Mirror, mirror on the wall...who the hell am I!?!

September 18th, 2012 is probably one of the coolest days of my life.  I woke up at about 3 A.M. to get my butt down to Rockefeller Center to see P!nk, my favorite modern day artist, to perform live on the Today Show.  I stood outside in the rain, with a withered away poster and a cheap poncho standing feet away from one of my idols...FOR FREE!  It was a dream come true.

At one point I asked a complete stranger next to me to take a video of me singing karaoke to "Blow Me One Last Kiss" while P!nk was singing live in the background.  It was only 30 seconds, but it was one of the funnest 30 seconds of my life!  I got to sing with one of the greatest singers on the planet! You can see my pop singing debut below.

I had posted the video on Facebook and got some funny comments.  One of the most interesting comments I heard was "You're so crazy.  Good for you for keeping your identity.  You look like you had a lot of fun."  This statement, said partially in jest, has really stuck with me.  Obviously, because I'm writing about it almost 4 months after it was said!

The more I focused on "good for you for keeping your identity" the more I started to pay attention to other mother's, more so than usual.  What I came to realize is that many mothers, and actually parents in general, tend to get so wrapped up in their kids that they forget how to live outside of their children.  Now, I'm not talking about having social lives, because I certainly don't have much of one anymore lol.  However, I think some people develop a habit of pushing down their own hobbies and passions for a variety of child based reasons.  Whether it be out of guilt, wavered time management, or pure self neglect.

It's not necessarily a bad thing that this self neglect happens.  I think in some ways it can be admirable.  How can you complain about someone putting every ounce of themselves into making sure they are raising their child in the best way they know how?  But, what I think so many of us tend to forget is that before we bring little human beings into the world, there are many years put into shaping who WE are as a person. It is this foundation that we build within ourselves that begins to develop who we will be/are as parents.  Just like a willow tree (my FAVORITE bit of nature), in order to keep the roots strong and continue the growth, you must continue to nurture it.  Part of this nurturing is of course the growth as a parent (reading books/articles, play dates, vicarious or first hand experience) but I think just as important is the nurturing of our own souls.  Being able to incorporate both of these aspects is even better!  For example, it would have been AMAZING if I could have brought Delilah to that morning concert with me.  But with there only being standing room, no strollers allowed, no public bathrooms (a.k.a. changing areas), and having to be there for 3 hours before P!nk would actually perform, I didn't think it was the best situation for a 5 month old.

I write this entry to other parents, but also to my future self.  I know that life is crazy and not always easy.  It has already been very challenging, but I hope that I can continue to make that commitment to myself to do things that are fun, participate in things that I am passionate about, in the hopes that it will continue my personal growth and equip me to be a better, stronger woman and mother.  I also hope these actions will encourage Delilah to see that no matter how crazy life can get, there is always time for ourselves.  I just can't wait until I can take her to a P!nk concert with me and maybe, some day, she'll take me along to share in one of her passions.

                                 

          

Bumps and Bruises of Breastfeeding

"Although 69% of mothers initially breastfeed, 21% of these stop within the first fortnight and another 36% within the next six weeks."  http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/1984233.stm

Facts like this are written in many different breastfeeding articles; discussing how women essentially "give up" breastfeeding the early weeks after giving birth.  Surprisingly, not many people talk about WHY.  Between the lack of education about breastfeeding as well as the lack of support, its easy to see why some women decide to use formula. As someone who has gone through the trenches of breastfeeding for almost 7 months, I'd like to share a little bit of why it is "so easy" for women to make the switch.

Let's start with the first few moments after giving birth.  A woman is exhausted and drained and has been through one of the most excruciating yet beautiful experiences of her life.  Within moments, if she chooses from the beginning to breastfeed, the baby is placed on her to develop that initial connection.  Sometimes babies don't latch from the get go which can be incredibly disheartening to a brand new mom.  It can make someone feel rejected.  This didn't happen with Delilah and I.  She latched on right away.  Which in my mind meant we were a GO for breastfeeding. If I only knew then what I know now!

Some people imagine that once you give birth, milk just starts shooting out whenever you need it.  But the first couple of days you don't even get milk.  You get something called colostrum; a gooey like substance that is really good for the baby but can be really hard to draw out.  I remember my second day in the hospital, Delilah latched on and I cried.  She had been latching on every half hour to try to get this colostrum and my lady nips were ridiculously sore.  I started to bawling.  I felt completely ridiculous.  I just gave birth!  How in the world is THIS making me cry?  I had asked the nurses if I could meet with the lactation consultant to ask how to ease the pain.  They informed me that she was in vacation (there was only one on staff!?!?!) and that I should just spread the colostrum on my nipple to ease the pain.  Um....ok.  

Later in the week, my milk finally came in.  Again, I thought breastfeeding was going to be all up hill from there.  Boy was I wrong.  The next battle was Delilah's need to eat every 2 to 3 hours.  And I DO means EVERY 2 to 3 hours.  Day or night.  So even though I had just gone through giving birth, my body didn't really get the rest it needed because I was the only one who could really get up to feed my daughter.  It was exhausting.  There were so many times I was completely unaware of my surroundings because I was delirious with the lack of sleep I was experiencing.  This was just the first two weeks.  It would have made the world of difference if we were formula feeding because then Michael could have done more of the feedings while I slept and allowed my body to get the rest it deserved.  Not to say that you are well rested if you formula feed, because there is also the anxiety of a new parent that can come on but at least there is an option for more rest. 

The other two factors that totally mess up the desire to breastfeed are engorgement and nipple leakage.  Doesn't sound pleasant does it?  With engorgement what happens is your boobs are constantly filling up with milk.  Sometimes so much (and so fast) that they can become rock hard.  You get total porn star boobs and can be in ridiculous amounts of pain like your boobs are going to explode any second if you don't nurse or pump the milk out.  What a lot of women don't know is that usually after 6 weeks or a little bit more, your breasts start to produce less milk to meet the demands of your child.  These first few weeks is just an oversupply that your body goes through as it figures out exactly how much milk to produce.  The nipple leakage often goes along with the engorgement.  When your boobs start to fill up too much, they start to randomly leak.  Actually, what's even worse, is that sometimes even when a child starts to cry they can leak.  There were many a times when Delilah (or even some random baby) would start bawling and my boobs would get the cue "It's time to feed!  LET'S GET THESE JUICES GOING!"  Again, that is something a lot of women don't know also doesn't last forever.

