T minus 15 hours.

This time tomorrow, it will be October. October 2010 is a month I've looked forward to for a decade, even before I could name the month. It's the month we are going to try. We are going to try to do something that has happened on "accident" to me 3 times. We are going to try to get pregnant. On purpose. Like, unprotected sex, during the "dangerous" time. We are going to hope my period doesn't come. We are going to smile whenever (God willing) we get a positive HPT, instead of, well, cry like I have the last 3 times.

I have been looking forward to this since about 10 minutes after Colin went to his forever home. This itch wasn't cured by my pregnancy/birth/motherhood to Jeb. Jeb was a pleasant surprise, and so when I was pregnant with him, I had a really really hard time shaking the identity of the pregnant teen. Bennett would say to me at times You know, Patti, you're not 17 anymore. This is really OK. No one is mad at you. I knew it, but I didn't know it.

So, I've fantasized about this time, about this month. In my fantasy I have zero fear or ambivalence, only a long awaited sense of right-ness, of correct-ness.

In reality I am terrified. I am so freaked out. I am excited, but nervous, and ready to back out at any minute. I started feeling like this about a month ago, and actually hoped I'd get pregnant on "accident" last month so that I wouldn't have to really actually make this decision.

Imagine my shock and horror at how I am feeling about this! I have been so disappointed in myself! Here I am, 30 years old, and FINALLY at the exact moment that I have been dreaming about for YEARS! What the fuck is wrong with me?

And then? The flood:

Am I ready for this?
Will I ever be ready for this?
Well, the kids will already be almost 4 years apart and I know I want more than 1 and I'll be 31 next year so I'd better just do it already.
Do I really want more than 1?
How can I meet the needs of 2 when I already doubt myself with 1?!
What if it takes a long time?
What if I miscarry, I am 30 after all, and many of my friends have experienced m/c.
What if I have post partum anxiety again?
What if I NEVER SLEEP AGAIN?
Am I ready to nurse 24/7 again?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I'm just thinking about growing my family, that's not so weird.
Maybe something is wrong with me.
What if I am not a good enough mother to have 2.
Have I proven myself good enough to have another?

Ok, this might sound really stupid, but I never expected any birthmother-y shit to come up. Now, I'm smacking myself in the head---- Um, PATTI! How did I not expect giving BIRTH again and becoming a MOTHER again not to bring up any BIRTHMOTHER stuff? Duh.

So there you have it. Motherhood will forever be intertwined with feelings and anxieties over being worthy/deserving/good enough for children in a more intense way than people outside the triad. Of course every mother should strive to be a terrific mother, but in my world? It's been more literal. Colin's parents had to prove to a shit load of people that they were worthy/deserving/good enough. When I was pregnant with Jeb, I had these weird feelings like I had to prove to someone that it was OK that I kept him. I would have dreams that I had to ask Colin's mother's permission to NOT give this one to her. Even now, day to day, I am constantly looking for signs that I am doing well with Jeb, or signs that I am a total failure. (this drives batshit crazy, btw). So now that I'm going to do this on PURPOSE? Well, I feel this enormous amount of pressure to come up with a very concrete and objective report to hand in to someone so the can stamp "APPROVED" on my paperwork. And the 17 year old in me would nod, and put my head down and accept it if that stamp came back "REJECTED".

Yay. There is no pretty bow with which to tie up this post. It's been floating around in my gut, and I just had to vomit it. That's all I have to say about that (for now).

Good Enough

Recently, a friend told me about the philosophy of the "Good Enough Mother". Apparently some psychologist ~100 years ago came up with the theory that children don't need a Perfect Mother, they need a Good Enough Mother.

This came up in conversation because I was doing one of my anxiety ridden rants about whether or not Jeb is getting what he needs. I shared with her that I lay in bed at night wondering: did he laugh enough today? did he run enough today? was I patient enough with him today? was his diet appropriately balanced today? did I put enough A&D ointment on his bum? his bum looked a little red, didn't it? do I change his bed sheets often enough? Bah. It's exhausting, and I'm sure it's not warranted. I know Jeb is well cared for; it's my anxiety torturing me.

So, the theory goes like this: Children don't need perfection in their parents, they need parents who are doing a good enough job. In fact, perfection is detrimental (as well as unattainable) because children would then miss out on some opportunities to develop important coping mechanisms.

My knee jerk reaction was Well, I hope I am better that just Good Enough! But that wasn't/ isn't the point. The point isn't to lower my standards, or change my parenting and take less-good care of Jeb on any given day so as to be "just good enough", or "just this side of neglectful".

It's to reset the questions I ask myself as I fall asleep at night.

I now try to ask myself: was I a good enough mother today? were his needs met in general? I can honestly answer YES! every singe day. And then I focus on the bajillion times I hugged and kissed him, and I visualize his contented and happy face.

When I shift the perspective just a bit, I drift off to sleep knowing that I am absolutely a Good Enough Mother. What a relief.

This whole second-guessing part of motherhood has been my biggest surprise... probably a good future post.

Birthday Eve

Exactly 2 years ago from right now, my alarm was going off. Husband and I were heading in for an induction. At 42 weeks pregnant, I was desperate to give birth. J was due Nov 19, and here I was having a December baby?! He wasn't born until Dec 4th, but the 3rd will always be my Labor Day. We had a totally awesome natural birth, and I immediately became Suction Cup Mama. The severe anxiety set in by day 2. Any signs of distress from the baby sent me into orbit. I thought I was just being a normal new mom, but looking back my responses were fraught with adoption baggage. Anything that wasn't just right, any struggle J had, the littlest things made me feel like my validity as a mom was being threatened. If he fussed and I didn't fix it, if his cord fell off too early or too late, if I complained an ounce about sleep deprivation, someone would come to take him away. If my first baby were better off elsewhere, maybe this one would be too? Maybe someone/something would intervene and he would disappear. J got a cumulative 2 ounces of formula on day 3 before my milk came in and I agonized about whether I could call myself an "exclusive nurser"; had I taken the easy way out that day? (I am so not a 'formula is the devil' breast feeder, it was only my own anxiety.) When J was 3 weeks old, I took a 15 minute walk with my mother. It was the ONLY time I was away from him until I went back to work at 10 weeks. We co-slept full time, so I literally held him all day and night. I physically could not bring myself to be away from him, which fed the Anxiety Beast even more. My husband and I were primed to watch for depression, or the blues, but that anxiety hit me out of left field. I won't even talk about what it was like to go back to work.

I remember one day when I was away from him and I had the thought I am his mother even when I'm away from him. It was a novel concept.

The anxiety is better and different; but not gone. I still catch myself feeling like my motherhood is less valid. I no longer cry every time I leave him, but I lay in bed and wonder: did J run enough today? did he laugh enough today? did he get enough protein? should I have played blocks instead of talking to my mom on the phone? does he feel loved? am I doing something wrong? ---- I KNOW that J is well cared for, happy, healthy, lighthearted, stress-free, and all those good things. But, I'm still trying to prove to someone that it's cool that he's with me.

Thankfully, he is a total mama's boy, so we spend lots of time cuddling, which is obviously the best feeling in the entire world :)