Working moms: 3 tips to help you get back to the grind after mat leave

Returning to work after spending the last year of your life in a baby bubble can seem almost as daunting as scaling Mount Everest. As a first-time mom about to take that giant leap back into the real world, I’ve uncovered a few items I found have helped put my mind at ease.

One of my biggest worries as I head back to work is that I’m missing out on a lot of time with my daughter. This article by Olivia Nicholas, who blogs for Yummymummy.ca, helped me realize that there is ample opportunity in the short time we have together, on any given day, to make a meaningful connection.

Image: http://bit.ly/2qdTuZk

The next piece, by Yuki Hayashi, writing for Canadian Family, helped me focus my energy and plan for my return to work, in fact it reminded me that with a little planning our family could easily navigate this transition and we’ll all be better off for it.

Ultimately, different moms will have different priorities when it comes time to get back on the career path but it’s important to remember that it’s been done before and this is an opportunity to learn from those who came before us. Here are 3 tips to consider as you wade into this new phase in your life:

• Organize! – Whether its child care, pick ups, drop offs, extracurriculars, meals, doctor’s appointments, etc. a little planning will go a long way.
• Make time – Figure out a way to connect with your family throughout the day through phone calls or FaceTime; if you can’t be there in person at least let them hear your voice or see your face.
• Ask away – Ask for help if you need it. Don’t burn yourself out trying to go it alone; friends, family and even the right employer can be a wonderful source of support.

You (we!) can do this. If you’ve made it through the first year of being a mom, you can pretty much do anything. Remember to plan ahead, set aside little pockets of time for family and seek help if you need it. Now go and kill it at the office!

My name is Amy Kouniakis, I am a wife, mom, fur mom, blogger and editor based in Burlington, Ontario. I am currently pursuing a Social Media Marketing Specialization through Northwestern University via Coursera. Feel free to reach out or connect with me at @Amy_Kay8.

Power of pawsitivity

Madison Elizabeth Freckles Kay Kouniakis

The human capacity to love is such a beautifully humbling thing and, if we’re lucky, in this life we have so many opportunities to embrace and express this emotion.

The love between family members is constant and dependable; the love in a friendship is buoyant and joyful; the love of lovers is all-consuming and earth-shattering and the love of parent and child is unconditional and never-ending. All of these relationships are life-changing and shape who we are as people. These are the relationships that make life worth living.

I’ve been incredibly lucky in love. I have the most incredible group of friends. My family is full of generous, kind, caring and supportive people. My husband is the greatest person I’ve ever met and our daughter has shown me how deeply one’s well of love can flow.

There is another kind of love whose power to transform cannot be overstated: that of a pet.

Murphy was 15 years old when this was taken.

I grew up with dogs in my life. I’ve been a cat mom for almost 14 years now. These beings have had such a profound impact on the course of my life and have been a source of comfort through some pretty dark times. I would even go so far as to say that everything I am and I have today is thanks to a dog.

My first dog was Nicky. A plucky little American Eskimo my parents rescued from an abusive situation. He was devoted to just our family and was incredibly protective. Saying goodbye to him was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life. He set me on my path to being an animal lover.

Then came Murphy. Another American Eskimo (my family had a type) who was perhaps the kindest most innocent soul I’ve ever encountered. He never wanted anything more than food or love. He’s the dog that set the bar for all other dogs in my life.

Mia the laser cat.

When I moved out on my own, Mia, a tabby cat, came next. She’s a tough one to love. She is not friendly. She will cuddle me when she senses I’m in distress and she’s protective of our daughter but everything is always on her terms. Shortly after she came into my life, Montgomery, the Scottish Fold cat, entered the picture. He’s the exact opposite of Mia: sweet, loves affection and playful. He keeps me company when I’m sick or very sad. He’s been a source of great comfort.

Next came Murray. A beagle-terrier mix my ex-husband and I adopted him from the SPCA. He schooled us in patience. He was a handful, to say the least. Our house was turned upside down for months as we all adjusted to this new living situation. He eventually became a wonderful dog after A LOT of hard work. He stayed with my ex after we split up because we decided he needed the consistency of his dad. He now has a lovely new mom, a beautiful little human sister and a huuuuge backyard. He’s a very happy boy.

