I don't know what it is, but the minute somebody sees your pregnant or hears through the grapevine, they automatically think that you are CLUELESS and you need the advice from a baby genius who does no wrong and is an expert at all things infant. And inevitably thinks that person is them. So people, take my advice. I was just like you. But now I'm a mom. And I am a baby genius and an expert at all things infant.
10. Only buy one item for them to sleep/nap in. They're a baby. They don't need a lot. Okay...screw you guys! If I would have listened to this advice, then the one thing I bought would have inevitably been the one thing he HATED. E has 5 different things to sleep in, and each thing does something different. What's funny? The one thing EVERYONE told me I needed, he can't stand. The thing people said was a waste of money...he sleeps in it almost every single day. So my advice? Put a ton of things on a registry and see which one works best for your little one. You'll thank me at 3 am when your baby is screaming, needing to be rocked to sleep, but you told everyone he was going to co-sleep so not to bother.
9. Don't buy a stock of maxi pads. The hospital will give you a ton. Go buy some more if you end up needing them. Okay, whoever the idiot was who started this rumor should be shot. Postpartum bleeding is NOT a joke and the very last thing I want to do is run out of pads and have to go up to the drugstore to buy more gargantuan pads praying I don't leave a trail back to my house.
8. Get as much sleep as you can before the baby comes. So it's not necessarily bad advice, but it annoys the crap out of me. Okay, I'll sleep all day and all night, let my house go to shit, not see any daylight...just so I can stay in bed all day. The only way this is helpful advice is if the sleep you are building up at this point transfers over to when you bring your baby home. I'm not going to be up at midnight, 2 am, 4 am, 6 am, etc... for weeks on end... and think, Thank God I got all of that sleep while I was pregnant or else I would be really tired right now!! Use your heads people! Then I'm supposed to waste all of this energy and freedom while I have it to sit inside? The same thing I'm going to be stuck doing for the next, oh I don't know...forever??? My advice?? Get out, go see a movie, go shopping, be around germy (but not too germy) people, leave the house just to leave, have a spa day...whatever it is. Because you're not going to be doing it for at least 5 years.
7. Map out a route to the hospital and drive it a couple of times before the big day. The only time this is good advice is if you just moved to a new city and have no idea where anything is. Then yeah, it's a good idea to have a clue on how to get to the hospital where you're delivering. But guess what? Shit happens. Sometimes you can't go the route you planned...sometimes it makes sense at that time of day to go a different route. And your poor husband does not need another reason for you to yell at him on the way to the hospital. (I mean really! Does he have to hit every bump, pothole, red light in the entire city? Can he not just hurry up and/or slow down? Did he forget how to drive???) And if something happens where you can't go your specific route, your brain will alert itself to go into total freak-out, meltdown mode. And trust me, you don't need anything else to worry about. Do yourself a favor and just locate the hospital and make sure you are comfortable with arriving there in a way that makes sense.
6. Have a small notepad in your diaper bag/suitcase for the hospital with all of the names, phone numbers, email addresses, etc. of those you want to notify when you go into labor. HAHA!! Sorry. This makes me laugh. You know why? Because I listened to this advice and wasted a solid hour or more of my life that I could have been doing something else to prepare for baby. When you first go into labor, you don't want to notify everyone and their dogs because you won't be sure if it's the real deal or not. If by chance it is, then the contractions are going to be so bad that you're not going to be pulling out your phone to tell people whom you haven't seen in a year that you are, in fact, in labor. When the time comes, you'll know immediately who to call. Your immediate family. I had K call my mother first. Then she did the job of notifying my sisters. My sisters notified my friends through Facebook. He contacted his family. I didn't have to worry about any of it. Nor did I want to. I wanted the shit to stop hurting. That. was. it.
5. Hospital pack list items: Favorite shampoo and conditioner, robe & slippers, cute pajamas, a book and/or magazines, your own pads, and a blow dryer. First, two words: Dry Shampoo. You're not going to want to stand in the shower after giving birth to wash your hair. Most hospitals tell you to take a bath (sick) and with the stuff that floats around in that bath after birth, you definitely don't want to use that water to wash your hair (double sick). Brush your hair, spray in dry shampoo, and you're done! Second, robe and slippers. This bothers me because they make it seem like you're going to want to be walking around a lot during your hospital stay. I looked like a was straddling a horse for the first 3 days after giving birth; I wasn't walking unless I had to. And if you walk around the floor trying to get your water to break... nobody is going to be looking at you like you're soooo lazy that you couldn't even get out of your hospital gown to walk around. And why have a new robe just to destroy it with labor grossness? This also works for packing cute pajamas. They say this because they want you to feel like you're pretty. But you're not going to feel pretty when your pad leaks and you dyed your ass red. Pack 2 pairs of BLACK comfy pants, a nursing tank, and a zip-up jacket. You'll be in this the entire stay. Third, books and magazines. Whoever is comfortable enough during labor to concentrate on reading is a freak. Even with an epidural. These are just things to overcrowd your suitcase and make your poor husband lug around parking lots and hospital hallways. Fourth, your own pads. You idiot. The hospital gives you pads! Oh, those are too big? Have fun changing your medium flow pad every 30 minutes. You'll want to use the hospital ones, trust me! And fifth, a blow dryer. I thought I would bring mine...so glad I didn't. Like I said....DRY SHAMPOO. It's a life-saver.
4. You don't need to wash your newborn except for once a week. This is for moms whose babies don't stink, poop, pee, have hair, etc. And when you start smelling those sour milk curds in their neck creases that stink like a dog who rolled around in roadkill, you'll change your mind on how often to wash the little one.
3. Be as quiet as possible when you bring your baby home so your baby can sleep. Newsflash: newborns sleep all of the time and can pretty much sleep through anything. Now that mine is a little older, he can nap while I'm vacuuming because we didn't listen to this advice. Do you want your baby to freak out anytime he hears a noise while he's sleeping? I didn't think so.
2. Have guests come over to help if offered. Here's the problem with this. If they really help? Awesome. You can definitely use the help with dinner, cleaning, etc. But a lot of people when they offer to help, really mean I'll hold the baby while she is awake and happy, but once she needs to be fed, changed, or starts crying, I'm going to need you to take care of the baby and entertain me. I've heard way too often of this happening. And guess what? Guests don't expect you to stay in bed all day. They don't want to see you in your pajamas. They don't understand why you don't want to leave the house. And they definitely don't really want to help you sleep by getting up at 3 am with a baby. Guests are liars.
1. Don't forget to register for clothes for your baby shower. Oh my gosh, please don't listen to that advice! People are going to buy you clothes no matter what, because only weirdos can pass up purchasing a baby onsie with a tie, a midget version of grownup slacks, shoes that could fit a cabbage patch kid's foot, and a sports jacket that a baby will get no use out of, but makes the new baby look like an adorable version of a little disproportional adult. If you add clothes, you'll only GET clothes. If you add other things you really need...you might get a cute outfit with a baby monitor.
There it is. 10 things for you to follow. If you don't listen to my advice, I'll be looking forward to reading your blog you created just to refer people to this blog to save them time and the headache you received for ignoring me.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Bottle instead of breast was best
After I found out and accepted that I was pregnant, I did what all other first-time mothers do... I hit up Google, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and every other place that outsourced some type of information to help me cope with being pregnant, going through labor, what daddy should do (and inevitably doesn't do) during labor, and what to do/expect postpartum.
I went through pages and pages, sites upon sites, numerous blogs, and lists that could stretch for miles for all of my information, including info about breastfeeding. I was determined to be a breastfeeding mom. I knew from the day I knew I wanted kids that I would breastfeed. Everyone always talked about how hard it could be, but I was determined. I mean really...how hard can it be?
