Rockin' the Baby

Our first holidays

2013-01-11T18:29:00.002-08:00

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!?!

2012-12-23T19:28:00.001-08:00

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

2012-10-29T14:54:00.000-07:00

"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

2012-10-04T14:54:00.000-07:00

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?

2012-06-26T13:49:00.002-07:00

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

2012-05-24T19:11:00.003-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First child birth class

2012-03-09T12:11:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mommy's Turn!

2012-03-02T08:53:00.000-08:00

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

Baby Showers are the best!

2012-02-23T19:36:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daddy's Corner

2012-02-12T07:54:00.000-08:00

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

I bow down to this woman!

2012-02-03T11:27:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

Maternity clothes are overrated

2012-01-29T17:34:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Didn't see that coming

2012-01-17T18:44:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ONE WHOLE WEEK!!!!

2012-01-06T18:26:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

New Years Resolutions

2012-01-05T18:11:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. Do at least one pull up.

4. Do ten push ups in a row.

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

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

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

8. Really try to stick with cloth diapering.

9. Learn how to puree baby food.

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

11. Graduate from grad school...finally.

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

I'm still alive...for the most part

2011-12-18T14:43:00.000-08:00

So....this blog has not turned out to be exactly what I thought it would. I really wanted to keep constant updates, articles, and other interesting items about my pregnancy and things I'm learning along the way. Unfortunately, it's not turning out the way I expected...due to my pregnancy. Here are a couple of things that have been preventing me from writing the way I wanted.

1. Ligament pains. Now, at first, I didn't even know what the hell this was. I would just be walking along and then a stabbing pain, that lasts about .2 seconds, would make me keel over and immobile. At first I thought I was dying, but then I found out it is totally normal. It's just the ligaments and muscles and such stretching, so you get really bad cramp like feelings because of it.

2. Constipation. I'm not even gonna go into the details of this journey. But as someone who hasn't really dealt with constipation, I found it incredibly uncomfortable and sometimes even made me sick. After trying everything from stool softeners, enemas, and high fiber foods, I finally didn't find success until I started taking Benefiber. I am now so in love with Benefiber that I secretly make out with the bottle when no one is looking. Seriously, if you ever have any kind of poop issues, get on the Benefiber!!!

3. Nausea. Holy crap. 5 months pregnant and still dealing with queasiness, nausea, and throwing up. Sometimes I throw up so bad that blood vessels break all over my face and it looks like I have some crazy rash/disease. I like to call this my acne full alien look. At this point in the pregnancy, most women are over the "morning sickness." I have not have had this same luxury. I've tried everything from resting, eating bland foods, crackers, ginger anything, even acupuncture. Unfortunately, some things have relieved the nausea, but it ain't goin anywhere anytime soon! I lost 10 lbs in my first trimester and I still have yet to gain it all back. In hindsight, that's probably a good thing. I'm a bit of a chunky monkey, so luckily I had some extra poundage to lose. I'm eventually gonna blow up to be the big ol' elephant I am destined to be. But until then, I'm trying to look pass the daily nausea and enjoy the "you don't even look pregnant" comments. But I'm hoping to get at least one month free of nausea so I can truly enjoy my pregnancy. Oh, and so I can stop calling my best friend in the middle of the night out of dire depression and desperation to feel better.

4. Sleeping issues. Although my tummy is not as big as some ladies at this point, it is getting round. Which is making it hard for this tummy sleeper mommy. Not to mention that I wake up to baby kicks, trips to the bathroom, and random dreams that are so vivid I feel like I haven't actually woken up at all.

5. Can't breathe. So I've been doing some reading on what kinds of things to symptoms to expect when pregnant, and one of the ones is shortness of breath. Interestingly enough, this isn't supposed to happen (usually) until much later on in the pregnancy. Pretty much because the baby is getting bigger and presses on your lungs, oh, and the extra weight you're carrying. Luckily for me, the breathing issues started about last month. The main points when it effects me are 1. when I am sleeping. Something about when I lay down just messes everything up and it can be really hard to take a deep breath. 2. When I go upstairs. Even if I go up just one flight, my heart starts to pound to the point where it feels like it explodes. I have even had a couple of episodes where I have almost passed out. Luckily for me, NYC is packed with loads of staircases in their train stations. And I live on a 3rd floor walk up.

