Category: pregnancy

No one can do it like you.

No one can raise your child like you can, quite literally, because no one is you.  And yet, you know what?  It will be okay.

This is something that I have to constantly remind myself of, as recently as this morning. 

You see, our daughter turned 6 months old over the weekend (I can hardly believe it), so we decided it was time for our Au Pair to begin giving her food during the day. 

As a disclaimer before anyone jumps in with advice about introducing a baby to solid food– we started giving her a tiny bit of food about 6 weeks ago—just for fun, and for exposure to potential allergens (like peanut butter, eggs, soy, etc.).  As I may have mentioned in prior posts, my wife is a pediatrician—so we know how to do it safely, and understand that it’s not for nutrition (nutrition is what my seemingly endless hours of pumping at the office and at home are for—that liquid gold!)

Anyway…

Last night we “trained” our Au Pair on how to give our sweet baby food, what spoon she prefers, where the bibs are, how to ensure at least some of it gets into her mouth (as opposed to being on her face, the floor, her hands, etc.) and what foods we know she likes thus far.  Our Au Pair smiled and nodded, and confirmed that she understood what to do.  It’s not rocket science, so I told my type-A worried mind to relax, and that her endeavors to feed our baby some food today would probably go swimmingly.

Wrong. 

First, I got a text message asking which bib to use—to which I replied that it really didn’t matter.  They were all washable anyway.  Then, I got another message with a picture, showing our baby girl eating with the wrong spoon—it wasn’t her favorite spoon, and wasn’t even a baby spoon.  It was a standard soup spoon.  Finally, after the meal was completed, I got a message that our sweet baby girl wouldn’t take any of her bottle, which is what pushed me over the edge (in my mind, not outwardly).  Outwardly, I responded with a polite text simply saying “next time, please ensure she gets her bottle first, before you try any food.”  My inward thoughts, however, were not so calm.  I immediately launched into “Of course she wouldn’t take any bottle!  You filled her up with tons of prunes and spinach first, so there isn’t any room left in her teeny tiny stomach!  This isn’t rocket science!  And clearly you weren’t listening to the instructions last night, which included a specific disclaimer that milk always needed to take priority, and she should have a bottle before her food; not after!” 

Rage was happening in my mind, and I soon spiraled into other thoughts of guilt:  No one can do it like I can do it.  I should be at home feeding her and not working/having a career.  Maybe we should just feed her at dinner, and not have our Au Pair ever try to feed her.  Even with being spoon-fed the instructions (pun intended), our Au Pair still managed to mess it up.  Now our baby girl (who isn’t great about taking her bottles to begin with) was essentially behind an entire 4-5 ounces of milk for the day.  She might get dehydrated.  She might get constipated.  I wonder if I can sneak in another bottle at some point this evening to make up for the missed bottle.  Etc. etc.

And then I paused on one of those thoughts; specifically, the “no one can do it like I can do it” thought, because it’s something that was extremely hard for me when going back to work and leaving our baby in the care of someone other than me (or my wife), and it’s something I still struggle with.  Some people call it “mom-guilt” or some variant thereof—I call it being a control freak.  (Hey, at least I have insight into myself.)

I slowed down and tried to remember that “no one can do it like me… literally… because no one is me!”  Even my wife and I probably have slightly different methods for feeding our daughter.  And you know what?  Her methods work just fine, too.  Just as our Au Pair’s methods will likely work fine with a little fine-tuning.  I needed to provide the feedback about giving the bottle first, before food, and maybe tell her to use a baby-appropriate spoon next time, but the rest I needed to let go.  Because our Au Pair is not me, and doesn’t do things like I would do them, and that’s okay.  In letting these small things go, I’m teaching my daughter that others can care for her.  And that it’s oaky to be flexible, and not do everything the exact same way every single time.  Life isn’t perfect and doesn’t have to be perfect to be good.  She can still have her needs met, even when I’m not there (or my wife isn’t there), which I firmly believe to be a crucial lesson.  And, while I may think that I have everything to offer, I know that isn’t true—there are so many things our Au Pair can offer on a daily basis that I can’t.  Like speaking Spanish.  Exposing our sweet baby to a different culture.  Different music.  Adorable Pinterest crafts that I wish I had time for, but just don’t.  She’s learning things that I can’t teach her, and being exposed to wonderful enriching things, which is a gift that outweighs the small critique of using the wrong spoon and being behind on 4-5 ounces of milk for one isolated day.  It’s all okay; and, in all likelihood, I will get home tonight to find what I always find: a happy baby, anxious to see me, who is safe, healthy, and has had nothing but love and attention all day… and hopefully more milk. 😉

So, to all the other Mama’s out there thinking “no one can do this like I can!” You’re not alone.  And you’re right.  And yet, it will be okay.