I say that to lead you into this: I don't think there is any "fact" that I don't know about breastfeeding. But books can only tell you so much. Nobody can tell you anything until you have that baby on the tit.
Breastfeeding, obviously, did not work out for me. I wanted it so bad. I went to classes, read books, had my $400 pump, and had the support from family members. First, I think it started off with a bad nursing consultant at the hospital. She pretty much told me that I would not be able to BF without a shield after only trying for a few minutes. So I immediately thought I was at fault right off the bat. (Come to find out...shields are more of a last resort, not a first option!) She stayed with me for five minutes, gave me the shield, and never came back. I had NO idea if I was doing it right...and apparently I wasn't. E for the first 3 days of his life was being starved and I was at fault for it since I was trying to exclusively BF. And because of that, K freaked out a little and--without realizing--made me feel even more guilty. So we had to give him formula and I went to pumping. Pumping worked for the first few weeks, but the pressure put on me from EVERY SINGLE EFFING PERSON was just WAY too much!!! It came from EVERY direction. First in my house. K was on pumping patrol and I just couldn't deal with that. My boobs were sore and bleeding and I would sit there with a pump on my boob for an hour to walk away with 3 ounces total from both breasts. But whatever literature HE read made him think that his way of supporting me was to put me on a strict schedule of water and food (he must have skipped the part about no stress) and literally every couple hours he would bring me water and stand there, waiting for me to gulp it down until he realized I wasn't going to. Then I had friends who would ask me if I was breastfeeding and when I told them I was currently supplementing with formula to meet the needs of E's appetite, they would lecture me on the benefits of breastfeeding. Yeah, no shit Sherlock!!! Why do you think I was determined to BF from the beginning. I'm not an idiot. I know more than you know about breastfeeding. So why don't you shut the fuck up? Then I started getting third party guilt. For instance, K got a phone call one evening from a co-worker/friend who he hadn't talked to in a few months. I have met this guy once. He asked K if I was breastfeeding...
Okay. Let me stop this shit right there. Nothing pisses me off MORE than outsiders having an opinion about as something as PERSONAL as breastfeeding, especially if that outsider is a MALE!! Go screw yourself! I don't ask YOU or other people personal questions about you, or ask questions that have nothing to do with me. I had a guy come up to me at a restaurant when I was 6 months pregnant and out of the blue ask if I planned on breastfeeding. W.T.F. I didn't go up to him and ask if he pulls out before he blows his load, why did he think it would be appropriate at all to ask me such a personal question???
Back to my story. K told him that we were using both breast milk and formula, but I couldn't help but hear a little embarrassment in K's voice. Maybe he didn't realize he did it, maybe he did. Either way--I, too, felt embarrassed. Then as I researched things on the internet about supplementing with formula, all I could come across were sites and blogs and posts and comments about how breast is best and I should be trying harder to breast feed because it's our right, dammit! And as women it's the best thing we can do for our kids.
Needless to say...I felt guilt. stress. pressure. And because of all of this pressure... I couldn't do it anymore. Because of all of this pressure and help groups for BREAST feeding, I felt like a failure. Nothing is worse than feeling like a failure as a new mom. It was awful... who am I kidding. It's still awful. So E has been strictly on formula for about 5 weeks now (he's 9 weeks). And guess what?? He's healthy! And he's happy. And that, my friends, is ALL that matters to me. He weighs 13 pounds and smiles constantly. I would love for someone to try to tell me that he's unhealthy.
But because of this situation I got put in, I realized that there is not enough support for formula feeding moms. Everyone is quick to judge when it comes to moms who aren't breastfeeding, but nobody is there to help! (Except for my mom group I found... those women were/are great!) Why is it okay for people to bash a woman for using formula? Society has worked so hard to make sure breastfeeding women feel comfortable in public for feeding their child and reassure them that mother's milk is best. But there are so many different reasons that women who formula feed choose or are forced to do so! And what does society and BF moms do?? Turn their shoulder. Nobody wants to help a formula feeding mama. I don't get that? E was starving and crying...what was I supposed to do? Let it happen? Where was my support? Where was somebody telling me it was okay to give them formula? That my baby eating SOMETHING nutritious was all that mattered?
It's sad. It's sad because to this day I lie. I lie to people about not breastfeeding. Strangers still ask. People just assume. I don't correct them. It's sad because society has made me feel guilty as a mom for not being able to continue breastfeeding when in reality, it's society's fault.
I still remind myself that the pressure society put on me, and therefore the pressure I put on myself was not healthy. My anxiety shot back up. I cried...a lot. And then I started feeling worthless. Then I started wanting to be away from E and K because I felt like I was letting them both down. I started to get scared that my feelings weren't normal postpartum emotions. What was healthy for E was to have a belly full, and a happy mom. I had to stop putting pressure on myself to keep up with his demand. My body wouldn't do so. I literally tried everything. I talked to lactation consultants, I did power pumping, I took fenugreek pills, I tried eating and drinking more. But my body said Hell Nahhhh, girlfriend! And the stress was the nail on the coffin. So I said screw it! and went straight to formula only. It was the best decision I made because I became happier, I stopped being so mad at K once he accepted that E was going straight to formula, and I started crying less and less.
I do wish, however, that there was more support for formula-feeding moms. We are ALL going through confusing and tough times as moms and trying to figure out our newborns. It's not fair for people, especially strangers, to make a mom feel guilty for doing what is best for BOTH mom and baby.
There are a few books out there to help, but usually bookstores don't carry them on their shelves.
And please, moms. Can we all just support one another???
That is all. I'm off my soapbox.
I went through pages and pages, sites upon sites, numerous blogs, and lists that could stretch for miles for all of my information, including info about breastfeeding. I was determined to be a breastfeeding mom. I knew from the day I knew I wanted kids that I would breastfeed. Everyone always talked about how hard it could be, but I was determined. I mean really...how hard can it be?
I say that to lead you into this: I don't think there is any "fact" that I don't know about breastfeeding. But books can only tell you so much. Nobody can tell you anything until you have that baby on the tit.
Breastfeeding, obviously, did not work out for me. I wanted it so bad. I went to classes, read books, had my $400 pump, and had the support from family members. First, I think it started off with a bad nursing consultant at the hospital. She pretty much told me that I would not be able to BF without a shield after only trying for a few minutes. So I immediately thought I was at fault right off the bat. (Come to find out...shields are more of a last resort, not a first option!) She stayed with me for five minutes, gave me the shield, and never came back. I had NO idea if I was doing it right...and apparently I wasn't. E for the first 3 days of his life was being starved and I was at fault for it since I was trying to exclusively BF. And because of that, K freaked out a little and--without realizing--made me feel even more guilty. So we had to give him formula and I went to pumping. Pumping worked for the first few weeks, but the pressure put on me from EVERY SINGLE EFFING PERSON was just WAY too much!!! It came from EVERY direction. First in my house. K was on pumping patrol and I just couldn't deal with that. My boobs were sore and bleeding and I would sit there with a pump on my boob for an hour to walk away with 3 ounces total from both breasts. But whatever literature HE read made him think that his way of supporting me was to put me on a strict schedule of water and food (he must have skipped the part about no stress) and literally every couple hours he would bring me water and stand there, waiting for me to gulp it down until he realized I wasn't going to. Then I had friends who would ask me if I was breastfeeding and when I told them I was currently supplementing with formula to meet the needs of E's appetite, they would lecture me on the benefits of breastfeeding. Yeah, no shit Sherlock!!! Why do you think I was determined to BF from the beginning. I'm not an idiot. I know more than you know about breastfeeding. So why don't you shut the fuck up? Then I started getting third party guilt. For instance, K got a phone call one evening from a co-worker/friend who he hadn't talked to in a few months. I have met this guy once. He asked K if I was breastfeeding...
