Maternal Alarm.

This morning my eyes shot open at six a.m. on the dot. I couldn't believe how amazing it was that Adelyn was still asleep--it had been more than six hours since she went to sleep. Immediately I started making lists of all the things I could do before she woke up--eat breakfast! shower! blowdry my hair!--and before my feet hit the floor the first "waaaaahs" were coming through on the monitor.

This internal alarm clock thing is pretty convenient, actually. It would definitely put Kramer's to shame. It often keeps me from being woken up right in the middle of a deep, delirium-inducing sleep (often, not always). A lactation consultant told me a while back that this was a breastfeeding thing, this instinctual alarm. And that was one of the thoughts that kept nagging me when I knew I was going to have to give it up, one of many nagging thoughts that you're not doing the right thing for your baby if you switch to formula.

But look! I formula feed, my milk supply has long dried up, and my body still hasn't lost it. My body still knows its the body of a mother's, despite how much I wish my tummy bulge would forget.

Speaking of formula--after another round of squirming at the bottle and hardly eating last night, Jason ran to the drugstore around 10 p.m. to get Similac Sensitive, pre-mixed, instead of what we'd been using, Similac Advanced in the powder form. A last ditch effort before going to the doctor.

She screamed the entire twenty minutes he was gone--that horrible, horrible scream when she's been fed, burped, changed, entertained, and rocked, and you know there is absolutely nothing else you can really do. He got back and we hurriedly got the bottle ready. The second we put it to her lips she latched on and didn't let go, didn't even stop to squirm once, for an entire five ounces. Then she slept from 11:30 to six this morning.

My biological alarm clock might still be working even though I gave up breastfeeding, but dear God this formula stuff is a hassle.

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The Good and the Bad.

Yesterday was a rough day, the kind that had me running to BabyCenter every free moment to find solace in other women going through the same thing. Also the kind that had me crying over stressful wedding plans like overpriced DJs and the seemingly endless task of gathering addresses. I thought the postpartum hormones would have run their course by now, right? Guess not.

After an uneventful morning, Adelyn spent the entire afternoon keeping me on my toes and making me question my ability as a mother. That's so easy to do, that last thing. Doubting your mothering instinct. And apparently I'm not alone--the forums on BabyCenter are filled with women claiming they aren't cut out for this.

New moms--me, especially, included--spend so much time wondering if we're doing this right, if maybe we were mistakenly chosen for this whole parenting thing. When she eats a full meal and falls peacefully asleep or her mouth starts to creep into the first traces of a smile I feel content, momentarily successful. But never have I thought to myself, "Man, I am good at this." It's either, "I'm failing completely," or "maybe it'll be okay."

What is a good mother anyway? The ones who are gifted with non-crying babies? The ones who forsake a shower to clean more bottles? The ones who put their children first always, no matter the cost to them? I just don't know anymore. The line between good and bad becomes so blurred with lack of sleep and the blaring sound of crying in your ear.

I can't decide if the test of a good mother comes from instinct or the other mothers around us. Because we love to judge. The same women on BabyCenter who come to the rescue of those doubting themselves chastise those who question letting their babies cry-it-out or who switched to formula to make their lives easier.

Does anyone out there genuinely think they are good at this? Does it come with time, or does the guessing game never stop?

And, ah, finally. I hear (yes, hear) Adelyn pooping. Which must (I pray, I hope) have been the source of her inconsolable discomfort.

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