On Becoming a Parent

This morning, I found our 10-week-old son watching Sesame Street. He wasn’t just intently staring at the screen—believe me, we doubted that he was actually “seeing” it—he was cooing, smiling and kicking his legs, almost laughing. In the blink of an eye, our little monkey is growing up to be a little man. But, before I get ahead of myself, let me go back a bit…

In the Beginning

I wasn’t naïve enough to think that maternity leave would be some sort of fun, easy vacation. There’s no book, website, or any amount of advice from other parents to really prepare you for having a child. Yes, the clothes were washed; the nursery was ready; and, we were anxiously awaiting Grant’s arrival…but we were not ready for it by any stretch of the imagination.

My maternity leave was mostly a blur of sleepless nights and shower-less days, endless nursing and eating post-feeding snacks, drinking gallons of water (although not having to pee every five minutes was a welcome change from pregnancy), and the neverending enigma/dilemma/confusion/frustration that is the learning curve of becoming a parent. The breastfeeding, diaper changing, burping, swaddling, soothing, and other necessities are certainly all big question marks for the first few weeks.

Toward the end of maternity leave, Grant and I went to Sandy Pond with Gram (my mom). Matt and Pap (my dad) joined us for the beginning/ending weekends, and “Uncle” Chris for the whole week in between. Although Grant was too young for the beach, the fresh air and calm surroundings were a welcome change from being chained to the couch in my new role as dairy cow. And, with the Olympics on for the last two weeks of maternity leave, at least I had handball and ping pong and trampoline and obscure boxing matches to watch during 3am feedings.

Slowly, we learned the difference between Grant’s cries—yes, there is a marked difference between “I’m hungry” … “I’m sleepy” … “I’m gassy”—and began to gain some ground, and some confidence, in the new parent marathon. These detective skills, and a newfound notion of what patience really is, would be required tools for the hurdles that lay ahead.

And Then There Was…Work

After exactly six weeks, I returned to work. Fortunately, I was able to take a leave from ASU for the fall semester. We were lucky enough to find an incredible nanny to co-babysit Grant and our neighbor’s 20-month-old son Liam. Our new schedule is pretty hectic but is absolutely ideal for the time being because I can see Grant whenever I want!

I wake up any time after 5am to either nurse Grant or shower and head to my desk. Matt plays the role of Mr. Mom every morning, and watches Grant until Liam and the nanny show up at 9am. I slave away at my desk until 3pm, when I am left with Grant and my own devices until Matt gets home at 8:30pm. During that time, I attempt to relax, try to keep Grant satisfied with ample amounts of food and napping, and cook dinner—which is increasingly difficult to figure out since it has to be a meal that is good/easy for me and still good/easy to warm up for Matt hours later. Matt takes over again after he’s home, changed and fed. And, lately, we’ve been getting up together in the middle of the night – although, fingers crossed, Grant has slept through the night from 6-10 hours straight every night since last Friday (we've learned to never call anything a "pattern" because it always changes).

I’m adding exercise back into my routine starting next week; and, I will resume online teaching for ASU in January. We’re not quite sure how to survive this breakneck speed, but it does seem to get easier every day.

A Delicate Act

One of the things we noticed when I was pregnant was that, often times, people’s stories of parenthood are extremely negative. So we’ve made a conscious effort to always look on the bright side; to enjoy every moment; and, to try to avoid harping on the bad days instead of trumpeting the good ones.

Parenting is: juggling…balancing…harmonizing…conducting…streamlining…multitasking…

Sometimes, when I end my day by doing dishes, making bottles, packing Matt’s lunch, loading the coffee pot, and cleaning the kitchen, I feel overwhelmed. Sometimes, when Grant starts crying the moment our heads hit the pillows, I feel angry. Sometimes I feel like crying, screaming, or running down the street like a madwoman.

But when Grant smiles, chuckles (no full out belly laughs yet), coos, kicks his legs, or stares right through my eyes into my soul, I remember why we chose to have a child. I hesitate to say that I feel complete—there's always room to grow—but it’s no lie to say that my life feels more well-rounded, fulfilled, and joyful. 

I know this is just the start of the long, wonderful story of the Cooper family. But, for now, I feel happier than I’ve ever been simply enjoying the first chapter…