Bryson’s First Trip Around the Sun: What I learned during year one

First of all, big thank you to everyone who took a minute to read my tribute post to Matt. I know much of what I wrote came as no surprise to many of you. In a word,  he was, and still is, a force. I am proud to continue sharing “Matt stories” because, as I was reminded by so many of you, there are SO MANY to go around. 

After that post, I received quite a few requests to share a little bit more about Matt’s battle against CCA, Cholangiocarcinoma (Bile Duct Cancer) in general, and how we found out. In due time, I will. I understand that part of my effort to continue fighting against this disease will entail education and providing a voice to our journey. As you can imagine, right now, it’s really difficult to re-hash. That being said, I will soon be announcing an exciting event we’ll be hosting later this year to celebrate Matt, raise money for the Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation, and bring together all those who love Matt, whether you were his best friend or shared a beer with him that one time in 2010.  So hang tight. 

We’re shifting gears…now.

As much as 2019 really bit the big one, something very, very special happened: our son Bryson was born. I know many of you followed my pregnancy journey, and hopefully, took a quick peek at my Labor and Delivery blog. I had mentioned wanting to chronicle my postpartum recovery and beyond, but that did not happen, and now I’m sure you can understand why. To chronicle an entire year in one blog post, especially given the year we’ve had, is impossible. So, instead, I’ll share the top five things I learned over the course of this year as it relates to Bryson’s first trip around the sun. 

Top 5 Lessons from Bryson’s 1st Year

It’s OK to need and ask for help

If you’re a long time friend of mine, and perhaps even if you’ve only known me a short while, you probably know that asking for help is not my strong suit; in fact, it’s really, really hard for me. This is not some backhanded pat on the back. It has held me back in so many ways.  I’m sure if I were to really take the time to analyze why I get this twisted feeling in my stomach every time I need to ask someone for the slightest favor, I’d probably correlate it back to my own underlying struggle with self worth. But who has time to analyze things anymore?! Not this girl, and this year I learned just how important it is to my SURVIVAL to throw up the white flag when the tsunami of overwhelm is right around the corner.  As a full-time Marketing Director and a full-time mom trying to cope with the everyday struggle of the “C” word looming in the background, it would have been next to impossible for me to balance everything without the help of our family and friends. From food deliveries to simple visits, which were imperative to Matt’s mental well-being and, in turn, my mental well-being, we were so lucky that our village really showed up.

Special shout out to the grandparents  (Nonna, Vavo, Nonni, and Nonno) for reorganizing your lives to help out your children who elected to live a few states away, thus making it that much more difficult. Extra special shout out to my mom who literally dropped everything in her life, lived in Maryland for a year, without my dad for the first time in 35 years of marriage, to take care of Bryson while I went to work. I know it wouldn’t have been possible for her to do this without the support of her employer, just proving how far our “village” extends. Small shout out to my dad who also learned how to grocery shop, wash his own clothes, pack, and cook more than eggs and toast. Snaps for Jim. 

Every baby is different, so stop comparing.

As humans, I think it’s our nature to constantly compare ourselves to others, even if it’s subliminal. I’d often find myself monitoring Bryson’s milestones and statistics against the “norm,” what other parents posted and other random timelines. What did I find? EVERY BABY IS DIFFERENT, and that my friends, is the only constant. Of course, there are certain indicators  every mom and/or dad needs to be aware of, but for the most part, babies learn things at their own rate and their patterns of growth range tremendously. At one year old, Bryson is 26 lbs and 32 inches long. Needless to say, he’s stately, surpassing many of the two year-old children I know. But, honestly, his dad was a big little guy too. I’m pretty sure Sgambatos just make big babies. And I’m totally fine with that. He walks along furniture, stands up on his own, and takes one or two steps before falling down.   Most of his words are still mumbo jumbo, except for “dada” (heart melt), “mama” and “who dat?” 

His sleep is sub-par, but he is one of the best travelers I know. He absolutely loves his car seat and he’s relatively calm in-flight. He adapts to different environments easily, and absolutely loves other children. He’s definitely a bit of a mamas boy, loves the ladies, and tends to scream in the face of any man trying to hold him (sorry Nonno and Uncle Kris). 

He has a solid arm, with multiple football recruiters (Uncle Rich and neighbor Larry) vying for his early commitment. He loves pointing at people and objects, or rather, taking my hand and pointing at people and objects. He’s learned how to “be gentle” with Charlie, the importance of chewing your food thoroughly, and how awesome a foot tastes (gross). If his feet end up being anything like his fathers, I’m sure it’s a phase he will grow out of quickly.

Every situation is different; you do you.

