Tag Archives: Anxiety

A Revelation

A pregnant woman

A pregnant woman (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today, I am 21 weeks pregnant.

The whole thing is still kind of sitting in the pit of my stomach like a brick, some days. Like, I am not sure if I am going to wake up from some really stressful dream wherein I have accidentally gotten knocked up again. AGAIN. Some days, there is a heaviness and an uncertainty that I can’t shake. Some days, I cry a lot.

Today was not one of those days. Today, I had my second OB visit. Of course, I had the appointment on my calendar for 1pm and it was actually at 10:30 am so I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get to see the doctor. But, they saw me. And they didn’t even make me wait for hours. MB was able to come with me. Which only happened once throughout my entire pregnancy with Baby L because of his work schedule. We got to hear Baby O’s heartbeat again and, to my surprise, it didn’t make me want to run out of there or drive my car into the ocean. I felt calm. Serene. Ready to DO this thing. And then MB and I went to lunch. Alone. To one of my least favorite restaurants. But I had a surprisingly good sandwich and then a delicious chocolate malt. Because I am pregnant, you guys!

And then we came home and Baby L was playing contently in her playpen with her grandma standing by. She must have heard me come in, because she peered outside of her little baby pen and saw me and she got the most excited I have ever seen her get for anything or anyone. And in that moment, everything wasn’t just OK, you guys. It was beautiful. And I’m having another baby! And he will be beautiful and wonderful and hilarious and his little eyes will light up when he sees me and he will clap and giggle and I will fall in love with him every day!

You will have to forgive my little revelation, but please know that if I had blogged yesterday, you would have been swept away by the flood of tears that were flowing and FOR NO REASON…so this is a vast improvement.

Also, Hooray for babies!

And We Meet Again…

So, generally, I have been feeling pretty good through this first 4 months of pregnancy. I mean, I must have been feeling pretty good because I was able to keep this pregnancy a secret until just a couple of weeks ago. So, I didn’t accidentally puke on anyone. Which, you know, would have TOTALLY happened in my last pregnancy. Because there was no warning of nausea. Just crazy, sneak-up-on-you vomit. Good times.

I will tell you that, because the symptoms and all the fun details of pregnancy were so fresh in my mind, it was super easy to pretend that this couldn’t really be happening. Because the threat of what was to come was just too much. Like right now.

It is almost 11 at night and I am sitting on the couch watching “Intervention”, thinking about how I could eat my sister-in-law’s entire birthday cake right now. And not because I’m hungry. But because it is chocolate. And because this baby doesn’t seem to discriminate about food like his sister did. He wants it all. He wants onion rings and carrot cake and Special K cereal and fried pickles. And regular pickles. But mostly, he wants pears. Yes. Pears. Which I guess is a really good thing because Baby L just wanted cupcakes. Specialty cupcakes with names like, “The Marilyn Monroe” or the “Bette Davis“.

As much as I have tried to avoid these symptoms, here we are again. I have heartburn (although on a much lesser scale than last time), my back aches (somehow MORE than I remember and probably because Baby L ripped me to shreds and took the liberty of realigning my spine), my head hurts a bit in the morning and I can no longer sleep comfortably in any position for more than an hour. And my belly doesn’t hesitate to remind me of all the fun to come! SO, I am feeling it, internet. I am right back there where I was last year at this time. I wish I could clone myself so I could punch myself in the face for being such an idiot for doing this again so soon.

I think I am over the hump as far as fatigue goes. I mean, I am awake. And it is now after 11 pm. And I have an 8 month old child who keeps me busy all day and hates sleeping. And I have had TWO NAPS since last May. (And, believe me, I wish this were an exaggeration…) And I haven’t passed out. And this makes me happy. Because I know it won’t last. And before too long, I will return to the land of the narcoleptic and I will be stressing about cribs and covers for my carseats and wondering how in the hell I am going to stay up all night taking care of a newborn and then chase a one-year-old around all day. (Help me, Cheesus…)

I really am hoping, internet, that this whole beginning pregnancy thing is some sort of indication that the last trimester will be a piece of cake. Because Baby L sure tried to kill me. (22 hours of labor? Really?) Uggghhh…

 

Open Letter to Baby L at 8 Months

Dear Lilah,

You turned a whopping 8 months old yesterday. As always, I am amazed at how much new stuff you do every day. And how much more personality you have today than last week. You are beautiful and you are my favorite squishy little thing in the whole world.