Okay. Let me stop this shit right there. Nothing pisses me off MORE than outsiders having an opinion about as something as PERSONAL as breastfeeding, especially if that outsider is a MALE!! Go screw yourself! I don't ask YOU or other people personal questions about you, or ask questions that have nothing to do with me. I had a guy come up to me at a restaurant when I was 6 months pregnant and out of the blue ask if I planned on breastfeeding. W.T.F. I didn't go up to him and ask if he pulls out before he blows his load, why did he think it would be appropriate at all to ask me such a personal question???
Back to my story. K told him that we were using both breast milk and formula, but I couldn't help but hear a little embarrassment in K's voice. Maybe he didn't realize he did it, maybe he did. Either way--I, too, felt embarrassed. Then as I researched things on the internet about supplementing with formula, all I could come across were sites and blogs and posts and comments about how breast is best and I should be trying harder to breast feed because it's our right, dammit! And as women it's the best thing we can do for our kids.
Needless to say...I felt guilt. stress. pressure. And because of all of this pressure... I couldn't do it anymore. Because of all of this pressure and help groups for BREAST feeding, I felt like a failure. Nothing is worse than feeling like a failure as a new mom. It was awful... who am I kidding. It's still awful. So E has been strictly on formula for about 5 weeks now (he's 9 weeks). And guess what?? He's healthy! And he's happy. And that, my friends, is ALL that matters to me. He weighs 13 pounds and smiles constantly. I would love for someone to try to tell me that he's unhealthy.
But because of this situation I got put in, I realized that there is not enough support for formula feeding moms. Everyone is quick to judge when it comes to moms who aren't breastfeeding, but nobody is there to help! (Except for my mom group I found... those women were/are great!) Why is it okay for people to bash a woman for using formula? Society has worked so hard to make sure breastfeeding women feel comfortable in public for feeding their child and reassure them that mother's milk is best. But there are so many different reasons that women who formula feed choose or are forced to do so! And what does society and BF moms do?? Turn their shoulder. Nobody wants to help a formula feeding mama. I don't get that? E was starving and crying...what was I supposed to do? Let it happen? Where was my support? Where was somebody telling me it was okay to give them formula? That my baby eating SOMETHING nutritious was all that mattered?
It's sad. It's sad because to this day I lie. I lie to people about not breastfeeding. Strangers still ask. People just assume. I don't correct them. It's sad because society has made me feel guilty as a mom for not being able to continue breastfeeding when in reality, it's society's fault.
I still remind myself that the pressure society put on me, and therefore the pressure I put on myself was not healthy. My anxiety shot back up. I cried...a lot. And then I started feeling worthless. Then I started wanting to be away from E and K because I felt like I was letting them both down. I started to get scared that my feelings weren't normal postpartum emotions. What was healthy for E was to have a belly full, and a happy mom. I had to stop putting pressure on myself to keep up with his demand. My body wouldn't do so. I literally tried everything. I talked to lactation consultants, I did power pumping, I took fenugreek pills, I tried eating and drinking more. But my body said Hell Nahhhh, girlfriend! And the stress was the nail on the coffin. So I said screw it! and went straight to formula only. It was the best decision I made because I became happier, I stopped being so mad at K once he accepted that E was going straight to formula, and I started crying less and less.
I do wish, however, that there was more support for formula-feeding moms. We are ALL going through confusing and tough times as moms and trying to figure out our newborns. It's not fair for people, especially strangers, to make a mom feel guilty for doing what is best for BOTH mom and baby.
There are a few books out there to help, but usually bookstores don't carry them on their shelves.
And please, moms. Can we all just support one another???
That is all. I'm off my soapbox.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Your kids make me hate you.
My last post I mentioned my experience with some kids at a restaurant.
Let me say that I don't understand why I get annoyed with other kids, especially now that I have my own. And I've never been one of those people who doesn't like kids. I used to babysit, be a nanny... my little sister's friends would come over and ask to play with me when I was in high school. So you see? Not liking kids is not the case here. But when I'm out in public, kids that aren't perfectly well-behaved drive me CRAZY. And yes, I do realize that I have a boy, who will probably want to run and scream and punch, and more than likely drive another mom or bystander up the wall. But it will not go unnoticed by me! That's my point.
A few days ago, K and I took E and two out-of-town guests to a nicer seafood restaurant for lunch. The restaurant wasn't packed and I'm pretty sure they only had two waiters working two sections in the entire place. We were sat in the corner next to three other tables that had customers eating. Our table was like a table for six and there were only four of us and a baby carrier with E in his car seat. There was a table next to us celebrating an adult's birthday with a two children at the table (possibly a total of eight or ten). Because we had more seats than people at our table, there were a couple of seats left empty; one empty seat happened to be next to the baby carrier with E in it and this table celebrating a birthday.
As we were sitting there enjoying our lunch and conversation, this one child, probably around the age of four, decided he was tired of sitting at the table with adults. So he starts running circles around their table. This already started annoying me because he was whizzing by our table every few seconds. But I was trying to ignore it since I already let things bother me a little too easily. Well the running turned in to running and screaming, and the running and screaming turned in to running, screaming and jumping in and out of his chair at his table. Once again, this was just a slight annoyance on my part. But then the little hellion decided that THAT wasn't enough... and he began running, screaming, and climbing over the empty chair at OUR table! The same chair that is next to E in his car seat balancing in this baby carrier. Well K reaches out to grab the seat just in case the kid bumps into it and I shoot a look at the parents. But the kid didn't do it just once, he did it three times! And the kid was only speaking a different language, so I don't know if he would understand me if I even said anything to him! But looking at the parents, they didn't even raise an eyebrow! They just sat there and let this God-awful child not only run around the restaurant, but climb over seats at another table, next to a baby, where people are trying to eat lunch. I mean COME ON!!!! And at first I wanted to get upset with the kid, but then my friend pointed out that it was more of the parents' fault. And she's totally right. Who the F lets their kid do this without even saying anything??
I know boys are hyper and act a little ADHD when they're young. But at what point are you supposed to take your kid aside and scare the hell out of them if they act up again? Because I'm thinking E is only going to have one chance before he gets pulled aside. And if he ignores me, then it's "I'm sorry guys. Thanks for the invite and I hope you have a great birthday, but I need to take E home." I promise you everyone in the restaurant AND at your table are going to appreciate it. And next time, get a babysitter for an adult function.
Other than that, K and I took E to the beach for the first time! And the best part? It was the very first beach I went to as a baby, too! I love that I can share that with him. It was a little chilly, around 55. So we ran him out to the sand, put his toes in it, took a picture, and ran back to the car. But it was my favorite thing we've done with E so far.
Here's the little cutie
Have a great Thursday, y'all!!
Monday, January 14, 2013
Eight at night and not a peep in the house...
Not a soul is stirring, not even a mouse.
Because we don't have mice, that's sick.
K and I have friends visiting from out of town and I can't tell you how perfect the timing was that this couple came down from Oklahoma.
Last night I had some one-on-one GIRL TIME, while they guys hung out in the garage. And E? I couldn't ask for a better baby, seriously. He is already well-behaved and rarely cries unless something is really wrong, but he has put on his I'm going to impress you guys, aren't my parents so lucky? face. We even had lunch for two and half hours at a restaurant--a rather nice restaurant--(Oh! Which reminds me, I have a story ALL about that and some awful kid...er...parents that I'll get to in another post), but E didn't make a peep! Then we get home and he talked to all of us for a couple of hours before taking little cat naps here and there.
I took him up to his room at eight tonight, and he drank a bottle and went RIGHT to sleep. He didn't fuss, he didn't squirm, he didn't make a single noise. I put him in his crib...and he went straight to sleep.
