Gender social norms

I LOVE my sexuality.  Sometimes I am extra "butchy" or masculine.  I have no problem throwing on a mens shirt, jeans and biker boots.  I can feel how I walk different, talk different, hold my shoulders differently.  Then there are days that I love to throw on a pretty dress with elaborate earrings and have my painted toe nails showing to the world.  Again, I can feel my entire demeanor change.  Some people think this might mean I can't make up my mind if I'm girly or a tomboy.  But this is just who I am and it's one of the things I have always loved most about myself.  The flexibility to go in and out whatever I feel fits me for the day.

I am also incredibly lucky to be surrounded by people who actually celebrate this part of myself.  I have so many people in my life who actually love that I have both of these sides to my sexuality and it makes me feel incredibly blessed to have their support.  As such, it has made me incredibly passionate, as a parent, to not force a specific sexuality or gender identification on my daughter.  I put her in traditionally boy AND girl clothes (especially if they were free hand me downs from my community!), I tried not using girly language or getting girly toys.  I wanted her to choose for herself what she feels most comfortable identifying as or presenting herself as.

Unfortunately, no matter what I control in my daughter's immediate environment, I can not control everything else.  I can't control the kids or teachers at her school.  I can't control the other adults in her life that I am not associated with.  I can't control all the other aspects of her life that I might not be able to be directly involved with that infiltrate and manipulate her mind into thinking that girls and boys need to look and act certain ways.  As a result, I am constantly dealing with my daughter saying "I can't wear that because it's blue and blue is for boys!"  Blue is her favorite color.  Although she's now been saying it's pink.
It's breaking my heart.  She's only 3 years old and she's already living in this world where she thinks she has to act and dress a certain way because she is a female.  It has encouraged me, at times, to butch up my look even more.  Resorting to my "boy clothes" on a more frequent basis so that she can have at least one female in her life that presents an alternate idea of what women can look like.  But most of the time, it just makes her mad or confused. She gets frustrated that I'm wearing boy clothes and wants me to change.  She often won't even play with her batman toys now, again, because they are for boys.

How do I break her out of this?  Is it just something that she will eventually grow out of?  I have no problem AT ALL if she is a "girly girl."  But I want it to be because it's HER choice and not something she is essentially bullied into.  I don't want her to lose her sense of wonder and self-discovery because there are people forcing their own ideals on to her.
I wish I knew the causes (or people rather) that were convincing her of these thoughts.  I wish I could find these folks and discuss with them (read: BEG THEM) the important of a young child keeping their innocence.  Let kids be kids and figure things out for themselves. They don't need the hurtful societal restrictions and prejudices of society to define their character or morality.

I know that I won't give up in teaching my daughter all the lifestyles a person can live; teaching her acceptance and tolerance of all people.  But, as a mother, I feel desperate to protect her from the patriarchal enforcement of gender and social norms that might not work for her.  I pray that I equip her with the tools and confidence to define herself and stick by it no matter what anyone says.

I don't want you

So, in the last year, one of the greatest challenges I have faced with my daughter is her frequently looking me in the face saying "I don't want you."  I thought it was just a phase, but it's been pretty consistent for quite a while now.  There have been times I've picked her up and she just starts crying "I want my daddy!!!!"

My responses to this have been endless.  I've tried everything.  Smiling through it and reassuring her that she will see him again.  Letting her know that I am here for her and love her just as much.  Informing her gently that what she is saying hurts my feelings or makes me sad.  Now I've moved on to avoidance.  But not because I'm scared.  I just figure if I don't feed energy into what she's saying, perhaps she will just stop saying it.  Writing that down makes me feel like a bad parent for some reason.  But deep down, I know I'm not because after this new habit of her expressing her disdain for me, I've made a more proactive effort in trying to be a better mom.  Not to prove anything to her or anyone.  But I figure, if she's expressing this annoyance towards me, perhaps it IS because I'm doing something "wrong."  Which is ok.  I'm a first time parent who never grew up around kids, so I'm still figuring things out, and now doing so super solo.  So I've put in extra effort in creating structure, activities, social gatherings, etc.  I'm exhausted lol.  But after a year, I think it is FINALLY starting to pay off.

We go out more.  Which can be challenging to find free or low costs thing to do.  But she always really enjoys the places I find for her.  We read great stories.  We meditate.  We do yoga.  We sing and dance.  We create random art murals in our house.  We attempt to play the guitar.  We TALK.  We're having conversations, which is just crazy to me.  It's been quite the experience to watch my daughter grow.

