I Earned A Grey Hair This Year

So maybe the struggle was worth it

I’ve learned how to choreograph my steps in the shower while rubber duckies float on the small pool of water that swirls by the drain before exiting the tub. I’ve learned how to freestyle the happenings of the day in falsetto to limit the amount of whines that leave Babe’s closed mouth. I’ve amazed myself adjusting to the constantly changing rhythms of nap times and feeding times and flexing my reaction times at restaurants where [apparently] every piece of silverware on the table belongs on the oh-so-deserving floor. And yet, I question every night in bed, “am I doing enough?”

Last night, the salt and pepper fairy must’ve decided that I hit the minimum number of “am I doing enough’s” to unleash the salty parts of my peppery hair. I’ve been initiated. And I assume that breakdown for the newly colored strand is as follows: 20% co-parenting, 10% making sure I eat and drink enough to produce milk, 15% remembering anything else on my schedule that doesn’t involve Babe, 12% trying to remember the last day I washed the must from my pits and the grease from my hair, the remaining 43% being unclaimed, but having something to do with losing my sense of time and a regular sleep schedule.

I sit in the mirror admiring my newfound silver strand, cause all the stressful adjustments have led me to some wisdom. For instance, now I know that Google don’t always know what they talmbout, and sometimes going with your first pick is not the vibe. After attending our first doctor’s appointment, the pediatrician, a white male, told me not to co-sleep with her, I respectfully declined and found a new Ped. The pediatrician I found following that appointment is much more aligned with my parenting style, and less scared of everything natural.

These days are full of AHA moments. A lot of this worlds cliche’s are finally making sense, or maybe there are just more layers that I’m beginning to understand. Everybody is different, all humans on our own timeline. Though there are some expectations when it comes to development, every human soul and body comes in on their own clock. Some people can walk at 7 months old, others wait until they’re 14 months. Trusting and accepting human beings as they are is extremely helpful when it comes to babies, or anyone. Allowing kids to lead their life and have autonomy over their pace is so important, and nerve-wrecking as their parent, but absolutely necessary for healthy attachment styles. One of the ways I enjoy letting babe teach me about herself is baby-led weaning, which is giving her real food (not pureed) and letting her put whatever size pieces in her mouth (within reason) and trusting that if she needs to get it out, her gag reflex will kick in and remove that piece from her mouth without my control. And it works. She is now so comfortable when eating her food, and I’m just as comfortable letting her eat like a big girl. (NOTE: this is the primary resource I used for baby-led weaning that helped me feel more comfortable in my own body and nervous system about feeding babe real food at 6 months— solidstarts.com)

Yesterday, I observed 3 early developing humans at the river. None of them were the exact same. I enjoyed watching the differences, the similarities. Their personalities are raw and real. Untouched and unaltered. What a blessing it is to watch each one unfold into who they choose to be.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

Abby xx