Now let's just say that within the first 6 weeks you get into the "swing of things" there are still so many factors that come into play that completely eff up the flow of breastfeeding that so many women are unaware about.  My own journey has been a rough one.  I had a huge drop in supply when Delilah started daycare because she started to rely on bottles more and rejected me as a result.  Like I said, your breasts produce on supply and demand.  So if she is not demanding from me, my body thinks I don't need the milk.  Women always have the choice to pump, but pumping does not draw out nearly as much milk as a baby does.  So again, your telling your body you don't need as much. 

Between being introduced to bottles, teething, and having a double ear infection, there had been various issues for about 2 months that had Delilah constantly rejecting me.  She would usually only nurse at night when she was half asleep.  Although there were a couple of days she completely rejected me altogether which was incredibly disheartening.  This made my job as a breastfeeding mom that much harder.  I had to pump every 2 to 3 hours.  Which technically sounds easy.  But feeding my daughter only takes 10 minutes, where pumping takes 30-45 minutes.  As a working mom, this made my life a living hell.  Trying to be productive while having bottles and tubes tying you down to your desk can make for a challenging work environment.  The same thing at home; I want nothing more to play with my daughter but I am tied down to my chair pumping away.  I was also resorting to natural vitamins like taking 9 fenugreek pills a day, doing warm baths to "loosen the muscles," eating more oatmeal, drinking more water and Gatorade, and all the other home remedies to increase my supply. 

The last thing that made breastfeeding and life challenging is attempting to have a social life.  You have to pretty much negotiate your outings around your breastfeeding.  There was one night that I was out to a bachelorette party and I had to tote along a book bag with me, excuse myself during the evenings festivities, and go into the bathroom to pump just to avoid wasting milk and preventing engorgement.  Let me tell ya, hand pumping like a cow in a dive bar bathroom is not the most exciting experience one can go through.

On November 2nd, Delilah will be turning 7 months old and it isn't until the last few weeks that I feel like we are FINALLY getting the hang of breastfeeding.  We have been home the last three days and I haven't needed to look at my pump machine once.  It truly is a blessing.  I am starting to feel that bond that so many women talk about.  Many women have asked me why I didn't just give formula to Delilah during those hard times I just wanted to give up.  I don't really have a good answer.  It's just something deep down in my gut that I felt was right for my daughter.  And I am willing to make any sacrifice that I need to make sure  my daughter is getting the best of anything I can offer.  It also just felt like the natural thing to do.  Women have been producing breast milk for thousands of centuries, so there must be something right about it.

To me, breastfeeding is worth the fight.  Although I completely understand why women choose to use formula, I constantly encourage women to give it their all when it comes to breastfeeding.  It can be a hard struggle, but it truly is one that you come out stronger in the end.  Women should educate themselves as much as possible.  But I also believe in the power of community.  Breastfeeding moms should share their experiences with other moms.  Not in a way of telling others how to breastfeed, because each mother will have her own journey.  Sharing our stories will help encourage other women that they CAN breastfeed and they can provide the most nutritious milk for their child.  But we also need to be supportive in women who choose to formula feed their children because really, as long as a mother is trying to provide the best nutrition and love for her child, THAT is what really matters.  All of us, whether you're a parent or not, should support and nurture that.

Time flies...when you're in a walking coma

Has it seriously been over three months since I've logged into this thing?  Pitiful.  Truly.  I will get better!  I have to get better because I am learning that there is so much more than just pictures of my daughter I want to document.  I want to document more than her firsts as a baby, but my firsts as a mom, and the firsts Michael and I experience as we go through this crazy journey together.  It really is an exhausting yet completely fascinating time in my life.

Delilah is now 6 months old.  Like...half a year.  Like...in another 6 months she wiill have existed on this planet for an entire year. It blows my mind every day.  She has gone from being a motionless ball of flesh to a crazed firecracker who is always moving.  Like...always.  I have the back muscles of a brick house to prove it; and I mean that in the best of ways, and by best of ways I mean I need a complete top to bottom back replacement.

The last 6 months have been so much fun but upon reflection, I will NEVER forget the very first month.  It was simultaneously one of the most traumatic/rewarding months of my life.  The first week alone, I felt like I should have gotten some sort of gold medal of parenting, (is that not a thing in the Olympics?) just for the fact that I was able to survive it. 

The very first week Michael had the flu.  The man who never gets sick got so flippin' ill, he could barely lift his head or keep his eyes open.  His fever was through the roof, he had shivers, coughs, sniffles, and we had to keep him far from the baby.  This made my job a little bit harder the first week home.  I had just given birth and didn't have any experience with babies. Michael had to literally teach me how to change a diaper because I had no idea.  I held my own the first few days, but then I got to a point, listening to Delilah cry the WHOLE night, that I didn't know what to do anymore.  Michael walked into the bedroom (after trying to sleep away his sickness in the living room) seeing me draped over Delilah's crib, crying more than she was.  I was so exhausted and out of any solutions to make her happy; I felt like I had hit rock bottom and it was only day 4.  This is a scene Michael and I have played out a couple more times, luckily not in a while though!

Then fast forward to day 5, and Delilah has jaundice.  What the hell.  We rush to the emergnecy room, Michael is still trying to keep his distance from her.  Every time he wants to be near her he has to put a duck like mask on, gloves, and sanitize the crap out of his arms.  We experience her first IV, which was horrifying.  And I had my first overnight stay with her in the ER.  Awesome.  She was hooked up to a machine, lights beaming down on her, with a mask on, so needless to say she was NOT a happy camper and we didn't really sleep much that night!

Fast forward to the following two weeks.  Michael is better and able to be the super dad he is.  However, I still have to wake up every 2 to 3 hours to feed my child.  At this point, Michael and I were sleeping in the living room because our bedroom seemed too cold for the baby, and it actually seemed easier.  With all the late night wakings, and the not much napping during the day, I had hit a state of delirium that I had never experienced before.  There was one night I woke up and the baby was laying in my arms, sleeping on my chest.  My shirt was up, so apparently I had fed her.  I had abosolutely NO recollection of even getting up to get her, let alone feed her, and nap with her.  It scared the living shit out of me.  What if I had dropped her?  Suffocated her?  I told Michael about my fears and he immediately called into work to take the day off.  He stayed home and took care of the baby while I slept, pretty much the whole day.  What a good man he is. 

So that's just a schmidgen of the first month.  Following that was projectile poop, learning to cloth diaper, struggles with breastfeeding (that's a whole other entry to look forward to), starting back at work, teething, the first fever, the first ear infection, squeals turning to laughter, solid food, gummy smiles, and just so much more.  These 6 months have shown sides of me that I never knew existed.

