“Their childhood is our motherhood.”
I saw this quote, and it really stuck with me. Nolen’s growth and changes are so all-consuming that it’s easy to forget that I’ve been growing and changing too. So, for my own posterity, I’m putting pen to paper! (Or more accurately, typed words on the internet, I suppose?)
In all honesty, I thought this post would be an easy one to write. My baby turned 1! And I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my first year of parenthood. I really thought I’d sit down and channel all that sap into a well-thought-out post in no time. In reality, it’s been harder than I thought. Why? Because I’ve realized I’m a cliché now, and no one wants to read “time moves so fast!” over and over again.
…although time does and has moved so fast. So you know what, forget it. I’m leaning in.
“It all goes so fast!“
–me, to myself (and sometimes out loud) nearly every day.
I never expected to be so in tune with the passing of time (sounds so dramatic, doesn’t it?). When I think about our day-to-day life one year ago versus now, the difference is stark. I mean, I knew babies change a lot in that first year, but I didn’t KNOW KNOW, until I knew. Ya know?
Consequently, there have been a lot of “Remember the days?” conversations about his sweet tiny-baby self. “Remember the days when he would sleep on our chest?”, “Remember the days when his head barely poked out of the carrier?” (also known as “the baby holster”), “Remember the days when he wanted to breastfeed?” (Yeah, he decided at 11 months he was done with that).
It’s also emphasized that everything really is a phase.
And there are, of course, those phases you’re perhaps happy to see go. Like, “Remember the days of blowouts?” (maybe I shouldn’t jinx myself on this one), “Remember the days of crappy naps?” (Bless you, baby, for developing a reliable nap pattern), and “Remember the days of public transportation meltdowns?” (We powered through!).
On the flip side, there are those phases you want to burn into your brain forever. Like, “Remember the days when he would fall asleep on my shoulder after nursing in the middle of the night?” and “Remember the days when he first started giggling?”
I think the hardest thing about baby phases is that, for better or worse, you never know when they’re going to end. I was happy when the leaky-boob-from-breastfeeing phase ended (a surprisingly longer phase than anticipated), but surprisingly sad (and also excited!) when Nolen stopped doing his silly little army crawl around the house and graduated to hands and knees.
All these phases just reiterate that parenting is just one giant contradiction of emotions. You’re happy and excited that they’ve learned something new while simultaneously sad to see the old phase go. Or, even worse, realize the old phase quietly disappeared without you noticing. Consequently, I’ve found that I’m acutely aware of the end of each day with him. It could have been a long day of baby-wrangling, and I’m ready for him to go to bed, but I always find myself silently acknowledging that tomorrow he won’t be the same baby that he was today.
For me, teeth were a tangible example of this. One night he went to bed with his toothless grin, and the next morning his bottom teeth were coming through, and his smile was forever different. An obvious reminder that he’s no longer the same baby.
This is an obvious statement, but parenting is hard. I mean, of course it is; everyone says that. But I think what struck me over the past year is how that “hard” changes depending on where you are in baby-dom. Looking back on those first few months, it really was survival mode. Disrupted sleep (even though Nolen has always been a good sleeper), feeding every 45 minutes to an hour and a half, and just the general restructuring of the household dynamics. But “hard” changes. Eventually, he became more predictable (both in sleeping and eating), and Shane and I established our new routine.
By months 5 to 6, “hard” looked like longer wake windows (what do you do with a baby for 2ish hours?) and more fussiness as he started to gain some independence. Also, during this period, I felt in a bit of postpartum limbo. I was technically “recovered” from delivery, but not back to my pre-pregnancy fitness. I wasn’t attached to a baby every hour on the hour, but my schedule still strictly revolved around him. During this period, I couldn’t help but feel the stark difference between Shane and my experience as new parents. (And that’s by no means to say he was lacking.) We both underestimated how central mama is to a baby in the first year, regardless of papa’s desire to be involved.
Now, those wake windows are still hard (3–4 hours?!), especially when he’s always on the move. And we’re definitely entering the big emotions territory. As in, he wants to communicate things to us, but he can’t quite do it yet, which leads to meltdowns. It’s hard for him since he can’t just say what he wants, and hard for us to figure out what he wants while wrestling an angry baby and remain calm ourselves. Looking forward to toddlerhood! 🫠
You know what else is hard? Feeding a hungry hungry caterpillar. On Saturday, he ate through 1 omelette, 1 banana, 1/2 a container of cottage cheese, 30 pasta noodles, 10 grapes, 3 spinach pancakes, 2 mini-meatballs, and 1 bowl of mixed vegetables, and he WAS STILL HUNGRY!
