Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Date Fail #2

So, I'm still not good with this whole "babysitter" thing.  On Saturday night, Pat's supervisor hosted a party get-together with a few guys from work and their families.  Our original plan was to bring Madison with us, but we were concerned about a few things.  For starters, it was a cookout, and we weren't sure how the temperature would be.  I also wasn't sure whether she would be able to get to sleep in a new environment.  Finally, a few of Pat's coworkers are smokers, the host being one of them, so we worried that there wouldn't be a smoke-free place to keep her.

Of course, we didn't think about any of these issues until after we told Pat's boss we would go.  That left us with three options.  We could 1) not go, 2) have Pat go alone, or 3) both go, leaving Madi with my mom.  Since my mom was having baby withdrawals after her day-and-a-half ladies' retreat (she's got it bad), she had already volunteered to watch her.  We went with option 3.

Warning:  If you would rather not read about my milk production, I would advise skipping the following italicized paragraph.

Problem: we decided to try the babysitter route about three hours before we needed to leave, and I had NO milk pumped.  We're guessing that she eats about five ounces at a time right now.  I can usually only pump about three ounces at a time.  And I needed to feed her twice before we left.  Therefore, in order to be able to go, I would have to produce ten ounces to feed her directly plus six ounces for her bottle.  That's sixteen ounces (a whole pound) in three hours!!!  After pumping three times in a two hour span, I was miraculously able to get six ounces.  Phew! 

Mom got back from her retreat with just enough time to walk her dog and dash over to our place before we needed to leave.  Everything happened so quickly from when we decided we would go without Madi to our actual departure that I hadn't been able to really process what it was we were about to do.  When Pat started the car, I finally realized that, for the very first time, I would be more than an hour away from my baby. 

Thank goodness I had decided to wait for the drive to apply my makeup.  Before we turned off of our street, I was a swollen-faced, sobbing mess.  Pat was starting to think we would have to turn around when he finally managed to distract me.  The evening that ensued was a strange mix of enjoying myself, silently worrying about Madison, and planning the fastest route home, along with a quick explanation for the officer that would surely pull us over for speeding.

I thought I was doing a good job disguising my distress until Pat's supervisor started consoling me.  Apparently I was easier to read than I had thought.

Mom was kind enough to text me updates of how Madi was doing: "She's in her swing with her monkey", "She's asleep", and "I'm about to feed her."  I gradually started feeling better.  And then it happened.  What I had dreaded over the hour's drive came true: my phone rang.  We had a problem: the bottle was leaking milk all over Madison.  I felt like the biggest failure; I had forgotten to put the gasket in when I made her bottle!  I imagined the worst; half the milk must have spilled out! 

We left the party a few minutes later; Pat knew I couldn't handle any more.  On our way home, my mom texted me to ask what she should do with the "rest of the milk".  Thank God!  Madison got enough milk!  I could breathe again.  For a few minutes, anyway.  Then my next irrational worry hit; what if we got into a car accident and never made it home?

Saturday night was a lesson learned: I am not ready to be separated from Madison.  It hurts waaaayyyy too much. 

Does it get easier?

-Kelli

5 comments:

  1. oh my goodness you have it bad! yes, it does get easier. My anxiety though is because G is SO particular so I always worry she will have a melt down and nobody will be able to calm her down but Jonathan or I. Pumping is how I realized I wasn't making enough milk. I was tyring to pump to build up a supply but everytime I would pump when G would wake up from her nap I ended up having to give her the bottle I pumped because I myself was on empty :(

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  2. I can't say I have ever had such a hard time leaving my children....with the exception of having to leave them in the hospital by themselves when they were only days old (and on Thanksgiving for Lila). Every other time seems easy in comparison.

    Just remember that she has Someone watching over her who loves her even more than you do, and He will never leave her (even if you are in a car accident). As long as you leave her with a person you trust, she will be fine for a few hours. Even if she does cry for a bit, it won't hurt her. She knows you love her and always will.

    Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
    Philippians 4:6

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  3. Yeah, I'm pretty pathetic. Christie, you are absolutely right! I think I'll need to memorize that verse and meditate on it next time. Of course, that's assuming Pat manages to convince me to do this again.

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  4. I agree with Christie's advice. I do remember how differently I viewed myself after Brian was born. It mattered a whole lot more that nothing happen to me; because I truly had someone that relied on me. It does get better btw. Can't wait to see you all on Saturday. --Madi's Grandma--Please show her a picture of me before Sat. so she'll remember who I am. And yes, I am a "litte" jealous of her Nana living so close. (but glad for you as well; when I'm being my best self:))

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  5. Remember what the preacher said.....if you let Satan get hold of your what-if stick he'll beat you slap to death with it. I remember doing the what-if thing the very first time we left our kids at home alone. They were pretty big (probably 11, 12, and 13) and it was in the middle of the day, and we were only going 2 miles down the road to the feed store, but I "what if'ed" about wrecks and stuff all the way there and back. Of course, nothing happened, and all that self inflicted misery was for naught! Auntie V

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