I think the best part that I have gained from being a parent so far, is this new ultra I DON'T GIVE A CRAP attitude.  For those of you who know me well, part of me has always carried that a little bit.  But now, I am like I DON'T GIVE A CRAP to the umpteenth power.  I don't give a crap if people think my daughter looks like a boy.  I don't give a crap if people think I'm making my life harder by cloth diapering, breastfeeding, finding used clothes instead of wasting money on new ones, etc.  I don't give a crap if people don't like my parenting style.  I don't give a crap if people thinks it's weird that I sometimes actually drop my baby off at her grandmother's so I can spend alone time with my husband or even my own friends.  I don't give a crap what people say about us, what we look like, what we do, sound like, smell like, blah blah blah.  And I know that this is probably coming off a bit aggressive, but I TRULY mean it in the most zen like way.  When you have a kid, you REALLY begin to realize that people don't matter.  Only you, your child, and your partner.  And yes my husband is just as important as my child, because when Delilah is grown with her own family, I am stuck with that sexy, delicious, sometimes obnoxiously smelly man that is just as much a part of her life as I am. He is the one I am going to die with, so I better like him...a lot. 

The beautiful thing about having a family, a REAL family that is all your own, is that they become the only people you need to worry about.  And they make you realize that you shouldn't have been worrying about anyone else all this time.  I wasted way too many years caring about what other people say about me.  Now, I just want to focus on how I think about myself, strive to be the best person I can be, so that I can be the best mom I can be for Delilah. Because I think in striving to be a great mom, you are striving to be a great overall human being, and that's a beautiful thing.

Are you having a boy?

Growing up, I have never been the girliest of girls.  I still clearly remember one of my friends telling me that when I walked into our art history class in college, wearing an over-sized football jersey, baggy sweatpants, and my hair slicked back in a tight ponytail, that he thought I was a super lesbian.  Offensive? Maybe.  But I can not deny my inner butch, because she is fierce!  Even in high school, the only time you would really see me girled up is when I had a game (yes, I was a cheerleader!) or if there was a dance of some sort.  Now, I can't even remember the last time I put makeup on, and I'm pretty sure whatever makeup I do have is expired.  Which reminds me, I need to make a run to CVS.

I used to worry about having a daughter though because I know nothing about hair, makeup, being "feminine", etc.  But luckily, one of the advantages of having a child at an "older age" I have learned to become very comfortable in my skin, butchiness and all.  I have realized being feminine doesn't mean wearing pink top to bottom, pretending you can't lift anything because you just don't have the same strength as men, or having to hide the fact that you're intelligent, brave, and outspoken.  Being feminine, or a woman, means just being who you are and being proud of it.  Just like any other human being.

I bring this all up because I took all of this pro-feminist energy and put it into Delilah's baby room; or as I like to call, her baby corner, lol.  I decided that she would have a super hero themed room which has garnered some interesting feedback.  Some people have politely said "Oh, what an interesting theme...for a girl."  Others have been a little bit more forthcoming: "Why in the world did you choose that theme?  Did you wish you had a boy, or are you trying to turn her into one?"

I am not trying to push any feminist ideals onto my daughter, nor am I trying to raise her as a boy.  What it comes down to is I LOVE super heroes.  I have seen every Marvel movie (except Ghost Rider 2, but I don't think I have to explain that).  I loved comic books growing up, especially Silver Sable (when does she get her movie damn't!?!) and I think superheroes are pretty good fictional role models for kids of all genders.  Granted, I wish the female characters chests weren't so robust and those chicks figured out that fighting crime would be easier in a pair of flats, but  at least they're kicking butt!  I mean, come on, Rogue can lift a friggin' building!  Storm can control the weather.  Psylocke has some serious weapon skills.  Some of these ladies are pretty bad ass.  So, yes, my DAUGHTER has a superheroed themed room, and it is OK that she is a little girl and has a "male" themed room.  She will not grow up to be lesbian (and if she does, A. I wouldn't care and B. I doubt her room had anything to do with it), she will not go off trying to be like one of the boys, and she will develop her own identity on her own time.  This is just the time when I get to dress her and decorate things the way I like since I have no clue what she likes right now.  If one day she says she wants a princess themed room, well, then that is what she will get.  Her happiness is what is most important to me, not my "feminist agenda." 

And on THAT note:  I have included many pictures for you to check out to see her room.  ENJOY!

Here's her little corner area.

 

The superheroes above her crib.

So I went a little ETSY crazy with her room, lol.  The crib sheets were custom made by RockerByeBaby 

(http://www.etsy.com/shop/RockerByeBaby).  

I just told her what my idea was and she found the perfect fabric for it!

The blanket (which is pretty much my most favorite thing EVER, next to Delilah of course) was made by Chicken and Charlie.

(http://www.etsy.com/shop/ChickenandCharlie)  

They make a bunch of random things with cool fabric.  I had come across a blanket they had with supergirl, batgirl, and wonder woman that looked pretty cool.  I told her about the theme of my room and she sent me THIS fabric, which was a MILLION times cooler than the blanket I came across.  I told her I wanted purple on the other side, and BAM, she made me this blanket.  

The doll was created by Nerdy Dollz.  

(http://www.etsy.com/shop/NerdDollz)  

I seriously could have bought EVERY SINGLE DOLL on this site.  But I went with Hit Girl from the movie Kick Ass.  If you have not seen this movie, stop what you're doing RIGHT NOW and go watch it IMMEDIATELY.  The movie is awesome, but it wouldn't be without her.  She is seriously one of the most bad ass little girls, and probably superheroes, of all time.

Close up of the sheet pattern.  There is also a matching bed skirt.

 

This is a closeup of the pattern of her blanket.  Which has awesome sayings on it like "femme power" and "sirens of strength."  Yes, I know nothing matches color wise, but I don't care!

The wall to the left.

 

I got this made at Spotted Flats.  

(http://www.etsy.com/shop/spottedflats)

I asked them to do Delilah's initials and have each letter star a female superhero who's name begins with the initial letter.  The D features Domino, R is Rogue, and S is Storm.

These are just a couple of pictures I printed out and framed with frames I got at the dollar store.  I did baby version of some popular superheroes. 

We have this growth chart which we have not found a place for  yet.  But we have been keeping track!  

Got it from Dabble Down (http://www.etsy.com/shop/DabbleDown)
 

We also had this light switch in the older apartment.  But it doesn't fit in the new apartment. :-(

Got this from Wookie Design (http://www.etsy.com/shop/wookiedesign)

This is not superhero themed, but I love it all the same.  When Michael and I went to go shopping for a dresser, we went up to the Babies R Us furniture desk twice to tell them which dresser we had chosen.  Each time they informed us they were out of what we wanted.  So we got stuck with this white dresser.  I DID NOT want a white dresser. It seems bland to me.  BUT, we had a dresser decorating party.  We asked our closest loved ones to come  over and write words of wisdom, drawer pictures, love notes, hand prints, whatever.  It's unfinished (Michael and I still have not contributed) but I really love how it's turned out so far. :-)

 

THANKS FOR VISITING!!!!

