Motherhood in winter
The cold season always seems to go by slowly when you're waiting for warmth. But last winter went by particularly slowly for me, and I never felt so isolated by the elements. There were times I just stood near my living room window and pressed my face against a rickety old pane just so I could feel the cold air on my face, so I could feel connected to the outdoors … and all the life that was out there.
Inside, I felt alone.
Of course, it wasn't just the weather that was keeping me indoors. It was my baby, Hendrick Paul, who couldn't be dragged around in frigid temperatures or the occasional snowstorm just because Mommy was getting a little stir crazy.
My fast-paced life as a journalist came to a crashing halt in the fall of 2005. Hendrick was now the main story of the day, every day, and no other news mattered. But it didn't hit me until winter.
Things seemed different in October 2005, when my husband and I happily awaited the birth of the child we would be adopting. We had three weeks to prepare for his arrival, and, like any good newspaper people, we quickly adjusted to the situation and got to work. Getting the baby's room ready, completing the adoption paperwork, making travel arrangements and, of course, showing up on time for a last-minute baby shower.
We flew to Texas on Oct. 10, 2005, rented a tiny (and I mean tiny) efficiency apartment in a small town and took in the sights for a week while we waiting for Hendrick's debut. We brought our baby "home'' from the hospital two days after his birth and spent the next two weeks taking care of him until we had clearance to go back to New Jersey.
Our boy was the most gorgeous thing we ever saw, with blond hair and slate-colored eyes. We loved him instantly. The whole family was thrilled for us, and everything seemed to fall into place.
Then John, my husband, went back to work at the newspaper. My mother, who flew up from Florida and stayed through the holidays, went back to the sunshine. It was just us, Hendrick and me.
The real bonding was about to begin.
Part of the reason I agreed to write this blog is because I remember how lonely motherhood can feel in the first few months and how confusing it can be when your baby cries for no apparent reason; when your husband doesn't understand why you're so depressed and you feel like crying for no apparent reason; when it seems that everyone else is past this stage and all they have to offer you, at age 38 in my case, is the baby clothes their kids outgrew years ago and the toys they can't wait to get out of the attic.
New mothers need to bond, too. We need to take comfort in the fact that we're not alone, that we can learn from each other and laugh with each other and gently remind each other that we must cherish this time with our babies because this stage will pass all too quickly.
And, as we've all been reminded of many times by more experienced mothers, our children, the ones who haven't learned to roll over yet or crawl or speak in full sentences, will soon be driving.
Inside, I felt alone.
Of course, it wasn't just the weather that was keeping me indoors. It was my baby, Hendrick Paul, who couldn't be dragged around in frigid temperatures or the occasional snowstorm just because Mommy was getting a little stir crazy.
My fast-paced life as a journalist came to a crashing halt in the fall of 2005. Hendrick was now the main story of the day, every day, and no other news mattered. But it didn't hit me until winter.
Things seemed different in October 2005, when my husband and I happily awaited the birth of the child we would be adopting. We had three weeks to prepare for his arrival, and, like any good newspaper people, we quickly adjusted to the situation and got to work. Getting the baby's room ready, completing the adoption paperwork, making travel arrangements and, of course, showing up on time for a last-minute baby shower.
We flew to Texas on Oct. 10, 2005, rented a tiny (and I mean tiny) efficiency apartment in a small town and took in the sights for a week while we waiting for Hendrick's debut. We brought our baby "home'' from the hospital two days after his birth and spent the next two weeks taking care of him until we had clearance to go back to New Jersey.
Our boy was the most gorgeous thing we ever saw, with blond hair and slate-colored eyes. We loved him instantly. The whole family was thrilled for us, and everything seemed to fall into place.
Then John, my husband, went back to work at the newspaper. My mother, who flew up from Florida and stayed through the holidays, went back to the sunshine. It was just us, Hendrick and me.
The real bonding was about to begin.
Part of the reason I agreed to write this blog is because I remember how lonely motherhood can feel in the first few months and how confusing it can be when your baby cries for no apparent reason; when your husband doesn't understand why you're so depressed and you feel like crying for no apparent reason; when it seems that everyone else is past this stage and all they have to offer you, at age 38 in my case, is the baby clothes their kids outgrew years ago and the toys they can't wait to get out of the attic.
New mothers need to bond, too. We need to take comfort in the fact that we're not alone, that we can learn from each other and laugh with each other and gently remind each other that we must cherish this time with our babies because this stage will pass all too quickly.
And, as we've all been reminded of many times by more experienced mothers, our children, the ones who haven't learned to roll over yet or crawl or speak in full sentences, will soon be driving.
Labels: motherhood babies
6 Comments:
When my first daughter was born, I was isolated, too. Not just by the weather, but because she was a preemie and couldn't have visitors at home, either. I kept myself busy, between adjusting to motherhood at 37, running to many pediatrician and specialist appointments, pumping milk around the clock because she wouldn't take to nursing... and told myself how lucky I was to finally have this little bundle of joy.
