To Work or Not to Work

Even before my baby was born, I knew I was going to have to quit my job and stay home to care for him. That decision was made out of the lack of having somebody we can trust to watch him, not really because I wanted to.

I honestly never imagined myself staying home to care for my kids, not until I had to live in another country, away from extended family. Plus, growing up with a working mom, I always envisioned myself as a career or business woman, leaving my kids to be watched by nannies – just like the way we were raised back home.

But because these were the cards dealt to me, I gave this SAHM (Stay-At-Home Mom)/housewife thing a chance. After several months of my identity forming into “just a mom and a wife,” my depressed self was convinced I really am not the stay-at-home-mom type.

“You’re blessed to have a choice not to work, especially in this economy.” This is what I always heard, and while I acknowledged that, the NJAM (Not Just A Mom) in me constantly screamed in agony for being ignored.

Finding work always seemed so tempting. Every time I got e-mail alerts of high-paying job opportunities where I was qualified, I quickly imagined the adult conversations I could have again, everyday lunches with new-found friends, gossip and TV show discussions – not to mention my purchase power: I could buy my own pair of shoes without having to tell my husband!

I got really excited, but very guilty. Like I was somehow committing a sin for even thinking of going back to work and leaving my baby to be raised by someone else, missing his milestones… missing him, period. But NJAM just wouldn’t shut up: I felt I was letting the achiever in me just die a painful, slow death.

So, I decided to compromise with myself: I found a part-time freelance gig that lets me work from home so I can fulfill my need to earn money (and not allow my creative juices to dry out) while staying with my baby. Still, that didn’t quite work for my social needs: I still felt isolated, yearning for some grown-up interaction.

For a while, I doubted the choice I made. It was a difficult choice to begin with, and being a depressed SAHM made me question my decision. I felt that strong tug-of-war between my need to be a productive, money-earning member of society and my priority to be a mom and a wife, taking care of my family’s needs. Before my son’s first birthday and around my 30th birthday, right at the height of my depression, I felt the NJAM was winning.

I’m a mom – wasn’t I supposed to be fulfilled? I felt so guilty for even questioning myself, but I had to admit to myself that I did not feel “that” fulfillment from being a SAHM. After talking it out with hubby, I decided to start finding work after coming back to the US from a month-long vacation with my family in our homeland.

And then, all of a sudden, I realized how much my baby was communicating with me, through signing, babbling and his attempts at actual speaking. He interacted with me more, showing me how quickly and eagerly he learned what I tried to teach him, showing me how proud he was of himself each time I was pleased.

And then it hit me – while it is true that being a SAHM is often a thankless, sometimes brain-numbing job, the “fulfillment” that comes from spending time with one’s child is real. I feel it each time he hugs and kisses me, each time he signs “sorry” when I show disapproval and each time he does his funny little tricks. Every time I see my baby happy and content, this rewarding feeling hits me, along with the realization that the biggest investment we can ever make in his life is our time.

“It” just came to me later than I expected, but as they always say, better late than never. And I’m glad these hit me before I made the choice to go back to work, a choice I may later regret.

Now, I have decided to embrace this homemaker role and apply whatever skills into it to make NJAM happy. I will blog more often. I will volunteer my skills in our community (among others) and design personalized chocolate bar wrappers as souvenirs for friends’ events.

And because I finally decided not to spend all my free time trying to find more ways to earn money, I will now be able to knock out all the projects I’ve never really made the time to do, like touching my son’s baby book and making an organized system for my recipes, meal plans and grocery list.

Who knows, maybe I can even make money out of it in the future. How’s that for extra achievement?

My Clingy Toddler: Dealing with Separation Anxiety

If my 14 ½-month old son can Velcro himself to me, I’m pretty sure he would. That’s how attached he is to me ever since he was a tiny baby.

I always thought it was just a phase since he was only 6 months old. He wanted to be held a lot and would panic when he doesn’t see me in the room. Everything I read said it was normal for babies to be attached to one or two people – usually mom and dad – and separation anxiety was a healthy part of their development.

