As I lay here reading a bedtime story to my son just days away from my due date, reality is starting to set in. Although I’m overwhelmed with excitement, I can also feel a sadness come over me. I’m sad my son has no idea his world is about to be turned upside down, sad he will now have to share me with another and sad it will no longer be just he and I. I hope this connection between us never fades and I will always be his “super mommy” even after his brother arrives.
Being the over-analyzer that I am, I fear this new addition might take me away from him (and my husband – he deserves attention too). This was one of the reasons I took a hiatus from the corporate world. I could no longer give 100% to the grueling work schedule and my family. Often times new additions result in scarifies elsewhere.
They say the greatest gift you can give a child is a sibling. I pray this reins true for my boys. I want them to love each other and share a brotherly bond no one will ever be able to break, even if it comes when they are older. I remember when my nephew first welcomed his baby brother he told my sister, “Take him back to the hospital, I’ve changed my mind.” We laugh now but I remember it was quite overwhelming for her at the time. Trying to manage my love for two will soon be my new normal.
I just hope I’m always able to make my boys feel loved equally. Right now it seems unfathomable to expand my heart further for another child. Friends continue to tell me I will feel the same connection and love for my new baby – it’s just hard to imagine until he arrives. For the past three years, I have just been Sebastian’s mom. This is all I know.
I hope baby Alex will love me just as much. I hope he loves to cuddle. I hope he looks at me with the same eyes as my son does now. Since he is my last baby, I know I will devote a lot of attention to him and I just hope it is not at the expense of Sebastian.
Life is about to change and although this is not my first rodeo, I feel like an amateur all over again. Wish me luck.
When I was in labor with my son I had the most amazing nurse by my side. Being a woman with two kids of her own, her advice and support really helped me. At one point she looked at me as I was trying to get through a painful contraction and said, “You are much stronger than you think you are.” This wasn’t the first time I’ve heard this, but it was the first time someone said it when I desperately needed to hear it. As soon as the words left her lips I found my strength; I just had to reach for it.
After my son was born I felt so much pride and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Not only did I give my son the gift of life, but I also gave myself the gift of believing – in me. Before I left the hospital I promised myself I would not let fear stand in the way of any future aspirations. I had a son now, one who would look to me for inspiration and guidance. I had to deliver.
Feeling inspired from my birth experience, I signed up for the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. Why would someone who has never run more than two miles in her life sign up for a marathon? Good question. I signed up because deep down I didn’t think I could run it and I knew I would have to find the courage to try. Also, as a new mom I knew it was important to find time for myself. The training would help me continue on my journey to a healthy lifestyle and each milestone would only strengthen my confidence in myself.
I started my training in December 2010 by walking on a treadmill. My first run was on December 28. I completed 1.14 miles and thought I was going to die. The sweat was pouring off my face, my heart was pounding and my knees ached with each step. Who was I kidding? How could I ever get to 26.2 miles? Looking for encouragement, I started reading running blogs and other marathon stories. Many of their stories sounded just like mine and their message was clear – don’t give up.
I went back to the gym and started to walk for a few minutes, then run for a few minutes. This built my stamina and helped me control my breathing. My next attempt at a long run was two weeks later. I completed 3.34 miles without stopping. Again I felt like I would never make it to the finish line, but I was adamant about moving forward. I signed up for three races prior to the marathon. My first was an 8K in April, the Shamrock Shuffle. This was my first taste of running an organized race. The excitement was overwhelming. It was much easier to run when you had thousands of people cheering you on. I was hooked and more motivated than ever. I completed two more races, the longest being 10 miles.
Over that summer I lost some steam due to my work schedule and the heat. My runs became few and far between. I was starting to think I just didn’t have the time or energy to keep up my training. That September I managed to get in three long runs, the longest being 16 miles. Then I tapered off to let my body rest. At this point I was hoping for an injury so I would have an excuse not to run, then I essentially wouldn’t be giving up. I had family flying in and I also told all of my friends I was running, so the pressure had mounted. They were all counting on me.