But as I opened the door to his nursery to walk back downstairs, I was greeted by K who said everyone wanted ice cream and asked if I wanted anything from Dairy Queen! Um, Hells Freakin' Yeah!!! So I had a good baby who ate and went right to sleep without making any fuss, and a boyfriend who left in this freezing cold weather (for south Texas) to go get me ice cream. Miracle. And what am I doing? I'm sitting in sweats by myself with a sleeping child upstairs. This might be all the vacation I need...for now.
So sweeties, I'm going to wait for MY sweets and enjoy the peace and quiet in my house until they arrive.
Hope everyone had a great Monday--if those exist!
Because we don't have mice, that's sick.
K and I have friends visiting from out of town and I can't tell you how perfect the timing was that this couple came down from Oklahoma.
Last night I had some one-on-one GIRL TIME, while they guys hung out in the garage. And E? I couldn't ask for a better baby, seriously. He is already well-behaved and rarely cries unless something is really wrong, but he has put on his I'm going to impress you guys, aren't my parents so lucky? face. We even had lunch for two and half hours at a restaurant--a rather nice restaurant--(Oh! Which reminds me, I have a story ALL about that and some awful kid...er...parents that I'll get to in another post), but E didn't make a peep! Then we get home and he talked to all of us for a couple of hours before taking little cat naps here and there.
I took him up to his room at eight tonight, and he drank a bottle and went RIGHT to sleep. He didn't fuss, he didn't squirm, he didn't make a single noise. I put him in his crib...and he went straight to sleep.
But as I opened the door to his nursery to walk back downstairs, I was greeted by K who said everyone wanted ice cream and asked if I wanted anything from Dairy Queen! Um, Hells Freakin' Yeah!!! So I had a good baby who ate and went right to sleep without making any fuss, and a boyfriend who left in this freezing cold weather (for south Texas) to go get me ice cream. Miracle. And what am I doing? I'm sitting in sweats by myself with a sleeping child upstairs. This might be all the vacation I need...for now.
So sweeties, I'm going to wait for MY sweets and enjoy the peace and quiet in my house until they arrive.
Hope everyone had a great Monday--if those exist!
Saturday, January 12, 2013
What she said...
This is kind of a cheat entry, but a friend of mine posted this today on Facebook and I couldn't have said it any better myself! So here's a link to a different blog, but it's totally worth the read.
http://www.scarymommy.com/things-you-should-know-about-having-a-baby/
Let me know what you guys think!
I know I felt like I was a horrible person because everyone told me when I first laid eyes on my son, I would fall so in love with him and hear angels singing and all of that other business. But when I first saw him, I was like-- No way. No way this is my son. I am not a mom. This is mine? Forever? What do I do with him? How do I talk to him? I don't know who this little baby is. He's adorable... but I'm almost positive he's not mine!
I think moms should stop telling first-time mothers that it's the greatest moment of their life! I love the little booger, I really do. But it took a couple of weeks before I felt those mom instincts! And because of ALL of the people who told me how amazing that moment was going to be at birth, I thought I was a HORRIBLE person and not cut out to be a mom because those feelings hadn't arrived yet. So shame on all of you women who do this! And come to find out, I'm not alone. A lot of my friends felt this way, but everyone is too ashamed to admit it!!
The next thing I hear is how being a stay-at-home mom is the most rewarding job you can have, but right now it's all changing diapers, washing bottles, getting urinated on, wrists that cramp, hands that are cracked and bleeding, sleep deprivation, no communication with the outside world... and I'm sure it IS rewarding, but so far all I feel is...lonely? So to all of you women who have told me how lucky I am to stay at home, I hope you're not lying about this too!
http://www.scarymommy.com/things-you-should-know-about-having-a-baby/
Let me know what you guys think!
I know I felt like I was a horrible person because everyone told me when I first laid eyes on my son, I would fall so in love with him and hear angels singing and all of that other business. But when I first saw him, I was like-- No way. No way this is my son. I am not a mom. This is mine? Forever? What do I do with him? How do I talk to him? I don't know who this little baby is. He's adorable... but I'm almost positive he's not mine!
I think moms should stop telling first-time mothers that it's the greatest moment of their life! I love the little booger, I really do. But it took a couple of weeks before I felt those mom instincts! And because of ALL of the people who told me how amazing that moment was going to be at birth, I thought I was a HORRIBLE person and not cut out to be a mom because those feelings hadn't arrived yet. So shame on all of you women who do this! And come to find out, I'm not alone. A lot of my friends felt this way, but everyone is too ashamed to admit it!!
The next thing I hear is how being a stay-at-home mom is the most rewarding job you can have, but right now it's all changing diapers, washing bottles, getting urinated on, wrists that cramp, hands that are cracked and bleeding, sleep deprivation, no communication with the outside world... and I'm sure it IS rewarding, but so far all I feel is...lonely? So to all of you women who have told me how lucky I am to stay at home, I hope you're not lying about this too!
Friday, January 11, 2013
Growing up too...slow?
Lately I have found myself and K both saying things like, "I can't wait for him to be old enough to ride a dirt bike" and "If he were older we could go to the park today."
We constantly talk about all of the fun things we get to do with E when he's old enough to walk and talk and play. And it's going to be great! He doesn't realize how much fun he is going to have. We're blessed to be his parents, and he's pretty blessed to be our child. We have such big plans for him when he gets older...and not even plans like hoping he races stock cars as a profession or gets a full-ride scholarship to college. Our big plans for him are things like not being able to wait to take him on vacation; taking him to learn to ski; buying him his first dirt bike; going to little league games; letting him run around in the yard getting dirty; playing with toys...we can't even wait to give him a little brother or sister. Okay, we CAN technically wait for that. But we can't wait for the day when we're ready to give him a little sibling.
But all of this "can't waiting" has made me think ...by looking forward to so many things in the future, are we missing out on the present? Everyone tells me to take it all in now because he won't be little forever. And I'm trying, really. I'm with him 24/7 and spend the majority of the day holding him and talking to him. Sure most of the time I'm telling him things that we'll get to do when he gets old enough to do them, but I'm still interacting with him in the PRESENT.
I just want him older, damnit! Is that so wrong? I want to be able to talk to him and have him talk back to me...talk back with real words. Not his words that go something like this: Eeeeooowwww...Ey!...Shhcceeww....Ooohh.....Ehhh.....yyoowwww....Ha-uh-ah....Meuuhhh!....Waaaahhhh.... And I try to talk back the best I can, but he looks at me like I'm crazy and I swear one time I saw him roll his eyes. And now that we have a monitor with video and sound, I'm terrified K is going to come home from work, look at the parental unit monitor and hear me talking to him in baby talk! He already thinks I'm crazy, I don't need him to witness something that gives him a solid reason for thinking I'm crazy.
Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and stop wishing he was older. But I won't stop wishing he was old enough to sleep through the night. I won't do it and you can't make me.
We constantly talk about all of the fun things we get to do with E when he's old enough to walk and talk and play. And it's going to be great! He doesn't realize how much fun he is going to have. We're blessed to be his parents, and he's pretty blessed to be our child. We have such big plans for him when he gets older...and not even plans like hoping he races stock cars as a profession or gets a full-ride scholarship to college. Our big plans for him are things like not being able to wait to take him on vacation; taking him to learn to ski; buying him his first dirt bike; going to little league games; letting him run around in the yard getting dirty; playing with toys...we can't even wait to give him a little brother or sister. Okay, we CAN technically wait for that. But we can't wait for the day when we're ready to give him a little sibling.
But all of this "can't waiting" has made me think ...by looking forward to so many things in the future, are we missing out on the present? Everyone tells me to take it all in now because he won't be little forever. And I'm trying, really. I'm with him 24/7 and spend the majority of the day holding him and talking to him. Sure most of the time I'm telling him things that we'll get to do when he gets old enough to do them, but I'm still interacting with him in the PRESENT.