 

My birth story

So, yes, Delilah is 7 weeks old and I am just getting around to writing my birth story.  Being a new mommy isn't exactly easy!  It's a bit time consuming :-)  Anywho.  Be forewarned that this entry might be a bit graphic.  I am writing it more for myself than anything else and I want to remember it the way I think about it now.  So if poop, vaginas, and cursing aren't your cup of tea, then stop reading now.  Otherwise...continue. :-)

It all started on April 1st around 9ish.  Michael and I were sitting in the living room, watching something on tv, when I noticed the silence in our apartment.  I realized that the baby was gonna be here any day.  I had a feeling all along that she was gonna come earlier rather than later.  I looked over at Michael and realized that my alone time with him was going to become practically nonexistent.  I suggested to him that maybe we should take advantage of our alone time...AKA lets get to sexing each other up!

After all was said and done, I started to feel cramps immediately.  But I chalked it up to being pregnant and maybe the relations just hit something.  We went to bed and I was feeling a slight numbing pain in my lower abdomen.  Michael fell asleep in about .2 seconds, as his is usual fashion on a day to day basis.  The man has a talent. But I lied awake with this mild pain.  All of the sudden the pain started to go to my back.  I didn't start thinking contractions yet because as it was explained to me, contractions came in and out and this pain was constant.  I was still thinking it was some sort of punishment of trying to get my preggo groove on.

An hour later the pains were still there and still a bit constant. I looked up braxton hicks (false contractions) and it said the pain would either go away from moving in a different position or taking a warm bath.  I had already moved in a bunch of different positions so I opted for the bath...and I DETEST baths, so you know I was desperate for some relief.  I hopped in a warm bath for about 30 mins and the pain actually went away.  So I then chalked up the pain to having a case of braxton hicks.

The MOMENT I got out of the tub, the pain started again.  So I started to let myself entertain the idea that I MIGHT be going into labor.  But I didn't want to get myself too psyched up.  I didn't want to raise hope just to have it crushed and be told that I would have to wait weeks to meet my lil baby.  I decided to wake Michael up finally, so that if anything, he could at least keep me company until the pain went away.  We decided that we would watch a movie, but Michael had to poop first.  This part is important, I promise lol.

So as Michael is sitting on the toilet, I'm walking around the living room, trying to keep a steady pace to my breathing.  I noticed that the pain was starting to have more of a rhythm to it.  Michael suggested that we start timing the pain to see if they were contractions.  So there Michael is, sitting on the toilet.  And there I am, a big round lady huffing and puffing around like a cow in heat.  We tracked a few contractions in which Michael informed me that the pains he had tracked, if they were contractions, were two minutes apart.  Now, mind you, we had learned in our child birth classes that once your contractions are 5 minutes apart you HAVE to go to the hospital.  So needless to say, I needed to get my butt moving.  In my stubborn fashion, I refused and told him I wanted to stay home as long as possible.  I literally had ONE more contraction right after and said "Yeah babe, we need to go, NOW."

Michael cleaned up and ran out to go get the car.  I don't really remember what happened in those few moments alone.  I just remember being alone and not liking it.  Michael came back in and I ran to the bathroom.  When I pulled my pants down I realized there was a little liquid.  I had a feeling this meant my water was breaking, but again, I didn't want to get my hopes up.  BUT, I did poop.  Which made me smile probably more than it should have.  I had heard a lot of stories of mom's being embarrassed about pooping during labor, and although I really didn't care about that, I was glad it was one less thing I had to worry about.

After about a little over of 2 hours of laboring at home, we finally headed to the hospital and the pain was actually becoming excruciating and mildly unbearable.  I started making loud OOOOOing sounds and grasping the car doors tightly.  Luckily it was in the middle of the night, so Michael was able to drive pass all the red lights to get to the hospital that much faster.  Even though we're only ten minutes away from the hospital, the ride felt like a lifetime!

We parked in the parking garage across the street from the hospital on the second floor.  The elevator was a bit too far so we took the stairs down and went across.  By this time, my pants were SOAKED, so obviously my water had slowly broken.  On our walk to the hospital, I had to stop so many times because each contraction left me completely immobile.  At this point they were definitely less than two minutes apart.  We finally get to the maternity ward just to be told to go sit in the waiting room.  Even though I was screaming in pain.  Pregnancy and labor is not like the movies folks.  A pregnant lady doesn't burst in and they wheel her straight off to deliver her baby.

I sat in the waiting room for 15 minutes but due to my medical state, it felt like 15 years.  I started to feel a bit sick and ended up throwing up my whole dinner.  After I couldn't puke anymore they finally brought me into a room, which I thought would be the labor room, but was just another place for me to wait.  I was in my gown and the on call doctor and nurses kept asking me a lot of mundane, simple minded questions.  Under any other circumstances, I could answer these questions without missing a beat.  But when a little human being is trying to rip through your body, it makes it a bit more challenging.  They kept asking me stupid questions like when my last period was, when I first started my period, if I lived in a walk up building or elevator, and other dumb ass questions.  To this day, I still don't really understand why they were asking me alllll of those questions.  But they did and I did my best to answer.

At the point of this interrogation, I was 5 cm.  I couldn't believe how much pain I was in but I was at least feeling good that I was not too dilated so I could still get some kind of drugs.  The interrogation continued and they gave me the IV, which I had to finish before they could give me the epidural.  They said the IV would only take 15-30 minutes and moved me into the delivery room.  Which I had to WALK to.  Damn you hollywood for making me think that I could at least get flippin' wheeled over there!

By the time I got there I was in mind numbing pain and was gripping the bed with hulk like fashion.  I started to feel like the baby was literally going to fall out so the doctor checked me again.  My IV had JUST finished and I was measuring 8 cm.  When she told me that, I did not skip a beat in asking "But I can still get the epidural, right!?!?!"  She calmly broke the news to me that I was too far along and that I could not get any kind of drugs.  I wish I could get a picture of this moment because I could feel my eyes literally bulge out of my head and my skin turn white.  If I had the ability to cry, I would have.  I turned to Michael just shaking my head vigorously, screaming "I can't do this!  I'm going to die!  This is going to kill me!!!!"  But being the amazing husband he is, Michael continued to encourage me.  After my 2 minute panic, I realized this baby was going to come out whether or I liked it or not so I might as well pull it together and try to make it as easy as possible.