So those are the main things. I pretty much have at least 3 times a day where I think I am going to die. But alas, I remember, it's just because I'm pregnant. As I start to feel better, I hope to write more, and spend time with people too. Well, after I finish writing stuff for my thesis first. Ugh, too much writing to do. I will start to be more involved with this blog though and venturing out into the real world!!!

Until then...

In case you haven't heard...

2011-11-28T18:37:00.000-08:00

!!!!WE'RE HAVING A GIRL!!!!

We found out on Wednesday, November 23rd that we're having a lil baby girl. We won't be sharing names just yet, but we're very excited to share this news. We would have been happy, no matter what the sex turned out to be. But now that we know it's a girl, there are a whole new set of dreams, goals, and fears that are making this experience so much more real.

Here's to looking forward to the future of my little girl. Can't wait to see where our journey takes us.

Boy vs. girl vs. panic

2011-11-22T19:48:00.000-08:00

In about 11 hours I am going to know whether we are having a boy or girl. I am nervous, excited, and a bit scared out of my mind. Mostly because I've been having some serious issues with how to deal with identity and gender for my child.

I know this might seem ridiculous to some people, but out of the millions of things I probably could be worrying about, one of the main things I get concerned with is my child dealing with gender and social "norms" being imposed upon them. And then by absorbing those norms they then begin to judge and not accept others because they are "different." I know that a lot of that has to do with how parents bring up their children. But I also know that environmental factors make a huge difference, and the older a child gets the less you have any control over their environment.

But what seems fearful is that these gender stereotypes are placed on children at such a young age. Primarily through toys, shows, and clothing. For example"

These are just onesies, but these are the type of clothes that make me a bit nervous. Boys its always dark colors and sports, sports, sports. And for girls it mainly pinks and purples and ditsy, brainless sayings. In my opinion, girl things usually tend to be worse and more oppressive, but I'm not really happy with the options either way. OBVIOUSLY, I will not be purchasing these types of items, but someone else might. And what am I supposed to say? Um, thanks for your gift but I don't want my child to become a stereotypical meat/air head who don't appreciate themselves or others.

I feel like once we find out the sex of the baby, I'm going on a whole journey of making sure that my son can feel ok to wear pink or take a dance class or my daughter can wear baggy clothes and not care about make up without being made fun of for being "gay" or a "tom boy" or being considered an outsider.

I'm obviously not going to go to any extremes, like this one set of parents, who decided to not tell anyone the sex of their baby so the child could decide their own gender.

http://www.parentdish.com/2011/05/26/genderless-baby/

And although I would never do this, I can totally understand why these parents did it. There are so many pressures for people to act a certain way based on their sex. I have met many women who refuse to lift anything because its "too heavy" and "need to get a man to do it." And I have met way too many men who refuse to cry, especially in public, because it is a sign of weakness for them. I truly believe that these behaviors are instilled at a young age and then just nurtured by society throughout adulthood.

I know it will take a lot of hard, consistent work to make sure my child has the confidence to be proud of the person they are and not care what other people think of them. I just really really hope that no matter how challenging it might be, that they don't give in to what others expect them to be just because of the genitalia they were born with. Hopefully Michael and I can equip our child with the tools to gain the inner strength to be ok with who they are, and continue to defend that (if need be) when Michael and I can no longer do it.

Crossing my fingers, not for a boy or girl, but for a happy, healthy human being.

Lost but not forgotten...

2011-11-16T17:03:00.000-08:00

In June of this year I experienced a miscarriage. I only knew I was pregnant for about 4 days before I began to miscarry. But those 4 days were some of the best days of my life. My whole world was turned upside down by a simple pink plus sign. I couldn't believe how happy I was.

And less than a week later, I experienced one of the greatest bouts of sadness that I had ever felt. When the doctor said it was "not a viable pregnancy," I was speechless. And then for a couple of weeks when I wasn't speechless, I was crying. It was incredibly painful trying to figure out why I was in so much pain. I hadn't actually had the child. I wasn't even pregnant "long enough" to establish a strong connection with the baby.

I finally allowed myself to realize that a loss is a loss. The moment I found out I was pregnant I had created a whole life for that baby. Goals, dreams, fears, hopes. It was as real to me as any other person I know. After weeks of mourning and healing, I started to feel a little bit better. And right around that time I found out I was pregnant...again.

