Love Hate Relationship

Most new mamas I speak with report a strong love-hate relationship with baby super store, Babies R Us. My love-hate relationship began when Matt and I registered for baby gifts some time during my second trimester, and the relationship has grown even more tumultuous since Caitlin's arrival.
Like a bad high school boyfriend, Babies R Us can make my heart skip a beat one second and leave me sobbing the next. I love that Babies R Us carries everything I need in one place. My time is limited and one stop shopping is life saving. I hate that no matter what day of the week, no matter what time of day, Babies R Us is a madhouse filled with anxious new parents, indecisive relatives buying shower gifts, and screaming babies (my own baby included). I love the Babies R Us rewards program which sends me coupons almost every week, thereby making all this baby gear somewhat affordable. I hate trying to push my oversized shopping cart through too narrow aisles, which reminds me a little bit of the whole birthing experience-something I have tried to forget (at least the painful part). First the love, then the hate. Every time.
Each time I make the trip to Babies R Us, I follow a strict preparation regimen. First, I make a list. Next, I meticulously scan and clip my rewards coupons. Before leaving, I carbo load which gives me stamina and prevents The Hanger (Matt's catch phrase for my hunger/anger, which comes on full force while shopping on an empty stomach). Finally, I put on some work out clothes, load Caitlin into the car, and brace myself.
Yesterday, Caitlin and I made our monthly journey to Babies R Us. Our mission was clear: we set out to buy Caitlin a big girl car seat- the highly rated, yet overpriced, Britax Marathon (Don't worry, Mom. I used a coupon.). As I pulled into the full parking lot, my palms began to sweat. I swore at an elderly grandmother taking too long to leave her parking spot. The hate part of my love-hate relationship was coming on strong. Obviously, the spaghetti I ate prior to departure was not helping.
Once in the store, we were focused. Grabbing only the items on our list, Caitlin and I made our way to the car seat department. There it was. Displayed proudly on the shelf was Baby Bargains top rated Britax Marathon-in stock and ready for purchase. Caitlin smiled approvingly at her new seat and I eagerly grabbed the box from the shelf. Immediately, trouble ensued. The awkward, L-shaped box would not fit into our shopping cart no matter how many different ways I tried. After several failed attempts, a Babies R Us employee kindly offered to carry the car seat to the register. I so appreciated this young man's help and I felt the warm, tingly love part of my relationship returning.
After paying, Caitlin and I somehow lugged our new gear to the car. As soon as I popped my trunk I realized we had another problem. My trunk is small and this car seat is monstrous. Over and over again, I tried stuffing the car seat into the trunk. Over and over again, I failed. I could drive home with the car seat somewhat contained, but the trunk did not close and I deemed this highly unsafe. Why didn't I think of this scenario before? This was a classic new mama move and I felt embarrassed and angry.
Rather than directing the anger toward myself, I decided to lash out at Babies R Us and their ridiculous, enormous boxes. With my trunk half open and the car seat about to fall out, I decided to make a move. I drove (yes, very unsafe...I know) to the fire lane, turned on the hazard lights, and hauled Caitlin back into the store. After cutting three people in the customer service line, I stormed up to a poor young woman and said, "I need help. The car seat I just bought does not fit into my car. I either need you to make it fit, or I need you to hold it for me until later. Please." Rather than telling me to go to the end of the line where I belonged, the young woman said, "Of course. Those boxes are so awkward, I'll come help you."
We went back out to the fire lane where I was greeted by a man in a pickup truck honking and calling me an idiot and a pair of ladies telling me the fire lane was not a parking spot. While I pretended not to hear these people, the store employee looked at the angry drivers and said, "Some people just don't get it," as she lifted car seat out of the trunk. "Have you tried the front seat?" I had, but the car seat completely blocked my view from the passenger window-again, highly unsafe. "These boxes are like tetris pieces, you just have to play around until you get the right fit," she said. After a quick rotation and a flip, the car seat was wedged in the front seat, view unobstructed. The love was back.
I thanked my new best friend, jumped back in the car, and drove away from the fire lane and further criticism of my driving/parking skills. As I drove home, I felt warm all over. While some of this was due to my wrestling match with the Britax, I think some part of me fell in love a little bit with the Babies R Us employee. This young woman reassured me that I was not an idiot, a driver who violates fire lane laws, or an unprepared mother. My heart swooned.
Until I got home and realized I can't get the car seat out. Twenty-four hours later, it still sits on my passenger seat. First the love, then the hate. Every time.