With every contraction I gripped the bed with every fiber of my being.  Side note: after delivery my shoulder and arm muscles hurt more than my vagina did.  It felt like I had weight lifted 800 lbs of pure concrete.  At one point, I gripped the bed with all my might and screamed "I'M GONNA BREAK THIS FUCKING BED!!!"  The nurses laughed, but I was actually quite nervous.  It wasn't a statement of action as it was more of a concern.  I felt like that bed was my only physical anchor and if it did break than so was my body.  Luckily, the beds are made for this type of use...thank god.

I then started to scream "She's coming out!!!"  It felt like the baby was two seconds away from just crawling out herself.  The doctor checked me again and said I wasn't quite 10 cm yet and I had to hold her in or I could cause serious damage to myself.  So not only was I trying to keep this baby in when she wanted to come out, I was still having the contractions that made me feel like my body was going to break in half.  I literally had to cross my legs just to keep her from coming out.  It was nuts.

Then, the moment finally came.  The doctor checked me again and said I could start pushing.  They propped my legs up o the stirrup thingies and I began to push.  Surprisingly enough, this was the part i had been fearing all along and it was the part that felt the best.  Once I was allowed to push all pain went away.  I didn't even feel the baby come out.  I just felt a slight pressure in my vagina.  But with every contraction that started, it immediately disappeared when I started to push.

No more than a few minutes later, Delilah came out and they set her on my tummy.  A total of a little more than 4 and a half hours of labor and my little girl made her grand entrance at 4:49 am.  I'll never forget that moment.  I had seen so many videos of women crying and saying they were so happy to meet their little baby.  I did not have that same feeling.  I didn't really cry.  Because when I laid my eyes on Delilah, it felt like I had met my soul mate.  It felt like I had known her all my life and that she just had been away for a while.  I felt so comfortable with her.  And we were very lucky that day because there weren't really any other people in the ward so they didn't whisk her right away.  We got to spend a full three hours with her in the delivery room before they took her off to the nursery.  And they truly were the best three hours of my life.

I guess the rest, as they say, is history.   And to think...I actually wanna do this all again :-)

First child birth class

Michael and I went to our first child birth class on Tuesday!  It was a 2 hour long session that was mildly informative.  There were only two other couples there, so it was kind of small and intimate.

The instructor is incredibly animated and outgoing.  Which is kind of fun for the class, but if I'm in the wrong mood, it might make me want to punch her in the face.  She began telling us about her first two pregnancies, which at first I was like OH BROTHER, I don't care about you.  But it was surprisingly informative.  It was nice to hear from her point of view how she experienced contractions, labor, etc.  By the end I wanted to stab her because her first birth was only 6 hours long and the second was like 4.  I doubt I will be that blessed.

She then moved on to showing us before and after images of what our anatomy looks like.  I was really glad Michael got to see this.  I think as I get further along into my pregnancy I feel more and more crazy.  Only because my body keeps doing things that confuse me and just don't make sense and so when I talk about it I feel like Michael thinks I'm even crazier than I think I am, even though he's done nothing to suggest that.  But when she showed the image of what my bladder looked like pre-pregnancy, and what it looks like now with the baby trying to crush it into an oblivion, I felt almost vindicated.  In my head I was like, "See! SEE!  I do have a right to go to the bathroom 78 times a day, and you shouldn't judge me for it!"  Pregnancy irrationality at it's best.

The instructor then showed us some different stretches and exercises to help us preggos be more comfortable during pregnancy and labor.  I don't really know if they were helpful or not, I guess we'll find out when d-day comes.  The breathing exercises were funny though.  At one point Michael was sitting on the floor behind me, his hands on my tummy, my hands on top of his.  She then guided us in this circling motion combined with some breathing.  It felt weird.  I can't even explain it, it just felt not natural.  So of course, being the 12 year old a-hole that I am, I started laughing.  And I couldn't stop.  My instructor look at me like I was a maniac, especially as I was jirating in my own skin trying not to make any noise, which only made my laughing even more obvious.  Whatever.  It was fun.

The class ended with a birthing video.  For anyone who has read my blog from the beginning, you would know that I DO NOT enjoy these videos.  They are not informative to me.  They don't make me feel more comfortable about the birthing process.  They gross and freak me out.  I'm sorry, but seeing some lady's vagina suddenly become the size of her own head to let out a little alien baby does not make me feel empowered.  It just doesn't.  Don't judge me!

That was pretty much it.  We have 3 more classes where we'll learn more relaxation techniques, about breastfeeding, and who knows what else.  But I'm excited.  I think it was a nice bonding experience for both Michael and I.  Everything about the baby so far has been prepping the house, doing as many errands as possible, and just running around like crazy folk.  This class really gave us the chance to just sit down and be like...woah, we're having a baby!  So I'm thinking the next couple of classes will be really awesome for us.  I'll keep y'all posted.

Mommy's Turn!

Michael liked the idea of doing interviews, so he decided he wanted to interview me!  Check out the videos below.  Enjoy!

Baby Showers are the best!

From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I knew that a baby shower would be inevitable.  I kind of assumed that I would I just throw my own.  Not necessarily because I wanted to, but no one has ever really thrown me a party before.  I didn't want to just assume that someone was going to throw one for me. 

My sister in laws quickly offered to throw me a shower, but I immediately felt an immense amount of guilt at the thought of someone else doing such a nice gesture for me.  I didn't want to burden them so I said that they could throw a small family-only shower and I would focus on planning a separate shower for me and Michael's friends.  Oh, if only I knew then what I had to look forward to.

As you might remember from previous entries, my first two trimesters were not that kind to me.  With the stresses of my pregnancy ailments, work, and grad school, I soon gave up the quest to throw my own baby shower.  It was becoming too overwhelming and I had no desire to stress myself out (more than I already was) during my pregnancy.  I figured between the both of our families, Michael and I would receive plenty that the baby would need. 

Luckily, my sister in laws (as well as my mother in law) are all rock stars and offered for me to invite some of my friends to the shower.  I had a bit of anxiety over the thought of inviting my friends for so many reasons.  I thought many of them wouldn't be able to come because of their lack of transportation.  I thought some of them might not even be interested because most of them do not have children and maybe baby showers weren't "their thing."  I came up with about a million excuses of why no one would show up just so that if no one actually did show up, I wouldn't be disappointed.

Then there was my family, all of who live in Virginia.  I knew one of my aunts was coming come hell or high water.  She often visits NYC anyway, so I knew I could count on her.  My other aunt I already knew was busy, so I came to terms that her visit to the big apple would just have to wait.  Then there were my parents...who live in the middle of a mountain, with 5 big great danes, and both of whom work full time jobs.  I felt without a doubt that they would not be able to come and my mother reassured my fears when she said that they were facing some financial challenges and wouldn't be able to make it up for the big day.  I was incredibly devastated and felt like my parents were going to miss so much of my pregnancy, which may be my only one.