The night before the marathon my husband invited some friends over to make signs for me. Watching my loved ones write little notes of encouragement on poster board was very emotional. They believed in me more than I believed in myself. Later that night I saw a quote that brought tears to my eyes and I still refer to it to this day:
“I’m a success today because I had a friend who believed in me and I didn’t have the heart to let him down.” – Abraham Lincoln
Many times when we are faced with adversity the only way we get through is by the faith others have in us. Armed with this insight I went to bed to rest my mind. The following morning I woke early, packed all my running gear and woke my husband up to drive me. During the short drive to the start line, we passed volunteers setting up some of the water stations and my nerves set in. I was silent the entire ride to prevent my self from crying. My husband dropped me off and whispered in my ear, “If anyone can do this… it’s you. You got this.”
I watched him pull away and went straight to the bathroom to throw up. After I threw up, I started laughing. Why am I doing this to myself, it’s just a marathon. If I make it, I make it. The important thing is that I am going to give it my all, and that is good enough. I headed over to my corral and waited. It took nearly an hour for my corral to finally cross the start line, as all the elite athletes start first. I am not a fast runner nor do I strive to be. I didn’t care to beat the Kenyans – I just wanted to finish.
As I made my way up, I remember looking at the skyline and taking a deep breath of the crisp October air and saying to myself: Well here goes nothing, just do your best.
At mile seven I knew my husband and son were waiting for me, so the first six miles flew by. When I rounded the corner in Wrigleyville, there they were. My husband was holding my son on his shoulders with a sign that read: I am proud of my Mommy! You can do it! This sign along with a friend jumping in to run with me gave me a boost. It wasn’t until mile 19 I hit a wall. I had already made it this far; I didn’t want to give up. My mind and body was telling me to stop. Then I saw two signs that gave me the final push I needed. The first one read: While you are out can you pick me up some bread? I laughed out loud for a few minutes. Then a block later another read: Pain is temporary – Pride is forever! Once those words resonated in my tired brain, it hit me – I was going to finish no matter what.
As I turned the last corner, I got very emotional. I could finally see the finish line through my tears. I did it. I ran 26.2 miles. I can be the example for my son. I can best equate the feeling of crossing the finish line to the day I married my husband and the day my son was born. It was nothing short of amazing.
Each time I tell this story I always get someone who says, “I could never do that.” But that isn’t true because actually – you can. You are much stronger than you think you are. Your goals are attainable, whatever they may be. I encourage each of you to challenge yourself, but most importantly believe – in you.
Pregnancy is definitely a love/hate relationship. One of the things I do not love about pregnancy is all the advice and comments you get – particulary from strangers. Lately I have found that these unwanted gestures tend to get worse as you near your due date. When someone says something to me I usually just smile or do my best to fake a laugh. Luckily I am not one to take offense easily, so if you know me and have said any of these things listed below – do not fret as I still love you. I have been keeping a list of things not to say to pregnant women to educate all the non-baby vessels (men) and judgmental moms out there. So if you fall into one of these categories – listen up.
“Your boobs are huge!”
Do not under any circumstances say this. Much to my dismay, I’ve had a huge rack my entire life so why are you surprised they are larger during pregnancy? This is what happens when you are creating a life in your belly. The milk has to have somewhere to store itself! Also, stop comparing yourself to me after you make this comment with, “Mine didn’t get that big!” Good for you. Guess what – mine did. Have you not ever seen a large pair of boobs before? Unless you have lived under a rock your entire life I am sure you have, so enough with the boob comments.
“You must be eating for two!”
Translation to a pregnant woman: I’m huge. Why can’t I double fist my cookies and ice cream in peace? It’s really the only time in life a woman can indulge without the guilt, so let us have it. If you are making this comment out of jealousy, then I suggest you go get yourself knocked up.