How to not “forget” your other children during the “forgotten” trimester.

One of the hardest things, that I did not correctly anticipate, was how hard it would be to spend time with my older children once we welcomed our new baby girl.  While I relished snuggling a sleeping newborn, and I couldn’t quite seem to get enough of that newborn-baby-smell (it was more powerful than even the strongest pain meds for me!), I was also hurting inside—and I’m not just talking about the physical recovery after a c-section.

Why was I hurting?

Because I missed my older kids!  There is so much pressure on a new mom to bond with her baby, to breastfeed on command (if you’re a nursing mom), to cluster-feed 24-7, and to otherwise comfort and be with your new baby.  And while all of these things are precious, and the newborn phase is fleeting in the grand scheme of life, it doesn’t mean that your other kids can just be “put on hold.”

I could see how excited our 4 year old son and 2 year old daughter were to have a new sister, but I could also see that they couldn’t quite understand why I wasn’t around anymore.  To them, I’m sure it felt like they had been replaced.  Whenever the baby was sleeping, I needed to sleep (or pump, or shower, or do one of a million other things that I couldn’t do while holding a baby).  And whenever she was awake, I needed to have skin-to-skin time, or breastfeed her.  We all lived in the same house, and yet for the first couple of weeks, I felt like I rarely saw my two “big kids.”

Don’t get me wrong– we tried the best we could to make sure they still had time with me, and that I still had time with them.  My wife helped out as much as she possibly could, both with our older children and with the baby.  It still didn’t feel like enough.  I felt like my older kids were being “forgotten” in the forgotten trimester.

How did we fix the issue?  Honestly, the most helpful “fix” was just the passage of time.  Now that our sweet baby girl is 5 months old, I can look back on those first few weeks and reflect that there’s not much I could have done differently, or would have wanted to do differently.  Our newborn needed me.  Period.  I showed my other kids as much love and attention as I possibly could for that phase of life.  And now that we are through that phase and into the next, and now that our sweet baby girl is sleeping through the night, taking predictable naps, and having greater lengths of “awake” time, it’s easier to budget time so that everyone feels like they’re getting their “mama time.”  When our baby girl is napping, I make a concerted effort to just play with the older kids (as opposed to using the time to work, cook dinner, do the laundry, etc.) 

I also try, once per week, to pick up either my son or my older daughter from school just 30 minutes early, and walk home.  It’s amazing how much they’ll tell you, and how valued they feel, from something as simple as holding your hand and getting 30 minutes of undivided attention.  Sometimes we stop off for ice cream on our walk home—or pass by their favorite park and play for a while.  Whatever it takes—because no one should be “forgotten” in the forgotten trimester—particularly children.

While not everyone can have all of your time, you can make time for everyone.

What to give a family with a new baby.

Someone emailed me yesterday asking, “What would you recommend we give as a gift to a family we know who just had a baby?  Chew toy?  Clothes?  Something else?”  Such a great question.  And while the answer might differ depending on who you ask (post-partum mom versus their partner) and what their circumstances are, there are a few solid “go-to’s” that I like to recommend, either because they were things that were gifted to us after the arrival of our kids, or because they weren’t (but I wish they had been). 

My first tip is: new parents do not need that adorable onesie you’re thinking of buying them.  They don’t need any more clothes for the baby, actually.  Or toys.  Or even books.  If you want to get them something tangible at all, the only thing I’d recommend is an Amazon gift card, because then they can use it to buy anything they really need (diapers, wipes, etc.) 

In truth, the most useful and under-gifted things new parents need, particularly those first few weeks/months of the forgotten trimester are much simpler, often intangible, and fall into a few basic categories:

1.         Time. 

First and foremost, give new parents the gift of time!  Whether it’s giving them enough alone time, without visitors, those first couple weeks as they adjust, or giving them the gift of your time so that they can have time for themselves.  Or time for their partners.  Or time for their older children.  Or time to write thank you notes or sip a latte while it’s still hot.  One of the things that is hardest to come by and most appreciated by new parents is just that simple—time.