I was obviously investing way too much emotion into this baby shower.  But for me, it wasn't even about the presents.  I really couldn't have cared less if we received absolutely nothing at the shower.  For me, it was about getting together with the people I love most in the world to celebrate this amazing gift that part of me thought I might never receive.  My sister in laws would often ask me what kind of theme, decorations, games, cake, etc I wanted at the party and each time I usually responded with "I don't care."  It probably didn't make their jobs any easier, but I wanted no expectations placed upon the baby shower except for the fact that I wanted my loved ones their...that is the only thing I expected. 

I didn't know the date of the shower in advance, but I did buy an outfit to wear to be prepared for the day when someone came in and said "SURPRISE! Today is your baby shower. GET READY!"  My day happened on February 18th around 4 pm.  Michael drove me to a nice little restaurant right outside of our town.  I immediately spotted my aunt smoking out front...I knew she would be there!  When Michael and I approached her she handed me her cell phone, it was my mom on the other end.  Michael and I were already late so I was a bit confused why my mother wanted to talk to me now.  As I was walking into the restaurant, I was trying to explain to my mother that I was about to make my grand entrance into the baby shower and that I needed to let her go.  As I was climbing up the stairs, trying to politely hang up the phone with her, I look up and there she is.  And standing right next to her was my dad with the biggest smile on his face.  Before I could even say anything I began to cry.  I hugged them for about 30 seconds then rushed off to the bathroom before I became a blithering mess in front of all my guests.  I mean, come on, I was wearing make up for the first time in 6 months.  I needed to keep my composure!

The baby shower truly could have ended there and it would have been perfect.  After I came out of the bathroom, I noticed a table full of all my wonderfully diverse, crazy, beautifully eclectic friends.  The table next to that had all of my just as wonderful, gorgeous, incredibly supportive family.  I couldn't believe it.  Almost everyone who meant the most to me all in one room.  It was the best gift of all. 

My sisters and mother in law had truly outdone themselves with a Hello Kitty cake, a smorgasbord of my favorite candies, and fun little trivia games for all of us to play.  The restaurant served amazing Italian food, which between the excitement and a little human being crushing my stomach, I didn't get to enjoy much of.  We received many items on our registry and then some!  I could definitely see people knew my taste.  Between the blue and hot pink leopard printed vans shoes and the children's books supporting my pro-feminist views, everyone truly outdid themselves in the gifts they picked out for my daughter.  Not to mention the AMAAAAAZING baby blanket that my mother made...pictures soon to come.

Overall, it was the best baby shower to ever happen in the history of all baby showers.  Don't try to argue with me...you will lose.  I just hope for all the other expecting mothers out there that you remember that while it is always great to get gifts for the baby (it does ease the nesting habits a bit), this is a time when people want to show their love and support to you and your growing family.  Don't fight it.  EMBRACE IT!  It's an amazing feeling.

   

Daddy's Corner

I think in most pregnancies, a lot of the attention is spent on the women.  Which is mostly understandable.  She's taking the brunt of the physical burdens as far as carrying the child, labor, breastfeeding (if she chooses to do so), so on and so forth.  But I think the dad gets lost in the mix a lot.  I mean, the baby wouldn't be there without him.  He is expected to wait on the mommy to be 24/7.  Expecting fathers I feel are kind of unsung heroes.  It takes a lot to deal with 9 months of having to pick up the slack around the house, go out on craving runs, calm down emotional outbreaks, reassure your partner that she is in fact a beautiful queen and not a big fat cow, and so much more.  So in honor of the dads, I thought it might be nice to interview my baby's daddy to get some insight on what its like for him in dealing with the pregnancy.  Check out the videos below!  (look forward to interviews from other members of the family. coming soon!)

I bow down to this woman!

I have always felt a certain way about natural births.  They literally scare the crap out of me, but deep down I would do it.  If I had the cohones to go through with it, I probably would.  As it is right now, I am REALLY going to try to go as long as physically possible without an epidural.  I just didn't want to put it in my head that I was DEFINITELY going to do a natural birth, NO-MATTER-WHAT.  I have heard too many stories about women who create a very specific birth plan and then when it comes down to push and shove, they feel like they need drugs and sometimes make themselves feel like crap or like failures for not sticking to their plan.  So I am in a very "go with the flow" type mindset when it comes to giving birth.  I know what my options are, I know what I defitniely DO NOT want, and am just going to see what happens.  Even though I would prefer to have natural birth, I don't want to feel bad should I choose to get drugs instead.  I don't think going with the drug option makes anyone less of a person. 

WITH. THAT. SAID.  I read this article:
Woman gives birth to 14 lb baby...naturally!

I am completely blown away by this woman.  She not only gave birth naturally once, she did it twice.  Each time she had ginormous babies.  The first one was twelve pounds, and her most recent one was fourteen flippin pounds.  Now let's make this a little bit more clear.  The average text book (if you can remember that far back) weighs about two pounds.  So imagine carrying around SEVEN textbooks on your back, not to mention the few extra writing utensils, notebooks, calculators, etc (i.e. all that weight you gained from getting knocked up!).  Imagine how sore your back would be!  Now imagine how bad your vajayjay would feel trying to shove those textbooks out!  And this chick did it in 6 minutes.  She's not dead.  She didn't rip in half.  Her vag isn't officially connected to her butt hole.  She's totally fine.  Now if that doesn't wanna make you change your mind about natural birth, I don't know what will!

Maternity clothes are overrated

One of the first things I did when I found out I was pregnant was to start checking the maternity racks at various department stores.  The hubby went with me to help me try on some clothes but it was pretty much a failure.  I picked up some maternity jeans and that's about it.  I was still too small (about 8 weeks) to really fit anything these stores were offering.  

I haven't really been back to any maternity stores until a couple of weeks ago.  Mostly because my regular clothes are still fitting me.  My pants have gotten a bit snug, but I usually just wear the maternity pants, which are kinda baggy on me still, or use a rubber band to keep my regular jeans fastened.  Nice lil trick I learned from the sister in laws.  Take one end of the band to put around the button, take the other end and slip it through the button hole, and then bring it back to wrap the other end around the button too.  It's definitely been helping my jeans last a while.

I thought it might be nice to go back to the maternity sections to get a cute outfit for my baby shower, but the whole experience was just blah.  First, there aren't as many maternity sections out there as you would think.  But the clothing options are also pretty atrocious.  Many women are already feeling very self conscious about their looks during pregnancy, and the clothing options for pregnant women doesn't really help any.  Here are a couple of culprits below:

1.  Tacky prints.  I have seen way too many shirts that have the most gaudy prints on them, like pregnant women get knocked up and then go on a cheesy hawaiian vacation.  As if the growing tummies don't get enough attention, we need clothes to just scream LOOK AT ME!!!!!   