“You must be ready to pop!”
Again you are insinuating I am huge. People started saying this to me when I was seven months along. When I would tell them I had another three months to go, a look of horror came over their face. I’m 5’2 people, seven months pregnant on me looks like 20 months pregnant on a normal person. Secondly, of course I am ready. Who likes carrying around a soccer ball in their crotch for months? I have been ready to pop since the third month.
“How much weight have you gained?”
Luckily this has only been asked a few times, but when it was I suddenly heard a record scratch. What? Who asks this? Didn’t your momma ever teach you to mind your manners? If you are asking from a competitive aspect, I will just lie so it makes me better than you. Just a heads up.
“Are you having any more kids?”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is a question better suited for after my lady parts have returned to normal. The farthest thing from my mind right now is starting over in pregnancy! Plus your question will just result in a “HELL-TO-THE-NO!” Now, if you would like to be my surrogate along with give me a winning lotto ticket then I will reconsider my answer.
“You really shouldn’t be doing that.”
Are you my doctor? Or even a doctor at all? Then shut your mouth. Offering help is one thing but offering unsolicited advice about things that are supported in the medical community is not acceptable. I know the limits. If I want to have caffeine, I can. If I want to have a glass of wine here or there, I can too. If you see me at a bar chugging martinis and partaking in illegal substances then I fully support you not only punching me in the face, but also calling the cops to have me arrested. I think that’s fair.
“OMG, when I was in labor I almost died.”
Hey doomsday queen– look at my belly, I am still pregnant. Know what that means? I still have to deliver this baby and the last thing I want to hear is your terrible birth story. I am still living in the possibility of having the perfect scenario of a pain free, two-push birth. I would love to hear your story but preferably after my baby is born. Deal? Good.
Sure I would love to hear… after my labor!
“It can’t be that bad.”
I love when men say this to me. And to answer you: “IT IS!” Somewhere deep in our sadistic brains women only tend to remember the outcome of pregnancy. This is the only reason we do it again. It is brutal and it sucks – period. If at anytime you men would like to trade places with us through a pregnancy and birth, I will gladly take you up on that. Keep me posted.
I’m am sure this list could go on forever but these are my favorite so far. Hopefully this will clear up the air on what is appropriate and what isn’t when speaking to a pregnant woman. If you have any to add please share in the comments below.
You have heard me say many times that life changes when you have kids. No matter how hard you try to hold on to your past, your future will always seem to get in the way. Your new life will be filled with much more purpose and it will most certainly give you a new perspective; however you need to be prepared to let a few things go. Some of the hardest things to part ways with are listed below:
Friends: I have lost a few friends after having kids. In the end they expected way more of my time and attention than I was able to give. I couldn’t balance keeping up with their lives and mine and unfortunately that wasn’t good enough. Other relationships have ceased because my idea of hanging out now entails day activities verses night activities. As much as I would love to go chug a few cocktails until the wee hours of the morning, I still have to wake up and be Mom at 7 am. Playing Mom with a hangover is pure torture. Lesson I have learned so far: To have a friend you have to be a friend, so try to reconnect as often as you can with those friends who do still make an effort to be a part of your life.
Money:Makin’ it rain is a thing of the past. News flash: kids are expensive! This is always a surprise to new parents. You might think you have an idea of what it costs to raise a child. Think again and while you’re at it – add a few more zeros. I remember experiencing sticker shock many times when we first had our son. Daycare, schooling, diapers, formula, clothing, insurance and activities add up real quick. All of those weekend trips, dinners, nights on the town with friends, spa treatments – go ahead and kiss them goodbye. Even when you do have the extra money, the guilt stops you from proceeding because you know the money could be better spent on your kids. Damn parenting guilt will get you every time! I pray every night my kid will be a pop star or a professional athlete one day so he can pay me back after he bankrupts me. My advice: do your research so you don’t feel blind-sided, but also know you will always find a way to make it work.