Murray

About a year after my divorce, I adopted Hannah from a rescue. She was some sort of Spaniel cross but they really didn’t know what. She was a ray of sunshine. She breathed life into me. Unfortunately, two weeks after the adoption was finalized, the rescue called me to say her family was looking for her and they wanted her back. It was absolutely devastating. Saying goodbye to her almost killed me.

After Hannah, I hit a serious low. I was in a bad place after the divorce. I didn’t really go out much. I spent a lot of time alone, self-medicating and feeling sorry for myself. I was being consumed by shame, guilt and self-loathing. When Hannah was taken away, the life was sucked out of me again and all those negative feelings amplified. I know the people around me watched in horror as I became a shell of the person I was.

My parents came to me one day about a month after Hannah left, probably out of terror, to offer to buy me another dog – they knew I wouldn’t go the adoption route so soon after Hannah. Part of me resisted the idea of replacing her but another part of me knew I needed to fill that hole in my heart before it consumed me. I agreed.

Hannah

That’s when Maddy came into my life.

She is a beautiful little Cavachon (Cavalier King Charles Spaniel crossed with a Bichon) who reminds me of Elizabeth Taylor from Sex in the City. The moment I laid eyes on her, I was instantly and irretrievably in love with her. I think it took her some time to return the feeling but I was devoted to her from the get-go.

She was the CUTEST puppy you’ve ever seen. I took her everywhere. Walking her was the joy of my life. Cuddling with her was heaven.

After a month or so, I realized I was becoming something resembling a human being again: I was talking to people and going places. I was laughing and enjoying parts of life that I hadn’t for some time.

She taught me how to live again. She taught me how to love again.

When Maddy was about six months old, I decided I wanted to try dating again. I figured I’d give eHarmony a try. I filled out all the questions with great care and made a promise to myself that I was going to be incredibly picky about who I would go out with.

I really lucked out: the first date I went on was with my future husband.

When we first started messaging back and forth, I remember thinking ‘this funny, smart and sexy dude is out of my league.’ But I was so filled with confidence that I went for it. I know that confidence came from the reassuring little dog I always had by my side.

My husband, who grew up without pets, likes to remind me now and then that it was in fact Maddy he fell in love with first. I don’t blame him.

Maddy offering a ‘high’ five.

He spent about as much time wooing Maddy as he did me. He used to bring her toys that he slept with so that she got used to his smell. He would walk her all the time and take her to the park to play. In a way, she brought us both to life and bonded us together.

Now here we are with our amazing daughter and our beautiful home. Our life is by no means perfect but it’s lovely. Most of all, it’s a life. And always, there with us, is that constant little presence. Watching over us and loving us.

It’s with so much pride that I tell you my daughter’s first word was ‘Adden.’ For the longest time we couldn’t figure out what she meant. Then it dawned on me: ‘Ooooh! She means Maddy!’

Clever girl

Photoshop skillz courtesy of Patrick Weberman

I always thought that when I became a mom it would be an effortless transition.

I’ve had pets all my life and I took pretty good care of them. Except for the time my turtle starved to death, and that other time my hamster starved to death (I was kind of forgetful in my youth), I have a pretty solid track record.

‘How much harder can a baby be than a puppy?’ I told myself.

Now that I’m in the shit, literally and figuratively, I think an apt comparison would be Jurassic Park.

Dinosaurs and babies = Samesies

You see, it all starts out the same: you read about dinosaurs/babies and they’re so fun and cool. You’re filled with all the romantic notions and you just know when you come face to face with them you’re going to know how to handle it. You’ve been to the classes, you’ve skimmed all the books and in theory, you’re an expert. Most importantly, they will just fall in step because they will feel the love emanating from you.

Then the time comes for you to get to the island/give birth: the ride is bumpy, sometimes painful and you might shit yourself but when you arrive at you destination/see your baby, you forget you almost died in a fiery helicopter crash or that your ungroomed lady bits were on display for a room full of strangers.