Hearing my daughter tell me she doesn't want to be around me or doesn't love me has been really hard.  I have cried many a nights over it.  But I secretly think this is just what I needed.  Growing up as an only child, no cousins, and always moving around so not establishing relationships with young people makes it truly challenging to understand what a child need or wants.  My child's dad is like a super parent; a natural born dad who obviously has some incredible parenting instincts that I have often envied which I sometimes attribute to him being raised around so many family members, including his 3 siblings.  It's not the answer to everything, but I think it certainly helps.  So now, through the separation, I have often felt lost and utterly alone.  Especially when I have her for more than 2 days in a row.  Something as simple as "what the hell am I going to make her for dinner" can paralyze my brain; luckily it has not impacted my ability to parent.

I'm very lucky to have an involved co-parent, but I'm also very lucky to have such an awesome kid.  She knows what she needs and demands it...politely of course.  She's not a complete jerk after all, lol.  And she has been such an incredible blessing in my life because she teaches me humility, determination and persistence.  She strengthens my self education (which is something I pretty much thrived off my whole life anyway), my courage, and my confidence.  Granted, she can also make that shatter to the ground with just a few simple words.  But this challenging experience has taught me to push past it faster because there are more good parts than bad.  I really can't wait to see what this little girl teaches me next.  :-)

I hate grapes!

One of the things that I have always feared as a single mom is, what if something happens to my daughter where I need to rush her off to the ER?  Do I REALLY have to do that by myself?  I can handle sickness, cooking, laundry, grocery shopping, daycare, and whatever else.  But the thought of having to deal with something tragic with my little girl, on my own, is a terrifying thought.

This recently resurfaced the other night as my daughter was enjoying her post-dinner dessert of purple seedless grapes.  I was washing dishes, chatting away with her, as she enjoyed her snack at the dinner table.  All of the sudden, it got really quiet.  I looked up and she was turned to me with very large eyes, tears streaming down her face, red as a tomato, waving her arms around her face.  I can't even begin to describe the look of panic that was on her face.  And her expression was so contorted she almost looked like a creature from The Ring or one of those creepy movies with a distorted ghost-like girl figure as the main character.

I immediately rushed to her, leaned her forward with my left hand around her chin, patting her back with my right hand; something I had seen on a youtube video years ago.  The grapes came out of her mouth pretty quickly.  My little hungry warrior princess tried to shove 5 of them in her tiny mouth at one time, hence the choking.  As soon as the grape was out of her mouth, she quickly grabbed another one to eat.  I looked at her in disbelief.  Did she even realize what almost happened?

I snatched up the remaining grapes and proceeded to chop them into quarters before returning them to her; emphasizing to her to eat one at a time.  She continued finishing off the grapes as if nothing happened.  What is wrong with her!?!?  (lol)

I went back to the sink, my heart pounding, and continued to wash the dishes.  My hands were shaking and my brain was on fire.  The thoughts that were rushing through my head in the short moments after everything had happened were not pleasant.  What if she had died?  What would that feel like?  How could I ever survive without her?  Her father would never forgive me.  If she died, I might as well be dead myself.

I kept playing out different scenarios of rushing her to my car, calling an ambulance, giving her CPR.  My imagination was on overdrive, and not in a good way.  All of this, from her choking to me having these crazy thoughts, literally happened within a 3 minute timespan.  It's interesting how fast the mind works.  And after that 3 minutes, I just began to cry.  I looked over at my daughter, enjoying her little fruits, and just silently cried.  She looked over at me, smiling, holding up one of her grapes and said loudly "Mommy!  The grape was stuck in my mouth!"  She was just glowing with pride over it.  Pushing back my tears, I kind of just laughed and said "That's right sweetie.  That's why we have to eat one at a time!  No more grapes being stuck in the mouth please!"

And that was that.  That was the end of my daughter's "near death experience."  Of course I am probably overreacting.  But it was scary, and I have been super on guard since then.  It's also just impacted me in a huge way.  You never think of children passing away because we often relate death to age, and of course young children never die.  But the reality is, as we all know in our subconscious, that death can happen at any time, any where, for any reason.  This incident really helped me realize that.  There's not much else I can do with that information besides continuing to love and spend time with my daughter as much as humanly possible. There's part of me that wants to constantly smother her and protect everything she touches or things that go near her.  But the truth of it all is that I can't control anything, and I certainly don't want to wrap her up in such a tight cocoon that she doesn't get to experience life; even if that means the more negative aspects of it.  However, this was an incredible profound parenting experience that I just thought I should share.