            One of the things I severely underestimated this “time” around (pun intended) was how much time I would NOT be able to spend with my older two kids.  When you’re constantly trying to nurse a baby, and pump, and get in a little sleep, and change diapers, etc. it is inevitable that you’re going to have less time with your older kids—which for me took a huge emotional toll.  I missed them.  And they missed me.  We would be in the same house all day, and yet I barely saw them, because my wife would be busy helping them with things, and I would be in a different room trying to nurse the baby (because trying to nurse in the same room as my older kids was a disaster for all involved—the older kids were jealous, I was distracted, and the baby was so over-stimulated that latching was even more difficult).  One of the best things my wife did for me?  There was one afternoon where she pre-measured all of the ingredients and set up everything we would need to make cookies.  Even the cookie sheets were ready, and the oven was pre-heated.  She timed it well.  As soon as I was done nursing and the baby was ready for a nap, she said to me, “Okay.  Now, I’ve got this.  You go make cookies with the kids (ages 2 and 4).  And don’t worry about the clean-up.  I’ll do it later—you just have fun.”  And you know what?  It was exactly what I needed, without even knowing how much I needed it; and it was exactly what my older kids needed.  Time.  The whole activity was maybe 30 minutes, start to finish, but it was so nice to just have some time with them to reconnect.  It was healing.

2.         Help. 

Another thing new parents need?  Help!  It’s one of the things they need most, yet likely the hardest thing to ask for.  New parents are supposed to be loving every minute of having a new baby at home.  That’s what society tells us.  And when guests arrive, they’re supposed to offer refreshments and entertain.  But you know what they actually need?  They don’t need someone to come drink all of their beverages and eat all of their food and coo at the baby for a while and then leave—nope.  They need help!  They need someone to come and wash their dishes after they finish making cookies with their kids.  They need someone to run their errands (like making that Amazon return that they can’t seem to manage to get done; or picking up more toilet paper because it’s an emergency and even Amazon Prime same-day delivery won’t cut it).  They need someone to hold a cranky baby while they take a nap, or take a shower, or even just take a 5 minute walk around the block to decompress.  They need someone to get groceries for them.  They need someone to vacuum their rugs, wash and sterilize baby bottles, etc.  The list goes on and on. 

One mom commented to me that the best gift she received was her mother signing her up for 6 months of house-cleaning services from a professional cleaning company.  That sounds heavenly!  One of the best gifts that we got was from my father-in-law—he came over once per week and mowed our very large yard, basically all summer, so that we wouldn’t have to worry about it.  And my mother-in-law was kind enough to stay with our kids for the days when we were in the hospital adding our newest bundle of joy, which was such a blessing.  Also, when my mom and her husband came to stay with us about two weeks after our daughter’s birth, we literally made them a list of things around the house that would be helpful, at their request, (changing lightbulbs, greasing squeaky door hinges, helping us re-arrange some furniture, etc.) that they worked on whenever they could—and it was AMAZING!

Help really ties back into the notion of item #1 on this list— at least for me, there was an overwhelming sense of not having enough time to get things done, because I was constantly nursing, pumping, or trying to cram food down my own throat in the 15 minutes before I was sure the baby would wake up again.  If you can’t give someone the gift of time, give them the gift of help.

3.         Food. 

New parents need food.  And lots of it! 

But, they don’t need it all at once, within the first week of baby’s arrival!  While this is a common thing to give new parents, and can be oh-so-helpful, so many people give new parents food within 2 or 3 days of the baby’s birth that a lot of it ends up wasted, because there is just too much and people’s freezers and refrigerators run out of space.  Instead, it’s more helpful to space things out—set up a meal train for a family with a new baby where people can sign up to bring over a meal on set days at set times.  Or just tell the family that you’d like to bring them a meal and ask when they’d like it.  Staggering the timing can be incredibly helpful, to avoid a family being overwhelmed.

If you’re going to gift food—be sensitive to any food allergies.  When our newest was born, a friend of ours baked us a loaf of bread that was not only beautiful and delicious, but was also dairy, soy, and allergen free.  Just salt, flour, water, and yeast.  Perfect.  We don’t happen to have any food allergies, but the gesture was appreciated, because anyone could have eaten that bread.

Other tips—if you’re going to gift a meal, it’s best if the meal is pre-made and in disposable dishes or containers that you do not expect returned.  The whole point of giving a meal is to simplify the new parents’ lives for at least one meal.  So make it simple—something that can be put in the oven, or quickly heated in a pot or pan, and then easily disposed of.  Avoid things that have more than 1 step required, or things that take an exorbitant amount of time.  Fast, filling, and nutritious is the way to go.  Make sure you include all of the ingredients, if there are things to be added on later.  For example, if you gift a taco kit, have all of the toppings pre-chopped.  And don’t send over meat and taco shells, but then note that the tacos are “best served with salsa and cheese” if you haven’t also included said salsa and cheese.  You don’t want the new family to have to make a special trip to the grocery store—since that defeats the purpose of bringing them the meal.  Finally, don’t gift a meal in a dish that you want back.  My sister-in-law made us enchiladas for dinner and brought them to us.  They were delicious!  Unfortunately, they were in a glass dish of hers, meaning that it was one more thing in our state of chaos to be careful not to break, try to keep track of, clean, try to remember to whom it needed to be returned (and now that I write this—I’m not sure that we ever did return it), etc.  Disposable dishes are a must (or, a sturdier Tupperware dish with a note that says, “This dish is yours to keep!  Please don’t return it.”) 