Seeing your baby for the first time is like when Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler see real live dinosaurs roaming the misty countryside of Jurassic Park; it’s a dream come true and a thing of real beauty. It’s just as you imagine it and so, so much more. You cry a lot.

And the first little while after you have your baby/walk with the dinosaurs it’s like this. For the purposes of this comparison, we’ll call this the honeymoon phase. This is the time where you’re in absolute bliss. Everything seems magical and happy and you’ve never been more in love. What on earth could ever go wrong?

Where’s the poop?

About 12 to 24 hours after arriving on the island, though, tiny cracks in the facade start to appear: your baby has trouble latching and you start to worry about her starving to death or you realize they have a T-Rex at Jurassic Park. Your baby screams for approximately eight hours straight 24-48 hours after she’s born because she’s realized she’s no longer in the womb (this is a thing I didn’t find out about until I was in the middle of it – thanks world for not preparing me) or you find out JP scientists have bred raptors.

After that night of endless screaming, my enthusiasm, and I’m sure my husband’s, for the new role we’d taken on dimmed somewhat. We saw that no amount of book learnin’ can prepare you for the reality of being a first-time parent. Kind of like when the JP visitors realize like: ‘whoa, these gigantic animals have been extinct for millions of years and we really don’t know shit about them!’

Into the wild

When it came time for us to leave the hospital, we definitely had mixed emotions: we didn’t want to leave the safety net of nurses and doctors but the idea of spending a night in our own bed sounded like heaven. To be honest, it was terrifying. I really didn’t feel like we had a handle on anything and she was so damn tiny. But we did it! We strapped our little peanut into her car seat and off we went into the world/Jurassic Park!

Now, those early months with your first baby are kind of a blur. It’s really a time of discovery for all of you. There are some really incredible moments: the first time she smiles is like the first time Dr. Grant sees a living, breathing triceratops. Or the first time she grips your finger is like the excitement Tim feels when he thinks he’s going to see a T-Rex.

In many ways, those first few months are dream, at least now that I look back on it. Babies are kind of like little blobs (but way more precious, of course!). They don’t do much. They don’t go anywhere and they don’t get into shit. It’s kind of awesome.

Welcome to the jungle

The first time our girl rolled over is when it feels like shit really got real.

From the moment she knew she could do it, she never wanted to do anything else. Even when you’re trying to clean up the biggest, stinkiest and messiest poop in the history of poops, she wants to roll and roll and roll so that she’s covered in it, I’m covered in it and our dog is covered in it and eating it. It’s pretty shitty – literally. It’s like when the T-Rex eats the goat and throws the bloody leg on the Jeep; it’s bloody messy and you just know it’s going to get worse from here on out.

And it does. The more they move around the more stuff they can get into. And you can try to contain it with baby gates and electrified fences but despite your best efforts to control and protect them, they always find a way to outsmart you.

This is the time in their development when they’re most like the velociraptors in Jurassic Park. They are constantly checking the fences for weaknesses or testing the limits of your resolve. They learn and adapt quickly to their surroundings and if they’re in a pack, you better hope you have enough toys, activities and food to keep them satisfied because sister, they will eat you alive! I had a moment last week where I watched in horror as my darling girl tested a door knob; my mouth went dry and I felt faint. So much like that scene in JP where Dr. Grant watches in terror as a raptor turns a handle and opens a door. I feel, however, my real-life scenario has far more frightening consequences.

All the feels

To be fair, around this time kids can be like those super lovable veggie-eating dinosaurs too. When our daughter started laughing and doing things to get a rise out of us, our relationship took on a new dimension: it became more give and take and less give and give and give. She became more fun to hang out with and it was truly fascinating to be up close and personal with this tiny developing person who was experiencing the world for the first time.

While Jurassic Park, in theory, is a wonderful idea it sadly turns out to be disaster for all involved. The comparison to parenthood might be a little harsh in that regard. Still, it’s interesting in the sense that those ancient beasts were thrown into a situation believed to be under the thumb of their creators and yet, they found a way to evolve beyond those controls. It’s kind of like kids: despite our best intentions they will always find ways to defy expectations and remind us just how little we know about people, life and love until they charge into the picture.

