Are You Really Failing?

Failures

I’ve had my fair share of failures. Like a lot of them. You guys remember “Auntie Meg’s Salsa”? Yeah… I know, salt in old wounds. Jewelry sales…Fail. Skin care sales…Fail. I wouldn’t call health coaching a failure because my priorities had to shift, but you get the gist. We all talk about failures in careers, dating, and sports but what about in parenting?

 

We’ve just finished Brooklyn’s fourth round of chemo. I should be through the rough excited that we’ve met this milestone, that we only have two rounds left and that she is still fighting. Instead, I’m feeling like a failure.

“You’re not a failure, Megan.” Yes, you can say it, but ultimately it’s the way I’m feeling in this moment. Two days in to Brooklyn’s B cycle and out of the blue, Brooklyn started biting while she was nursing. Im not talking a little nibble like, “Hey Mom, just letting you know I’m here.” I’m talking about the worst case of niplash you can imagine. Those of you who are new here… Niplash is basically whiplash for your nipple, like when your baby is suddenly interested in about eight more things than nursing but can’t be bothered to let go and ultimately leaves you near tears. To call what Brooklyn does Niplash would be a lie. It’s like “Jaws” and “Jurassic Park” had a baby and named it “Brooklyn, destroyer of nips”.  I probably sound dramatic but when my pumped milk starts to look like strawberry milk instead of white milk…Houston, we have a problem. Not only did this biting randomly start, but Brooklyn is also cutting 6… yes you read that correctly, six teeth. Both sets of molars and her lateral incisors. Miserable! On top of getting some really horrible chemo that has made her feel like crap, now we’re basically holding her down to make sure she gets some fluids in with a syringe. IT SUCKS!

So what’s a mom supposed to do when her thirteen month old weaned herself of a binky two months ago and no longer nurses without trying to rip the nip? I cry. How can I not figure out how to find a way to get my daughter not to bite me to the point of me bleeding? How else am I supposed to provide her comfort when the one form of comfort she loved makes her scream (me too girl, me too)? How do I rebuild this relationship of trust with my baby when I’m actually scared shes going to severely injure me? This is where the feelings of failure set in. I’ve tried shields, teething remedies, oral massages, popsicles, wash cloths and the poor kid literally refuses to put anything in her mouth, including a breast. The worst part is she acts like she wants to nurse, and feels bad about hurting me but doesn’t stop herself from trying to turn me into “Elastagirl” when she gives it the old chomp and yank.  Nursing was my go to for comfort for Brooklyn and my favorite form of bonding with her and I miss her little grin.

This cycle is hard on her little body and so hard on me emotionally. I am overwhelmed constantly with trying to remember meds, keeping track of wet diapers, what she eats, what she doesn’t eat, and the list goes on. I wake up after nights of laying in bed, holding her in my arms so she will sleep, and my body aches. I imagine what that little baby must think when she goes through her off periods, gets her appetite back, feels great and then unexplicably feels like garbage. Adding on other baby frustrations of not being able to move around independently, not being able to effectively communicate her needs, and her mouth red and swollen with teeth coming out of left field. This type of stuff brings adults to their knees… imagine doing it as a baby! Breaks my whole soul!

 

I often think about what I did while I was pregnant with her that could have caused this cancer to land on our precious Brooklyn. I exercised. I ate right, avoided lunch meat, and tried my best to not get freaking Covid…but couldn’t stop it. I know that nothing I did caused this tumor and it is a cosmic mistake that stretches to a galaxy “far, far away”. So why do I still feel like a failure at times? I love my daughter endlessly and do my best to make sure she knows that.

The reality of it is, failure is going to happen, but as I sit here and type this I’m thinking “but are you actually failing?” My child is fed, she is cared for, and she is loved. Does it make me a failure that she doesn’t want to nurse right now? No. I can still pump. Does it make me a failure that I’m scared to nurse her? Absolutely not. Have you seen the inside of the mouth of a teething toddler?? It’s scary! Does it make me a failure because I couldn’t prevent her from having to go through this. No. COSMIC screw up. It’s okay to think about failure but reflecting on it, questioning whether its actually failure allows me to put things in to perspective. It’s okay to cry and release the stress but to constantly think I’m failing isn’t. Negative thoughts don’t allow me to grow in to the mom Brooklyn will continue to need as we move forward through these last two rounds of chemo so she can ring the bell at the end of treatment.

May my coffee be as strong as my daughter’s attitude…my feisty little warrior. Fight on baby. Fight on.