What happened to all my Benjamin’s?
Your Body: Remember that bikini body you once had? You will spend the rest of your life chasing after it once you have kids. I know I am not the only vain one around here. We are all critical of ourselves and even if you are able to get the weight off, you will over analyze every mark on your body post-baby. Your body changes – get over it and learn to love your new one. I’m still working on this so no profound advice here, sorry to disappoint you.
Your Sleep: All those naps I protested in Kindergarten – how do I submit a rebuttal? What I would give to take a two-hour nap every day. Sleep becomes a luxury once you have kids. Even when your kids are sleeping, you can’t shut your mind off long enough to get the sleep you need. Your internal clock will never let you sleep in late again. The only real uninterrupted sleep I get is when I have the Flu. Luckily Flu season is upon us!
True story…
Your Heart and Mind: Every decision you make moving forward will be centered around your kids. You lie awake worrying about how you can make their life better, if you are a good parent, if you washed their favorite Batman shirt for school in the morning and if they will love you forever. They will melt your heart telling you how much they love you, and break your heart for doing something they know they shouldn’t on a daily basis. There is no pain greater then the look of disappointment on their face when you can’t help them when they are sick or afford that toy they want. They truly own you which is a blessing and a curse all at the same time. Prepare yourself because I guarantee you are in for a ride.
What are things you have noticed missing from your life once you had kids? What we have gained is for another post.
Since my husband played a small role in making our babies, I thought I would throw some love his way by asking what he hated about pregnancy. I also asked some of my friends’ husbands the same question to see if there was a general consensus. My hunch was correct and most complained about the same annoyances. Even though our men will never know (nor do I think they would want to know) what it is like to be pregnant, they have to deal with us – so why not let them b*tch too?
When I first asked my husband to give me five things he hated about pregnancy he wouldn’t take the bait. “Oh no, is this a trap for your blog? It’s not that bad and you’re the one going through it, so nothing really” After a little eye-rolling, probing and swearing I wouldn’t get upset at his answers, he finally obliged.
Top Five Things Men Hate About Pregnancy:
First, he hates that I am always hot. Not just a little hot… like swamp a** hot. I insist on the AC being turned down so low that the house feels like we are front row at the Ice Capades. He now sleeps in winter pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt. He also uses an extra blanket at night as I lie uncovered with a glass of ice water waiting for me on the night stand. Every morning he wakes up with the sniffles and a sore throat as I am wiping the sweat from my brow. He’s even tried turning it up in the middle of the night, but I always wake up and turn it down again. Checkmate guy – don’t mess with my AC.
Adam – every morning
I was surprised the AC was his first complaint, I thought it would be something regarding sex. However, the sex came second. Obviously his pool of attention has diminished with each passing month. I won’t even cuddle because I am so uncomfortable and would rather wrap myself around my pregnancy pillow than him. Plus complaining about my hips, back, huge belly and enlarged boobs is not sexy to him apparently. I would have to agree.
Thirdly he hates my super-power senses. Everything smells like rotten dead animal to me. I can’t stand the smell of his face lotion and hid it from him until after the baby is born. I won’t cook come of his favorite foods and have even moved to a different table in a restaurant because I couldn’t be near the kitchen. I think being a little high maintenance is better than vomiting in public wouldn’t you agree?
Next he hates the “nesting” stage. I usually have a very long honey-do-list every weekend. My nesting along with a mild case of OCD has taken over our free time organizing the garage, the boy’s room, washing all the baby clothes, de-cluttering, etc. He never complains and always does it, but I know after a long work week the last thing he wants to do is to slave away for a moody pregnant chick.
