Motherhood here I come...

Motherhood - the kinship between an offspring and the mother.

I was recently motivated and inspired by a friend on Facebook's blog to begin writing one of my own. No one ever tells you how lonely maternity leave can sometimes be. Well, how lonely motherhood in itself can be for that matter. And how there are these random moments where you can feel yourself morphing into Jack Nicholson's character from the 'Shining'. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy...All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy". Well, maybe that's a tad extreme (it was a LONG winter) but you get my drift right? So when I read some of these beautifully written sad, funny, angry blog posts by similar like-minded new mom's I began to feel like I wasn't going totally crazy and I wasn't alone. Not to mention living up in the 'burbs surrounded by other new mommy's who are, shall we say, NOT quite so "like-minded" can be a little daunting, intimidating and alienating to say the least. I'm the Mom that puts my kid in a Che onesie and dances with him to David Bowie's Queen Bitch in the living room. You can see how that may not make me many new mommy friends at the play circles up here in Newmarket.

And so begins my quote unquote "mommy-blog". A cathartic way to chronicle the tales of my trials as a new mommy in "so-called motherhood" as it were. I can't say how long I'll keep it up for. Maybe a few months. Maybe a few years. But for now I need it. For my sanity and for my poor husband's sanity.

I've grown up more in these last 9 months of motherhood than all of my 30 years on this planet combined. It's been a winding road with peaks and valleys and the occasional fork or two or three. Me and Brandon talked about starting a family not long after we started seeing each other, and about 4 years later, after we thought we got most of the self-absorbedness out of our systems, we took the plunge. On Sunday, August 16, 2009 just 6 minutes after midnight Gavin Antoine William Gingras was delivered (mind the pun) into our lives.

I was ready for this. We were ready for this. I mean for God sakes, I actually read a few books on the subject. And I thought watching TLC's 'Baby Story' enough times was preparation enough. What the hell is an episiotomy??? Do yourself a favour...never, I REPEAT, NEVER, Google 'episiotomy' and then proceed to watch a video on the subject. The horror...the horror. I was living in a blissful pregnant bubble. But when I went in for one of my final NST's and my doc said "why don't we just go ahead and induce you today", the panic sirens went off. Though you would never have known it. Brandon was the blubbering mess and I was the calm one who told him, "don't worry just make a few calls and go pick up my suitcase from home". But inside I was scared shitless. "He's actually coming out of me today?", I pondered. Can we discuss this a little? Due to my heart arrhythmia it was decided from the start that I would be induced and be given an epidural fairly early into labour as to not put my heart under any undue stress. So at about 2pm they began the IV Pitocin and about 10 hours later I delivered our 6lb 1oz bouncing baby boy. It was love at first sight. And that cry. That beautiful, amazing cry. He was here and he was all ours. Both of us cried like babies when they put him up on my chest. It was the most surreal moment of my life.


Shortly after the introductions and paparazzi I was wheeled to the post-partum wing and it was there that motherhood greeted me with a bitch slap. He was crying. What did he need? His diaper needs to be changed. He cries again. Is he hungry? Just latch on for Mommy sweetie. If it was only as easy as all those books, diagrams and those women you see whip them out in the food court made it out to be. I swear to God I had never had so many people handle my breasts as I did in that three day hospital stay. But really, at that point I had no shame. Fortunately, after a couple weeks, and a lot of tears, Tylenol, and ice packs, we got the hang of it and the milk was flowing as they say.

And then the day came. Discharge day. "You and your little man can go home." Again, the panic. I was so in love and so attached to this little creature but the thought of me and Brandon having to actually take him home without "adult supervision" terrified me! Thankfully, when we did arrive back to Casa Gingras my Mom and Dad (Grandma and Grandpa Gavel) were waiting in the driveway. My Mom stayed with us off and on for a couple of weeks. Made us meals, cleaned house, gave the cat and dog some well deserved attention, and of course fussed over Gavin every chance she got. She was a God sent. The whole time all I could think of was that I don't know how single mothers or people without family do the whole newborn thing the first time around.

The first couple of nights we were absolute wrecks. Breastfeeding was going horribly. I was hurting in places I didn't even knew existed. And to top it off I was a hormonal wreck. It didn't help having annoying people giving me their unasked for advice. Honestly, my kid is two minutes old...I'm really not in the mood to talk about baby sign language or making cookies with hidden parsnips in them!!! To top things off I thought I had ended up with a nasty case of mastitis. Gavin wasn't latching properly and every time the poor little guy would come anywhere close to my nipples I would scream in pain. Because I wasn't expelling enough milk my breasts looked like the size of footballs. They were on fire and then the chills set in. I slept with a bag of frozen peas one night. I cried out to Brandon one night to just go to Shoppers and buy a can of formula. "I'm such a horrible mother!!". And for the record, I'm in no way opening a door to the breastfeeding vs formula debate. Breastfed or formula fed, I truly believe it's a bullshit thing that other women, society, whatever guilt's us into thinking. All a child needs is love to grow and the rest will all work itself out. Anyhoo, enough with that little tangent. We both frantically read through books and online to figure out what was going on and what I could do to fix it. Finally, I pumped a little every few hours to relieve the pain and in the meantime Gavin got the hang of it and we were off and running. He fed every couple of hours. I awoke and brought him into bed to feed and went through the motions in a zombie-like way. I had never known what being physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted meant until that first week of motherhood. I secretly loathed Brandon when he would look at me from bed and ask if I needed anything. Really what could he do? Or better yet still when he wouldn't wake up at all. That boy could sleep through World War III.

But all joking aside we managed to get through those first couple of weeks together. Brandon was so strong for the both of us. All the times I would beat myself up about what I wasn't doing right or what I could do better he just kept picking me up and dusting me off and telling me that we would be ok and that Gavin would be ok. And he was right. Nine months later here we all are. Our little family. We're not perfect parents and I'm so SO happy we aren't perfect parents. Because God how boring would that be?? But we're happy parents. We do things the way we like to call the Brandon and Cheryl way because that's what works for us.

It was truly cathartic writing these words down. I may be a quiet gal most of the time but there's a lot going on in this mommy brain.