Another one of my favorite food gifts to give new moms if you don’t feel like dropping off a meal—lactation cookie mix.  Here’s why: even if you’re not sure whether a mom is breastfeeding or not, the ingredients in lactation cookies are safe for anyone to eat (kids and spouses included).  They’re just good cookies that are semi-nutritious.  And bonus—they’re a simple thing that a mom can also take a few minutes to bake with older kids while the baby sleeps, that everyone in the family can later enjoy.  Mixes are readily available on Amazon in a variety of flavors, and as someone who has tested quite a few—most are very tasty.

4.         Companionship. 

Last but not least, new parents need companionship.  As much joy as a new baby can bring, loneliness also presents itself.  Feelings of being overwhelmed, having no one to talk to all day, missing events that you would have attended had you not just given birth, missing your spouse once they return to work and you continue to be at home with the baby all day, etc. are common.  And here’s the thing people forget—companionship is not just needed at the beginning of the forgotten trimester; in fact, it’s needed even more a few weeks after the baby’s birth, because that’s when most visitors stop coming.  That’s when working spouses often return to work.  Once people have “seen the new baby,” it’s like they forget that there is also another person in the house, the new mom, who needs companionship, and needs to been truly “seen.”  Now, all new moms are different in terms of how much companionship they need.  Some moms love having people come over every single day, for several hours at a time.  For me, I liked my “alone time” with our new baby girl, and having someone come over just once or twice per week for an hour or two was sufficient to make me feel like I was still a part of society.  The trick is just to make sure that new mom’s don’t feel forgotten—as much as you probably want to go see the adorable new baby, don’t forget there is someone else you need to pay attention to, also—that new mom. 

(And as a disclaimer—if you ever think that you or a new mom are struggling with post-partum depression or post-partum anxiety, the topic for a future post, reach out and get help, or have someone reach out and seek help on your behalf.)

So, the next time you’re thinking of buying that adorable onesie, or toy, or other gift for a new baby, take a pause and try to think about the above.  Toys will eventually wear out, or be given away, lost, or tossed in the trash.  Same for clothes—they have a limited lifespan.  The gifts that a family with a new baby will truly cherish and remember are those that help them in their time of need, make their lives easier, are sometimes intangible, often don’t cost any money at all, and instead involve giving a little of your time, effort, and, most importantly, love. 

Self-care.

After the two weeks that I’ve just had, it’s time to take a pause and discuss “self-care.” 

I know what you may be thinking—it’s a very in-vogue term that is actually unattainable (or maybe that’s just me.)  It’s kind of like the term “work-life balance.”  It’s the parenting goal a la mode.  It’s something that everyone wants, and struggles to achieve, yet it means something completely different to everyone—and everyone who is striving for it perpetually feels like they’re not quite “there yet,” or are “still working on it.” 

So, what is self-care?  Is it making sure that you’re eating right?  Exercising enough?  (Or in my case, exercising at all?)  Drinking enough water?  Getting that manicure/pedicure that you’re desperately wanting?  Getting your hair cut and highlighted?

Or is it taking 5 minutes in the morning to make that Nespresso latte that you crave?  Or taking an extra 15 minutes at night, when the whole house is asleep, to read a few chapters of that book that you enjoy but seem to never be able to finish?  Or taking a 10 minute walk around the block when you’re at work for no reason other than getting some fresh air?  Or maybe it’s writing a blog post, to vent some of your thoughts/feelings/emotions that are taking up so much space in your mind that you need to clear them out to make room for new thoughts/ideas…

Whatever it is, self-care is necessary, and attainable; albeit not necessarily in the “perfect” way envisioned (but, channeling the message of my last blog post—I’m striving for progress, here; not perfection). 

