror thing we have strapped to the headrest that allows me to see Momo in the rearview mirror slides down so I can't see her. I tell myself it doesn't matter. These things didn't exist when I was a kid and I'm fine, kinda, but I have too much anxiety not being able to see her. I pull over and adjust the mirror. It's impossible to get it tight enough but I do my best and get back in the car. We're on our way. I pop open the tupperware full of dry cereal and shove some in my face. It's delicious. Then Momo starts crying. Then Momo starts screaming. I keep glancing in the dumb falling mirror and worry I'm going to rear end the car in front of me. I start singing made up nonsense songs and pull on the giraffe toy hanging from the carseat. It shakes for a moment when you pull on it, so I keep pulling it down and find myself singing some crazy song about her giraffe friend who loves her and might be a girl or a boy or maybe a hermaphrodite and then I promptly spill the dry cereal all over my lap. I look at the time and wonder if I should pull over to soothe her and then remember when she sucks my finger all is good in her world, so I reach behind and stick my finger in her mouth. Miraculously all is good in her world. And I'm driving like this, with my finger in her mouth singing about her hermaphrodite giraffe. We finally get to the parking garage and I can't find parking until I hit the 9th floor. Fine. I get her and everything out of the car and panic that she is going to miss her nap  because she doesn't just pass out in the carseat like other babies do (and, as we know, I'm nap obsessed). I wait for the elevator for about five minutes and realize it is broken. Did I mention I'm on the 9th floor? I put the carseat stroller away, strap her to my chest and head down nine flights of stairs, sweat is pouring down my forehead and Momo starts to fall asleep. I get to baby group, which is a room full of anxious women and crying babies. The sound alone makes me want to gouge my eyes out. I go to the bathroom with Momo still strapped to my chest and attempt to pee, only to pee all over my pants. Which are purple. (That sounds terrible but they are actually cute pants, I swear). Point being you can totally see my wet bottom. Whatever. I go into the room and Momo wakes up with the sound of hysteria and chaos and I see she had a dirty diaper. I change her on the communal changing pad and she pees all over it and her cute specifically chosen outfit. I wash down the changing pad and take her clothes off and start to put her in the back up outfit which is bright green and ridiculous. She almost has her onesie snapped when the group starts. All this so we can go around the room, introduce ourselves and sing twinkle twinkle little star. 

Noah says it's good practice for me. To get out of the house. I once again notice how much support new moms have and feel resentment towards the world that there isn't more support for women going through infertility. But I also feel grateful for all of this, because as insane as it all is, I do belong. 

Comments

[Yvonne]

*Momo 👶 😊

[Yvonne]

This post made me smile so much. I had been reading your blog during my own 5 years on IF island. Then last March I got my BFP and I stopped reading because it felt jinx-y (us IF islanders are a rational bunch). But I was thinking about you and wondering where you and Noah were on your road to parenthood and I have been so happy to read about Mono. I wish your pregnancy and delivery could have been easier but I know you look at her and it doesn't matter.at.all. We heal. The body and heart are amazing. So happy you found your sweet girl. My little girl was born last December and we are also loving our own crazy life staring at the monitor, being obsessed with input/output and singing non-sensical songs. All the best!

[Twinkiemom]

I had to laugh at this because I felt the same way with my first! Now I have 4 kids (2 of them are 6 month old twins) and I barely hear crying I have gotten so used to it. You'll get there and it sounds like you're doing great!

[Mwp]

Keep doing it! Every outing you'll notice you have a little bit less anxiety. My motto from day 1 has been: worst thing that can happen is they both (twins) scream and lose it and then we just go home. It's ok. But you need to get out! It's kept me sane to be honest. And you'll start to love talking about nap obsessions with other moms :) All the good stuff. None of this is easy, but you're doing great!!!