I want to dedicate this article to an amazing milspouse, mother, and friend. She was an overall light to those who knew her. She believed in big love, gave amazing hugs, made you feel special, and she had a way of “seeing” you. Beth Ann, you have no idea the impact you had on our community. I hope that wherever you are, you have a full view of how you impacted those around you. You are truly missed.
My story with Beth Ann began in 2009 when I became pregnant with my first child.
I was a brand new spouse, participating in as much as I could to make friends. This was my first experience with under-ways, deployed life, and relying on your community for information and fellowship. I was extremely fortunate to walk into a group of ladies who delivered a keep-it-real attitude with warmth, love, and acceptance.
There was a moment during that pregnancy when it was uncertain whether or not my husband would make it home for the delivery. This new tribe that I had found all volunteered to be there for me…in the room. I. WAS. MORTIFIED. I mean I really liked these ladies, but I don’t know if I liked them in a “sure take a gander at my spawn emerging from my vagina” kind of way.
These women all shared their birth stories either with husband, without husband, or husband present via Video Teleconference (VTC). I was not sure I wanted to have my husband present via VTC. I just imagined the Russians or Chinese tapping into that feed to gain Intel and instead finding me knees up squeezing a watermelon out of a keyhole.
As it turns out, I was harboring all these irrational fears for nothing because my daughter was breach. Snug under my liver and not willing to budge. She was a planned c-section and because of that, my husband was catapulted from the USS Abraham Lincoln and arrived two days before baby came.
Who knew that the anxiety of potentially having a group of navy spouses and foreign intelligence agents see my hoo-ha was the least of my worries? What I was not prepared for was life after my daughter was born. Like many military spouses, I endured a lot while solo parenting the first few months of my daughter’s life. It was not easy. There were tears, screaming, and a lot of bodily fluids, and that was just from me…not to mention what came out of my daughter.
She cried every night the first 6 weeks for about 2-3 hours a night. I would sometimes put her safely in her crib and walk away when it became too much to bear. Then, I would sit in the hallway of my building in Seattle, cry, and, after a few moments, find it within me to walk back in. It was hard to not take her wailing personally. I would often think, “Here I am, I carried you for 9 months, this instant bond moment is not happening, breastfeeding is not happening. Why can’t I make the crying stop?” It was rough.
I must have dragged myself to a spouse coffee looking absolutely awful, because Beth Ann and two of her amazing friends, Karen and Melissa, approached me. They looked at me and gave me all the love that I needed. One of the ladies said, “Hey, we all get these really crazy thoughts after baby is born, for some reason no one talks about them. You are going to be okay and they will subside.” In that moment, I felt instant relief, that maybe I was NOT crazy and, maybe, just maybe everything was going to be okay.
When I mentioned trying to get my 6 week old on the “Baby-Wise” (a ridiculous book that has worked for some people) schedule they informed me that it was futile. My daughter was 6 weeks out of the womb, and I am killing myself trying to get her to abide by a set of very stringent and heartbreaking rules. It. Was. Madness. I was also having a hard time breastfeeding my daughter, so much guilt and sadness poured over me. I felt like an unfit mother, like every other mom on the planet had this whole thing figured out and I was broken. It had been left out of my DNA. It was Beth Ann that looked at me and said, “Hey, this mom life comes with a lot of guilt; this ONE, let this one go. She is fed and she is happy.”
I bring up this story for a few reasons.
ONE. Beth Ann and her amazing two best friends SAW ME. They SAW me struggling and they said exactly what I needed in those moments. No judgment, just god honest truths that I needed to hear.
TWO. They leave a lot out of this whole “becoming a mother” brochure. LIKE A LOT. It is not all brushing your daughter’s hair, wiping a tear and a set of big warm fuzzy moments. Turns out these little beings you create have personalities, opinions, and very specific set of routines that are to their liking. Some might go so far as to call them “individuals.” No book can come close to covering what each of these tiny humans desires. My best advice is to BURN THE BOOKS and listen to your baby’s needs, as well as your own.
THREE. The motherhood fog will lift. One day you will find yourself simultaneously holding a kid on a hip, cooking dinner and catching baby vomit in a free hand; saving dinner and your newly washed jeans from said projectile vomit. No lie, women are truly amazing creatures.
Lastly, just know that you will be okay. Take the help from people. The help from books–ignore, or at least take with a grain of salt. Do what is best for your baby and most importantly what is best for you as a mom. If mom is not taken care of, she cannot take care of the needs of those around her.
Above all, remember to be a Beth Ann, Karen, or Melissa. Take the time to embrace the new military moms, hold their hands, bring them dinner, and take their babies—so they can wash whatever clump of dried substance is in their hair. Impart your wisdom, wipe their tears, and remind them that it will all be okay after a nap and some carbs.