On that note, every situation is different and there is no right or wrong way to survive the first year, aside from the obvious. I read every book and drilled every mother I knew to figure out the “right” things to do in every situation. But most of that went out the window when life had other plans. Instead of exclusively breastfeeding and pumping, Bryson got a cocktail of it all from the beginning: breastfeeding, breast milk from the bottle, and formula. Why? Necessity. Fed is best. I spent much of Bryson’s first month in and out of the hospital with Matt. Thus, my production was all over the place. I wasn’t quite used to having to pump, so I often forgot the small hand pump the hospital gave me, got engorged, and ended up having little to no production on one side. Eventually, I stopped pumping and basically breastfed Bryson when I was home, and he got formula when I wasn’t home.  Speaking of breastfeeding, I was also totally fine doing it wherever I had to, as long as I had my milk snob cover. I felt like I was wearing a cute, light weight shawl and Bryson easily fit underneath it. I used it everywhere from restaurants to the beach to the airplane. Honestly, if you’re a mom-to-be or a new mom who fears breastfeeding in public, I highly recommend purchasing this. It’s a lifesaver.

What else did I do to oppose conventional wisdom and even my OG plan? Bryson got screen time. Before every “anti-screen time” parent shakes their head, hear me out. As a result of our abnormal and quite frankly, high-stress situation, it was crucial to discover ways to calm Bryson down as quickly as possible. Enter Elmo. And Daniel Tiger. And Splash and Bubbles. Stroller walks helped, and sometimes, we put Bryson (supervised) in an adult bed because it was easier to get him down that way. Judge me if you will. 

He’s healthy; he’s happy (for the most part). I have never once felt like a “failure”; I’m merely surviving. 

 If Bryson is sleeping, DON’T POKE THE BEAR

Important disclaimer: follow your doctor’s advice, especially if your baby is not gaining weight appropriately. This was quite clearly never the case for us, so I’m sharing from my own personal experience. Once Bryson got through the first couple weeks of transitioning home, he started sleeping through long stretches of the night. I remember one night, I had to wake him up at like 6:00 AM because Matt and I were afraid something was wrong with Bryson. Again, he was gaining weight appropriately and there weren’t any signs of distress. During this brief period of infant bliss, Bryson just really, really liked to sleep. Then, like a hurricane between three and four months, we saw some serious regression which continued to ebb and flow throughout the year. Just recently, Bryson trimmed down to one wake up a night.  It’s amazing how limber and agile you become while trying to move as quietly as possible once a baby goes down; and how angry you can get at your dog when he starts barking for no apparent reason while the baby is asleep.

“Well Christina, did you ever think of sleep training?” I can’t tell you how many times I heard this, as many loved ones, knowing the situation, feared for my own well-being, health and quite frankly, sanity. So I totally respect and appreciate the advice and concern. We could not sleep train. We wanted to and attempted to on a couple of occasions; our friends even, graciously, hired a sleep trainer for us. But it just wasn’t the right time for circumstances beyond our control. 

Needless to say, I often thought back to those first couple months when I was worried Bryson slept too much…foolish, foolish Christina. .

Being a parent is hard. Being a new parent can feel impossible.

There has never been something that has simultaneously evoked absolute joy and absolute terror in me like parenthood. I mean, let’s be honest, before motherhood, the only responsibility over another life I had was my dog. And for the most part, as long as he is fed and brought outside to take care of business, Chuck is pretty self-sufficient. I knew motherhood wouldn’t be easy; but I didn’t realize how much it would challenge and change me. And that’s ok. For the most part, the changes have made me a better person and are part of my evolution. I quickly acclimated to not knowing what the hell I was doing; fear of failure went out the window because small “failures” became part of the everyday learning process. I’m one year in and I still feel like I’m swinging in the dark most of the time.

Are there moments when I miss the previous chapter of my life? Of course. Are there times I wish I didn’t have to plan a coffee date with a friend or a drink after work 1,000,000 days in advance? You betcha. I’ve found it super challenging to stick to a workout routine or even eat the way I used to. On January 14th, and the weeks to follow, my life completely changed. Of course there are days where I mourn my old life; where I wish things would go back to the way they were, just with Bryson in tow. Most of these nostalgic moments of grieving my former chapter have little to do with Bryson. However, I’m sure that, especially in those moments of utter chaos and calamity, I would still have had some feelings of nostalgia even if I hadn’t experienced such a horrific 2019. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I love my son more than life itself and I cannot imagine in without him. But, I digress.

Little people are amazing and have the ability to breathe life into everything.

Watching Bryson grow from a teeny little baby to a robust one year old has been amazing. Every milestone, even when it was small, felt like such a win for him; such an accomplishment. It’s really just astonishing to comprehend how much babies learn and how much they develop in such a short period of time.

Though Bryson can be challenging at times, he has brought so much light into our life during a year that cast a lot of darkness. He has his father’s insatiable smile and literally the best laugh in the entire world. He is worth every sleepless night,  every temper tantrum, and every piece of food chucked into my hair. His unconditional love and wild spirit get me through even my darkest moments.  Sometimes, I watch him sleep (for those two hours) at night, and can’t believe Matt and I created this amazing little human.

Bryson James, if you read this one day, I hope you know how much you are loved by so many, but especially by your mama and dada. You have been our light, the reason to fight, and the greatest thing to happen to us. Ever.

On that note friends, thanks for reading along to a little bit of a “lighter” post. Over the next few weeks we’ll be, once again, enter into another phase of transition. We’re moving back to Baltimore, Bryson will be starting daycare (in some format), and I’ll continue to throw pasta against a wall and hope things stick as I navigate through everything. I may even learn how to actually cook pasta?

Until next time,

Xtina