I had taken the pregnancy test by myself (last time I took it with Michael). I still smiled with excitement, but was very concerned. I wasn't sure if I could do a round two of the previous months. When I finally got to go to the doctor, she said something that tapped into one of my fears: my progesterone levels were critically low and if I didn't do something about it I was going to the lose the baby.

Luckily, taking extra hormones during my first trimester fixed all of that and we got out of the danger zone. The further the pregnancy goes along, the more confident I get that everything is going to be alright and the more excited I get to meet him/her. But...I can't seem to forget the baby I lost, the baby I now refer to as Baby June.

Of course, I never actually expected to forget Baby June. But I have actually been feeling a bit of guilt. Like by having this new baby, I'm completely ignoring the fact that Baby June ever existed. And I couldn't help but feel that Baby June was still present in my life (like, the spirit of) and upset, thinking that I loved this current baby more. Some kind of invisible sibling rivalry so to speak. I was actually up all night worried about this one day.

I'm still coming to terms with the fact that the miscarriage "wasn't my fault." And I'm trying to let myself believe that if Baby June is looking down on me now, that they aren't upset, but rather happy for his/her parents. But I know, until the day I die, I will never ever forget that baby. And I will always love it with all of my heart, just as much as I love my current baby. There is no comparison between the two. They are/were both my children. And that's all that matters.

Is that what I think it is!?!

2011-10-31T14:04:00.000-07:00

So last Wednesday was an interesting night for me. I was trying to fall asleep, but was doing my hour long ritual of tossing and turning. I finally landed on my stomach (will be so sad when I can't sleep on my tummy anymore) and got super comfy. All of the sudden I felt something really weird.

I can't even begin to properly describe what it was. It def wasn't gas, the feeling was too high. It wasn't nausea, too low. It didn't feel like butterflies. It kind of felt like liquid swooshing around in my stomach. And not even that really describes what it was like. I had a hunch of what it might be, but didn't want to get my hopes up.

The next morning I did a bit of research and also reached out to the ladies on my Baby Center Birth Club. It turns out my initial instinct was right; I FELT THE BABY MOVE!!!!!! I wasn't expecting to feel the baby so early on, and probably wouldn't have felt it if I wasn't on my stomach. But I got to and it was amazing. Just one more thing to make this whole experience that much more real. I'm interested to see how the first kick is gonna feel like.

Short and simple entry today. But also just wanted to say one final thing...

!!!!HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

50/50

2011-10-25T17:14:00.000-07:00

As the horrors of the first trimester begin to wane (notice I said "begin to." Yes, it's still going on.) I am starting to get a bit more excited about being a mom. It's weird to actually think of myself in those terms still, but I'm warming up to it. I find myself talking to the baby sometimes, totally by accident. And sometimes I randomly hug my stomach because I just get really excited about being pregnant.

I haven't really gotten emotional about being a mom, that is, up until this Sunday. Sunday night the hubby and I decided to go to the movies because we haven't been in a minute. We went to go see 50/50, a dramatic comedy starring Joseph Gordon Levitt and Seth Rogen. I'm a fan of both, so I thought it might be cool to see.

It's a pretty cute/saddish movie about a young man (Levitt) who gets diagnosed with spinal cancer at the age of 27, and his journey in dealing with that. Even though Levitt and Rogen had great chemistry, I couldn't stop watching Angelica Houston, who I have had a total crush on since back in the Addams Family days.

Ms. Houston plays Levitt's mom, who is also the wife of an Alzheimer's patient. She is very concerned and protective of her son, but not in such an overbearing way that you want to stab her in the face. Unfortunately for her, her son really doesn't want anything to do with her because she is "annoying." As Levitt continuously pushes her away, you see her pain but respect her for not pushing him too hard. One of the characters in the movies so wittingly says to Levitt "Wow. She has a husband that can't talk to her, and a son that won't. You're kind of a dick."

There was one scene that hit me particularly hard. She visits her son in the hospital, and sees him rolled away as he goes into a surgery. And in my head, I thought "that could be the last time she ever sees him. That could be her last image of him." And I started bawling. Not even my most nauseous day had me clutching my stomach so tight.

