Mom of the week, Elizabeth seckman

Conner 19, Caleb 25, Carter 21, and Cole 23 

My babies. As you can see, they are well past the age of diapers and car seats. But there was a time when these fellas were little and about as busy and destructive as a pack of feral puppies. There were days I would finally get ready to head to bed and I'd have to stop to think...did I brush my teeth yet today?

Controlled chaos. It was my life. And I can say without the briefest hesitation, that I miss those days more than I ever would have imagined- especially if you'd have asked me at a 3:00 am feeding.

Motherhood can be tough. You're perpetually tired. Constantly interrupted. Heck, you might even be a bit gross, especially if you also can't remember to brush your teeth.  But one day. One day, I swear, you will look back on those years and wonder how they flew by so fast.

When my first son was born, adjusting to the intricacies of motherhood was...

I don't want to say hard, because that's not quite right. It's not hard to be totally, insanely in love with this little creature that you just met. What's hard is the realization that you're not nearly as smart or as well-equipped to be a parent as you thought. You just know that if you mess this kid up by failing as a parent, they're going to one day stick you in the cheapest, most rat-infested nursing home they can find. The pressure is on to do everything not just right, but to do it perfectly.

Let's take breast feeding. That should be easy, right? Guess again.

Have you ever had the dream where you show up to class and it's exam day? You haven't studied, so you're panicking. Somehow you know this test is like your total grade. You fail this? Forget about it. It's over. And holy hell, you have slippers on and they don't even match. You hope there is someone in as much of a panic as you, but you look around and all your classmates are getting out their pencils and paper. They're calm. They know it's test day. They're ready. It's only you.

You are the only one. The lone moron.

That's how those first few weeks of breast feeding felt. I couldn't do it feed without breaking out into a sweat. And that's supposed to be the most natural thing. If I was failing at something as easy as that, how the hell was I going to stop this child from becoming an ax murderer?

But then my grandma called. She told me, first and foremost- relax. No one loves this baby more than his mom, so quit listening to "expert" advice that doesn't sit well with my gut. Then she gave me the kind of advice a lactation consultant (if only I had had one!) would have shared- practical things like adjusting baby's position to get a better latch. Using a warm, wet wash cloth to soothe irritated nipples before a feeding. She reminded me to eat enough, drink enough, and sleep enough to maintain my own energy while nursing because a run down mom is a mom more inclined to cry every time a Hallmark commercial comes on.

Slowly, breast feeding became the most natural thing ever. Much like changing a diaper with my eyes closed. I don't quite recall when exactly I became a pro at it, but in the middle of one dark and possibly stormy night (who the hell can remember the details) I did. I became a pro (in the loosest sense, no one ever actually paid me to raise a baby). That next baby, I could nurse a child while running the vacuum cleaner telling people- nursing a baby is just about the easiest thing ever.

*Not to brag, but not a single one of my guys grew up to be an ax murderer. #momwin

My babies and me

Elizabeth is a mom, a wife, and the caretaker of far too many pets, all of whom her children swore they'd take care of. But they went off to college leaving fur babies in their place. She is a multi-published author of women's fiction and romance. And Lats but not least, Tabitha's very proud aunt. 

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