The Voices In My Head

Along with sleep deprivation and stretch marks, comes another, far uglier feature of new motherhood: The Voices. The first voice belongs to Reason. Reason is logical, assured, no nonsense. If Reason had a face, it might look like Mrs. Clark, my fourth grade teacher. Mrs. Clark wore pressed pants and blouses every day. The rumor circulating through Pleasant Street School was that Mrs. Clark once served in the army. Or Reason might look like my husband. Unfailingly calm, patient, and by far the more natural parent in our parenting team. The second, much louder voice belongs to Self Doubt. Self Doubt is persistent, indecisive, anxious. Self Doubt might resemble a more disheveled version of myself. Lipstick on my teeth, tousled hair, coffee stain trailing down my shirt. Reason and Self Doubt argue within my mind constantly, around and around, over and over again. Never ending.
I first met Reason and Self Doubt while reading Baby Bargains during my second trimester. While researching baby equipment, Reason and Self Doubt had their share of debates.
Reason: I don't need to spend money on a bassinet because I have a Pack and Play and Caitlin's future crib is three feet from our bed.
Self-Doubt: Will Caitlin be safe sleeping in the vast terrain of her crib? What if she rolls into the crib bumpers?
At first, Reason and Self Doubt's debates were civil, subdued. Point. Counterpoint.
After Caitlin was born, Reason and Self Doubt began arguing loudly and often. About a week after Caitlin came home from the hospital, Matt had a hockey game and I was alone with the baby. As I held Caitlin and watched her sleep, a sudden feeling of responsibility overwhelmed me. Caitlin was so vulnerable, so dependent. Self Doubt began asking: Am I truly qualified to be somebody's mother? Reason tried to help, but my mind often ignored its sound advice.
Even with almost six months of parenting under my belt, the voices speak on.
Reason: It is o.k. to let Caitlin cry after I put her to bed. This is how she will learn to self-soothe and fall asleep on her own.
Self Doubt: Caitlin will feel insecure, frightened, and abandoned.
On Thursday night, Reason and Self Doubt were finally put in their places. After Caitlin woke from her late afternoon nap, she felt warm, her cheeks were red, her eyes were glassy. Sure enough, her temperature was 101.9. Immediately panicked, I called the doctor's office. Nurse Noreen, who is becoming a close friend and confidant, promptly returned my call. Noreen asked routine questions: Is Caitlin eating? Does she have wet diapers? Are there any other symptoms of illness? Yes, yes, and no. Then Noreen did the worst possible thing: she presented me with a choice. Noreen said I could bring Caitlin to urgent care or to the emergency room that night. Or, I could give her Tylenol, monitor her through the night, and bring her to the doctor in the morning. After a long pause, Noreen asked, "Mrs. McCabe? Are you still there? What do you want to do?" Because her question required an immediate response, Reason and Self Doubt had no time to argue. At this point, Instinct took over. Instinct is always there, quietly lurking. Instinct does not argue or analyze. Instinct acts, knows. "I am going to keep Caitlin at home, let her sleep, and make an appointment for the morning," I said to Noreen. "I think that is a wise choice," Noreen replied, thereby validating my need to listen to Instinct above all others.
On Friday morning, I brought Caitlin to the doctor. Her fever was gone and the doctor assured me she was just fine. Most likely, the fever resulted from teething. Instinct prevailed. Take that, Self Doubt!
Along with my newly expanded hips, the Voices will be a part of me from here forward. Through every action, every decision, Reason and Self Doubt will be present. I accept this part of new motherhood. Thankfully, Instinct is also a part of new motherhood. It has always been there, waiting for its chance to lead.