I just want him older, damnit! Is that so wrong? I want to be able to talk to him and have him talk back to me...talk back with real words. Not his words that go something like this: Eeeeooowwww...Ey!...Shhcceeww....Ooohh.....Ehhh.....yyoowwww....Ha-uh-ah....Meuuhhh!....Waaaahhhh.... And I try to talk back the best I can, but he looks at me like I'm crazy and I swear one time I saw him roll his eyes. And now that we have a monitor with video and sound, I'm terrified K is going to come home from work, look at the parental unit monitor and hear me talking to him in baby talk! He already thinks I'm crazy, I don't need him to witness something that gives him a solid reason for thinking I'm crazy.
Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and stop wishing he was older. But I won't stop wishing he was old enough to sleep through the night. I won't do it and you can't make me.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Appointments are for losers
I have no idea where to begin this post.
Seriously.
I could start off with how much I hate my current OB. Ugh, I hate her. She's a total bitch. But then I would have to explain why I had NO CHOICE but to go to her. Which leads me to telling you guys that I am on Medicaid (the whole no insurance thing from no employment thing). But I wasn't always on Medicaid. Believe it or not, I had private insurance. But those assholes told me I hadn't been paying them long enough for them to cover maternity. Oh, and my OB back home? She rocks. She's the one who first discovered my little turkey. I could have used her, except I don't live in Oklahoma right now. I live in shitty Texas (and I only say shitty for the part I live in. I love Dallas, Austin, Houston, College Station, etc.). I live in a part of Texas that locals around here ask me why the heck I moved here when I tell them I'm from Oklahoma. So if I tell you about my OB from Oklahoma, I'd have to explain to you why I moved to this Podunk town. And then I'd have to tell you that I actually moved to Baton Rouge before this move, and had an OB there that was amazing. And that my boyfriend's job moves him to these places along the coast because the refineries are here. And hopefully soon we will be back in Oklahoma.
So if I told you all of that, I'd surely have to explain all of the reasons why I hate the OB that I was forced to go to because Medicaid is horrible and only allows you to choose from four doctors, and you have to pray that one of those four doctors is accepting new patients. And of those that are accepting new patients, you have to choose from the ones with the least amount of horrible reviews. That is how I found mine.
So in a nutshell, this was my experience:
August: Found out I was moving to Texas. Got on Medicaid. Called to get accepted by doc. They told me to send my medical records over to the office. Did it that very same day. (24 weeks pregnant).
Still August: 27 weeks pregnant. Still hadn't heard from the office. Called them. They said they never received any papers so to fax them again. Which I did...again. And it said sent...again.
September: No call still. I called them. They finally set my appointment to meet the doctor at 30 weeks pregnant. I went in for my appointment (at this point I hadn't been seen since 21 weeks pregnant). Showed up on time. Doctor wasn't there. Had to reschedule for the following week.
Still September: 31 weeks pregnant. Got in. Waited 3 hours before being called out of the waiting room. Nurse didn't know how to spell pertussis or lidocaine and asked me how to spell it. (Okay, seriously?) Finally got to a room, waited another hour. This is 4.5 hours total so far, just so you're aware. Finally the door opens...a white woman walks in. I knew this wasn't my OB because I saw a picture of her and she's black...er...African American? Anyway. Come to find out, it's the midwife. And the doc isn't going to see me today. For real. 31 weeks pregnant and I STILL have not met my OB. That's cool--whatever bitch.
October: 2 weeks later. 33 weeks pregnant. Again...waited 2 hours in the waiting room. 1 hour in the appointment room. FINALLY my actual OB walks in. Looks at her chart. Doesn't introduce herself. Doesn't shake my hand. She says, "I see you want to deliver at ***** hospital? Why?" I tell her my reasons (They allow room-in with baby. They are rated a top hospital in the state. The labor/delivery/recovery room is the same room. Hospital floor is updated.) She looked at me...scoffed...and replied, "Well whatever. I don't see why you just don't deliver at ***** hospital. It's closer to my office." (OH! both hospitals are just 1 mile apart on the same street, including her office). She then rolled her eyes and laughed at me when she found out I didn't know I was pregnant for 4 months. NOT. MY. FAULT. She never asked me if I had any questions or concerns. She didn't even ask me how my pregnancy was going. Nothing.
Okay, so seriously just typing this stuff is pissing me off again. To sum it up: that was the ONLY appointment I actually saw her, all the way up to my dude's delivery (which she also bitched about when she walked into my room while I was in labor). I had a total of 8 appointments canceled, including the last 2 (weeks 37 & 38). At one point I had to come in at 8:30 a.m. for my glucose test so I couldn't eat after midnight the night before. I also had an appointment at 9:15 that morning. I got there at 8:15-ish. Drank the orange drink, had my blood drawn, sat in the waiting room waiting for my appointment. Waited...waited...waited... at 11 a.m., I asked the front office if she was seeing patients today and they said yes, it would be a minute or two. So I waited...and waited... finally at 12:15, I was called back to the room. Sat there until 1:30 without one person walking in. I was 8 months pregnant and hadn't eaten or drank anything in 13 hours! Just as I was about to walk out, that's when my OB walked in. Also the day I first met her. Which also pissed me off that she didn't walk in and even apologize for the wait!
So today I had my 7 week check-up. Yeah...7 weeks. It's supposed to be 6 weeks, but she apparently hates me just as much. I had 3 stitches. All of which are gone...I checked. I'm already doing the dirty with the boyfriend again. I didn't see a reason to go today. So I just didn't. And I feel good about it.
My OB might be the worst doctor on the face of the planet. I have no clue why she chose that profession. I hope nobody else ever has to go through the same hell when they are pregnant. She's a twat. A bitch twat. That doesn't even make sense, but that's how much I dislike her.
So yeah, appointments are for losers.
So if I told you all of that, I'd surely have to explain all of the reasons why I hate the OB that I was forced to go to because Medicaid is horrible and only allows you to choose from four doctors, and you have to pray that one of those four doctors is accepting new patients. And of those that are accepting new patients, you have to choose from the ones with the least amount of horrible reviews. That is how I found mine.
So in a nutshell, this was my experience:
August: Found out I was moving to Texas. Got on Medicaid. Called to get accepted by doc. They told me to send my medical records over to the office. Did it that very same day. (24 weeks pregnant).
Still August: 27 weeks pregnant. Still hadn't heard from the office. Called them. They said they never received any papers so to fax them again. Which I did...again. And it said sent...again.
September: No call still. I called them. They finally set my appointment to meet the doctor at 30 weeks pregnant. I went in for my appointment (at this point I hadn't been seen since 21 weeks pregnant). Showed up on time. Doctor wasn't there. Had to reschedule for the following week.
Still September: 31 weeks pregnant. Got in. Waited 3 hours before being called out of the waiting room. Nurse didn't know how to spell pertussis or lidocaine and asked me how to spell it. (Okay, seriously?) Finally got to a room, waited another hour. This is 4.5 hours total so far, just so you're aware. Finally the door opens...a white woman walks in. I knew this wasn't my OB because I saw a picture of her and she's black...er...African American? Anyway. Come to find out, it's the midwife. And the doc isn't going to see me today. For real. 31 weeks pregnant and I STILL have not met my OB. That's cool--whatever bitch.
October: 2 weeks later. 33 weeks pregnant. Again...waited 2 hours in the waiting room. 1 hour in the appointment room. FINALLY my actual OB walks in. Looks at her chart. Doesn't introduce herself. Doesn't shake my hand. She says, "I see you want to deliver at ***** hospital? Why?" I tell her my reasons (They allow room-in with baby. They are rated a top hospital in the state. The labor/delivery/recovery room is the same room. Hospital floor is updated.) She looked at me...scoffed...and replied, "Well whatever. I don't see why you just don't deliver at ***** hospital. It's closer to my office." (OH! both hospitals are just 1 mile apart on the same street, including her office). She then rolled her eyes and laughed at me when she found out I didn't know I was pregnant for 4 months. NOT. MY. FAULT. She never asked me if I had any questions or concerns. She didn't even ask me how my pregnancy was going. Nothing.