2.  Loose clothing and ruffles.  I am a firm believer that just because you are pregnant does not mean you have to dress in garbage bag clothing.  Sometimes the most comfortable clothing is stuff that fits snuggly to your growing tummy, almost like its protecting/shielding you.  Although I definitely opt for loose clothing for the sake of comfort, sometimes it makes me uncomfortable because it makes me look three times bigger than I actually am.  And don't get my started on the ruffles.  I think that just might be a personal preference though.  I just can't stand the placement of them or how much ruffling they put on a shirt.  It makes pregger ladies look like oversized ostriches. 

3.  Stripes.  Now, it is general common sense in the non-preggo "fashion world" that stripes can make you look wider/bigger than you are.  So it's interesting to see the large amount of striped shirts that are made for pregnant ladies.  They can sometimes be pretty cute but sometimes they also make you look like a human sized bumble bee.  

4.  Prices.  I personally think that one of the best shirts for pregnant women are empire waisted.  They grow with your belly, are pretty comfy, and come in lots of fun/cute patterns.  But one of the downfalls of maternity clothing is its price.  This shirt below is pretty cute, but also costs 94 dollars.  Like it isn't enough that your budget is suddenly gonna double due to all the baby expenses, maternity stores want to rip off vulnerable mommy-to-bes by making them spend a ridiculous amount of money on clothes that they will only wear for like 3 or 4 months.  No gracias!!!!

So after making the rounds to Old Navy, Motherhood, JCPenney, Macys, and who knows where else, I found a nice top at KMart.  And not in the maternity section either.  See below.

It's a cute lil tunic, stretchy, dress made by Sofia Vergara (the hot latin lady on Modern Family).  Turned out to be the cutest, most comfortable thing I tried on.  A lot of her clothes were pretty comfy because she makes clothes for the more voluptuous/curvy women.  But it was also comfy mainly because it was a tunic, so the long length will be useful as I get bigger, especially thanks to the stretchy material.  The floral pattern wasn't too gaudy.  It's colorful but still dark enough to help me "look smaller," if I were to care about that.  And its nice to either wear casually or to go out.  It was super cheap too!  What was key is that I feel like this is an piece of clothing that I can STILL wear when I lose my pregnancy weight.  And I think preggo women, especially those with a tight budget, really need to consider that when purchasing clothes.  Don't be too hasty in buying clothes because you might fit into a lot of your clothing you already have in your closet.  No need to get new clothes until you actually need them!  

The most important thing to remember is that when you are pregnant, you are beautiful.  No one is gonna think you're gross, and even if they did, they certainly wouldn't mention it to you.  If they do, punch up in their baby makin parts.  Getting bigger, especially when it is out of your control, can be really rough.  And sometimes going clothes shopping just makes you feel worse about it.  The important thing to keep in mind is it is not permanent.  With healthy eating and some exercise you will lose that weight again.  Also, you tend to lose a lot of weight when you breastfeed.  So in this time of growth, remember that your belly is beautiful, clothes are dumb and superficial, and you have something so much wonderful to look forward to than crying in the middle of a department store because you feel like you look like a whale.    

Didn't see that coming

I think all people have a subliminal, innate sense that nothing bad or weird will happen to them.  Not because they're ignorant, but it's just part of our nature as human beings, and probably as Americans.  Yeah...that doesn't change during pregnancy either lol.  Even knowing all the possible side effects of being pregnant, I think there's always a part of you that thinks "Oh, that won't happen to me.  I won't gain 40 pounds.  I won't throw up.  I won't get stretch marks."  I totally had one of those "I didn't think this would happen to me" moments last week.

One of the many stereotypes of pregnant women is that they are really emotional.  To an extent that they can break down and cry or freak out over nothing.  This has always really bothered me because I feel like there is an expectation for women (pregnant and not pregnant alike) to overreact in general.  Yes, we MIGHT be more vocal about how we are feeling, but I think generally each person is pretty much just as emotional as the next, they just express it in different ways.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I went on an internal rampage to make sure that I didn't end up as THAT pregnant lady.  I don't let my hubby cater to me, I can do ish myself dang it!  I don't (often) indulge in eating more than I should.  I keep active because a healthy momma means a healthy baby.  And I make sure to keep my emotions in check, ESPECIALLY around my husband because he does not deserve poor treatment just because I'm pregnant.  But that is just my own personal philosophy.

Although I have had a few moments where I felt like I might have overreacted to something, I was pretty good about stopping any negative or depressing feelings in their tracks.  I have cried a bit more often, but that is usually when I am feeling incredibly sick, fatigued, or a combination of both.  So I don't count those times, haha.

Alas, last Thursday, my inner emotional preggo totally surfaced.  Not as crazy as I thought, but still mildly embarrassing for me.  I was visiting one of the schools that my company is affiliated with and quickly rushed to a doctor appointment afterwards.  I was particularly excited about this appointment because it was supposed to be with a midwife at a hospital in the Bronx (that's a whole other post).  Unfortunately, I was 30 minutes late to the appointment and they only allow for first time patients to be 15 minutes late before making them reschedule.

I definitely knew I was late but was not aware of the 15 minute policy.  I got to the front desk, out of breath but excited, and checked myself in.  Promptly, the woman checking people in said "I'm sorry honey, but we' gonna have to reschedule.  You are just way too late," and I just stared at her.  Mentally, I understood the policy.  Under any other circumstance I would have just sucked it up and rescheduled.  But in that moment my mind started to race and scream.

All I could think was "But I tried to get here as fast as I could.  I'm 26 weeks pregnant, I can only move so fast!  Can this chick cut me an effing break!?!?!  This whole working mother thing is totally over effing rated.  This is just too hard!"  Then she told me that the only time she could reschedule was for 1pm the following Wednesday, or 10:30 am the following Friday.  Now, two problems with this.  One, both of those times (and pretty much any other time she had to offer) are during my usual work hours.  I felt an extreme amount of guilt making another appointment during work hours because my job has been so incredibly accommodating as it is.  The other issue is, I'm a stubborn person even when I'm not pregnant.  When I want something, I want it N-O-W.  Not yesterday, not tomorrow, but right the fudge now.  So the fact that I had to wait another second to meet with this midwife tore me apart.  I started to lose it. But really, I was just tired.  I am realllllly tired of going to the doctor.  I do enjoy going because it means I get to see my little girl, and that just makes my day.  But it is sooooo hard to balance all of the appointments and still feel like an effective human being in my job, my relationship, and my life in general.  I can't even imagine what it's going to be like when she's actually here....

