Working Moms Unfiltered

[workingmomsunfiltered]

I was never a big fan of Chrissy Teigen. She seemed to be too over the top and the epitome of a woman desperate for attention which was apparent by her constant show of skin, tits and ass. I remember an Instagram post of hers going viral where she celebrated her stretch marks. For some reason, that image struck me as raw and genuine; not manufactured. There was something empowering about it. From that moment, I liked her. And I continue to appreciate her candid “I don’t give a shit about what you think attitude.”

But then I fell in love with Chrissy. She wrote an article detailing her battle with post-partum depression in Glamour’s March issue (http://www.glamour.com/story/chrissy-teigen-postpartum-depression) . She even went so far as telling her audience that she may seem like the “pretty rich girl” in an ivory tower complaining but the fact of the matter is, post-partum depression is REAL. And regardless of where her battle was on the spectrum, it was her reality.

I remember after having L feeling overcome with emotion. For some women, that feeling is pure joy. For some, it is overwhelmingly empty. And neither response is wrong.

We read so much about the joys of having a baby. We plan for months and decorate the nursery. We celebrate with baby showers and dream of all the memories to come. But what we don’t talk about are the dark parts: marriage changes, physical pain, shock, body confusion, bonding challenges and so much more. The hardest part for me was isolation.

My house felt like the walls were literally caving in on me from being home so much. I have always been an extreme extrovert. To the point, where I don’t even like being alone. I would rather be talking to someone all the time. Then, all of a sudden, I was home with a newborn and no one to talk to. I lived vicariously through Facebook. My thumbs hurt from scrolling through my newsfeed so much. I walked around the house anxious all day wondering how I was going to fill the hours in my day. I was used to being a work horse with a packed social calendar. I tried singing and taking to L but that can only go on for so long. I tried TV shows but would become so sick of sitting in the same spot all day. I tried reading books but had a hard time concentrating. I counted down the minutes until my husband got home every night so he could tell me about his day. I had nothing to contribute in our conversations. His day was engaging, collaborative and strategic.  All I could provide were updates on breastfeeding and baby poop. And I was embarrassed and felt even more alone.

I didn’t like this feeling of having no one to talk to. I didn’t reach out to friends to tell them I was lonely. My family didn’t ask how I was doing, and I didn’t tell them. And honestly, I was embarrassed to admit I was struggling. I was supposed to be “tough.” Millions of women had done this before me – what was my problem?

I lost count of how many times I promised to go to the store and get groceries. But that task seemed overwhelming. Even walking around the block was overwhelming. I chose to stay in my house because it was easier but it left me feeling more alone.

I say this all for a few reasons.

1. Thank you, Chrissy for sharing your story and not being afraid to be honest.

2. If you find yourself feeling isolated, anxious, depressed, etc. don’t be afraid to reach out to someone. In fact, you need to. Do it. NOW.

3. If you know someone who recently had a baby, call her and ask how she really is doing.

We, as women, are too hard on ourselves and others. Our realities are our realities. We can all do a better job of being more honest and open, for our sake and other’s.

[workingmomsunfiltered]

Part of me envies her: the floppy hat, make up intact, perfect beach waves and trendy jeans. She looks cool, calm and collected as she totes a newborn in her baby bjorn with her hipster dressed toddler following behind. Somehow the toddler is immaculately clean. She is the “perfect mom.” If you ask her anything about her kids, they have been sleeping through the night since they were two months old and life is always sheer bliss. As she talks, her words gloss over and I begin to seethe with envy. Until I am reminded, “this is all perception.” Not that I wish her life isn’t perfect (but I kind of do) but moreso that I wish she was HONEST because it makes the rest of us feel a sense of failure.

Why is there an underlying inability for women to be honest and vulnerable with each other?

I was warned of the “perfect mom” when I was pregnant. Someone I work with said to me, “Always remember, she is lying – the perfect mom does not exist.” I love the message of not trying to be so hard on ourselves. Life is hard enough without kids. Throw that into the equation and holy shit, I need more wine.