Lastly he hates that I share too much with him about the pregnancy. Imagine that – me share too much?No, it couldn’t be. I like to be descriptive with my symptoms to really bring home the point. How else would he know what I’m going through? You would think after eight years together he would get used to this, but he said during pregnancy my openness is more than he can take sometimes. He doesn’t want to hear about when I pee myself or that when your pregnant you can’t poop. He finished with, “Sweetie, some things are just better left unsaid.”
I’m sure there are more but I gave a limit of five. Luckily he only has eight more weeks to go to put up with me!
I’ve recently discovered when talking to other moms I often start my sentences with, “No judging but…” I do this to be funny and break the ice, however I really am setting the stage for them to put their judging hats aside.
Moms are some of the most judgmental people I have ever met when it comes to methods of parenting. They always have advice, most of which is unsolicited. I am not sure if these actions are a result of our mother-bear instincts, the pressure society puts on us to be perfect, or because we just want to believe our way is best. Each of us have developed our own parenting skills from books, the media, parents, friends, strangers and the go ole’ trial-and-error method. From the minute of conception we are pressured to do the right things and make the right decisions. But who is right? You? Me? Family? Oprah? Maybe the answer is – all of us.
I recently had a woman lecture me about drinking decaf coffee because I am pregnant. She insisted the small amount of caffeine in decaf elevates the baby’s heart rate to unsafe levels, however my doctor said I could drink regular coffee everyday if I wanted to. Was this woman a doctor? All knowing? The Dali Lama in disguise? Either way, I went home and manically Googled if I was hurting my baby. Was it really necessary for her to send a pregnant woman into a panic? It wasn’t like I was taking shots of tequila while lifting heavy boxes. Geez. Should women feel entitled to share their thoughts because they are a mom too? When are we crossing the line and doing more harm than good?
Because this is my second child I have become accustomed to being judged by others, however I admit I do take the time to listen. Hell, one of these b*tches actually might have something to say worthy of an ear. I have decided to just take the information and then choose whether or not to give a sh*t about what they think. One thing I do know is that I am doing the best I can. It is difficult to manage everything and keep up with the do’s and don’ts of parenting. I also know that I would die for my son and love him more than words can say. I tell him I love him often, I feed him, I shelter him, and I hug and kiss him everyday.
In the end we all want what is best for our little tykes, so let’s stop with the criticizing and harsh judgments. Aren’t we supposed to be emotional creatures and nurturing by nature? Can’t we stand together and just criticize men instead of each other like we use to do before we had kids? What happened to the Girl Power phenomenon we all embraced in the 90’s compliments of the Spice Girls? I, for one, would like it reinstated. What about you?
Here is a list of reasons I am considered (by some moms and most parenting websites) a bad mom:
I loved breastfeeding and plan to do it again with my next baby. It is FREE, and my doctor says it’s what is best for baby.
I don’t cloth diaper. I know – I’m hurting the environment. Call me lazy because that is exactly why I don’t do it. I wish I wasn’t lazy because it would save a lot of money if I did cloth diaper.
I don’t feed my child all organic food. I would love to, however it is very expensive and feeding an entire family on organic food only is not an option at this time.
Sometimes (ok often) I let him go to bed late. This is mostly because I love spending time with him and at times – it’s the only free time I have.
I let him sleep in my bed. It doesn’t bother me and one day I’m sure he will go in his own bed. Until then, I will not rush him.
I let him watch Little Einstein’s and other shows on Disney Junior. Cartoons are a fun part of being a child. Why ban them?
I let him play with the iPad. It can be a great babysitter at times!
I let him play with my iPhone when out to dinner to get peace.
I don’t give him a bath every night.
I don’t care if he is a boy; I smother him with love and kisses and let him cry when he gets a boo-boo. This doesn’t mean he is going to be a pansy when he gets older.
He doesn’t have all the latest and greatest toys. I live in Chicago – who has space for that?
There is my dirty parenting laundry. The judging can start now. Go!
