Family Planning

It seems as though I am losing track of my days at times, and have to occasionally call my mom, husband or friend to reassure myself of what day it is. The biggest transition from having a full-time career to becoming a stay-at-home-mom is, I feel as if I'm the living version of the movie Groundhog's day. I get up in the morning, am usually in my PJ tee most of the day, feed the baby, change the baby, play with the baby, put the baby to bed and get up every 2-3 hours at night, until it starts all over. The frequent advice you get as an expectant mom, is the experienced mother gazing off into the distance and stating, " ahh, I remember those days. All babies do is eat, sleep and poop." They failed to mention the fact that that's pretty much all you will be doing as a parent as well. Minus the sleep part.....and a lot of the times the eat part....which correction, just leaves poop. Although, if it's a good day I might get to actually shower, and if I'm really rambunctious will put pants on and check the mail. For those asking why my husband doesn't help more at night, here's the scoop. My husband is a police officer, so I am the one who gets up all night, every night, with the baby because I really don't want him tired when making a split decision about his life or somebody elses. So basically he's off the hook. I want him rested so that he may come home to us every night unharmed. Although, come back after he's been a mule's hiney and I might have a different attitude for you. In all fairness, he is an extreme help in so many other aspects, that I almost don't mind getting up in the night. For those of you who don't know, I was currently working in Physical Therapy full-time, and was suppose to be back to work 4 months ago after my maternity leave. That was my plan anyway. I am still currently nursing my 7 month old daughter, who was born slightly premature, and getting this child to nurse was about as easy as getting my cat to enjoy her bath. After 6-8 long weeks of every 1 hour feedings, nipple shields, bottle supplementation, breast pumping, mastitis, nipple sores, blocked ducts and lactation consultants the child decided she would finally go booby pro. Thank goodness! What a gift, what a blessing was my thought every time I nursed my baby girl! Don't mind the fact that I would be covering my mouth trying to muddle my screams due to the mastitis. Along with the tears streaming down my face in this time of "joy" and the feeling of daggers stabbing every square inch of my breasts. (And that's a lot of square inchage right now, let me tell ya.) Now that she has chosen champion breast feeder as her profession, she has also decided that she is refusing any nutrition from a bottle. Whether it is breast milk or formula, a bottle is out of the question per the little princess. So where does that leave me? That means the dairy must always be available and open, and guess what, I'm the dairy. Including fat cow after baby fanny to boot. In reflection of the situation, I've sobbed, I've screamed, I've laughed and I've learned in regards to this new plan that was not in my outline. We're struggling to manage our basic bills and barely making the mortgage on what was once a 2 income home to 1. Also, not in MY plan outline. As my best friend will attest to, I am an extremist. A complete planner, who thought she had her life outlined. How dare this little bundle of joy deviate from the plan! Doesn't she know that she is suppose to follow MY plan? MY outline?! Then it dawns on me as I laid her down to sleep tonight and she lay there so peaceful, so perfect, so worth every strife, struggle and tear. This is what it's all about. It's pure bliss and I would do it all over again no matter what any plan said.

TIP OF THE DAY: Your plan, may not always be the plan.