The sisterhood

I heard an infuriating story the other day: my friend was shamed right out of a popular baby boutique in our hometown of Hamilton, Ontario.

My friend walked into this store with her weeks-old daughter and her under-two son. She was exhausted and recovering from giving birth. She was barely holding it together. It took all her energy and will power to go to this store that day. She was looking for help with a baby carrier that was sold in the store but wasn’t purchased at this location.

Before she could even make her request, a woman who worked there – at a store that sells itself as moms helping other moms – asked her rudely if she purchased the wrap there. When my friend confirmed that she had not, the clerk said they’d charge a ‘consulting’ fee to show her how to use it. They also took this opportunity to tell her, condescendingly of course, that she was in fact using it wrong and her baby was in danger because of it.

Let’s be clear: that baby was never in danger. This was a scare tactic to get my sleep deprived and emotional friend to cough up the dough because if the baby was in danger and they had a soul, they wouldn’t have asked for the money first.

My friend was flabbergasted. She asked to speak to a manager. The manager entered the fray and noticed that there was an older child in the picture. She asked if she used the wrap with him – she did not. The store ladies started to clutch their pearls. When it was revealed that her son was sleep trained, they were horrified. And they let my friend know they were horrified with her decision. In my mind, it went something like this: ‘How could a mother be so cruel as to not hold her child 24 hours a day 7 days a week? Away with you she-devil!’

That’s not exactly how it went down but the truth of the matter is, my friend left that store in tears feeling an undeserved guilt and unsupported.

No woman should be made to feel alone like that.

There’s no arguing that we got the short end of the stick in biological terms. I’m not sure what we did to deserve periods AND child birth but they suck. Not to mention the fact that when/if we decide to have children, it seems the responsibility for raising kind, socially responsible children falls largely to women. Now this isn’t the deal in our little family but up until a few decades ago, this was the norm.

When it came to structuring society back in olden times, we must’ve been PMSing that day because we couldn’t pull our shit together enough to avert the patriarchal set-up we’re still forced to contend with. It’s mind boggling to consider the fact that a man with comparable education and experience to me, working the same job as me would be considered more valuable, but that’s a thing! I’ve been in professional situations where my ideas don’t gain traction – even among women – until they are supported by a man.

And to top it all off, even though we’re all women and we all, to some degree, endure these things there exists an attitude of division among us.

This past year, I became a mother (to a human – I’ve been a fur mom for almost 14 years). In this context, I have come to see just how divided we really are.

I equate walking into a room full of moms and their children to walking into the high school cafeteria: I am very self conscious and worried about fitting in. There are definitely mom cliques in these situations and it can definitely feel like a popularity contest. In this contest, though, your parenting style is being judged and other women are always going to be your harshest critic.

Even among childless women, there is a whisper of judgment lurking in their eyes every time my daughter screams in inappropriate places or has boogers running down her face.

Hey, I get it. I’m certainly no saint in this arena. I am in no way immune to making my own judgments about other women. I’d like to think I’m getting better at readjusting my expectations of others as I get older and ‘wiser,’ but this past year has put me on the defensive and I find myself slipping back into old habits.

But the image of my dear friend, with her two babies, walking away from that store in shame forced me to give my head a shake. I’ve been no better than those women who shamed her for not being like them. And in all this, I can’t help but think if the proprietor of that business was a man, it wouldn’t have gone down like that. Isn’t that a super shitty way to feel about members of my sisterhood?

When it comes to momming, there is no tried and true method. If there was, we’d all be doing that. The truth is, we’re all trying to do what’s best for our kids and our families. As women, because it’s fallen to us for centuries, we put a lot of pressure on ourselves to keep all running like a well-oiled machine. It’s so easy to start comparing yourself to other moms trying to do the same job and when they look like they’re ‘better’ at it, the doubt starts to creep in.

I’m thinking it’s time we let go of that picture of the perfect family life; the perfect child; the perfect home; the perfect career; the perfect woman. Perfect is impossible.

We all have different priorities that determine the choices we make and the lives we lead. We need to celebrate our differences and embrace the shared experience of being a woman. Like it or not, this is a sisterhood and we’re far more productive and better off when we have each others’ back .