Okay, so seriously just typing this stuff is pissing me off again. To sum it up: that was the ONLY appointment I actually saw her, all the way up to my dude's delivery (which she also bitched about when she walked into my room while I was in labor). I had a total of 8 appointments canceled, including the last 2 (weeks 37 & 38). At one point I had to come in at 8:30 a.m. for my glucose test so I couldn't eat after midnight the night before. I also had an appointment at 9:15 that morning. I got there at 8:15-ish. Drank the orange drink, had my blood drawn, sat in the waiting room waiting for my appointment. Waited...waited...waited... at 11 a.m., I asked the front office if she was seeing patients today and they said yes, it would be a minute or two. So I waited...and waited... finally at 12:15, I was called back to the room. Sat there until 1:30 without one person walking in. I was 8 months pregnant and hadn't eaten or drank anything in 13 hours! Just as I was about to walk out, that's when my OB walked in. Also the day I first met her. Which also pissed me off that she didn't walk in and even apologize for the wait!
So today I had my 7 week check-up. Yeah...7 weeks. It's supposed to be 6 weeks, but she apparently hates me just as much. I had 3 stitches. All of which are gone...I checked. I'm already doing the dirty with the boyfriend again. I didn't see a reason to go today. So I just didn't. And I feel good about it.
My OB might be the worst doctor on the face of the planet. I have no clue why she chose that profession. I hope nobody else ever has to go through the same hell when they are pregnant. She's a twat. A bitch twat. That doesn't even make sense, but that's how much I dislike her.
So yeah, appointments are for losers.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Little boys are braver than I thought
Well it happened.
I had my little dude snipped below the diaper tabs today. Oh, the agony!!!
I have had anxiety about this since before he was even born. See, I don't handle pain, surgery, blood...mostly pain...very well. And I'm such an empathetic person (I know, I'm so fucking nice) that if someone else feels pain, I TOO feel their pain. I can't help it! It was like I had a little pecker getting picked today.
So my anxiety had been building and today I was almost hurling in the waiting room with my little guy in my arms. Once again, so thankful K was there with me. I tried not to let it be known too much, but I needed him there for MY support. I'm sure E was happy also, but in the sense of selfishness, I was calmed--sort of--with his presence. They came in and took E from me. The whole process was about 10 minutes and he came back out bright-eyed and no tears. I was so relieved. Then we got home...
Shit. Worst fucking moment a mother has to experience is seeing their child in utter pain and not being able to explain to them what happened and that the pain is only temporary. Between the wails he looked up at me with this big, gorgeous eyes, pleading with me to make it stop and I couldn't. I couldn't. I broke down and started crying with him. I tried not to. I tried to be the stronger one for us. I know I needed to be because that's what a mom does. It's my job to be the stronger of us two.
The only thing I knew to do was wrap him up, bring him in close to me, and crawl in bed in my dark bedroom while listening to the rain hit the window (so literary, right?). We laid chest to chest and I rubbed his back and he slept for four hours, waking to whimper only a few times. It is now 11:37 at night and I am happy to say that little E is a smiling, happy little boy again!
How did he do that? I cut my finger on the damn Similac formula foil-cover 3 days ago and I'm still bitching about the pain. E had SURGERY on his PENIS and he was sitting on the couch coo'ing to his dad a mere 6 hours later.
My dude is a brave Motha' ... watch out Chuck Norris!
I had my little dude snipped below the diaper tabs today. Oh, the agony!!!
I have had anxiety about this since before he was even born. See, I don't handle pain, surgery, blood...mostly pain...very well. And I'm such an empathetic person (I know, I'm so fucking nice) that if someone else feels pain, I TOO feel their pain. I can't help it! It was like I had a little pecker getting picked today.
So my anxiety had been building and today I was almost hurling in the waiting room with my little guy in my arms. Once again, so thankful K was there with me. I tried not to let it be known too much, but I needed him there for MY support. I'm sure E was happy also, but in the sense of selfishness, I was calmed--sort of--with his presence. They came in and took E from me. The whole process was about 10 minutes and he came back out bright-eyed and no tears. I was so relieved. Then we got home...
Shit. Worst fucking moment a mother has to experience is seeing their child in utter pain and not being able to explain to them what happened and that the pain is only temporary. Between the wails he looked up at me with this big, gorgeous eyes, pleading with me to make it stop and I couldn't. I couldn't. I broke down and started crying with him. I tried not to. I tried to be the stronger one for us. I know I needed to be because that's what a mom does. It's my job to be the stronger of us two.
The only thing I knew to do was wrap him up, bring him in close to me, and crawl in bed in my dark bedroom while listening to the rain hit the window (so literary, right?). We laid chest to chest and I rubbed his back and he slept for four hours, waking to whimper only a few times. It is now 11:37 at night and I am happy to say that little E is a smiling, happy little boy again!
How did he do that? I cut my finger on the damn Similac formula foil-cover 3 days ago and I'm still bitching about the pain. E had SURGERY on his PENIS and he was sitting on the couch coo'ing to his dad a mere 6 hours later.
My dude is a brave Motha' ... watch out Chuck Norris!
Monday, January 7, 2013
The routine of a SAHM
Last night I had an epiphany, one my mother would be so proud to hear. And it came to me as I was holding E in one hand, trying to make a bottle in the other hand, and heat up dinner for K and myself while he was in the shower.
I never saw myself as a stay at home mom (SAHM). I always knew I wanted to work, and I wanted my independence. I felt that my job in life was to have a job--a real job. One that has benefits and brings home a paycheck. One that I woke up at the same time every morning, went into the office, learned a few things about the industry, and then drove home. A job that I had sick leave for when I didn't feel well, and vacation time that I could take off to Mexico for a week and forget about work. I figured that was what a real job was. That was how I was going to contribute to society, my marriage, and my family.
Then I got pregnant while between jobs. And because this economy sucks (unless you work for the government and in that case your job keeps getting better and better), the only jobs I could come up with in a new town were part-time work (I live in a really small town in Texas.. editorial work isn't really a way to make money here). So K and I talked about it and we decided that me working and having my entire paycheck go to daycare just didn't make sense. That shit is expensive! So we decided, at least for the time being, that I would be a SAHM.
Then last night my real postpartum period showed up. My ovaries decided they were going on attack and my uterus sought revenge for the hell I put it through for nine months. My hospital mattress pads weren't even sufficient enough for this ambush and the only thing I was thankful for at that moment was that the hospital gave me two large bottles of the prescription strength ibuprofen. So I rushed to the bottle, grabbed my water, and washed down one of those bad boys PRAYING they would take effect in the next few seconds. And then the sentence that changed my way of thinking was said aloud to my little boy while he squirmed in my arms, impatiently squeaking for his bottle. Man, I need a vacation.
*Bam*
Now you say, "Whats the big deal? I say that all of the time." Here's the big deal: My job is my commitment to my son and to this little family that sprouted. And that, my friends, does not allow a vacation. Nor does it provide benefits (and because K and I aren't married...it REALLY doesn't provide benefits. Yep, I have zero insurance). My job requires me to do more than I ever did at a desk job. I don't get to take lunch breaks; I don't get a paycheck or a promotion; I don't to call in when I feel a little under the weather (or when mother nature strikes and I don't feel like dealing with anyone's stupidity that day).