Let’s take it back a step and examine my last two weeks in a nutshell:

“Hellish” would be barely scraping the surface of how the last two weeks felt.  We had some landscaping done at our home, which required coordinating on my part, our son started speech therapy, which threw off our morning routine, the kids were transitioning from their “summer” school schedule to their “fall” school schedule (differences in meal times at school, and differences in required wardrobe for the day, and supplies, etc.), our sweet baby girl started working on her solid foods (homemade pureed butternut squash for the win!), I jumped back in to teaching a legal writing class one night per week, we had a bout of either food poisoning or a stomach bug at our house, our Au Pair informed us that she would be leaving later this year (prompting a search for a new Au Pair, pronto!), my wife’s medical institution went through the reaccreditation process (a splendid treat that thankfully occurs only once every 10 years, that requires many early mornings), I was on trial for a divorce case involving millions of dollars that required a little weekend work, and I hate to give up my weekend time, (have I mentioned I’m a divorce attorney?), I had my semi-annual partner review at work, our kids started their fall gymnastics classes and fall Sunday School classes at church, we took our annual family photos which required everyone to be up early and looking their best on a Sunday morning, and then there was all of the “normal” stuff like Amazon returns, routine dentist appointments for the adults and kids, cooking, cleaning, laundry, and still trying to fit in family time.  My wife and I were like ships passing in the night.  Every day my brain felt achy from the amount of logistical gymnastics performed throughout the day, making sure that everyone in our house made it to where they needed to go, and accomplished what they needed to accomplish.

And then there was the unexpected—I’ll skip the details, but I had some symptoms suggesting that I should really see a gastroenterologist, thanks to a strong history of colon cancer on both sides of my family.  My response when my wife told me to go see a specialist was literally, “I don’t have time.”  Accurate?  Yes.  Acceptable?  No.

And that’s when it hit me: sometimes self-care is literal.  It’s not about being able to get the manicure you want—it’s about taking care of your physical health! 

So often as mothers we prioritize everyone and everything else above ourselves.  We prioritize our kids (for good reason), and our spouses (also usually for good reason).  We also prioritize our friends, family, bosses, jobs, commitments, schedules, and never-ending to-do-lists; yet so often we fail to prioritize our own most basic needs—the need for health care, for example.

Why is this?  Is it cultural?  Or does it have to do with personality type?  For example, if you’re type-A like me, does that make you more prone to wanting to be superwoman and wanting to “do it all?”  Or is it situational?  Maybe there are times in life when self-care is just not a viable part of the weekly plan? 

I think the answer, like so many things in life, lies somewhere in between all of simple clear-cut possibilities.  Sure, being a type-A personality doesn’t make self-care easier, but it’s circumstantial and a part of our culture.  Americans tend to strive to be self-supporting, not dependent upon anyone else, make the most out of everything, and want the best for everyone in their lives.  In other cultures, they’re more open to accepting help (the topic for an entirely separate blog post at some future time) and do a better job enjoying the moment.  Maybe “self-care,” and “work-life-balance” and other similar terms are so in-vogue right now for a really simple reason: because we, as a culture, used to naturally work things into our lives that took care of our basic self-care needs (for example- women in the 1950’s taking hours every week to get their hair permed; men in the 1950’s coming home and having a cocktail while relaxing before dinner), and in our “go-go-go” and “must-do-more” society, we forget or otherwise don’t make time for these simple moments of self-care.

While I don’t have all the answers as to why “self-care” is such a struggle for some of us, my challenge to all of us today (mostly myself), particularly in this forgotten trimester, is to make time for self-care at least once per week—ideally every day—even if only for 10 minutes.  Whether it’s a long walk to clear your mind, sitting down to write a blog post, having a cocktail before dinner, taking that exercise class you’ve been thinking about, reading a few pages of a good book, or (in the busier weeks) something as simple as prioritizing getting yourself seen by a doctor, let’s all get out there and do some “self-care.”  Define self-care however you need to today or this week, depending on your circumstances and daily logistical gymnastics game; but just get out there and do it!  We will all thank ourselves for it, and we’ll all be better mothers/spouses/employees/friends, etc. because as someone wise once told me, “you can’t give that which you do not possess.”  In other words—you can’t care for others if you can’t care for yourself.

Progress; not perfection.

This has been one of those weeks.  You know the kind I’m talking about—when you’re simultaneously proud of your ability to have a case set for trial (have I mentioned that I’m an attorney?) but still be present for your kids in the evenings, complete the pre-school enrollment forms, remember to buy baby oatmeal so that you can start testing foods with your infant, make it to the dentist, juggle your pumping schedule, complete your mid-year partner review (phew!), take your son to speech therapy before said partner review and before said trial, attend that mom’s group happy hour that only comes around once per month, teach that class that you committed to once per week at the law school, get the laundry done, and make sure there are (semi) nutritious meals for your kids for dinner… but you’re also disappointed in yourself for not making a PowerPoint presentation for the class you’re teaching, not remembering to prepare show-and-tell until you’re rushing your kids out the door, arriving 5 minutes later at your office than you wanted to (even though no one checks on me or cares what time I arrive), snapping at your spouse for something small and insignificant, not getting the kitchen counters cleaned this morning before you left the house or taking the trash out, only practicing your son’s speech therapy exercises with him 4 times this week instead of the recommended 7 times per week, running out of time to make homemade baby food, and for not writing that blog post that you so desperately want to write, because it’s your way of releasing tension?  My list could go on and on…

It’s during weeks like this that I have to remind myself of two things: one, to breathe deeply.  And two, that it’s okay to strive for progress and not perfection. 

