Babywearing Through Motherhood.

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This is the very first picture I have of using a baby carrier with my Ella (my first born). I know she was worn well before this. In fact, I have a distinct memory of my birth doula coming by a week after her birth and helping me figure out my moby wrap. But this picture, taken when she was seven months old, is the first documentation I have of me wearing her.

What I do have is a lot of pictures like this:

Daddy giving mommy a break

Snoozin' on Daddy

Baby wearing gave Aaron the tools he needed to learn how to be a dad. It helped soothe his colicky, cranky first baby while I struggled with severe postpartum depression. It allowed him to give me the space I needed to pull out of the fog of PPD while still building a bond with our baby.

Then came Miles. My rolly polly, bald baby boy who had a sister who wasn’t quite yet two. Saying I needed both hands is an understatement.

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Eight days after Miles was born. He was lower than recommended because I had just finished nursing him in the wrap.

Being able to pop that squishy baby in my wrap and literally chase after Ella was a life saver. That toddler girl never stopped moving and wearing the baby allowed me to meet both children’s needs. Making sure both their needs were met was a HUGE concern of mine during Miles’ pregnancy. I cried about it during labor. My baby carriers made that worry less of a concern.

omg our day already

Don’t get me wrong, we still had dreadful days (as documented above). Knowing that Ella was melting down because she didn’t have enough snuggle time and the baby crying just because he wanted to snuggle and sleep was a relatively simple fix. Once I managed to get both kids on, I would head to a dark room, turn on the white noise machine and sway back and forth until they both calmed down.

Without Aaron or I really realizing it, wearing our kids (babies and toddlers) became a way of life.

Babywearing, tidying Daddy

Aaron discovered Miles loved the sound of the vacuum and our floors were never cleaner than those few months it worked to calm the baby down.

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And really? Who doesn’t want their bald baby to be happy?

When Miles was about 8 months and Ella was 2.5 years, we began to have regular doctor appointment in Chicago. I briefly toyed with the idea of bringing a stroller. Ella was so tall and Miles was so heavy! Then the vision of us dragging a stroller up flights of stairs to an L platform nearly caused me an coronary and we decided to sling it.

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My 23 pound baby was easily worn the entire day, up and down Chicago, in my favorite mei tai carrier.

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Ella was able to be soothed from the stress of sleep studies by picking her favorite carriers to use on our trips.

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And when my sprained my ankle, Aaron was ready for the task.

Close enough to kiss.

A few years later, another sweet baby joined our family. Keeping Hazel close enough to kiss meant I could still have both hands for my older two

Untitled I foresee many evening practices like this.

I was able to decompress with my piano after stressful days thanks to my wrap.

Hanging laundry. As much as I hate laundering clothes, I love my main level laundry room.

Laundry tackled.

Bus Adventuring

Wearing my almost 3 yr old at the waterfront today.

When Miles began to feel displaced, I was able to wear him in the same wrap I used when he was a baby and tell him stories about his babyhood. It helped him ease into the position of middle child with more grace than I was anticipating.

Mama is feeling a bit bananas. Untitled

Tossing Hazel on my back meant that the kids and I could hike while I let out my internal anger and frustration. Without my carrier, I would have been relegated to the neighborhood with a stroller. While that would have been a bad option, the woods was the best.

I know I would have been a good mom without the tools of baby wearing but with the ability to wear my kids, it has given me the opportunity to be an even better mom. Not only that, but it has given Aaron the ability to bond with all of our kids and settle into the role of Daddy .

I really don’t know how we could have survived 3 kids in 4 years with as much grace as we have without wearing our babies.

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Conversations: At Target

Yes, I know my hands are full. Why do you think we all have Starbucks?

Yes, I do know my hands are full. That is why we all have Starbucks. 

The other day, I was on a mission at Target. I had the big kids in the triple cart (whoever created that is a genius and I am so thankful!) and Hazel strapped on my back. I was fueled by caffeine and the kids were quiet thanks to dairy and caffeine free “happy-chinos” (as Miles calls them). Armed with my list, I had 30 minutes to get everything I needed and back in the car.