What was weird was I was not experiencing any kind of regret in having a child because they might get cancer. Rather, I was sadly overjoyed that I had the opportunity of feeling that much loving pain if I ever lost my child in that way. I can only imagine that it is one of the most unique feelings in the world, and truly a gift. I know...it sounds a bit morbid. But its kinda like one of those "I would rather have loved and lost than never loved at all" type feelings. And regardless of its morbidity, I feel very grateful that I will be able to experience that kind of love for another human being.

First pre-natal yoga class

2011-10-14T18:34:00.000-07:00

My usual yoga classes: I go to a real awesome place called Yoga Vida. (www.yogavida.com). Their vinyasa classes are super affordable which is pretty rock star. I'm definitely not the type of person that can do the meditative style of yoga. I get lost in my own head. Vinyasa is more about the transition from one position into another. So its very fluid and mostly constantly moving. It gives you a great workout. Then the last 10 minutes are used as the more relaxation/meditative time.

My expectations of pre-natal yoga: I assumed that since preggo women don't have much mobility or balance, that they would spend more time just sitting and meditating. It made me a little nervous because the class was an hour and a half long (my usual yoga classes are an hour) and that just seemed like a ridiculously long time to be at one with myself. I thought I was just going to sit in a room with a bunch of preggos listening to them huff and puff and rub up on their bellies. I wasn't totally down with that.

How it actually went: It wasn't too bad! I was the smallest person there. Most of the ladies were at least 20 weeks, but mostly more. They were so plump and cute. :-) A couple of them kept looking at me smiling. I couldn't tell if it was "aw, how cute, she doesn't know what she's in for" or if they were just acknowledging that I'm at the beginning of my journey and they were in my shoes not too long ago. I'm gonna go with the latter.

The first 30 minutes was spent on introductions and a reading. Each woman introduced herself, how far along she was, and any issues she was having physically for the week. The yoga instructor then read this passage from a book (which I have to get the name of) about sphincters. Yeah, that word is gross. But it was actually interesting learning about sphincters, which I found out is ANY muscle that operates more independently and doesn't function completely by the brain. So for women it would be your butt hole (obvi) and your vajayjay. Sometimes those muscles just start doing things no matter how hard you try to get them to stop. Like pushing out a baby!

Then we got into the yoga portion. It wasn't as intense as the vinyasa that I'm used to, but it was still great. We did some various warrior poses and leg stretches and such. The relaxation portion was longer than usual, and we laid on our sides with a pillow between our legs.

I didn't mind the relaxation part at first, but it definitely went on longer than my brain could handle. I started thinking about my best friend from college, who I just found out is also pregnant and due a week before me. She lives about 6 hours away though. Then I started thinking about my family, they live 4 hours away. And I started to realize how badly I actually miss them and how much I hate that they are all so far away. I have definitely made great friends in NYC. And Michael's family is super great. But sometimes this experience of being pregnant feels so lonely. Not because I don't have people around me to love and support me, but because the people who have watched me grow physically and emotionally as a person aren't getting to see this humongous step/change in my life. I wish I had more time to go see them, but thus is the life of a working mom.

So, as expected, I started to tear up. Luckily I wasn't facing anyone (I effing hate crying in front of people, and it seems to be happening more often) and I had a nice lil cry to myself. It didn't make it any better that my nausea is still pretty crazy, so all the movement of the yoga class was making me ill.

Overall, it was a great experience. It was nice to be in a room with women going through similar experiences. It felt like I was part of a group that was way bigger than myself; pun kind of intended. It's going to be a little while before I go back because my nausea has been getting really bad the last two weeks. But I'm ready to get back and join my fellow bendy, plump mommas to be.

WHAT IS THAT!?!?!

2011-10-01T17:27:00.000-07:00

One thing that I am unbelievably terrified of is giving birth. I am fully aware that billions of women have done it before me and have survived. But I have a constant fear that its going to be so unbelievably painful that I might just die. I think the fear stems somewhere from never having broken anything, sprained anything, gotten any kind of surgery, nothing.

It just so happens that BabyCenter (www.babycenter.com) was featuring live birthing videos. Now being the educated woman I am, I thought watching these videos would give me a better understanding of what actually happens during birth and make me feel more empowered about the whole process. The end result was be practically dry heaving and having to lay in bed for about an hour until the nausea went away.