Thanks for reading.  :-)

My daughter is 2!

I have learned about myself that I am going to be incredibly annoying and nostalgic every time Delilah has a birthday.  It probably comes with the parenting territory.  I just get in complete awe every time I start reflecting on who she was a year ago and how much she has grown/changed.

I'm a couple weeks late in writing a birthday post, but Delilah seriously had the longest birthday of all time.  Her birthday fell on a Wednesday this year.  Her dad and I both took off work to take her to the zoo.  We had a great time!  Then we met up with his family later to cut some cake and hang out.  Saturday, my family came into town from Virginia to say hi to the birthday girl.  So there was shopping, playing, eating lots of food, etc.  Sunday was the official birthday party.  My family had to head back to Virginia, but a lot of friends of our family showed up which was beautiful.  It was a lot of work creating/getting decorations, making food, making/sending out the invitation, etc.  But Delilah had a blast!  She had a Monsters Inc. party this year; one of her favorite movies.  I actually still have some of the decorations hanging around the house lol.

Another reason why I was sooooo pooped was because I made a video for Delilah this year! It was my first time ever working with film.  I reached out to a bunch of women that I have crossed paths with in my life to send me a series of pictures of themselves in which they reflected on who they were as young women, who they are now, and what advice they would like to offer to the future generations of young ladies (i.e. Delilah).  I was really proud of the video and so incredibly grateful to the women who participated.  It made me feel so loved that these women were willing to put out some very vulnerable things about themselves in order to send a broader message of self-love to other women.  I can not wait until Delilah is older so that she can appreciate it a little more.  You can check out the video here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=122XKgaP1yk


Although I am glad that the birthday festivities are over, I am somewhat saddened that Delilah is now moving into her 3rd year of life.  It wasn't long ago that she could not support her own body without me having to carry her everywhere.  And now, she is quickly turning into a young lady who asks questions, runs around like a maniac, and is filled with so much curiosity and love of other people that it almost feels like she doesn't need me anymore.  Obviously, that's not true.  Who else is gonna feed her? lol.  But still....there's something about the idea of her leaving the nest never hit me last year, and now it feels like it's right around the corner.

I know...I know. I'm totally projecting.  In a day to day basis, I really do just cherish every second I have with her.  She makes me laugh so hard I can't even handle it.  And it is those moments that I value and revel in and will continue to do so no matter what the future may hold.

How to spell mother

I came across this video and just found it incredibly touching.  Although this young man speaks from the experience of a child of a single mother, I want to say that there are plenty of supportive and amazing fathers out in the world, Delilah's father included.  But for a child to be so outspoken and loving about the hard work his single parent provided for him.  I always appreciate children of all ages speaking the love for their families.


http://www.upworthy.com/watch-this-guy-misspell-father-at-a-spelling-bee-for-a-beautiful-reason-5?g=3&c=ufb1

You is smart, you is kind, you is IMPORTANT

A couple of years ago, I read the book The Help by Kathryn Stockett.  I was immediately hooked within the first chapter.  This book, a fictional tale about the treatment of black maids in the 60's, is a must read for any woman, or person for that matter.  It touches on so many issues within racial and gender segregation that still ring true for today.

Not too long after I read the book, the movie came out and I HAD to go see it.  It is very rare that I see a movie based off a book and feel satisfied.  Movie creators often take many liberties that steer away from the original premises of the literature and end up giving the original novel a bad reputation.  People who watch the movie and haven't read the book don't even understand the pure beauty they missed out on.  But in this case, the movie The Help definitely did the book justice.

There was one particular moment of the movie that I will just never forget.  There is a scene where Aibileen (one of the house maids) has Mae Mobley sitting on her lap; the young white girl she takes care of.  In this scene, Aibileen tells Mae "You is smart, you is kind, you is important." Mae repeats her.

Before Delilah was even a glimmer in my eye, this scene made me realize that I had never really heard these words in my own youth.  I was determined, if I was to ever have a child, that I would reiterate these words to them.  I have kept true to my word.

A few weeks ago I have started this mantra for Delilah, with some additions.  I have a full length mirror in my bedroom and we sit in front of the mirror to say "You are smart, you are kind, you are funny, you are beautiful and you are important."  We say this almost every day together.