But it doesn’t stop at the “perfect mom.” There is the “perfect employee”, the “perfect boss”, the “perfect body” and on and on. I want women to stop being so competitive. Look, I struggle with this daily. But I am trying to be very aware of when I start to compare or envy another woman. I want to be the woman that supports another woman. The woman that is empowering other women. The woman that raises a son to spread the same message.

I have seen the movie “Mean Girls” play out at work. I have been victim to another woman trying to put me down by spreading inaccurate information about me. I have been told I am “too aggressive” or “not aggressive enough.” I have had someone (in HR, nonetheless) try to stop a promotion all because she did not want to see me succeed. All these things by women – and it was not in the form of constructive criticism.

As women, haven’t we fought hard enough to have a seat at the table with men? Why are we battling our own gender and damaging the hard work our sisters from another generation united for to get to this point? When did we lose our sisterhood in the fight to be the “perfect mom”, “perfect employee”, “perfect boss” and so on?

I plan on being the change in the workplace and the park I want to see.

Now, who will join me?

[workingmomsunfiltered]

5:30am – Head to the gym or take the dog on a beach walk

7:30am – straighten up the house

8:00am – make smoothie

8:10 – head to work

5:30/6pm – head to dinner with friends

8:00pm – take dog on quick walk, catch up on favorite show or read a book

9:30pm – 10pm – hop into bed

 That was then…. As I look at this schedule, one theme seems quite apparent, there is plenty of “me” time. And, I miss my morning smoothie. There used to be time to do the things I enjoy and time to de-stress. This has become more and more of an issue for me lately. After having a child you literally go into survival mode for the first few months. You are too exhausted to even think about me. Then, you go back to work and are so completely overwhelmed with trying to figure out how to balance it all, me time is something you decide you will worry about later. You finally get into your routine right about the time your baby is starting to become a little person. A person who laughs, plays and responds to you (finally!). Then you struggle with spending time away from him/her because you don’t want to miss these precious moments.

I don’t typically subscribe to New Year’s Resolutions. But this year it was very obvious that I need to focus on me. My resolution is to do just that. Well, here we are almost in the middle of February and I can count on one hand the things I have done for myself this year. If I were in school I would certainly be failing in this area. What do I miss the most? Working out. I used to spend time everyday doing this. For a Type A person like me, it is an incredible stress reliever and endorphin releaser. I miss the feeling of being “strong”. If I am being honest, I could not care less what the numbers on the scale are. For me, it has always been about being healthy and strong. So what am I waiting for? Go work out!

Well, it is just not that simple anymore. Mornings are precious for a few reasons. First, due to the fact that I birthed the worst sleeper ever, I literally cannot get up before 7am. I pray and hope he sleeps until 7am because on a good night, we have been up twice with him. Last night, it was four times. Second, we usually pull him in bed with us at his 4:30am wake up because we are too tired to deal with letting him cry or attempting to rock him to sleep. That means that I will have interrupted sleep caused by being kicked in the face or worrying that I will fall off the bed because L is taking up our whole bed. We certainly would not dare move him – he is FINALLY sleeping! And third, it is usually at this time that Louin is in cuddle mode snuggled up to my chest or even sleeping on it. There will be a day when he no longer does and I am certainly not interrupting these moments for the gym.

What about after work? By this time, I have spent about nine hours away from L. Another hour away from him is too much to bear. So, yet again, I sacrifice the gym to run home and play with him. I do my best to throw in an evening walk where we go find “kitties”, birds and squirrels around the neighborhood. The one day I can commit to is Saturday. So for now, that is the gym day.

I have tried to find some creative solutions for me time. For example, being so exhausted has me feeling like I have aged five years in the last 18 months. So, I am focusing on “me” with face masks a couple times a week. It sounds so silly but being able to put that mask on and watch Real Housewives is my heaven. Erika Jayne, I love you. If you don’t know who that is, you need to. In these few moments, I can take some deep breaths and not worry about the hustle and bustle that awaits me the next day. I try my best to just be in the moment.

This is not the perfect solution but it is the best solution for right now. And that is good enough for me.