Three years ago my husband and I welcomed a baby boy into our family. He was our first child and we were thrilled to be parents. Leading up to his birth I was confident we were ready, and as much as others told me life would change I somehow thought my life was different. I would not change, I would now just include mom on my resume. Boy – was I wrong.
The first time I held my son and looked into his eyes, life did change and so did I…dramatically. I was now a mother and solely responsible for this tiny life in my arms. To say you instantly fall madly in love is a vast understatement. There truly are no words in the English language to describe the overwhelming joy and love you feel when you first meet your baby. It’s once you get over that moment of butterflies and kittens the fear sets in. I actually asked my nurse, “Are you sure you want to leave him to me?” I was hoping I could move in to the hospital and just use the nurses as free labor until my son enrolled in college, but unfortunately my request was not honored. Eventually they did kick me out and now here I was…a mom.
Suddenly all other things in my life came second, which included my beloved Chihuahua. Blasphemy! Every minute of everyday, even once I returned to work, I thought about my son. Did he miss me? Was he ok? Does he know how much I love him? Does he love our nanny more than me? Should I give up my career for him? How am I going to pay for college? I basically turned into a raging lunatic. My nights were sleepless, and not just because the baby needed to eat but also because I was overanalyzing every move he made. If I did get the occasional two hours of sleep, I would have dreams he skinned his knees, or the kids at school were mean to him and would wake up in a panic. I always heard him crying even when he wasn’t. I slept with one eye opened staring at his chest to make sure he was still breathing. I hovered over anyone who was holding him, and often criticized my husbands parenting skills. No one loved my son more than me, so I knew what was best. Or so I thought.
Truth was, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing either. It was the blind leading the blind. I was just trying to make it to the next day without losing my sanity. I was exhausted trying to keep up with being a new mom, as well as the person I used to be. Then it hit me – I am not that person anymore and the sooner I learn to let her go, the better off I will be. I can’t stress over trying to be perfect because I’m not. No one is, nor do they expect me to be.
Once I made that commitment, all of the little insignificant nothings didn’t bother me anymore. I was going to have to get used to motherhoodalong with the worry and guilt that comes with it. It consumed me at first and was quite difficult to embrace. I constantly doubted my actions and myself. That pedicure I used to enjoy now seemed like time I should be spending with my family. Life became an intricate balancing act, but eventually I figured it out. I knew what advice to take and what advice not to take. I’m pretty sure putting Jack Daniels on my son’s gums when he’s teething was advice I had to turn down. I started feeling more comfortable with my decisions and knew I was doing the best I could.
The lessons I learned were: It’s impossible to give a 100% to everything. The person who puts the most pressure on you – is you. You might not be able to have it all at once and that’s normal. Something will have to give and you will make sacrifices. Those sacrifices will be worth giving up although you may not see it now. Becoming a mother will be one of your greatest accomplishments – mistakes and all. As time goes by some fears subside. The ache in your heart becomes one you begin to cherish and the lessons your kids teach you will make you a better parent – and a better person.
I admit I’m a vain person when it comes to taking photos. I even have a side I must take pictures on. If I can’t take the photo from that angle, I opt out. Snobby I know, but I don’t like to be captured in time looking like a disaster. Who does? At least if people see me in person looking like a hot mess, which is a lot by the way, their memory of me will soon fade. Pictures however last for-ev-er; and with all the social media and sharing sites out there your photos can reach thousands of people in seconds.
To quickly elaborate on the origin of my bad-picture phobia: I grew up in the South, we don’t even go to the gas station unless you are dolled up. That’s the way it is. When you look your best, you feel your best. Even nine years as a Chicagoan, I still never leave the house without mascara and lip gloss on. Those I am taking to the grave with me. I know I will get some hate mail saying pregnant women are beautiful and I shouldn’t be such a diva. I agree with you and admitted I am a vain b*tch when it comes to photos. Other pregnant women are beautiful and even if I was one of those other women, I feel far from sexy when pregnant. There is nothing wrong with that, and I am sure I am not alone. If you feel amazing and sexy while pregnant, I commend you and secretly hate you. Truth.