Another thing I’ve found is that it really does take a village. Living abroad, Shane and I have become used to living on an island, so to speak. It takes time to meet new people and establish meaningful friendships, so most of our close friends and all of our family live far away. It’s a sacrifice we knowingly chose and expected to go into parenthood with the same mentality, which we have to a degree, but less so than expected. Our village looks like more regular video calls with family, becoming friends with our neighbors who also have a baby, and, for me, finding a group of other international women in Munich with babies around the same age.
I found my “mom group” via a newborn class through Pippagina. If you’re in Munich, especially without family and close friends nearby, I can’t speak highly enough of the community that’s being built through this center. I first found Pippagina because they are one of the few places you could take a birth preparation course in English. I heard about the New Beginnings class (for moms with babies from 2–12 weeks) during the birth preparation course, and signed up. Nolen and I went for our first baby class when he was 5 weeks old, and I am so glad we did. Not only did I learn useful things about newborn life (e.g., new soothing techniques and breastfeeding tips), but I met a group of women all going through the same thing at the same time. (Solidarity!) Today, we still meet up, and I’m fortunate to watch their babies grow too.
The class also forced me out of the house in a way that I’m sure I wouldn’t have done otherwise. Walks in the neighborhood? Sure. A bus to a subway to get to the other side of the city? Probably not. But what a confidence builder it was. Were there moments when I had a screaming baby on public transportation? Absolutely. Consequently, I stopped worrying about breastfeeding him in public or what people thought of us (he’s a baby; you can only do what you can do). In hindsight, it would have been so much easier to stay home, stick to his schedule, don’t disrupt. I see why people choose that route. Taking him out at that point in time was also exhausting (I think we both napped for 3 hours after that first class). But I wanted to feel comfortable being out in the world with him, and starting early was the best thing I could have done for myself. Now, thanks to this group, Nolen and I have been all over Munich together. He still sometimes hates the bus by the time we’re almost home (curse the #57, he says!), but largely we’ve found our groove.
I think now we’ve hit the point in the post where I’m just going to list off all those little things I’ll want to remember one day (at least the ones I haven’t already forgotten; people weren’t lying when they said you forget too quickly 😭). In no particular order…
His big belly laughs when you throw balls at him; Flat Stanley; that time I was on the bus and a woman grabbed his feet to “make sure they weren’t too cold” (😑); towel time; the smell of his baby breath; the backwards jumping bean; the look of Shane and Nolen first thing every morning as they came around the corner of the hallway; teething is SO SLOW; the Harry Potter wooly; crawling like a Komodo dragon; that time we ended up in the back of a DM (a CVS-like store), and while I was trying to breastfeed him to calmness, a stranger continuously looked over my shoulder saying “ist er müde?” (is he tired?) (probably so, lady! back off me!); the faces of the grandmas and grandpas playing peek-a-boo with him on the bus (bless you for entertaining him!); how is there rice/chia/oats everywhere?!; flop time (standard, ultimate, and nature versions); the transition 💩 from breastmilk to real food (ok, maybe I want to forget this one, but I cant. 🤢); I’m a one-mom comedy show; the way our cheeks feel when he smushes his against mine; Captain Cute Explores the Seas; the speed at which his 7-month-old self could eat an omelette and a banana; holster walks; bottle feeding like a baby cow; flipping the pancake; rainbow maker mornings (“woooooooow!”); Al the alien; that feeling of pre-nap exhaustion, immediately followed by missing him when he was asleep; the Bluey soundtrack; post-swaddle stretches; “Oh my baby’s been good to meeee!” 🎶; and lastly, that happy feeling just watching him be (ok, sometimes watching a baby all day is boring, if I’m honest, but generally not!).
I think it’s clear that the baby’s changes have been obvious, whereas the changes associated with my transition into motherhood are perhaps a little more difficult to articulate. I definitely feel different, yet somehow I’m still the same me. Just another contradiction of parenthood, I guess.
I’m curious to see where the next year takes us!
Tschüss,
