Daydreams of writing, Stay at Home Mom reality, and our first year.

Daydreams of writing, Stay at Home Mom reality, and our first year.

Category Motherhood ; Creative Writing ; Pregnancy ; First Year

I love getting in my Sara mode. There is something thrilling about knowing I can say something and people actually read my words. Before the separation, Mr. S gave me a beautiful teal journal for our first wedding anniversary. Little did I know a few months later that notebook would chronicle my new position of being a navy wife and future stay at home mother. I remember writing my deepest thoughts about what was going on in my body. I wanted to write entries for my son who would someday look back on his life and see what his mother was all about. I wrote about everything from my mood swings to cravings for crispy beef soft tacos from Taco Time.

My mother encouraged me to keep my thoughts private and share them when I felt comfortable. I used the pages to record my fears during my pregnancy. Would I be a good mother? Could I eat enough to keep both baby and I going? I wrote short notes to Mr. S when I knew he would be home late from work. Writing was my only way of communication. It helped give a voice to my concerns about motherhood. I even recorded what I ate. Yes, that journal was my own private memoir to myself.

I remember at the night that I packed my suitcase for my son and me. I put my purse, diaper bag, and everything else I would need in the upcoming days. Little did I know that my escape plan would end up with belongings left behind after we locked the door? My

dear journal was left behind for anyone to see. Of course, there were sections that exposed my life in Arkansas. Why didn’t people like me? Did I put my priorities straight? Would my son still love me if he knew how hard I worked to keep us happy and comfortable? Yes, I worked my butt off trying to keep the home comfortable and clean. I did laundry for three people and used half the week to keep things in order. I hated the 1950’s vacuum cleaner that Mr. S bought for us. I mean if you are going to keep a carpet clean why not you use a standalone modern vacuum. If it were good enough for his grandmothers, it would work just fine for me (a mantra I would hear repeatedly). I eventually won the war of the mop. I was not going to continue washing the floor on my hands in knees. Thanks to a stint with scoliosis, that is not an option for me. I remember the day my mother got me a Swifter cleaner. I felt like I had reclaimed the cleaner title. I was not the greatest housekeeper in my time. I was the type of woman who knew her way around the dishwasher, dryer, and the washer for laundry. The quicker the better.

I loved being a Stay At Home Mother. I wanted to be the kind who enjoyed time with my son and keep the house as tidy as I could that first year. I followed the golden rule of nap when your child naps. Okay

maybe I sneaked in a few laundries in between naps, but I did make up for it with relaxing on our couch after a brief fold and organize. When Mr. S was at work was my best resting time. I would feed my son, than put him in his Fisher Price swing, and soon we would be rocking to some music from the iPod his father gave me one year for Valentines while I tidied up the apartment. Soon afterwards, we would snuggle on the couch and fall asleep to a Netflix movie in the background. It was great. For the first six months, that was our routine. We loved every minute of it.

For the new mother’s out there who were able to breastfeed that first year I salute you. Let me just say I felt like a failure because I could not figure out for the life of me how to use the breast pump. In fact, I am in the minority of mothers who served her child half breast milk and half formula. I wished that I could give my son the sweet nectar from inside of me. Well let me give you a piece of advice even if you do every trick in the nurse is teaching you about breastfeeding it does not always work. I think I was so scared of doing it wrong that my body basically gave up. Stress and anxiety does not go hand in hand with breastfeeding. I was just happy that my son enjoyed the formula I was getting him. I do not think he really knew the difference between mom’s boob juice and the store bought formula. We were not a precise pair. He enjoyed it when he got it… and I felt comfortable when I was able to feed him. I was a big fan of the sensitive to the stomach formula. I already knew when he tried the other type his body just was not too thrilled.

I think that was about the time that my first blog came out (Mother’s Journey…). I wanted to see if other mom has felt the way I did about being a first time mom. I wanted to share my dreams about that perfect first stage of motherhood. I even found articles that I reposted about celebrity parents and their kids. I loved the article about Law and Order performer who stood up for her child when it came to bullying. Now that one was my biggest encouragement. I wanted to be the kind of mom who stood up for her child even in spite of others views.

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