I wake up numerous times throughout the night to feed E and rock him back to sleep. I "wake up" at 7 a.m. and continue my 2-3 hour routine with E. I can't just take a shower at my leisure. Blow drying my hair has become damn near impossible. I keep an eye on the clock to try to keep E on a routine. When he wakes, I feed him. When he's done eating, I do some activity with him. When he has had enough of whatever activity we do, I try to get him to take a nap for an hour. When he DOES decide to nap, I know I have a short amount of time before he wakes up to get as much done around the house. This is my routine, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
But I say all of this for a reason. I don't want sympathy; I'm definitely not the first person, nor the last person to do this. Being a SAHM is by far the hardest "job" I have ever had. It's not glorious by any means. But I appreciate my friends who are SAHM's, and I definitely appreciate my mom so much more.
And looking at my little dude, I realize that even though having a desk job would be a vacation in and of itself, I would miss out on so much with him! Every time I get a little giggle or a big gummy smile from him, I forget about the pile of clothes in the closet and the dust sitting on the tops of the wood furniture. I am able to remind myself that I have a LIFETIME to spend with this guy and the no sleeping phase is just that...a phase. It's such a small percent of the whole picture.
That being said, it's now 12:30 at night and my little guy has been asleep for about 30 minutes, even though I can hear him squawking every now and then from the room. I'm going to hit the hay. E has his circumcision tomorrow and we BOTH need the rest tonight.
SO thankful K is going to be there to support us. This mama cannot handle things like that on her own!
This mama is OUT!
I never saw myself as a stay at home mom (SAHM). I always knew I wanted to work, and I wanted my independence. I felt that my job in life was to have a job--a real job. One that has benefits and brings home a paycheck. One that I woke up at the same time every morning, went into the office, learned a few things about the industry, and then drove home. A job that I had sick leave for when I didn't feel well, and vacation time that I could take off to Mexico for a week and forget about work. I figured that was what a real job was. That was how I was going to contribute to society, my marriage, and my family.
Then I got pregnant while between jobs. And because this economy sucks (unless you work for the government and in that case your job keeps getting better and better), the only jobs I could come up with in a new town were part-time work (I live in a really small town in Texas.. editorial work isn't really a way to make money here). So K and I talked about it and we decided that me working and having my entire paycheck go to daycare just didn't make sense. That shit is expensive! So we decided, at least for the time being, that I would be a SAHM.
Then last night my real postpartum period showed up. My ovaries decided they were going on attack and my uterus sought revenge for the hell I put it through for nine months. My hospital mattress pads weren't even sufficient enough for this ambush and the only thing I was thankful for at that moment was that the hospital gave me two large bottles of the prescription strength ibuprofen. So I rushed to the bottle, grabbed my water, and washed down one of those bad boys PRAYING they would take effect in the next few seconds. And then the sentence that changed my way of thinking was said aloud to my little boy while he squirmed in my arms, impatiently squeaking for his bottle. Man, I need a vacation.
*Bam*
Now you say, "Whats the big deal? I say that all of the time." Here's the big deal: My job is my commitment to my son and to this little family that sprouted. And that, my friends, does not allow a vacation. Nor does it provide benefits (and because K and I aren't married...it REALLY doesn't provide benefits. Yep, I have zero insurance). My job requires me to do more than I ever did at a desk job. I don't get to take lunch breaks; I don't get a paycheck or a promotion; I don't to call in when I feel a little under the weather (or when mother nature strikes and I don't feel like dealing with anyone's stupidity that day).
I wake up numerous times throughout the night to feed E and rock him back to sleep. I "wake up" at 7 a.m. and continue my 2-3 hour routine with E. I can't just take a shower at my leisure. Blow drying my hair has become damn near impossible. I keep an eye on the clock to try to keep E on a routine. When he wakes, I feed him. When he's done eating, I do some activity with him. When he has had enough of whatever activity we do, I try to get him to take a nap for an hour. When he DOES decide to nap, I know I have a short amount of time before he wakes up to get as much done around the house. This is my routine, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
But I say all of this for a reason. I don't want sympathy; I'm definitely not the first person, nor the last person to do this. Being a SAHM is by far the hardest "job" I have ever had. It's not glorious by any means. But I appreciate my friends who are SAHM's, and I definitely appreciate my mom so much more.
And looking at my little dude, I realize that even though having a desk job would be a vacation in and of itself, I would miss out on so much with him! Every time I get a little giggle or a big gummy smile from him, I forget about the pile of clothes in the closet and the dust sitting on the tops of the wood furniture. I am able to remind myself that I have a LIFETIME to spend with this guy and the no sleeping phase is just that...a phase. It's such a small percent of the whole picture.
That being said, it's now 12:30 at night and my little guy has been asleep for about 30 minutes, even though I can hear him squawking every now and then from the room. I'm going to hit the hay. E has his circumcision tomorrow and we BOTH need the rest tonight.
SO thankful K is going to be there to support us. This mama cannot handle things like that on her own!
This mama is OUT!
Saturday, January 5, 2013
My psychic baby
Yesterday I was to the point where I needed a break. Not a long break, but a break.
Poor E was so fussy yesterday and I couldn't find anything that would soothe him. I also hadn't left the house in a really long time. I needed "me" time. I feel guilty even writing that! E is only 6 weeks old and I already need a break for myself? What kind of mother am I? Come to find out...a damn good one!
Not to toot my own horn (but beep beep), but me leaving E with his daddy at home was the best thing I could have done for both--no, all THREE of us. I think E needed it as well!
I narrowed down my thought process so everyone can see how I got to the point where I am at today:
4:00 p.m. I'm going to go crazy. K has been running his errands all day. What about my errands?? I have things I need to do! I don't know what E wants and he doesn't know what he wants in order to tell me what he wants! I'm telling K to watch E so I can leave.
4:15 p.m. Finally, out of the house! Fresh air feels good. The air kind of smells here. Thanks Texas. First stop, UPS!
4:18 p.m. Wow, it feels good to be in the car and able to listen to my music as loud as possible. Jam session time! I should think of even more errands I need to run.
4:30 p.m. UPS screwed up and now it's my job to do their job. Hmm... I wonder what E is up to right now.
4:40 p.m. I'm going to call my mom and see what she's up to. Oh! I can tell her how E is getting really good at holding his head up! And now he's really talkative at night, and how horrible I feel that he has to get circumcised next week, poor baby. (Spent the whole time talking about E).
4:55 p.m. The tanning salon!!! I have never been so excited to potentially get skin cancer before in my life. A blonde with fair skin should NEVER go this long without getting some color on her skin. I wonder if K has fed E yet? E needs a bath, maybe I can do that with him tonight. He also loves his baby massage I give him. He's so cute.
5:15 p.m. Man, I feel like a new woman! I feel like I've been gone a really long time though. Maybe I should just skip the rest of the errands and go home. No. I'm out of the house...gotta finish! I'm sure E is doing just fine. I'm free...right? Yes. Free.
5:30 p.m. The bank won't give me a money order for E's birth certificate because I don't have an account at their bank. Now they want me to go to the grocery store to get one. That's an added stop before I go home!! Ugh.
5:45 p.m. Walgreens pharmacy. Check! Now to the store? Maybe I should call K and see if E needs anything. I hope E isn't driving K crazy. I'm probably the only person that can understand what E needs. Maybe he just wants his mom to hold him. I bet E misses me. I haven't been away from him this long since he was born. I should hurry at the store so E can see me. Run in--run out! That's it!
6:00 p.m. Ahhhhh!! I need to see E!! I miss him; I need to hold him. Surely he misses me. What if he forgot who I was? What if he hasn't even noticed I'm gone? I need to get back. Look! There aren't even any front row parking spots at the store! And ALL of these people here after work?? It's so crowded! F this! Money order can wait! Mama's coming home E!!!!