Often times on this blog I talk about the various thoughts I have about my daughter and what it is or will be like for her to be a woman in this world.  I know it might seem kind of biased, but rest assured if I had a son, you would see many posts about how unfair it is to be a man as well.  Men are forced to believe that they are weak if they show their emotions, there is a lot of pressure on them to be the bread winners in their family (still!), and there is always an underlying assumption that all men are misogynistic and sexist that I feel even the most feminist of men are constantly fighting against.  Alas, I have a daughter, so my posts come out the way they do.

One of the primary reasons I feel so strongly about developing a strong sense of character and self-love in my daughter is because I recognize my own struggles growing up, as well as so many of the strong women that have surrounded me in my life.  We are quick to look at the negatives in ourselves.  I complain too much, I'm too needy, I'm not smart enough, I'm too fat; the list goes on and on.  We continue to look at the inequality between men and women, but what a lot of people don't realize is that the act of submission that often comes from women towards their partners, families, friends, co-workers, etc. comes from a place of self-hate.  While that self-hate is often blamed on the media, we also have to look at what takes place in a child's most immediate environment; home and school.

To my fellow women, whether you have children or not, how many times have you stood in front of the mirror and picked apart every crevice of your face and body and called it disgusting?  How many times have you looked at yourself and said "if only I could lose weight"?  How many times have you sucked in your gut or applied make-up because you were not happy with the image staring back at you?  Have you ever figured out why?  How does it benefit you?  And do you really think you're alone when you do that?  Do you really think NO ONE hears you?  Even if you do it in the privacy of your own home, those thoughts protrude in great force through you stature, your clothing, the way you talk, the way you move.

I was incredibly lucky to be raised by three crazy women; my mother and her two sisters (my aunts).  While there was never an outright lesson taught to me about what it means to be a strong, confident woman, it is something I learned through watching them.  They were women who always worked hard for what they wanted, never let anything get in the way of their dreams, were always brutally honest with anyone who dared to challenge them, and did all of this while giving the world a metaphorical middle finger to say "If you don't like me the way that I am, then go screw yourself."  There was a sort of tough love that I grew up with that has really helped me become the person I am today.  I certainly intend to continue that practice with Delilah, with a mixture of tenderness and compassion to remind her that she is allowed to be vulnerable and emotional; emotions are NOT  sign of weakness but rather a source of strength and self-awareness that many people do not have.

I have been blessed to have Delilah in my life.  If not only to have the experience as a parent, but to realize that self-hate and deprivation has no place in this world.  It serves no one.  That is why I make an active effort to say our mantra, to not insult myself in front of her (or ever), to not weigh myself on the scale in front of her, and to say out loud "Mommy is beautiful.  And so is Delilah."  It is so important to me that she grows up knowing that she is perfect just the way she is.

I know that some day I will be faced with the "Mommy, you have to say that because you're my mom."  I know it will happen, because I did the same thing in my youth.  I will never forget the day my mom called me beautiful and I said that she had to say that, and she said "No I don't.  If I didn't think you were beautiful, I just wouldn't say anything at all."  LMAO.  That line still cracks me up to this day.  But those words stuck with me and my mother is definitely part of the reason why I can look in the mirror and say I AM BEAUTIFUL.  

Delilah's path in developing her confidence will be her own.  I know I have a short window of time before she starts schools and the insecurities or judgments of others will start seeping into her frame of thinking and might shift her self perception.  That's why it is even more important, even if she isn't 2 yet, to remind her what a wonderful person she is.  And I so very much look forward to the day where I can see her say it out loud and really believe it.  Then I will know my job as a parent is done.  :-)

Letter From a Mother to a Daughter

The letter below is something I saw floating around on Facebook.  Not sure if it is real or not, but wanted to share....

LETTER FROM A MOTHER TO A DAUGHTER:

"My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”... Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep.

When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl?

When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way... remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day... the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you.

And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked.

When those days come, don’t feel sad... just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love.

I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you... my darling daughter."

- Unknown,



This letter particularly hit home because I have been looking at Delilah a lot recently and seeing how much she has grown.  I'm no longer seeing her as a little baby, but rather, a little girl.  And someday I will see her as a little lady, then a young woman, than who knows what.  In a weird way, it has faced me with my own mortality.  Every time I look at her, I become strongly aware that I used to be that age.  I might not remember it, but I was.  And I think of what my family must be experiencing to see me as I am now.  Once upon a time, I couldn't even wipe my own ass.  And now, I am a full time working, single mom, living in New York City, raising my own little girl.  It must be surreal for my family.  I can only relate in that it is already surreal for me when my daughter picks out her own clothes.  Just a year ago she couldn't even walk and she needed me to do EVERYTHING for her.

