fast forward to now

Before I became a mother, I never really understood why parents would talk like they had no time for anything. I mean, sure, I understood that kids are demanding and will obviously leave you with less free time than you once had, but I didn't really understand. Those parents had to be exaggerating just a bit. I also thought that the really hard work didn't come until the child was older, and that the beginning wouldn't be too difficult since babies can't really do much of anything, right? As long as we made sure the baby was always fed, burped, and changed when need be, it should be somewhat smooth sailing, right?

Ha. I was in for a rude awakening.

Apparently, I underestimated the incredible power of one of the few things that babies can do: CRY.

When I was pregnant, I had read the baby books, watched the DVD's, read everything I could online, took the classes at the hospital, and talked to friends who had kids, but none of it adequately prepared me for Isabelle. Evidently, newborns don't just cry when they're hungry or need a diaper change. Oftentimes, they'll cry for what seems to us like no reason at all. And then they'll cry some more. And some more.

Actually, the first week or two were pretty easy because she slept a lot of the time (newborns sleep a LOT). We were like, "Wow, this isn't too hard!" And then it all changed. And that "Happiest Baby on the Block" stuff that so many people swear by didn't really work for us. The swaddling helped a little, but other than that... not so much. Even putting her in her car seat and taking a drive had the opposite effect it does on most babies; while it usually puts most babies right to sleep, Isabelle would scream her head off as soon as she was put into a car (and this aversion to the car lasted for about 5-6 months. Going anywhere in a car was a super stress-filled event during this time.). She also wouldn't take a pacifier, but she would nurse and/or suck on one of our fingers if we offered it to her. She wouldn't stay in a swing for very long, but she'd stay somewhat content in our arms so long as we were constantly rocking/swaying AND standing up. It was as if she knew better than to accept any fake substitutes and demanded no less than the real thing... and she never hesitated to be very vocal about it (and did I mention that when she'd cry, she'd give it 110%? Boy could she be LOUD!). She didn't fit the definition of colicky, but she sure was very demanding (especially compared to other babies I would see who would, to my amazement, just sit/lay there staring into space. Isabelle was definitely not an easygoing baby like that. And according to my mom, I was just like her when I was a baby. Um... hi karma!)! Ironically, the first few months that I had previously thought would be the easiest were actually the most difficult. In hindsight, I think it was due to a combination of some reflux (which her pediatrician prescribed her some baby Zantac for) and her personality/temperament (she is a very perceptive, strong-willed, spirited, feisty little girl). And on top of all this, nursing was extra difficult because I had major oversupply issues (which you think would be a good problem to have considering all of the mothers who face undersupply issues... but to make a long story short, oversupply is probably just as frustrating and hard), but we stuck with it and are almost at our goal of nursing for at least 1 year.

Thankfully, being a first-time mom who is completely and utterly in love with her child gave me superhuman levels of patience, determination, and somehow surviving on less sleep than I ever thought possible to get me through those first few tough months. Or maybe I just like to think that's how it was--that I had superpowers or something. In reality, though, I probably got through it simply because I didn't really have a choice. LOL

Fast forward to now. Isabelle is almost 12 months, and she's still just as perceptive, strong-willed, spirited, and feisty as always, but she's also a much happier baby who frequently smiles and laughs with gusto. I think she just didn't like being a newborn. When she was a newborn, I'd often feel as if she was a toddler who was frustrated to be stuck in a newborn's body. It sounds funny, but that's really how the situation seemed to me sometimes. The older she got and the more mobile she got, the happier she got. She's definitely a handful, but she makes me smile every day. And she makes my heart melt into a puddle of mush every day. And she makes me proud every day.