So many of us want to be perfect parents (or to be perfect people ourselves, or to have perfect lives, perfectly clean houses, etc.)  It’s easy to lose sight of all of the good we’re doing, and the positive forward progress we’re making. 

For example—last night we forgot to practice the speech therapy exercises with our son at dinner, like we usually do.  We were too stressed and distracted by our baby girl trying solids for the first time, and by me having a meeting that I needed to get to once the kids were in bed.  But you know what happened?  Our son (age 4) reminded us during bath time that we should practice.  And having our son be able to demonstrate this small step toward independence was big—actually, it was huge!  It was progress.

Not having time to make homemade baby food this week?  Our daughter still got to try her first foods, and practice her oral motor skills.  It was progress (and we’ll make the baby food this weekend!)

Not making a PowerPoint for the class I teach once per week?  My students actually engaged in better discussion with each other, and with me, without the PowerPoint.  And, they still grasped the points I was trying to make.  It was progress.

And not getting all of the counters wiped down before I left for work?  At least I got a few of them done.  My kitchen was cleaner when I left it than when I found it.  It was progress.

Juggling a pumping schedule in between being at the courthouse and the office?  It was my perfectly timed 3-hour increment schedule.  But it was progress toward my end goal of nursing/pumping for a year.

Not sitting down to write that lengthy blog post that I’ve been thinking about for days and days?  At least I sat down right now and wrote this post.  It may be fraught with typo’s for all I know. But at least it’s progress.

So sit back and breathe.  Sometimes we need to just cut ourselves some slack in this forgotten trimester, focus less on aiming for perfection, and recognize the progress we’re making in our lives. 

Soak up all of your own progress as parents… and don’t forget to soak up your kids’ progress, too. 

Post-Partum? Or Post-Party? (Damn you, auto-correct.)

In the weeks immediately following the birth of our precious daughter in April, 2019, I got lots of emails.  I mean tons.  Hundreds.  And the fact that I had on an “OOO” (Out-of-office) auto-reply didn’t seem to do me much good (likely my own fault, because I didn’t want to mention “maternity leave” and instead opted to simply state that I was on “a prolonged leave”, out of my own insecurity that potential clients might see those words and run away—a thought that now, in hindsight, seems both baseless and irrelevant.  After all, if someone isn’t okay with me having children and a life beyond the office, then it probably isn’t a good attorney-client match!) 

So, when a potential new client would contact me, and receive my extremely vague out-of-office reply, they would naturally follow-up to ask whether I was okay, and when I might be back.  This inevitably led to me explaining that I was “post-partum,” which in my mind was less stigmatizing than just saying that I was on “maternity leave.”  The problem?  Responding to emails through my iPhone led to the age-old problem of autocorrect.  And, as I learned the hard way, auto-correct plus sleepless nights plus responding to emails while distracted by a new baby can lead to some pretty hilarious mix-ups…

The biggest mix-up, by far, is when I would explain to people via email that I was out because I was “post-partum.”  Auto-correct instantly decided that “post-party” must have been what I meant, and it would change it Every.  Single.  Time.  Being somewhat technologically challenged, I couldn’t figure out how to make it stop!  And being sleep deprived, I didn’t catch the error the first few times it happened, leading to potential clients getting an email from me that read something like this:

“Dear (John):

Thanks for reaching out.  I’m out of the office because I’m actually post-party right now (hence the strange hour of the day you might be receiving this email), and I plan on being out for another several weeks recovering.  I’d be happy to have a phone call, however, and meet you in person when I’m no longer post-party.”

Stupid?  Yes.  Embarrassing?  Double-yes.  Avoidable?  Triple yes.  If I had just gotten over my fear of what stigma may or may not be associated with taking time away to birth a human and heal my body, it never would have happened.  I should have just been honest and straightforward, and said that I was on maternity leave (and deep in the throes of the forgotten trimester).

Although stupid and avoidable, was it also funny?  Yes.  It lightened my own mood when I realized the mistake.  And it actually led to some light-hearted conversations with people who found the typo endearing—which in turn led to some great attorney-client relationships. 