Video #1- Epidurals

http://www.babycenter.com/2_live-birth-epidural_10314055.bc

First of all, this labor seemed totally unusual. This looked like the most perfect situation that could ever happen and I don't want to get sucked in to thinking this is how it will be. Regardless, when the baby started to come out I thought I was watching Ace Ventura and Jim Carrey was coming out of the fake rhino. I was so horrified by the elasticity of this woman's vagina that I was subconsciously grabbing my own like I was apologizing to it in advance. Its a horrifying scene.

Video #2- Natural Birth

http://www.babycenter.com/2_live-birth-natural_3656508.bc

Hell to the eff no. Never. Ever. No. Granted, this woman's birth was only about 5 hours. But between the writhing around on the bed, pounding on the wall, and looking like she was being possessed, the idea of the pure agony really turned me off. The only thing that looked appealing is that she got to lay in a comfy king size bed.

Video #3- Cesarean

http://www.babycenter.com/2_live-birth-c-section-surgery_3656510.bc

This is the way I always thought I would go. Get numbed up. Can totally plan for it. But after watching this, I'm not so sure. I have heard a lot of awful things about the healing process. But seeing that baby literally being dragged out of her whole entire abdomen...gross. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but what I saw, it just doesn't look like my body should be doing that. But I could say the same for the others above as well.

I'm probably gonna stick with the good ol' epidural delivery, but am not too psyched about it. I'm hoping, somehow, in the next 6 months I just come to terms with it. Whatever happens, happens....right?

The plumbing is working, but the wiring is crossed

2011-09-27T14:53:00.000-07:00

I mentioned in an earlier post that I've never been a super maternal type of person. I don't look at kids and melt. Yes, there are cute kids. Adorable kids. And kids sure do say the darndest things. But the further away from me they are, the better I am. Mostly because I don't know how to talk to anyone who is less that 14 years old.

There are certain exceptions. My nephews for sure. And the kids of a couple of my closest friends. But I think I only like them at this point because I've learned how to talk to them. I've been able to build a relationship with them. I still totally have my awkward moments. There are times when one of my sister in laws has to actually tell me to hold her baby because I generally just look at him with fear. I don't want to break him. And I have no idea what to do with him. He can't talk yet and I'm not good at doing that whole goo-goo ga-ga stuff, so I just hold him and stare at him.

What's funny is that my aunts (two lovely women that helped my mom raise me) are crazy good with kids. They never had any kids of their own, but every kid they meet immediately loves them. It always amazes me and I totally strive to be that kind of person. One trick I've learned is to treat kids like dogs. I know, it sounds totally ridiculous. And this might not work for everyone. But I am a super dog lover and am really great with them. And little children and dogs are not that different. They loved to be wrestled with, talked to, and if you throw something they are bound to go get it and bring it back...over and over and over again. That really only works for like the first 3 years or so, so I gotta figure out a new trick and fast.

My main concern is making sure I become the type of woman that is a "natural" with kids. And while being pregnant I have felt anything but. Mostly because I find myself cursing pregnancy so often. The last three months really have been awful. Constant nausea and fatigue. Eating has become a chore. And now I'm so constipated that I'm pretty sure the poop that has been sitting in my body for the last two weeks is starting to poison me.
I've caught myself, mid dry heaving or curled up in a ball of pain, concerned that I was going to be a horrible mother because I can't look pass the misery and see the joy of bringing a new life in the world. But then one of my sister in laws asked me the other day "besides the nausea, bloating, and all of that, do you feel pregnant yet?"

That's when it hit me. No. I don't feel pregnant. Imagine the worst hangover you've had. Or food poisoning situation. Or flu. Then take that 1-5 days of torture and elongate it to 1-3 months. So this whole time, although logically have been pregnant, have just felt like I'm on the verge of dying. Who the hell can find the joy in that? So I'm giving myself a bit of leeway (with a hint of fear of course) to let myself just focus on one thing at a time. Right now, I feel like a sick dog and I'm going to try to get through that before I start thinking about the human being that's going to magically swim out of my vag in 6 months.

On a good note, my life-boo (term totally stolen from a friend) and I were able to go to the doctor this past Thursday. Normally, we see a little circle on the sonogram screen and hear the heart beat, which is usually pretty cool. But this time we were totally caught off guard. There was an actual human being. Like, a head. And legs. And (pardon my language) IT WAS FUCKING MOVING AROUND! Like, swimming around. Totally blew our minds. And that experience brought me one step closer to feeling like a mom. I've got 6 more months to get where I want to be. I'm hoping that when the crappiness of the first trimester is over, that I will be there. But looking at the picture below reminds me that it definitely is possible. :-)

Pickin' a P.I.C.