[workingmomsunfiltered]

Constant State of Rush

I often struggle with being a working mom. The balancing act is one you simply cannot describe unless you are living it. A working mom’s life can be described as, “living in a constant state of rush.” I rush to get ready in the morning so I can find some time to play with L. I rush through my work day so I can leave within an eight or nine hour time frame. I rush to get home. I rush to get dinner going for L while my husband starts our dinner. Once dinner is done, it leaves us time to play or go for a walk. Then we rush through bath, stories and bedtime. Although the latter part is when the day starts to feel less hectic and we can all enjoy the little things like splashing in the tub, reading his favorite stories and rocking him to sleep.

If we try to throw in a stop at the grocery store or an errand in, the daily “rush” amplifies. Errands are left for the weekend.

Growing up I always thought I would be a stay at home mom. I was a nanny and loved children more than anything. They brought me joy and reminded me not to take anything for granted; everything they experienced was met with a “WOW!” or “OOOH!” Sometimes we, as adults, need those reminders of just how amazing this life is.

Then I started the working world. After switching from Sales to Recruiting, I thought I found my niche. I quickly tired of the petty drama and fierce competition I experienced between women in HR. This led me to my next opportunity, Project Management. I fell in love. All of a sudden I saw my career being a never ending, daily challenge but in the best way possible. I LOVED going to work every day. I worked however many hours it took to get the job done and never complained. My interest in being at home began to change.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was thrilled for my husband and I! At the same time, I was fearful for my career. I knew I would not be able to put the same amount of countless hours into it. I had committed to something bigger, more important and found my purpose: being a mom. However, I knew I was not the “stay at home mom” material. My parents were often disappointed by that. They could not understand why I wouldn’t want to be home with my child. “How can you let someone else raise him?” “Don’t have kids if you don’t want to raise them.” I had to remind them that today’s family is very different than yesterday’s. And they raised a strong woman who enjoys her independence. But in the back of my mind, I had my doubts.

When Louin finally came I found the love of my life. I would (and still do) stare at him for hours. He is my everything. But I struggled daily to find a purpose in the cycle of feed, burp, nap, repeat. I, personally, needed more. I took work calls on maternity leave (not many) and even went into the office a few times. I needed adult interaction and I missed my team. I missed making decisions. I missed being challenged. So much so, that I went back to work early from maternity leave because of these obstacles.

But work would never be the same. I would never again not be thinking of Louin. What is he doing? How did he nap? What did he eat for breakfast? What did he laugh at? Did he have fun at the park? What milestone did I miss?

I could not, and still cannot, imagine being home full time. But this constant state of rush is simply overwhelming. The constant feeling of “missing something” is overwhelming. It must get easier at some point… but then again, does it?

I guess my point is: being a working mom is a constant pull on your heart strings.  

[workingmomsunfiltered]

It seems that anytime I pick up the phone these days it is to hear that another friend is pregnant, which is beyond exciting! Mostly because I need more mom friends and second because my little one will have more friends. I kid, I kid. All this talk of pregnancy and new babies coming into the world has me reflecting on my experience. The experience brings with it lots of daydreaming about what’s to come, anticipation, fear and new challenges. I hope this blog helps some women understand they are not alone in this process while also bringing laughs.   If you can’t laugh through the crazy nine months, motherhood is sure to be a doozy.  

I am not one of those women that enjoyed being pregnant. Don’t get me wrong, I loved feeling the baby kick. I loved dreaming of what my baby would look like. I loved the sweet moments my husband and I will forever have while eagerly awaiting meeting our little man. I didn’t love everything else.                  

Let me explain.

The moment you pee on a stick and receive confirmation you are in fact, pregnant, your life changes in an instant. It is quite possibly the most exciting and oddest feeling I have had simultaneously. It felt as though something should change, you should feel different, right? But life as you know it is still the same; I was not quite sure what to do with myself. Once I got over the initial panic of “Am I ready for this?” I began the countdown to my first doctor’s appointment. In the back of my mind I constantly worried that “Ziggy”, short for zygote, was OK. I NEEDED to get to the doctor to hear the heart and confirm there was a baby growing in me. I had no other proof that he was there except for that stick I peed on. This would become a common theme between every doctor’s visit. Until Ziggy started moving, I would drive myself crazy hoping he was still alive. The first time I heard his heartbeat… life changed. That was when I knew everything was about to change.    