Luckily, I had some sanity left, and didn't totally lose my shit on the front lady person.  She was also nice enough to let me fill out the new patient paperwork so that when I did come in for my new scheduled appointment I could just go right in.  Right when she was handing me the paperwork, Michael arrived, and I just lost it.  I sat down and just cried and vented like a big ol' baby.  And I kept telling him "I don't even understand why I'm crying right now!  This isn't the first time I've had to reschedule a doctor's appointment.  I feel so ridiculous."  And being the good man he is, he assured me that I had every right to cry.  But as I looked around the waiting, at the oncoming stares and glares from the other pregnant women in the room, I knew I was being ridiculous.  Especially since once I started to cry, I really felt like I was never going to stop.

Granted, on a scale from 1-10, 1 being a completely non-emotional robot and 10 being going totally John McEnroe on everyone, this situation was only MAYBE a 3 for observers.  But for me, it felt like a 500; not being able to control my emotions, or even understand how they peaked in such a quick manner, was incredibly restricting to my sanity.  And it was especially "humbling" that it happened in front of a group of people.  I HAAAAATE crying in front of people.  It's the worst.  But it happened.  And I'll probably never see any of those people again, except for those lovely ladies at the front desk.  So the moment actually served as a was nice introduction to the real world of pregnancy.

Yes, every pregnancy is different.  Not every woman shows the same way, grows the same way, or has the same side effects, if they experience any at all.  But I think for any woman who hopes to have a baby, you really have to be willing to just surrender everything you are and everything you're used to...at least for 9 months.  Just let everything go, be free, stop giving a damn about other people, and just go with the flow.  Because shit is gonna get REAL, and there is nothing you can do about it.  

ONE WHOLE WEEK!!!!

I have officially gone a full 7 days without puking my brains out.  I feel like throwing a party, lol.  It truly has been a blessing to not have been so incredibly ill the last week.  I am still getting short bouts of nausea, but they are totally manageable.  I also still haven't gained back all the weight I lost in my first trimester.  But seeing how I am a bit of a sexy chunky monkey, that's totally ok.   
One thing that helped a bit was switching my prenatal viatmin.  Before, I was taking OB One Complete.  But the pill is so big, and tastes so freakin disgusting, that I would literally throw up the moment I took it.  Luckily, my bestie suggested I look for a gummy prenatal vitamin, which I didn't even think would exist. 
I went into Duane Reade and randomly came across this one...

What's awesome about it is that its sweet, so it's easy to swallow.  VERY easy to chew.  Plus, it has DHA and folic acid, which can be really hard to find in a gummy and are crucial during pregnancy.  The only downfall so far is that it has absolutely no iron, which is also crucial during pregnancy.  But, I get iron in other ways like through my veggies, certain meats, cereals, etc.  So I don't think it's gonna be an issue.  I think its a blessing in disguise anyway because the high levels of iron in the pill are a big cause of what causes constipation during pregnancy.  Since I've stopped taking my other vitamin I've been poopin' like a champ.  How do you like that image!?!?! :-)

The only other small problem is that I'm not a big sour fan.  If you like sour patch kids, then this is totally fine.  I would rather take this than any horse pill any day. 

I think the best part of not being sick is I am FINALLY starting to be excited and happy about being pregnant.  I am also getting super pumped for my little girl to join me in the real world.  I was really starting to get worried there for a bit.  I feel like there are a lot of expecations put on women when it comes to motherhood and pregnancy.  Like first of all, that all of us should want to have children, which is just not the case.  For pregnant women, I feel like there is the expectation of utter and complete 24/7 joy and happiness, which is totally bogus.    Even if you are getting the gift of a child, why in the world would you be happy about throwing up, constipation, aches, pains, lack of sleep, etc.  It's like, you can be happy about beating the cancer, but doesn't mean you have to enjoy the chemo process.

Unfortunately, those expectations can really mess with your brain.  There were quite a few moments were I questioned my ability to be a good mother because I couldn't see pass the constant sickness and fatigue and just enjoy the fact that I was expecting a beautiful, healthy baby.  Even as I write this my guilt increases at the thought that I had any negative feelings during the pregnancy at all.  That's what makes being nausea free sooooooo amazing.  I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.  I am connecting with my baby girl so quickly now.  Everytime she kicks I feel like we're having a conversation.  Sometimes she's happy to be with me, sometimes she's grumpy, sometimes she just wants some damn attention.

I'm finally starting to feel what a lot of mothers have been telling me...pregnancy is a beautiful, magical thing.  And I really am hoping that my nausea continues to subside because I can definitely get used to this...  

New Years Resolutions

I'm a bit late on the New Year's resolutions, but I've been in thesis land for the last couple of weeks.  But here goes!

Last year I made a couple of resolutions, which included the following:

1.  Live on my own for the first time ever.  (COMPLETED)
2.  Practice random acts of kindness.  (COMPLETED)
3.  Lose 10 lbs.  (COMPLETED)
4.  Do one push up.  I've never done one, ever.  (NOT COMPLETED)

I kept it short and I accomplished most of them.  I'm pretty proud of myself.  This year I decided to make myself resolutions again.  So here's what I got so far!

1.  Be nicer to people.  Not that I'm purposely mean.  Just my facial expressions or lack of communication sometimes leaves people with the impression that I'm angry about something, usually at them.  So, need to work on that!

2.  Lose ten pounds (maybe 15, depending on how much I gain) through healthy eating and exercise after having the baby.

3.  Do at least one pull up.

4.  Do ten push ups in a row.

5.  Try not to lose my mind about being a first time mother.

6.  Try to embrace the "it takes a village" mentality when it comes to my child.

7.  Find creative and unique ways to interact with my child.

8.  Really try to stick with cloth diapering.

9.  Learn how to puree baby food.

10.  Write more poems.  Try to get one published.

11.  Graduate from grad school...finally.


Most of these resolutions are because I want to make sure I am the best role model I can be for my daughter.  One of my fears (like most expecting parents, I'm sure) is that I won't be able to be the type of parent that has a positive and effective influence on her life.   This of course means I have to be the best person I can be.  I believe that people are always continuously changing and morphing throughout their life, so I don't have a specific type of person I want to be.  I just want to make sure that I'm always striving to be the best I can be so my daughter can have the best parent she deserves.
I think beginning these resolutions are a good way to start thinking about the type of parent I want to be.  I think they will continue to expand and change as the year goes on, which I am totally fine with.  I've never been a parent before, so I have a feeling that I will start learning a lot about myself, and I'm really excited about that.  I am open to whatever the universe and my kick ass daughter have to teach me!