2011-09-07T18:21:00.000-07:00

A lot of people look at people they are dating or are in relationships with and often think to themselves, "Can I really see myself spending the rest of my life with this person?" If the answer is yes, then congratulations. But what I have quickly learned is this particular question is not as easy at it seems.

Being married is more than just walking down the aisle and living happily ever after. There are bills, chores, deciding what to eat, balancing your individual freedom and working at your ever evolving relationship, and worst of all...sharing a bathroom. There's a lot to factor in when deciding who you are going to marry. Can you deal with them getting liver spots? Getting so comfortable that they release wretched smells from all parts of the body every 5 minutes? Constantly have food stuck in their teeth? It all seems like small trivial stuff, but it definitely matters in the end.

One question you should definitely ask BEFORE you get married/committed, especially if its something you want, is if this person would be a good parent. Not just if you're willing to have kids with them, but that they will provide your children with whatever they need under any circumstances. From conversations I have had with other people, they usually wait until after they've made their vows to worry about this. But it is sooooooo important to do ASAP.

I kind of lucked out. When my husband and I first got together, I knew he REALLY wanted kids; I was pretty much indifferent. I had never been the type of girl who felt the need to get married or have kids. Whatever happened, happened. But the more time I spent with him, the more I got excited about the idea of being a wife and a mother. Now let me make this clear, I still don't want to have kids for the sake of having kids. There is no maternal clock screaming at me, telling me that I need to start popping out babies. I want a child with my husband because I know that we will make an amazing team raising our kids. He is gonna be my perfect partner in crime. Or as the "kids" call it these days, my P.I.C.

Let me tell ya one thing, being pregnant is the ultimate test to see if you have a good P.I.C. As women we go through crappy things in general. Puberty is hell (where did those boobs come from!). Having your period sucks. Having to shave is awful. It's just an annoying gender, but not one I would trade for the world. But out of all the things I have experienced as a woman, being pregnant is one of the most annoying. And I'm only 8 weeks.

Luckily, I have a fantastic P.I.C. My husband has put me in a constant state of awe of how "there" he is. He is so with it. Sometimes annoyingly so, but still. The man loves me, and he loves his future child. He's carrying stuff. Cleaning the litter. Food shopping. Dropping off my laundry. You name it, he's doing it.

The best example of his awesomeness as a P.I.C. was this pass Sunday. The last few weeks I had been experiencing a crazy amount of nausea. So much so that I lost 9 pounds in two weeks because I couldn't really eat anything. I could barely move. And there was a lot of crying involved. Sunday found my nausea at an all time high.

I knew something wasn't right first thing in the morning. It was way more intense than usual. I tried to spend time with a friend, but had to end up rushing home because a huge wave of death passed over me. I spent the rest of the night on the couch with my husband, catering to my every need. At around midnight I finally got in the shower to get ready for bed. All of the sudden, my body started convulsing. I thought I was going to go into my usual dry heaving routine that I had been experiencing the week before, but my tummy had different plans.

All of the sudden I could feel the prunes I had just ate a couple of hours ago start to come up. And before I could even have any kind of reaction, everything decided to make a reappearance. I'm standing there, butt naked in the shower, water still running on me, simultaneously crying and puking like I had never puked before. The worst part was that I had those prunes, so it literally looked like I was puking old people poop out of my mouth.

My darling husband rubbed my back the whole time. After I was done he wrapped me in a towel, sent me to my room, and continued to clean up my mess in the shower. My knight in shining yellow cleaning gloves. After he was done, he brought me water, a snack, my progesterone, and helped me go to sleep. The best part about it? That man did not grimace once. He was practically giddy to help me. I could tell, down to the bottom of his core, he WANTED to help me. No obligation. No annoyance. He wanted nothing more than to see his baby momma happy and comfortable. It was a gross yet wonderful moment.

So although that Sunday was completely awful and I will probably never forget it, I am so grateful for it. My man's true colors shined bright that night. And I am so glad I found him. He's the best P.I.C. a gal could ever ask for.