It is truly extraordinary carrying this little secret around with you. It was something I cherished. At work, I often found myself daydreaming of what the baby would be like. I would search for nursery themes and meticulously plan his room. It was during the first few weeks I came to understand what a distraction this would be. Never again would I walk into work with the same focus on just me. In the back of my mind I would consistently be thinking about my child. While family would always come first, it has been, and still is, a struggle for me to know that work cannot come first anymore. I spent years working long hours and proving myself in the workplace. What would I do when the baby came? Would my career suffer? How would I balance that? As luck would have it, the first time my hormones kicked in was at work. I was eating lunch with a good friend who knew I was early in the pregnancy and out of nowhere started ugly crying (very unlike me!). I was so afraid of how people at work would perceive me once I started showing. Would they think differently of me? Would my changing body be a distraction in meetings? Would all topics of conversation now be about the baby? I wanted to remain an equal in workplace. And this made me very aware that I would be noticeably different. I don’t think my friend knew what to do with this new emotional Berlyn! And truth is, neither did I! 

Aside from managing swinging hormones, watching your body change is the weirdest thing. Your boobs get bigger, your nipples darker (and sometimes bigger) and everything just starts to bloat. At first, there is this cute little belly.  But eventually, that cute little belly turns into something so massive your lady bits and feet become complete mysteries. You can’t see them anymore.. which is probably a good thing because they become bloated as well, which is crazy weird. Another fun change is your smell. Like EVERY SMELL out of your body is different. Couple that with the fact that your nose has super powers while preggo and you are in for a fun ride. I used to apologize profusely to my OB-GYN during appointments for being so “smelly.” She always promised I was fine but I was horrified. My mom always got a good laugh out of my “smell panic” while waiting for the doctor. She liked to make me more self-conscious by holding her nose to make it seem that I was in fact smelling up the room. Thanks, Mom. 

And the poor men! They just have to sit back and watch this mayhem unfold. I often asked my husband what he thought of my changing body. He gave the right answer, “It is beautiful.” But to this day, I wonder what he really thought. Some people told me that pregnancy can be a very sensual time. Well, that is quite possibly the last word I would use to describe it. It really should be a sensual time for everyone because once that baby comes, no one is getting any action for a while.  The whole time we were getting it on, I was thinking about how awkward my belly was. My friends and I laugh because the men typically wonder if they will “hit” the baby, which is hilarious. Even with my friendly reminders that my husband could not “hit” our baby there was one time he freaked out and yelled, “The baby grabbed me!” (I mentioned this blog is unfiltered, right?). I am pretty sure it was a muscle spasm he felt… definitely not our child! I laughed so hard I had to run to the bathroom before I peed everywhere. To this day, I can’t tell that story without laughing uncontrollably. One of my favorite moments of being pregnant for sure! 

There are many more challenges like constipation, hemorrhoids, raging hormones, hot flashes, sweat attacks and so much more. But the fun parts are: glowing skin, thick hair and feeling something grow in you. There just aren’t words to describe the feeling. 

My doctor and I decided for the health and safety of the baby and I, that being induced a week before my due date was necessary.  That night, I cried uncontrollably for fear of the unknown. I was so scared I would not be a good mom. I hoped I could be half the mom my mom is. I cried for fear of childbirth. I cried for fear of knowing my marriage would soon be changing. I cried for fear of knowing our life would be changing forever. It was both a nervous and happy cry. I didn’t sleep a wink that night; I cried the entire night. I went to work the next day, completely delirious. I had to tie up all loose ends before I went on maternity leave. It was my last day in the office and I was struggling knowing I had to put work down for the next three months or so. This was a huge part of my identity that would be changing forever - and I was not ready for it. 

I’ll end this trip down memory lane with one more story that still makes me laugh. For some reason, this whole notion of knowing when the baby was coming was freaking me out. I almost needed it to be unplanned so I couldn’t think so much about it. My mom and sister went on a rampage to find out how to get this baby to come naturally. They looked up every old wives remedy. That evening, they showed up at my door with Lemon drop cupcakes and castor oil (I am not kidding, look it up). They force-fed, OK not really but kind of, the dozen cupcakes and told me to have lots of sex that night. After devouring the cupcakes, I put the castor oil to my lips and just couldn’t. So, the next option was sex. Sounded great after being bloated from the cupcakes. But we did… and at the moment I thought was my husband’s look of pure joy, I quickly realized it wasn’t. “What is the matter? Why are you making that face?” 