And, lastly, was it also ironic?  YES.  Oh-so-ironic. Because no matter how you give birth, I think we can all agree it is the opposite of a “party.”  And, I would hardly call the “post-partum” period of life a “post-party,” unless referring to the feelings of exhaustion, body soreness, and need for hydration and pain killers—in which case “post-partum” and “post-party” might actually be, on balance, identical.

Keep on post-partying, my fellow forgotten trimester tribe.  Try to find the humor in the little things, and always know that you’re not post-partying alone. 

A word about lactation consultants. And tongue ties. And the passage of time.

In the wake of “world breastfeeding week,” I’d just like to offer a word on lactation consultants.  And tongue ties.  And the power of patience and the passage of time.

When I had our son 4 years ago, he immediately latched, no problem.  My milk came in, and he was exclusively breastfed for 12 full months.  He never had a drop of formula.

Naturally, I made the mistake of assuming (you know what they say about when you “ass-u-me” things) that since I had done it once, I’d be able to do it again.  It would be like riding a bike—that’s what I kept telling myself. 

Wrong!

When our youngest daughter was born in April, I of course had all of the ambition to breastfeed for a full 12 months, just as I had done for our son, and just as my wife had done for our daughter.  We got off to a good start– she immediately latched in the hospital, and for the first 24 hours of life it was smooth sailing.

But then, on day 2 of life, it’s like she suddenly forgot how to latch!  And it was like my nipples suddenly decided to revolt!

The two hospitalist lactation consultants, and my wife, who is a pediatrician, all cringed when they saw the state of my nipples: fire-engine red, and blistered, and perfectly matching the color of my eyes from all the crying I had done because of the stress and physical pain of her not latching.  I was in a “breastfeeding friendly” hospital, which suddenly seemed more like a “breastfeeding scary” hospital because everyone was obsessing over my breasts.  They recommended various techniques to try to work on our daughter’s latch, all of which I tried.  They recommended a soft-feeder, to avoid nipple confusion, which we also tried.  They recommended pumping every 2 hours, to bring in my milk.  And ultimately, they recommended that I quit for a few days, to let my nipples heal. The final straw was when, to my chagrin, they recommended that we supplement with formula, to get her weight back up. 

Quit breastfeeding??  Never.  For some reason, I decided to make breastfeeding our new little baby my personal Mount Everest.  I WOULD make this happen, if it was the last thing I did.

And so, we were discharged from the hospital.  Our homecoming was met with another visit from a 3rd lactation consultant, who told me the same thing: to let my nipples heal.  She said to me, “You know, I feel like you’d give me your right arm if I told you that’s what it would take to help her,” to which I promptly replied, stone-faced and serious, “Absolutely.”  (That should have been a red flag to my inner self that I was taking things a bit far—I wasn’t even able to appreciate someone trying to make light of the situation.)  While she commended my dedication, she made the point of telling me that I needed to be healthy myself, and that the stress wasn’t helping my milk come in, or helping our sweet baby girl latch better.

Was she right?  Absolutely.  Was I truly listening to a word she said?  Nope.  I was in full-on-Mount-Everest-Climbing-mode.

And so, at the age of 7 days old, continuing my search for a magic solution, we took the steps to have our daughter evaluated for a tongue tie.  Ultimately, the dentist we were referred to (a specialist in pediatric frenulectomies) was amazing, and gave us the solid advice that our daughter didn’t necessarily need a frenulectomy.  He said that, in his opinion, it might not improve my breastfeeding outcome substantially. 

It was a turning point for me—until that moment, I had firmly believed that there had to be a “solution” out there—that there were magic techniques a lactation consultant could teach me, or that a frenulectomy to correct a tongue tie would be the magic fix.  It was our decision about what to do—proceed with the frenulectomy in hopes that it provided some benefit, or “let some more time pass,” and come back if things didn’t improve. 

Let more time pass.  Not the magic fix I was desperately searching for, but magic words nonetheless.  Because you know what ultimately happened?  We let more time pass.  We were able to drop the supplemental formula.  I let her grow.  I let her practice.  I let her keep trying.  I kept pumping every 2 hours to ensure I kept up my supply.  I endured painful sessions with her, trying to help her figure it out.  I physically toughened up (i.e.- my boobs returned to a normal pinkish hue instead of fire engine red).  I mentally toughened up (i.e.- I told my type-A self that I needed to be patient).  And I set a deadline—if we weren’t into a good latching/breastfeeding groove by the time she was 6 weeks old, I would continue pumping, but I would “give up” on the latch. 

