Tag: postpartum

The Momlife Crisis

katcanniciLeave a comment

Fun fact: I used to be a television reporter.

Yes, I was one of those people you see on the news standing in front of a fire or protest or parade. I wanted to be Katie Couric. I mean we had the same initials so it was destiny right? Well I never made it to Katie Couric status but I did spend most of my 20s covering everything from Presidential elections to Amish buggy accidents (never change Lancaster, PA). I could write a whole separate blog about my experience in TV news, especially life as a ‘one man band’ reporter, but if you’ve never been in the business then you probably have no idea what it’s really like. The pay sucks, the hours suck, its high pressure and just overall a grind day in and day out. Nonetheless, I enjoyed it (well, until I didn’t). Every day was different and I felt special and like my job gave me purpose. I also felt like I had a pretty cool answer to the “what do you do?” question that without fail everyone asks when you first meet them. But, like I said, it’s grueling, and I hit my breaking point both mentally and physically. So I made the decision to leave the news. It was a huge relief, but then I was left with a big ‘now what?’ I took jobs here and there but nothing ever really stuck, and then I got pregnant. I put my professional life on the back burner, and two kids later, it’s still there.

Which brings me to the idea of a Momlife crisis. It’s like a midlife crisis, but the mom version. If you look up midlife crisis, there are varying definitions, but I’m going with this one: A transition of identity and self-confidence that can occur in middle-aged individuals. So a Momlife crisis is a transition of identity and self-confidence that can occur in moms, and I feel like I’ve been in and out of one ever since I had my first child. It’s not necessarily a bad thing and I want to make it very clear that my children are my world and I know how lucky I am to have them. But I’m not gonna lie and say I haven’t struggled with both my identity and self-confidence since having them.

When you don’t have kids, you have a lot of freedom and simply put, you can be selfish. You can throw yourself into your job or a hobby or take a spontaneous trip somewhere. Not that you can’t do that with kids, it just takes a lot of planning and a lot of energy that quite frankly I don’t have.

When you have kids, young kids in particular, it’s survival mode, and it’s all about them. You run around all day feeding them, bathing them, playing with them, washing their clothes, washing their dishes, taking them to the doctor, taking them to the park, holding them, wiping their tears, changing their diapers, putting them to sleep, and at the end of the day you collapse on the couch and feel like you accomplished nothing and the Momlife crisis emotions kick in. At least they do for me. I feel like I should be doing more, that I should be more successful, more passionate about something (other than being a mom). I work remotely full time, and it helps keep my brain in shape, but it’s not really fulfilling. It’s not my dream job, but at the same time, I don’t even know what my dream job is, because a lot of the time I feel lost. I don’t really know who I am or what I want (the identity part) and I don’t feel proud of myself (the self-confidence part).

So what do I do? Do I start applying to jobs that I think would fill this hole? That would get me out of the house and require me to put real clothes on? But I don’t want that. I like being home with my baby. I don’t want to miss out on these moments. I like taking Luke to school and being there when he gets home to hear all about his day. I like that I can drop everything to take them to the doctor in the middle of the day when they’re sick. Yes it’s frustrating and lonely at times, but it’s a privilege that not everyone has, and what I’ve realized is that this season of life is fleeting. It’s not forever, nothing is. 

And that’s it. That’s what I’ve been reflecting on and trying to work through, the fact that this is a season a life.

A season of diapers, a season of ‘I want mommy’, a season of meltdowns, a season of pure joy when there’s an excavator down the street, a season of wearing the same rotation of leggings and t-shirts, a season of long stroller walks, a season of endless laundry and dishes, a season of Paw Patrol, a season of ear infections, a season of complete selflessness, a season of imperfection, a season of measuring success not by your career or how cool your job is but by how you’re taking care of your family. It’s a season of soaking in every moment because you know that you’ll blink and those moments will be a distant memory.  

I’m trying to learn to surrender myself to this season of life. Because I know I’ll miss it one day. There will come a time when I can focus more on my career and my passions. I do try to fit in that ‘me time’. I’m doing it now by sitting down and writing this blog (although full disclosure Liam is biting my leg and trying to climb on my chair). I’m aware that I need take care of myself to be able to take care of my children, and I’ll admit I am not the best at that, but hey, I’m a work in progress. We all are.

What I’m trying to say is, maybe all of this is less of a Momlife crisis, and more of just life as a mom. And maybe I’m not lost. Maybe I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I’m in an Exclusive Relationship With My Pump

katcannici5 Comments

I guess you could say it’s getting pretty serious…

We hang out all the time, and when we’re not together, I’m plotting out the next time we’ll see each other.  