“Your water broke all over me.” 

[workingmomsunfiltered]

“Fed is Best”

Before I dive into this, let me first preface this by saying: Any mother, father or doctor would agree that breastfeeding is the preferred method of feeding a newborn and infant. However, not all mothers are able to do so for many differing circumstances. Or perhaps the mother simply isn’t comfortable with the notion of breastfeeding – and that’s OK. All that really matters is that baby is fed. 

From the time a woman discovers she is pregnant, the pressure to breastfeed is on. Your body starts to inform you this is what you are supposed to do with friendly reminders of very sore and growing breasts, expanding areolas and growing nipples; all of which make one feel quite sexy (said no one ever). Pregnancy books and articles prep the mom-to-be on what to eat to produce milk, how to get baby to latch, when to expect the milk to come in and more. Even before the baby arrives, we are ingrained to think “breast is best.” No one talks about the alternatives. 

I remember reading that if you lay your newborn on your chest immediately after childbirth, babies have been known to crawl to the breast and attempt their first feeding.  For some reason this stuck with me for months and it was one of the first thoughts I had when the doctor laid him on my chest after delivery.  Louin figured out how to nurse and off we went – home to begin our life together. But breastfeeding came with challenges and was more of an emotional struggle than I could have imagined. I felt like my body was not mine anymore. It was strictly in existence to nourish Louin. And I was disgusted with some of the ramifications that came with breastfeeding;  cracked nipples, blistered nipples, constant leakage. I could not leave the house without a stash of breast pads. Which meant, I could no longer go without a bra – ever – even when sleeping. The day my milk came in I thought my boobs were going to erupt and shatter into a million pieces! I went from a decent B cup to a D in a matter of minutes. My husband screamed, “Oh my god! What happened?!” as I stood there spraying milk from my engorged and veiny boobs. We laughed pretty hard and for the first time in my life, I had cleavage! Woo hoo! Of course, luck would have it we had our first appointment that day to see Louin’s pediatrician. Since I had no breast pads in the house, I stuffed wads of toilet paper in my bra and put on a thick sweater in case leakage ensued. I should mention it was one of the hottest summers on record. I was wearing a thick sweatshirt because of my leaking boobs and sweatpants because that was all I could  fit over my diaper.  While waiting in the patient room for the doctor I leaned over the sink and squeezed as hard as I could to release some of the pressure.  Outside I was laughing but inside, I was horrified and embarrassed in front of my husband. This was not my body. 

As I write this, I am almost in tears remembering this struggle. I was fighting to feel like myself. I no longer felt sexy. I no longer felt strong. I no longer felt independent. 

I lived in two hour increments because that is how often Louin nursed – all day and night.

Fast-forward to going back to work. Every day, I walked in with my breast pump and it was a reminder that I was a woman in a working world created for a man. No one was going to work around my pumping schedule. I took calls while pumping, worked later so my pumping would not impact work and the stress led to the inevitable: my supply was diminishing. The panic set in: I can’t give Louin formula. I will have failed as a mother. It is my duty to breastfeed him, “breast is best.” I ate everything under the sun that promised to help with milk supply, I drank over a gallon of water a day, I drank cup after cup of Mother’s Milk and my supply started to come back. Wahoo! Success!

 Soon after, Louin began to refuse to nurse.