And somehow, magically, at week 5, she got the hang of it.  Suddenly the world seemed like it was full of sunshine and roses again.  Ever since week 5, we’ve had a great breastfeeding relationship that has continued even now that I’m a solid month into being back at work.

The point is—sometimes there is no magic fix.  Sometimes you just need to be patient, which is one of the hardest things in the world.  Have faith in yourself.  And have faith in your baby.  They need to grow and practice, too.  And at the end of the day, there’s no need to do what I did and make it into your own personal Mount Everest—in hindsight, I don’t think I was particularly mentally healthy during those first 5 weeks.  And hey, if it doesn’t work out for you and baby, that’s okay too—mom’s mental and physical health should always come first, because a healthy mom is what a baby TRULY needs most. 

Find your tribe.

One of the most crucial lessons I learned when experiencing my forgotten trimester was the importance of finding your tribe.  I’m not talking about “Mama Tribe Chicago,” or any one of the hundreds of other Facebook groups dedicated solely to the topic of mothering and all that goes along with it.  And I’m also not talking about your “normal” tribe, who are permanent fixtures in your world.  I’m talking about the tribe of people, some of whom may only be in your life for a short time, that make you feel more “normal” during your maternity leave and forgotten trimester.

For me, my tribe consisted of Wanda, the crossing guard at the elementary school down the street.  Wanda was 66 years old, retired, mother of 3 and grandmother of 8 from New Orleans.  She had a sing-song Southern accent and a smile that lit up her whole face.  Every morning, when I took our baby girl out for a walk, Wanda was there to ask me how I was doing, and to comment, albeit briefly, on how much our baby girl was changing.  She’d say things like “oh, look at how her beautiful eyelashes are filling in,” or “she’s looking bigger!” or “I see she learned how to smile over the weekend!” or “I love that color on her.”  She’d also ask me how I was doing, and offer some inspirational quote like “you reap what you sew, and you’re sewing a beautiful garden, honey.”    

We would only speak for maybe 15 seconds every morning (after all, it doesn’t take long to cross a street, and we only spoke when I was crossing at her crosswalk), but I found myself intentionally crossing the street at “her” crosswalk each day, not out of necessity (there were about 1,000 different routes I could have chosen), but because she offered me the ability to converse with another adult each and every morning.  It made me feel like my life was a bit more normal.  She made me feel happy.  Returning to work, I don’t see Wanda every morning anymore, but I still try to make the effort, on those rare days when I work-from-home, to take our baby girl past Wanda so that she can see her and comment on our progress in her sweet Southern accent.

My tribe also consisted of Chris, the barista at our local Starbucks.  I probably went to Starbucks about twice per week, just to pick up a quick coffee and then continue walking with our baby girl.  But it was the same story with Chris—he learned my name, our baby’s name, my “standard order” of a decaf latte with almond milk, and no matter how many people were in line, he would ALWAYS step away for 10 seconds to hold the door for me so that I could roll the stroller through.  Even after insisting that I was okay, and that I could manage, and he could get back to his customers, he would simply smile and say, “We all could use more help in this world.  The pleasure is mine.”  Such true words, Chris.  I doubt he knew that he was helping me in more ways than one.

Of course, my wife and children were a huge part of my tribe, and served as obvious and constant reminders of how much I enjoy family time, and how much I am loved.  And my friends (particularly other “mom” friends that we met through our kids’ preschool) were wonderful and supportive in their own ways.  And my extended family that came to visit and help.  But for some reason, it was those smaller interactions, with Chris the barista and Wanda the crossing guard, that helped me achieve more normalcy and routine, and happiness.

Interestingly, some of my longest time friends, including friends of mine from law school, or friends from college, were not a big part of my forgotten trimester “tribe.”  Of course they were (and still are!) there for me, but they were more in my periphery vision and not my direct line of sight.  And that’s okay!  The occasional text messages, requests for updated photos of the baby, etc. were all very nice, but to some extent it began to feel like work to me, rather than pleasure.  I think the difference was that the interactions I had with Chris and Wanda were all very light, required zero effort on my part (I didn’t have to respond to a text, or search for the cutest pictures of the baby to forward onward), and the interactions were at my leisure.  I chose to make them a part of my routine; but I didn’t feel a sense of obligation.  I knew they’d be there.

The lesson learned: you may have a different “tribe” during the forgotten trimester.  And while it’s great to maintain your friend and family relationships and keep them in solid condition, it’s also helpful to find those other “tribe members” who may not be a part of your tribe forever, but who help you feel normal, important, and happy.  I probably didn’t say it enough, but when I next see Chris and Wanda I’ll be sure to tell them how much they brightened my day, and how grateful I am that they cared.