This past month, however, your father and I announced to the Universe, that we are growing another squishy little thing. This time, it will be a boy and we will name him Oliver, after my grandfather (your great-grandfather) whom you never got to meet but who would have loved you to itty bitty little pieces and who would have told you really terrible jokes but they would have made you laugh anyway. Because your great-grandfather was best at making everyone smile. Daddy and I were not planning on having another squishy one for another year or so, but it seems your brother couldn’t wait to join us. And it seems that the Universe was ready to give him to us. Your father and I graciously accept.

The birth of your brother will happen right after your first birthday. And while I had hoped I would have more time alone with you before we welcomed more squish into the family, I am starting to get really excited at the prospect that you and Oliver will be best friends. That thought warms my heart and brings tears to my eyes.

When you were born, my dearest love, I was SURE that I could not love another human being with the intensity with which I love you. And it has managed to grow ever stronger in these past eight months. Welcoming your brother is scary to me because I can’t imagine loving someone else with that same intensity. I am told that this won’t be an issue. And I am sure that I will love each of you with the same fervor and dedication. I look forward to seeing your interactions with each other and your different personalities emerge. I am so excited for you, little one, to get to experience a sibling (even if I am not quite ready, myself) because, and you probably already know this if you are reading this letter, my own sister is one of my very favorite people. I couldn’t ask for anything more for you than to have a built-in best friend. A sibling is, indeed, a really wonderful thing to have.

You have started to show me that you are readying yourself for crawling. Which terrifies me because you will no longer be that cute little thing that stays where I put you and just lets me know when you are done with it. You will move yourself around and you will grab things and put them in your mouth. You will eventually walk and I will be a nervous wreck. And I will be chasing you and wearing your brother all at the same time. These are exciting times for you, my dear. You are becoming a real, honest-to-goodness, mobile human being. And this saddens me in some ways because it won’t be long at all before you are running around like a crazy person and no longer fall asleep in my arms.

Speaking of sleep, I think we should also discuss how little of that you are doing these days. You know, before I forget. You went, two months ago, from sleeping 8-9 hours independently to insisting upon sleeping in between your father and me in our bed every night. I have tried to trick you. I have tried to let you cry until you calm and fall asleep. (Which, by the way, does not work at all for a couple of reasons. One being that I am fairly certain that you could cry FOREVER, or it maybe just seems like that to me. And two, because I can’t bear to hear you cry. It breaks my heart into pieces every time.) I am not a fan of this phase you are going through because, for such a tiny thing, you sure do take up a hell of a lot of room. Your father and I sleep in the same position all night for fear that we will hurt you or disturb YOUR sleep. (Which isn’t really fair because, really, you don’t have any job to get to in the morning.) Needless to say, I am going to start this “sleep training” thing that I hear so much about VERY soon. (I am only waiting on the necessary instruction manuals to come in the mail. And then it is ON, little one.) I will definitely miss my cuddle time. But I desperately miss sleeping. Because I am pregnant. And if I don’t sleep, I become a scary monster and your father hides from me. Rightly so.

Anyway, you are still the love of my life. You are so beautiful, I sometimes can’t stop myself from staring. You are my everything, little girl. And I promise you, brother or no brother, I will love you always. More and more and more. Every day. Until the day that I die.

Love,

Mom

Sibling!

Sibling! (Photo credit: Gus Dahlberg)

Un-resolutions and Zero Goats

Guam beach

Guam beach (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Space Needle at Seattle Center in Seattle,...

The Space Needle at Seattle Center in Seattle, Washington. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So, I don’t make resolutions. Just, like, as a rule. Because I know myself and I won’t keep them. Because something always happens that gets in the way. Like, when I decided a few years ago to drink less vodka. Then I started drinking way more wine. So…that kind of defeated the purpose. Although, at the time I convinced myself that, you know, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! I was the best resolution keeper EVAH.

Fail.

So, anyway, I don’t do resolutions. But this year, you know, in the wake of all the (more) crazy and the changing situation and everything, (Hello, unexpected baby!) I decided not to make resolutions, but to make some goals. (I just typed goats. I don’t make goats OR resolutions, just to clarify. I am pretty damn good at making babies, though. It would appear.) So I started making this digital vision board. Because MB told me that he made one once and that it actually helped him to stay focused and to make things happen. And being that it is hard to focus on anything other than my ever-expanding waistline, I figured it couldn’t hurt. None of my goals for my new family are terribly unattainable. I mean, some things might be a little more involved than others. But, you know. I think I am up for the challenge. And these are all necessary goals people.

So, here is the list of things that I hope to accomplish this year. And I hope that by my posting them here, I will get my ass in gear and remember that people are watching. You guys will be watching, right? I mean, even if you aren’t, I will pretend that I will really disappoint all of you if I don’t stick to my shit. Anyway, here it is.