I was so determined I would prevail and do as all articles, books and society told me I should that I tried nursing in every spot in the house. I discovered Louin would only nurse in the bath tub. So, I would jump in the tub twice a day just to continue breastfeeding. I feared if I stopped breastfeeding, we would lose our bond. In hindsight, I realize this is ludicrous. But I loved our quiet moments nursing. I loved watching him, smelling him, kissing the top of his head. I craved this time, especially after being away from him at work. Continuing nursing became EVERYTHING.  Soon, Louin would refuse all breast milk bottles and nursing. I felt like a failure. I would force a bottle to his lips and beg him to drink. “Please, Louin!” Then one day, my husband said, “Maybe the milk tastes bad.” So, we tasted it. And immediately, we both almost vomited. My milk was completely sour. I had been forcing sour milk on Louin. The guilt was crushing. The stress of work, not sleeping and probably some post-partum resulted in my milk simply not being the best option for Louin. I read that some women have excess lipase (my issue) in their breast milk and that can make it taste sour. To prevent the milk from souring, you have to scald the milk immediately after pumping and let it cool  before refrigerating it. Try doing this at work twice a day – not easy! I did it for about two months before I had to make a tough decision. This breastfeeding thing wasn’t working. My milk didn’t fill Louin up, he didn’t like the taste of it and frankly, I was ready to feel more like me again after giving it an honest go.

Follow through with this decision took about a month. I relied on my husband and parents to remind me that I was not failing as a mom.  One of the toughest hurdles was knowing I would not have those special moments with Louin. Would our bond be impacted? My bond with Louin never changed – my bond with my husband did. First, in a horrible way and later, in an amazing way. I had no idea how insane my hormones would be as I let my supply dry up over a two week span. At times, I thought I was literally going insane. I would have moments of complete rage followed by an attack of sobbing. You know, the ugly cry where you can’t catch a breath? At one time, I was planning my escape. I would pack my bags and leave with Louin. We would start our own life away from all “this.” But I don’t even know what “this” was. I have never in my life felt so out of control – or so horrible about how I treated someone.  I am thankful everyday my husband was patient with me during that time. No one could have prepared me for that. But then a beautiful thing happened. And I remember it clearly, I took my first shower without milk leaking from my breasts and onto my stomach immediately after exiting the shower. I put a bra on without needing breast pads. I threw away my milk-stained nursing bra (I wanted to burn the thing!). I stood in front of my husband knowing my body was mine again and I felt sexy.  

That night, while giving Louin his bottle of formula I was thankful. I was thankful for his full tummy; he was no longer requiring a feeding every two hours. I was thankful for our strong bond; he was still curled up against me like he did when I nursed him. I was thankful for my understanding husband; who maybe even got lucky that night!  He certainly wasn’t getting lucky while I nursed, poor guy. And I was thankful to feel more like me again. It was then that I realized:

“Fed is BEST”

[workingmomsunfiltered]

Sleep Training is not for the Weak

True story: my husband and I are finally sleep training Louin after nearly 18 months of somehow surviving on around four hours of sleep most nights. So, this picture is slightly misleading because Louin is not three months anymore, but I still look the same - ha! I remember during my pregnancy committing to ensuring my family slept once we had Louin. “I am going to be tough!” “We will sleep!” “I can handle letting him cry to learn how to self soothe!” I did a great job convincing myself at that time... until my child was born and I become this gooey, soft marshmallow I never knew I could be. That, combined with the fact that my child was the worst sleeper ever. I mean, this kid just does not sleep. I won’t get into the newborn phase because we can all agree that is just a dark hole where no one sleeps. However, for some people at the six month mark sleeping becomes more manageable. Louin was still taking all of two 30 minutes naps a day and waking about every two hours and night. 

I went back to work when Louin was about 3.5 months. I’ll never forget the first day back. I was convinced everyone in the office started speaking a different language. People were asking me questions and I had NO idea what they were saying. I could not process questions, I could not follow conversations and when I tried answering people, words I had used for years had suddenly vanished from my memory. Even my mouth was tired! I could not even get my tongue to work. I sounded like I had eaten all those soft marshmallows I turned into. SLEEP was the problem. I contemplated sleeping in the pumping rooms at work for quick siestas but could never bring myself to do it. I feared driving home because I was a danger to anyone on the road. I recall a friend side-swiping someone because she was so tired! 