As her autonomy grows, my love for her does as well.  Not because I want her to leave the nest so soon.  But the bond that is created between a parent and a child when the parent is helping build the foundations of life skills for a tiny human being, and then to see that human being be successful, happy, and brilliant is something that really touches the heart at a level I didn't even think existed.  My daughter has taught me so much about what life is all about and I hope I can continue to teach her the same.  Most of all, I pray that as I become older and more frail that she will never forget that at one time she was a youth, and that she will not take her life for granted.  That she will live every moment to her very fullest.  And most of all, I hope my daughter never sees me as a burden on her life, because she has certainly never been one in mine.

Double take

This little girl, who is meeting her uncle for the first time is a trip!  Her uncle just so happens to be an identical twin of her father.  Lmao.  So good!


http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/01/11/little-girl-dads-twin-video_n_4582183.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009

A single mom's love life- Chapter One

It can be hard being a single mom sometimes.  The challenges you face emotionally and financially can be really tough and sometimes disheartening.  I am so so SO lucky to have a very involved father for Delilah's life, which definitely makes things a lot easier, but there are challenges nonetheless.

One of the "troubles" is the daunting love life.  I am in no rush right now to settle down; getting married again strikes fear in my heart.  Not because my last experience was horrible or anything, but committing to another human being has me feeling vulnerable, which is not the best of feelings at the moment.  Being single and "dating" is terrifying, at least for now.  It feels so complicated!  First of all, how do I even meet people?  I work, I take care of my kid, and I try to run and exercise.  I don't really have room in my life to meet new folks.  Which is fine for now; I'm doing a lot of self-work which is very much needed.  Second, I can't even afford to be going out and about like that.  Being single in NYC is just a life of being super extra broke.  Since I'm already broke, I don't really have any room to move further down on the financial scale.

But those aren't even my main concerns.  I always worry about bringing someone new into Delilah's life.  How will she react to them?  Will they like her?  If they don't, they're getting a big ol' kick out the door!  What if that person wants children?  Do I even want another child?  How will having a half sibling affect Delilah?  How do I make time for both of them?  What if my partner wants to move out of New York?  I'M NOT LEAVING MY DAUGHTER BEHIND!!!!!

Yeah, it's a little coo coo crazy feeling sometimes, but that's what runs through my head.  Obviously, my life could be a lot worse.  I continuously feel blessed every time I look at my daughter.  She is so smart, so loving, so kind, and so frikkin hilarious I can't even handle it.  I can't even say she is like her father or myself, because she is just her own animal.  Watching her grow up has been incredibly life changing.  The type of change that if it means I have to be "alone" forever to continue to watch the change and growth in my daughter continue, then so be it.  That doesn't make it any easier for sure, but it definitely makes being single worth it.

Expect the Unexpected

I can't believe it has been 9 months since I have written in my blog.  It's funny; I was looking at at the Notes app on my iphone where I keep blog topic ideas.  The ones I had listed had to do with breastfeeding, body images issues, exercising after giving birth, so on and so forth. 

But one of the ones that stands out the most to me now was a question of "Does having a baby split couples up, or make relationships worse?"  I had originally asked that because I saw so many people in my life with children separate from their significant other for one reason or another.  Which brings me to my topic for this entry.  It is no surprise that the last entry in this blog was in January because that is when some issues Michael and I had started coming to a head.  No need for details; it was relatively amicable.  But it has brought me a lot of great sadness this year.  Is there no hope for love?  Is there no hope in keeping a family together in this day in age?

Luckily, I am not in the same spot I was 9 months ago.  Michael and I have actually developed a wonderful friendship.  I always tell him that I will never regret having a child with him because he is a wonderful human being and I'm glad that God has forced him to be involved in my life until the end of time, whether he likes it or not lol.  I think it weirds people out how good of friends we actually are, which I totally understand.  But it almost feels like this is how things were supposed to be, at least for now.