I definitely know how to push its buttons.

AND we’re exclusive.

I’m talking about my relationship with my breast pump.

For the past five-ish months, I have been exclusively pumping (EPing is apparently the lingo) to feed my baby. This means I use a breast pump (shout out Spectra, you my boy blue!) to get milk for my baby and feed it to him via bottle (as apposed to him getting it right from my breast). Why don’t you just breastfeed him you may ask? Oh how I wish it was that easy…

So obviously I had a very difficult pregnancy, which culminated with Liam arriving four weeks early via emergency C-section. He was whisked away to the NICU, where he started receiving formula since my milk had not come in. I was a mess. My miracle baby was here and I couldn’t even feed him. I couldn’t even have him in the room with me to look at and to hold. It was all so vastly different from my experience with my firstborn. Luke was born five days before his due date, I delivered him vaginally, he slept in our room, and I was able to breastfeed right away. But I had to realize that this was not the same pregnancy, and I had to accept that I could not control this (something I am not good at… ‘laid back’ is not on my resume).

Eventually I was able to try and breastfeed Liam in the hospital. He was so small, and it was never enough, so he usually had to take a bottle of my pumped milk after I spent time with him on my breasts. Each time we ventured to the NICU, I’d hold my breath, the anxiety would build – will he latch well this time? To calm my nerves, I told myself that once he put on weight and was more equipped developmentally to breastfeed that everything would fall into place. That the picture perfect moment I played in my head of me and my miracle baby, sitting in his nursery, breastfeeding and creating an unbreakable bond – would become a reality.

That’s not exactly how things went. Once we were home, I would try to breastfeed him whenever he was hungry. Sometimes he seemed like he was getting the hang of it but most of the time it was a stressful battle that ended with my husband heating up a bottle. This led to a never ending nursing cycle of breastfeeding, giving him a bottle, then pumping. – I was a triple threat! I knew there was no way I could keep that up and that I had to make a decision. In a last ditch effort to get this kid to like the boob, I went to a lactation consultant. It’s funny cause at the appointment he did a pretty good job latching (touché Liam, touché), but it wasn’t a full feeding. She suggested nipple shields but I found them to be annoying for both Liam and I and they didn’t really improve the situation. I held onto one nighttime feeding where I breastfed (and he’d need a bottle after) as this weird badge of honor, like “Look everyone! I’m breastfeeding! I’m not a total failure!” (Spoiler Alert: The only person who thought I was a failure was myself. Also, while it’s on my mind, fed is best, and how or what you feed your baby has nothing to do with how good of a mom you are).

Eventually I decided I would exclusively pump. I don’t remember the exact date I made that decision, it was probably around when he was two months old. It just sort of happened. I was sad at first and sometimes I feel like I’m in this club of my own because no one really talks about exclusive pumping. There’s either breastfeeding or formula feeding and I’m over here planning my day around this machine that I’m constantly attached to like a cow (while scrolling Amazon and draining my bank account). It’s worth it though, and I am damn proud that I’ve made it this far. How much longer will I do it? I’m not sure. Every time I think about cutting back on pumping or setting an ‘end date’ I am consumed with guilt (does mom guilt ever end?!). Also, like I said, I am proud that I am able to do this, and I’m very lucky that I have such a strong supply. Yes, it’s extremely exhausting, and there are times of complete chaos where I’m pumping at the dinner table, Liam is in my lap, and I’m feeding Luke all at once, but, I’m sure I’ll look back and miss it one day.

Ok now to the whole point of me sharing my exclusive pumping journey, which is to highlight the fact that we all put way too much pressure on ourselves. Society has created these unrealistic expectations around motherhood, career, marriage, education, bodies – everything! Our vision is so clouded by these expectations that we fail to see what is best for us.

Mothers feel guilty for formula feeding or going back to work or taking five minutes to shower. Why? Because they have to ‘do it all’?  

A 30-something year old is embarrassed because he or she hasn’t met ‘the one’ and bought a house with a white picket fence. Why? Because the second you hit a certain age you’re supposed to have everything figured out?

A teenage girl doesn’t have any confidence because she’s not a size zero. Why? Because all the girls with tons of followers on social media are thin?

Screw these expectations. What works for you might not work for someone else and that’s OK.

I came across this quote last year and have it saved in my phone. I read it from time to time:

                        You are doing well.

                        And if you aren’t doing well, you are doing your best.

                        And if you aren’t doing your best, you are doing.

                        And if you aren’t doing, you are being.

                        And in being, you are bold.

Let’s all try to loosen the pressure in 2021, take a deep breath, and just be.