So, I went on a mission, I read multiple books about varying kinds of sleep training, spoke with my pediatrician, asked my parent’s to remind me daily that I survived sleep training as a baby. And the day came for us to teach Louin. That night, I nursed him to sleep put him in his crib and anxiously waited for him to wake up, so I could start the process. We were all on the road to sleeping!!! Two hours later, like clockwork, he woke up and was screaming. I held firm... one minute into it, two minutes into it (just breath).... ten minutes into it (this is hell). But what I thought was ten minutes was literally two minutes and maybe ten seconds. I was DONE. Sleep training was not for me and we would just let Louin start sleeping when he was ready to. Soft marshmallow? YEP. 

Well, one year later here we were not sleeping. Part of the problem was Louin was in bed with us kicking us all night. We went through phases where he slept getting up only once a night. Sometimes he even slept through the night (this happened about five times - praise the Lord!). But I had to come to terms that this was not healthy for any of us. My husband and I are both working challenging corporate jobs, balancing a social life and trying to raise a little human. We were STRUGGLING. Working out consistently is a thing of the past, which was not healthy. I survived on coffee and chocolate to keep me awake. We were short with each other, had no patience for anything that did not go exactly as planned. And frankly, life was overwhelming. 

My parents and husband sat me down to basically beg me to toughen up and try sleep training. FINE. But I would do it my way. I agreed with my husband that we would do it but he had to take point on it. And if I couldn’t handle it - I would sleep at my parent’s house. The first couple nights we really eased into it. We waited for Louin to fall asleep while rocking him (per usual) and if he cried when we put him in the crib, my husband stood next to him and sang to him until he fell asleep. This happened anytime Louin woke up. The next few nights, we would let him cry for about ten minutes before my husband went in to soothe him. Mind you, we only picked him up if he needed a diaper change and then he was back in the crib while hubs sang or patted his back. It has been just over a week and we are nearly sleeping through the night. Notice no exclamation point there - because I am still exhausted. The most challenging part of the sleep training has been breaking the 4-5am wake up. That typically takes anywhere from 30 - 60 minutes for him to fall back asleep. I can see the finish line... but we have more distance to run. 

One surprise about sleep training: Louin does not hate us in the morning. In fact, he seems more rested and ready to play. His naps are better too! Shockingly, an eighteen month old does not know how to hold a grudge. Although he will learn that as he gets older (lucky us).

The biggest surprise of all: the resentment. I had a week of being ANGRY with my husband. The anxiety of listening to Louin cry actually got worse for me as the nights went on - and I begged my husband to let me go get him. He refused reminding me that I had to sleep. He was tired of being worried about me. And we owed it to Louin to let him learn how to soothe himself. I had no idea this feeling would be part of sleep training. No one told me this. I wouldn’t even look at my husband at times! I felt crazy. I loved the idea of sleeping but hated this process so much. I also missed the nighttime cuddles with Louin sleeping on my chest. Probably also why I never slept because I had 25 pounds sitting on my lungs every night. But I loved the cuddles so much I didn’t care. 

So where are we now? We are at day ten of sleep training. I had an epiphany yesterday that this is the best thing for our family. I have seen a change in Louin; he is more rested and playful! He has grown closer with my husband, which is incredible to see. I attribute that to my husband being the one to soothe him at night. I am also finally able to cuddle with my husband again at night - which has not happened in months! And finally.... I still bring Louin in bed for morning cuddles and he is happy to crawl up on my chest and nuzzle in. 

[workingmomsunfiltered]

Hello my name is ...

For those of you who know me, I try to stay pretty positive. It comes naturally and life is better when you view the glass as half full… or overflowing. One thing that has tested my positivity is this crazy yet beautiful roller coaster called “motherhood.” We tend to post our happy or acceptable moments on social media. However, there are many scary, challenging and down right hilarious things that happen when kids come into the picture; like that one time I had to stuff my bra with pantyliners at work to prevent leakage because I forgot my bra pads. So, last year, I decided I would start a group to get Working Moms together so we can share our stories, laugh, cry and simply bond over this unique journey.  I LOVE our meet ups and appreciate the honesty and raw conversation.  To further this journey, I am starting a blog. Not because I know what I am doing as a mom (quite the opposite), but because I want to share my journey. I hope you laugh with me, maybe even cry (did I mention the posts would be unfiltered?) and no sugar coating. I hope you enjoy my first post!

xo Berlyn