When deciding on whether or not to take pregnancy photos I thought long and hard. Do I want people to see me looking like an Umpa Lumpa? Do I want people to see my belly button all stretched out like a bad yoga pose? Do I want people to see my enormous boobs? Ultimately I decided to take them because I didn’t take pictures with my first pregnancy and have regretted not doing so. Back then I was working sixty-plus hours a week and there was always tomorrow. Well,tomorrow came and went and suddenly my baby was here. I missed an opportunity I can never get back.
This time around I wanted to capture the moment- swollen face and all. Ultimately the idea of pregnancy is – beautiful. I loved the outcome and am so glad I took the time, and put aside my southern princess roots, to capture baby Alex in the womb.
I posted them on Pinterest under pregnancy photo ideas and they have received a lot of re-pins. This led me to share with all of you. My husband took these with our camera, a Nikon D60. Then I used iPhoto on my laptop to soften them up and add some filters. Photo shoots and prints are expensive so this was a great, free alternative. Here’s to women and their baby makers.
First time mom-to-be’s or those trying to get pregnant: DO NOT READ! I don’t want to scare you. You’re welcome.
I am feeling a little betrayed these days because I tricked myself into having another baby. First let me point out: I am obsessed with babies, it’s somewhat of a problem. I think they’re amazing and I would have ten if I were younger – and rich. What I am not obsessed with is baking them or pushing them out of my lady parts.
Following my last baby, I told my husband he would have to drug me to knock me up again. I hated every minute of pregnancy and when people told me I would miss it once it was over; I would violently laugh while portraying the world’s most disingenuous smile. Noticing my distain they would often follow up with,”Trust me. God made us so we would forget the pain or we definitely wouldn’t do it again.” I would listen nicely but ultimately tucked the information away in my I’ll believe it when I see it section of my brain.
About a year after my son was born, those words of wisdom started to see some truth. I would see a pregnant woman and reminisce about feeling the baby move and the anticipation of meeting them. When I saw a newborn I certainly urned for one, not remembering the slightest bit of torture I experienced during the birth of my own. By year two, I was begging my husband to give me a baby and tracking my ovulation cycle diligently on my iPhone. Once we became pregnant, all I could remember was the moment I saw my son the first time and the joy he has brought me every day since then. I felt truly blessed to get to experience it all…again.
Baby Sebastian 1 day old
I still feel blessed and can hardly wait to hold my baby; however, all those painful, disgusting, annoying memories about giving birth have come back to me….with a vengeance. I am officially terrified! I had what most would consider a very by-the-book delivery, yet lately I can only remember all the awful things I had to endure. I am starting to have nightmares conjuring up every what-if story my brain can process, and trust me when I say even Stephen King would be proud.
I further torture myself by reading every headline I see about dramatic births. I remember doing this to myself right before I gave birth last time but when my water finally broke a calm came over me. It wasn’t until that moment I knew I could do it. I know I can do it again, it is just the what-if’s that are sending me into a downward spiral. What if I go into labor and my husband can’t get there in time? What if I have the baby in the car or a taxi? What if labor goes too fast and I can’t get an epidural? What if he comes early? What if my vagina breaks? What if he is an alien? You name it, I have thought about it.
Baby Alex already laughing at me
WTF is my problem? Am I a masochist? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I remembering this now when I don’t have a choice in the matter? News Flash Holly: This baby is coming with or without your participation. I decided to make a list of the all the things I hated about labor that have kept me up at night. I hope by sharing them it will help me come to terms with the inevitable and render any support from you. It is okay if you call me a psycho, I will not be offended.