I was almost done with my list and preparing to make the mad dash for the check out lines when a grandma aged woman stopped me. Cringing inwardly, I politely smiled and sent up a quick prayer that she wouldn’t be rude. Ever since Hazel was born, I’ve had complete strangers actually track me down in stores to glibly inform me that my hands were full. I braced myself to put on a smile and respond with, “Hands full is a good life” or something like that.

Instead, she smiled at me and said I was doing good. She raised three children and shopping with them had been her most dreaded chore. Other moments were good, but shopping was never one of them. She even confessed to refusing to shop with her own grandkids! Then, she waved at the kids, encouraged them to be kind, and went on her way.

Thank you, kind grandma, for your encouragement. Hearing that was exactly what I needed.

 

 

Linking up with The Parent ‘Hood this morning.

Green Stripes

Grandmas set

Years ago, I was helping Grandma do some cooking. I reached into the cupboard next to the oven and accidentally dropped her green striped bowl. It was like time slowed but I couldn’t move my hands to catch it. The beautiful bowl crashed to the floor, shards flying everywhere. There was no hope of repair. No amount of glue and prayers would put it back together.

My breath caught and tears welled in my eyes. I knew these bowls were special to Grandma. They were a gift (my memory wants to say wedding gift but I wouldn’t stake my life on it) and Grandma treasured them. I had begged her to let me use her special bowls to mix in and now I broke it. My mind reeled and I immediately began an internal dialogue, chastising myself.

Before I could even say a word, Grandma hugged me. I cried and sniffled out that I was so sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to and would she please forgive me?

She smiled at me, pulled a tissue from the bread drawer for me to blow my nose and asked if I was hurt. After a quick examination and finding nothing amiss, she thanked me for my apology. Then she sent me to get my shoes on and get the broom. When I came back, I could see how sad she was but Grandma reiterated how glad she was I wasn’t cut. That was the important thing. Bowls are replaceable (well, not really in this situation but she didn’t say that) but granddaughters are not.

This entire incident buried itself into the recesses of memory until I had my own children. Things have been broken. Ruined beyond repair. Lost. We talk about being good caretakers of our belongings and respecting property. The first time I found myself reaching a point of frustration where I just wanted to berate my child the clumsiness or unintentional damage created, my breath caught. This entire incident flashed through my mind in a split second and the emotions I experienced as the child came flooding back. Instead of using harsh words, I hugged my child, whispered that I knew it was an accident and how glad I was she wasn’t hurt. We cleaned up the mess together while talking about ways to be safer in the future.

Now, I have Grandma’s precious striped bowls in my own kitchen. I am always on the search for a green replacement bowl but I’m okay if I never find one. It’s a reminder to always take a breath.

 

This post is linked up at The Parent ‘Hood. Be sure to check out other bloggers moments in parenting!

Hello To Goodbye

I’ve been mulling over the phrase “motherhood is a long series of goodbyes” from this post on Renegade Mothering. It struck a spark of conversation between some friends and I and it was rather revolutionary for me.

At first, I wasn’t sure if goodbyes were the right perspective to hold. The word goodbye seems so… sad to me. Negative. Despondent. Those adjectives are polar opposites of what I want my life as a mother to reflect. But then, through further conversation, I realized the other side of goodbye is hello.

As I say goodbye to the sweet smelling head of my tiny infant, he is saying hello to new found mobility and exploration.

As I say goodbye to knowing what my almost five year old is doing 95% of the day, she is saying hello to experiencing taking the bus and going school.

Other goodbyes are more subtle. Having to assist with every stitch of apparel to being down to only tying shoes. Picking up tiny crumbs of play doh off of the floor before stepping in it.

The most vivid and current goodbye I had was sending Ella off to half day school, which started last month.

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She loves her teacher already. And she's home!
(1) Obligatory first day of school picture (2) Too excited to be still.
(3) She loves her teacher so much. (4) Home safe and sound.

Her joy and enthusiasm for saying hello certainly eased my goodbye. All I can do is hope and pray I can continue to accept goodbyes with grace while encouraging my children towards greeting the new stages of their life with excitement and curiosity. I absolutely know some goodbyes will be harder than others but I cannot allow my struggles with saying goodbye to a part of their life hinder their ability to move forward. I’m sure that we’ll meet a hello they are dreading and it will make it all the harder for me to say goodbye, but we’ll make it.

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