But when he turned one, I saw how other kids around his age would just forget about their parents and impatiently dive into toys and anything they can get their hands on. During his first birthday party, I looked at the little kids running around our house, then at my baby stuck to my hip. I know I shouldn’t compare my kid with others, but I couldn’t help it – I was hit with a huge pang of envy.

“He’s probably overwhelmed by this many people,” says one of my friends whose baby is so independent, she even feels ignored sometimes. She may be right, because my son doesn’t exactly get to be around people often.

“Maybe he’s just tired,” says another one. I could think of about 35 other reasons why this boy just won’t let go, and they could all be true. Still, for a while I questioned my parenting skills and asked myself, “why is my baby so clingy?”

These thoughts screamed in my head especially when he and I went to visit our family in another country – family he had no awareness of. Each time I left his sight to go on a bathroom break, he would wail like he was being tortured, only stopping the waterworks as soon as he was in my arms.

It didn’t matter how many people were more than willing to lend me a hand and watch him for a few minutes so I can at least shower. He would refuse to survive without my physical presence.

I knew this was going to happen – after all, we were in a strange place with oddly hot weather and a completely different time zone that threw off his schedule. Everything familiar to him was pulled off his feet, plus he got sick right after we landed, so I knew we were going to be in for a rough first few days.

Unfortunately, it lasted more than a few days. I was so exhausted and at my wit’s end – this vacation without his dad was turning out to be a bad idea, mostly because the break I was looking for backfired on me.

Somehow, we survived even before my husband finally arrived. Milo eventually warmed up to his grandparents, aunties and uncles, playing with them and walking around other places even without me in the room.

He would sign to them, babble and dance to their songs, and behaved perfectly fine as long as they didn’t attempt to take him away. And when he met his cousins, they played as if they’ve known each other all his life to a point where he wouldn’t even care where we were.

More importantly, I had to make some changes in perspective. Instead of “taking a break” from baby care, I decided to think of this whole trip as a long bonding experience and an adventure for me and my son. Though I desperately needed a break, I told myself this wasn’t going to last.

Before I know it, this boy will not want to hold my hand anymore as he learns to walk on his own - I will be the one running after him. Someday, he’ll refuse to kiss me as he runs to meet his friends. And someday, he will be keeping me out of his room… and then all I will have are memories of him as a little boy who couldn’t be without me.

So instead of pushing him to be independent, all I really needed to do was to cherish this short time that he is a baby, because it will be over soon.

See, my mommy instinct now tells me I am right. Since he has mastered his walking skill, he has become more and more independent, venturing into big open places, eager to explore. And when there are other kids around, I turn into wallpaper or a little shrub on the side. Independence is slowly growing into my boy.

Now, the bitter-sweet countdown begins.

Mom and Baby Bond

Even while I was pregnant, I always knew that babies feel everything their mothers feel. What I didn’t know was how much they did, especially during breastfeeding.

My baby had mild jaundice during his first days of life, and it worried me sick. I stressed out over what I mistakenly thought was a wrong latch, which caused him to not get enough food from me, which caused him to not poop and make his jaundice worsen.

I spent unnecessary sleepless nights trying to “teach” my baby to latch on correctly and became stressed and frustrated almost to tears. Apparently, he felt my stress and frustration, and decided not to eat.

Milo went on a hunger strike – and that’s why he didn’t get enough from me to gain weight. He was just as stressed as I was and decided not to eat, which of course stressed me out more. That was our vicious cycle.

The lactation consultant at my pedia’s office then advised me to relax before and during feeding. She told me to sit in a quiet place, put my feet up, and not to think about anything else while nursing. This worked instantly, and my baby fed and gained back his birth weight even before his 2nd week.

Another thing I observed was that my body produced the exact kind of milk my baby needed at that time of feeding. When it was scorching hot, I pumped milk and what came out almost looked like water. It’s as if my baby told my body that he was thirsty because he was hot, so my milk – which was all he drank and ate – came out as thin as possible to quench his thirst.

Isn’t it amazing how this kind of bond exists between mother and child? Mom’s body communicates to a baby’s supposedly immature brain and vice versa without them even knowing it.

Now if only my brain can tell right away exactly what his cries mean without me having to run through the crying checklist…