It wasn't until well after my second daughter was born that my "winter blues" kicked in.
I'd been through the hard part, I'd gotten past those terrifying days of being awoken to a blaring monitor when her breathing would stop, praying I'd never have to put those infant CPR classes to use, struggling with a feisty infant who didn't want to wear her oxygen, and washing my hands so often the skin cracked. If I could do all of that, I could handle a perfectly normal full-term baby, right? For a while, yes.
Then they were both walking. Or should I say running? Oh, and let's not forget climbing, too.
My husband works weekends, and I didn't have enough hands or eyes to keep both of them safe by myself. So I spent even beautiful summer days indoors.
We live at the beach, we have amazing parks and trails everywhere. But my girls would run in different directions - usually toward the street - and not listen to that crazy mommy yelling at them to stop running and get back here this instant.
Friends didn't understand when I would decline invitations. The few times I did accept, I spent the whole time running around, making sure the girls weren't getting into anything dangerous or fragile.
Thank God they're finally getting to the age where I can start taking them out by myself again. It feels good now, knowing I usually just have to keep my eyes on them, and not a vise-grip hold as well.
But I sure miss those toddler days, too.
I have just graduated to the "leave them home alone" stage. I must confess I do not miss the toddler years. Some "ME" time gets to slip back into your life. Don't get me wrong, parenting is still exhausting at this stage, the issues get bigger, take longer to solve, luckily the rewards are worth it.
When I found out I was expecting a baby and the due date was October 15th, I was thrilled with both the news as well as the time of year. I have always loved the Fall and couldn't wait to have a new baby as the leaves changed colors and the air grew crisp. Ha...little did I know that it is one of the worst times of the year to have a new baby...just as you start to feel better from delivery and the baby gets onto a more predictable schedule and can sustain him/herself longer between feedings, allowing trips out without worrying about immediate hunger, the weather turns on you and you are forced to stay indoors! Even if you were to brave the elements with your baby, there aren't many places you can go without worrying about all the airborn germs! I have also had babies born in July and March and I would take those due dates over the Fall ones. I really do sympathize with new moms, especially during the winter months. The only good news is that Spring is usually not far away where we live, unlike more northern territories! Oh, and also that the kids eventually get older and easier to take out and about...next thing you know, you're wishing for a snow day so you don't have to chauffer the lot of them to multiple activities and you can just watch the snow fall from a nice picture window!
I too am feeling the stir craziness of winter. I am home with my second preemie on a apnea monitor like the first post on this topic. My first preemie came in January of 04, now I have my second born in December. Two winter babies on monitors. Sarah can only leave the house for pediatrican appointments. I am thankful (in many ways) that I am back to work so I can leave the house - but boy! those weekends are long. I am anxiously awaiting spring so I can perhaps take the new baby around the block. It is lonely...any husband and I get on each others nerve quite easily when we both have cabin fever! It's nice to hear others stories...
I just read about this new website through the APP this morning and think it is just wonderful, and this was the first article I had read. This article is so perfect for how I have felt. My daughter was born in Dec. 05 and with a 2 year old and a newborn at home, I too felt stir crazy at home. My son was born in March of 04 but shortly thereafter was the Spring so I was at least able to get out for walks with him. But being cooped up indoors in the winter with a toddler and newborn really hit hard, I was struggling with the fact that I had to now divide myself into two, and felt how was I ever going to give my son the attention and the one-on-one time to him with a new baby in the house? I cried alot in the beginning, I had felt I was neglecting my son when I had to tend to my daughter and then felt I was neglecting her as I would lay her down the first chance I had to give myself a break, but when my son was born, all I did was hold him, but now with two that was impossbile. I felt depressed and completely overwhelmed at times, almost as if I needed to talk to my OBGYN and ask if I had to take some type of medicine, at the time I had learned alot of my friends/Mommys were taking some type of antidepressant to beat those blues. But with the help of my wonderful circle of friends and my devoted husband, I knew I was not alone and I had survived that hard first year, I hate to say I rushed it, as these years are the most precious. I met a woman in a store last night who in fact looked at me and said to cherish these years as her childern are in their 20's and it does go too fast. I have learned in that hard first year that I can divide myself, that I can be that super Mommy, even though I don't always look like it some days! I can love my two babies as much as I can and give them special attention and learn to divide my time with them. And when I get those blue days once in a while, I just try and stop myself, take a breath and say, it will pass and I have such a wonderful life, I am blessed!!!
Congratulations, Nina! I'm thrilled you've become a blogger. I enjoy blogging and hear from my clients how much my writing has helped them. While I am not a journalist, I love writing. Please check out my blog at www.upsidethinking.com. All the best, Lisa Marie
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