Things I hate about having a baby:
The IV: I HATE IV’s. The one they use during labor is a larger gauge in case you need an emergency blood transfusion. Awesome. Plus, during labor you sweat like a whore in church and the tape keeps coming off leaving the IV to wiggle around. This gives me the creeps. You already have a ton of wires connected to you and people are always bumping them. This was the only time I yelled at my husband. I told him if he touched or tripped over my wires again, I was divorcing him. I was serious.
Contractions: My contractions coupled. This means they would spike, only to come down half way before spiking again. This happened two or three times before they would go away completely. You can feel them coming on like a freight train and there is nothing you can do about it – not good for control freaks. Contractions literally feel like someone is crushing your pelvis. No matter your tolerance of pain, these suck.. bad.
Epidural: The epidural is amazing however the thought of it going into my spine freaks me out.
Catheter: After the epidural you have to get a catheter. No explanation needed, it just sucks.
Birth: It’s humiliating. Luckily it is overshadowed by the joy of your baby – so this I can live with again.
Epidural tape: This tape holds the epidural in place and covers your ENTIRE back. They also spray on an adhesive to help it stick even more. Taking it off is a b*tch! Imagine the world’s largest band aid with super power stickiness.
Bleeding: You bleed… a lot. After raiding the hospital supply of underwear and cleaning myself up the nurse would inevitably come in, put all her weight on my stomach, and pull a WWE move to release any blood. This is disgusting and it hurts.
The hospital team: They are amazing, but they deal with chicks like you every day. I can only imagine how many times they are asked, “Does it hurt?” I felt bad whining or complaining because I wanted them to like me and give me more attention. My plan worked but I had to act like a rockstar, when in reality I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.
This is all I can think of right now. For the record and as all of you as my witness: This is the LAST time I am doing this. Baby maker is officially retiring.
Because it is our sixth wedding anniversary, I thought my husband deserved a shout out. In life, we tend to forget to tell people just how much they mean to us, and that is one regret I never want to have – especially with him.
Just a little insight for those of you who do not know me or my husband: Adam and I are polar opposites. He is calm, collected and sometimes shy, while I am a do-now-ask-questions-later, sir-talk-a-lot, lunatic. I often ask him if I annoy him and he always so graciously replies, “No sweetie, you keep my life interesting.”
I remember the exact moment I knew I wanted to marry him. It was Christmas time and we had only been dating a few months. My roommates were headed home for the holidays and I was staying behind in Chicago. At the time, I could’t afford a plane ticket and figured I would use the down time to hunt for jobs and catch up on laundry. Adam was headed to Florida and was planning on staying there for two weeks. It was the first time since we had met we were not going to see each other every day. I was going to miss him terribly but, of course, I didn’t want to project that and look like a Stage Five Clinger. He continually asked me if I was going to be fine staying by myself and I kept assuring him all would be well. But when the day arrived for him to catch his flight…I was miserable. The truth was, I didn’t want to be alone for the holidays. That is a time to share with loved ones and family, and I was sharing my time with a Chihuahua, cold pizza and laundry. Awesome.
This was how I felt… inside.
Before I could fall into a deep pity party and drink myself into an eggnog oblivion, I heard a knock at the door. When I opened the door, it was Adam. I just stared at him trying to comprehend what was happening. Then he said, “There is no way I can leave you alone on Christmas. I cancelled my flight.”
After my heart melted, my next thought was: Sh*t! His Cuban mother is going to crucify me for taking away her baby son on Jesus’ Birthday! When I mentioned this out loud, he told me she agreed it was for the best too. After I stopped crying, we had a great Charlie Brown, cold pizza, laundry filled Christmas – together. He had put me first, and I loved him for that.
Six months later we got engaged on the roof of that same apartment, adorned with white Christmas lights and a view of the Hancock building in the background. It was one of the best moments in my life. Like any marriage, the last six years haven’t been perfect, but they have been worth every minute. I am so grateful to have found him, and couldn’t imagine my life with anyone else.
Adam:
Thank you for all the happiness you have given me over the years. I am forever indebted.