As for Delilah, she is doing amazing.  Because, if anything, Michael and I have made sure to become an even stronger parenting unit.  We are constantly communicating about the new things Delilah is doing, her struggles, her successes, what she ate, how many times she pooped, whether or not she punched us in the face that day.  Every little detail.  It has certainly had it's challenges.  I hate saying goodbye to my daughter, with a passion.  I hope none of you parents out there reading this have to experience  it.  I know I will see her again, but it just really sucks to fall asleep in my apartment, all alone.  It's too quiet.  I miss her laugh, the sounds of her tossing and turning in her crib, and I just miss her overall presence.  She really does give me purpose in life.  I know Michael feels the same way, so we've been really great at being there for her as much as possible which also means being supportive of each other.

There will be future blog entries about the struggles and successes of being a single mom.  It's been an interesting journey so far.  I don't know how single parents without an active co-parent do it.  You all get my most greatest respect.  But for now, I just wanted to let friends and family know that Michael and I are ok.   And more than that, our beautiful warrior princess daughter is MORE than ok.  She's fucking fantastic.  But please keep us in your prayers that we may continue the strong family dynamic we have worked so hard for and will continue to fight for.

~Lexy~

Our first holidays

We did it! We made it through the holidays. Yes I am fully aware that it is the second week of January and I am just now writing about the holidays. Such is the life of a full time working, first time mom. I have very little time to myself. I am typing this on my iPhone on my commute home actually, just to copy and paste onto the blog later. Even though I don't get much down time, I did manage to sew my first reversible tote bag the other day! Maybe you'll get to hear about that sometime next year, ha ha.

Anyway! The holidays. It actually really went incredibly well. Thanksgiving was spent at my moms. We did our little 6 hour road trip down there, which went much better than I thought it would. And we just had a nice time hanging out and getting fat.

Christmas sparked some anxiety in me. As the true Gemini I am, I have two very strong and conflicted feelings about the holidays. First, I effing love Christmas. Like seriously, I love the shit out of some Christmas. I love the food. The baked goods. The genuine happiness that most people seem to be radiating for the whole month of December. The snow. Spending time with family. Hot chocolate. Christmas movies and music. All of it. But on the flip side, I HATE presents. Yes, I am one of THOSE people.

I love the idea of being able to have a holiday that just celebrates the gift of life and love, I think it's a beautiful thing. But I feel like when actual tangible gifts are exchanged, things gets complicated, sometimes awkward, and defeats the whole idea of being grateful for what we have. Yes, I am that person who thinks gift buying fuels greed and fattens the pocket of corporate d-bags who don't deserve the money. I have never been one of those people to bah humbug Christmas out loud because what frustrates me makes someone else ecstatic and there's no good reason for me to rain on their parade. However, I always do find myself in the position of having to explain my stance on Christmas because it usually prefaces the "please don't buy me anything. I would rather you make a donation to an organization or something. Oh, and because I truly don't plan on buying you anything."

Now don't get me wrong. I actually do love presents. And I LOVE giving presents. But I prefer this exchange to happen at random times through out my life. When it happens during any holiday like Christmas or birthdays, I feel like the present is just a result of someone marking something off their To Do List. But when I get a random gift, totally unexpected, I know it's because that person actually was taking the time to think about me. And whatever they were thinking about had to be a good thing because it made them care enough to purchase something to show that to me. And so I am totally one of those people that truly believes its the thought that counts, because I feel like in our modern day society we don't stop and just think about our loved ones any more. Yes, I am getting all philosophical and revolutionary about presents. Welcome to my brain and to the reason why I never get sleep!

Now, I spew all of that to say...now I'm a mom. And I want to make sure that my child has the most magical, wonderful, spectacular Christmas. Even though she is so little and has no clue what's going on; so really everything we do is more for Michael and I but let's pretend its for Delilah! But I also want to teach her the value of appreciating life, what we have, and respecting those who have less. I was feeling so conflicted about the gifts this year. Do I buy her gifts? Does she really need them? I should only get her what she needs like diapers, and soap! Shouldn't I spend the money I would spend on Deli on someone more in need? My hippy guilt was eating at my soul.

I decided I would get her two gifts. Just some simple little toys for the bath. I didn't even spend twenty bucks. I was feeling really great about it. Then we had Christmas...part one. Christmas part one was actually the weekend before actual Christmas. We spent it at my moms. My family had started spending the weekend before Christmas as actual Christmas a couple of years ago to avoid all the travel hassle that comes with the holidays and winter. Not to mention the annoying "I can't get off work because every other living soul in the office already took time off" excuse. It's actually working out in our favor.