You see what happened there? It's the miracle of being a mother. I think God designed us that way for a reason. No matter how much "me" time I needed, I was gone for 30 minutes before I already started to miss him! It was like a reset button had been pressed. And you know what was the best part of all of it? It's like the little booger had his reset button pressed too! He knew what I needed and he let me have it. I walked through the door and K was holding him in the living. I went over to them and E took one look at me and got the biggest grin on his face! Did I mention that yet? His smiles are no longer just gas smiles or sleeping smiles; E has genuine I'm-happy-to-see-you/this-makes-me-laugh smiles!
I'm not done there. I hung out with E all night. Playing with him, cheering for a football game on TV with him, talking to him, and I let K go to the garage to work on his toys all night. Then another miracle took place. E went to bed at 10, woke up at midnight to be fed and changed, and went back to sleep at one. At that time I also got in bed, expecting to wake up in two hours like normal. E didn't wake up until five in the morning! FOUR HOURS OF STRAIGHT SLEEP! I haven't had four hours of sleep without the help of K since he was born!
You see? My baby is psychic!!! He knew I needed a break and he gave it to me. I came back home and he was the happiest baby in Texas. Then, out of the blue, he decided he was going to let me get sleep--something I desperately needed! This isn't just a team effort between me and K. This is a group effort among the three of us. We are all in-tune with what the others need. It's honestly the first real family moment we have had. Family is more than just hanging out together or living under the same roof. More than just our blood line or last name. Family is recognizing the needs of others and providing it. It's loving those people no matter what. It's the support group that God provides for each of us. I have my support group: my psychic baby and my boyfriend. This trio is going to be unstoppable!
Poor E was so fussy yesterday and I couldn't find anything that would soothe him. I also hadn't left the house in a really long time. I needed "me" time. I feel guilty even writing that! E is only 6 weeks old and I already need a break for myself? What kind of mother am I? Come to find out...a damn good one!
Not to toot my own horn (but beep beep), but me leaving E with his daddy at home was the best thing I could have done for both--no, all THREE of us. I think E needed it as well!
I narrowed down my thought process so everyone can see how I got to the point where I am at today:
4:00 p.m. I'm going to go crazy. K has been running his errands all day. What about my errands?? I have things I need to do! I don't know what E wants and he doesn't know what he wants in order to tell me what he wants! I'm telling K to watch E so I can leave.
4:15 p.m. Finally, out of the house! Fresh air feels good. The air kind of smells here. Thanks Texas. First stop, UPS!
4:18 p.m. Wow, it feels good to be in the car and able to listen to my music as loud as possible. Jam session time! I should think of even more errands I need to run.
4:30 p.m. UPS screwed up and now it's my job to do their job. Hmm... I wonder what E is up to right now.
4:40 p.m. I'm going to call my mom and see what she's up to. Oh! I can tell her how E is getting really good at holding his head up! And now he's really talkative at night, and how horrible I feel that he has to get circumcised next week, poor baby. (Spent the whole time talking about E).
4:55 p.m. The tanning salon!!! I have never been so excited to potentially get skin cancer before in my life. A blonde with fair skin should NEVER go this long without getting some color on her skin. I wonder if K has fed E yet? E needs a bath, maybe I can do that with him tonight. He also loves his baby massage I give him. He's so cute.
5:15 p.m. Man, I feel like a new woman! I feel like I've been gone a really long time though. Maybe I should just skip the rest of the errands and go home. No. I'm out of the house...gotta finish! I'm sure E is doing just fine. I'm free...right? Yes. Free.
5:30 p.m. The bank won't give me a money order for E's birth certificate because I don't have an account at their bank. Now they want me to go to the grocery store to get one. That's an added stop before I go home!! Ugh.
5:45 p.m. Walgreens pharmacy. Check! Now to the store? Maybe I should call K and see if E needs anything. I hope E isn't driving K crazy. I'm probably the only person that can understand what E needs. Maybe he just wants his mom to hold him. I bet E misses me. I haven't been away from him this long since he was born. I should hurry at the store so E can see me. Run in--run out! That's it!
6:00 p.m. Ahhhhh!! I need to see E!! I miss him; I need to hold him. Surely he misses me. What if he forgot who I was? What if he hasn't even noticed I'm gone? I need to get back. Look! There aren't even any front row parking spots at the store! And ALL of these people here after work?? It's so crowded! F this! Money order can wait! Mama's coming home E!!!!
You see what happened there? It's the miracle of being a mother. I think God designed us that way for a reason. No matter how much "me" time I needed, I was gone for 30 minutes before I already started to miss him! It was like a reset button had been pressed. And you know what was the best part of all of it? It's like the little booger had his reset button pressed too! He knew what I needed and he let me have it. I walked through the door and K was holding him in the living. I went over to them and E took one look at me and got the biggest grin on his face! Did I mention that yet? His smiles are no longer just gas smiles or sleeping smiles; E has genuine I'm-happy-to-see-you/this-makes-me-laugh smiles!
I'm not done there. I hung out with E all night. Playing with him, cheering for a football game on TV with him, talking to him, and I let K go to the garage to work on his toys all night. Then another miracle took place. E went to bed at 10, woke up at midnight to be fed and changed, and went back to sleep at one. At that time I also got in bed, expecting to wake up in two hours like normal. E didn't wake up until five in the morning! FOUR HOURS OF STRAIGHT SLEEP! I haven't had four hours of sleep without the help of K since he was born!
You see? My baby is psychic!!! He knew I needed a break and he gave it to me. I came back home and he was the happiest baby in Texas. Then, out of the blue, he decided he was going to let me get sleep--something I desperately needed! This isn't just a team effort between me and K. This is a group effort among the three of us. We are all in-tune with what the others need. It's honestly the first real family moment we have had. Family is more than just hanging out together or living under the same roof. More than just our blood line or last name. Family is recognizing the needs of others and providing it. It's loving those people no matter what. It's the support group that God provides for each of us. I have my support group: my psychic baby and my boyfriend. This trio is going to be unstoppable!
Friday, January 4, 2013
6 weeks postpartum
Worst. Week. Postpartum.
Six weeks. That's the week every postpartum woman sets a goal to meet. It's the week they are checked by their OB/GYN to find out if their vagina has gone back to normal and if they're FINALLY able to do the dirty with their partner. Well as I have figured out, my OB hates me. That's a whole other story... but the b**** scheduled me for a 7 week, 2 day appointment. So six weeks has literally brought me nothing good.
Six weeks. The week of the worst growth spurt thus far. I love little E, but my Lord. He wants to eat every hour; and a LOT every hour. Then he fusses the entire time: grunts, strains, pushes, squeals, gulps, farts, burps, spits-up. He's a hot mess, which in return makes me a hot mess. Then he fusses after he eats because of all of the gas that has built up during his gulps. And he gulps because apparently he thinks that we are going to starve him, and then realizes how much he dislikes us. So he has all of this built-up anxiety and tries to down as much food as fast as possible just in case we decide to take away his only source of nutrition. When he finally burps or spits-up half his bottle, he realizes how insanely tired he is and passes out. Only to start the process again in an hour. It's exhausting for me, him and my boyfriend K.
Six weeks. Also apparently around the time that women who aren't breastfeeding (tried it for the first month, didn't work for me) get their first nasty gift from mother nature. What a whore. I hated her for leaving me 10 months ago, now I hate her for returning. And really MT? At the same time as a growth spurt? What kind of sick joke is this? So I'm bleeding, cramping, cranky (both from lack of sleep and hormones), my skin has decided that I'm going through puberty again...and I have to deal with a child that has a love/hate relationship with me, his body, sleep, and food. Jeez, thanks mother nature! Oh, and the worst part? I still can't wear a tampon!
Don't ask me why. I broke the rules and did the dirty at 5 weeks pp. But the tampon? Just wasn't working! So I'm wearing pads again. And because I still had those horrible postpartum bleeding mattress pads leftover, I am forced to wear those (because I'm not going to buy pads again).
Six weeks. Where's the vodka?
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