Christmas at my moms was awesome. Lots of good food and more residual post-thanksgiving getting fatness. They exchanged some gifts but nothing too extravagant. A candle warmer here, some warm socks there. Just the way I like it. Although I must give my mom an honorable mention for getting Delilah a framed Daily News Newspaper that was issued on the day Delilah was born. It features Katie Couric and Sarah Palin photoshopped on to boxer bodies with Katie Couric giving a nice punch into Sarah Palin's stanky "you gotcha whydontcha" mouth. It's pretty epic.

Moving on, we decided to do a little "post christmas" shopping, just to see if there were any sales going on.  Michael handed me a little money to get Delilah more presents if I wanted.  I thought to myself, "Ok, I'll get her ONE more present.  But just one!"  Fast forward 30 minutes, I'm standing at the check out with about 10 different items for the baby.  My mom had to help me pay for them.  Oy vay.  The presents Grinch is now suddenly addicted to buying gifts for her kid. But I've come to terms with it because we are still going to put things in place for her to learn how to love and appreciate life without needing those material things.  Which I'll talk about a little later. 

After we recovered from Christmas part one, we moved on to Christmas part two with Michael's family. It started on Christmas Eve where I invited his family and some of my friends (a.k.a. My extended family) over for some Uruguayan food. It was a really wonderful time filled with laughs, stories, Christmas music, and lots of love. I couldn't have asked for more. I made milanesa. But I also made fudge cookies and cream Oreo brownies which were ah-mahzing.

The next day, Michael and I had Christmas morning with Delilah with her mountain of presents. What we did first was my most favorite. We decided, in the spirit of being grateful for what we have, that we would each wrap something Delilah already had. We each picked one item, without telling the other, that held a special memory of Delilah for us. We would let her open them and then share the memory.

Michael picked a red ball that one of Delilah's awesome aunts bought for her. It was the first toy she ever played with. The first toy she grabbed. The first item she followed with her eyes. The first toy she threw.  She still loves that toy.

I picked a pair of gray maternity pants. They were the last pair of pants I was wearing when I went into labor with her.  It was the day that completely changed my life for the better.  I'm sure there's not a woman on this planet who will ever forget the day she gave birth, especially to her first child.  I will certainly hold that day so incredibly sacred and will forever feel blessed for every mind numbing contraction.

Michael and I also exchanged these memory gifts.  We have never bought Christmas presents for each other since we started dating.  Except for one time when Michael got me a pair of headphones, which I was not happy about because he broke our no-presents-code.  But I liked the idea of exchanging these gifts.  I had given him a braided rope we had tied up on our wedding day.  I told him that I loved how as a couple we always supported each other but also had this symbol in our home that presented our spiritual lives and how it influences as individuals, as a couple, and as parents.  He gave me our wedding rings, telling me how once upon a time they didn't mean much to him, but now with everything we had been through they held so much more meaning to him. 

The memory gift is definitely a tradition I am glad we started and one I definitely want to be sure to continue.  I can't wait to see how Delilah reacts to the memories we share with her.  I also can't wait until she starts picking her own gifts.  I look forward to hearing her speak in her own words the memories that make her think of us and make her happy.

The rest of Christmas day was spent slightly house hopping which resulted in what seemed to be an endless amount of Christmas presents.  Seriously, I don't know how one tiny little human being is supposed to play with so many toys in a lifetime.  But it was so much fun.  Deli had a great time hanging out with the family, especially her cousins.  And there was loads of good food.  (Have you noticed how much I love food yet?)  It was a long exhausting day, but it made me so full of love for all the people in my life and appreciative how much they love me, I literally thought I was going to explode with mushy love at some point.

Overall, it was a great holiday season.  It far surpassed my expectations and got me to appreciate presents a little bit more...but only a little bit...for now.  It also really excited me about the potential traditions we will build with Delilah in the future.  I want to continue the memory gift, but I also want to begin new traditions.  Maybe a certain food?  Or a pattern in how we open gifts?  Certain games we play?  And when she gets old enough, I do want to make sure we do some volunteering on Christmas like Michael and I did last year.  I so can't wait to take Delilah on her visit volunteering experience.

That is my most amazing present from this holiday season.  Seeing all the potential of great family fun and bonding that I have to look forward to.  I can't wait to see how our little family will shape and grow itself.  I see nothing but fun and laughter to look forward to.   

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 :-)