1. Finally graduate from college. Okay, okay, this will just be my Associates degree for this year because I honestly only have two classes left and really just need to get the shit done. I am not going to say that this will depend on how my life is after this second baby or if we can afford it financially. Because if I say those things, I will give myself an excuse to never graduate. And then I will hold you all personally responsible because you weren’t keeping me in check. And you don’t really want that, do you?

2. Buy a house. This is the most important one. I mentioned before that MB and I were planning a cross country move for this year but have obviously had a change of plans because of Baby O. But it is IMPERATIVE, at this point, that we find a home. Because I sure as hell cannot live in this house with TWO babies. And honestly, I just feel like I will be better able to concentrate on being a kick-ass parent if I have a kick-ass home to call my own. So, this is a big one for me. I NEED IT.

3. Save some cash. I have a savings account. It is not super cushy. And I have a husband who is notoriously bad with money. Not because he is going out and buying ridiculous gadgets (like the iPad he bought me for my Christmas/birthday present) or anything like that…but because he is just too generous. He “lends” money to friends and family members all the time. People who don’t necessarily seem to think they have to pay him back. And my husband is amazing, but this makes me want to punch him in the throat. (He has gotten better and he knows that this is no longer an option.) He has agreed to let me handle the finances now that we are married. Meaning that money will actually be SAVED. Like in an account. Like for to DO THINGS with. It will be glorious. AND it will help us achieve several of these goals.

4. Have an amazing first birthday party for Baby L. This is going to happen. I don’t think I need to explain. I could be broke as hell and I would beg, borrow and steal to make her first birthday amazing. (Not that she will likely remember. But I will.)

5. Welcome Baby O into the world. Looks like this is happening. It isn’t really a goal, I guess. I guess the goal would be not hurting anyone while impatiently waiting his arrival. Because we all know how much I LOVE BEING PREGNANT. (All lies. B-T-Dubs.)

6. Take a vacation. Just me and MB. Yes, I know. We just went to Vegas and got hitched. But a bunch of people went with us. And we partied. Well, MB partied. I mostly felt guilty about my mom staying in the condo with Baby L and came home early. I want to go somewhere with sun and palm trees. Or maybe cabins in the mountains. Or maybe the Space Needle (I heart Seattle). Or maybe visit my dad in Guam. I mean, who knows? I just want us to have a getaway. And maybe this won’t happen this year while the kids are so small. But it is a good goal. And I’m keeping it.

7. Take more “me time”.  I would like to read more. And, no offense to any of you, but I mean BOOKS. (Taking suggestions…PLEASE!?) I don’t have a lot of time now, but I will have less when Baby O gets here.

8. Be healthier. Before I had Baby L, I was not a health nut, by any means, but I definitely ate better. Healthier. Smarter. And then I got pregnant and gave up wine and cigarettes. HELLO, CUPCAKES! So, I need to get back to that place where I am not stuffing my face full of weird shit like McDoubles and cheese puffs. Seriously. But this will have to wait until after June also. Obviously. Right now, I will eat whatever the eff I want, internet.

That’s all I got for right now. I wanted to post the actual vision board that I am making. But it isn’t done because I can’t find suitable illustration. You know, because my shit has to be PERFECT.

Sleep? What is THAT?

sleep

sleep (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

So, MB and I have had this kind of unspoken agreement that I will get up with Baby L should she wake in the middle of the night, since he, after all, has to wake up before 5 am to make it to work on time. This went really well for months because Baby L rarely woke up during the night and I was functioning at approximately 95% (depending on how many glasses of wine I’d had after the wee one went to sleep). Now that Baby L is waking up 3,025 times per night and I am knocked up, cranky and totally exhausted, this arrangement is just pissing me off.

I know that MB has to work. And I know that he is doing so to assure that I don’t have to and that I can, like I had wanted to, stay home with Baby L and not miss any of the cool things she learns to do. (On this list of cool things, however, I did not include “learning how not to nap and then get terribly angry and stay that way for the rest of the day”.) And I genuinely appreciate this. I really do. But, internet, I am freaking tired. And not the normal, I have a baby kind of tired. It is the “I have a baby and I am currently growing another one WAY too soon” tired and I am not sure what to do about it. On the one hand, I feel like waking MB up in the middle of the night by banging on his head with rattles and the like. On the other hand I feel like I should really just respect that this is the path that I chose. I am the full-time SAHM and I am responsible for the baby stuff at night so that my wonderful husband can go to work and function properly in the morning.

And because Baby L has been a crazy, weirdo when it comes to sleeping lately, and she usually (always, at least for a couple of hours a night) ends up in the bed with us, I feel even MORE uncomfortable than I would normally be. With or without this new parasite.

I’ve tried to nap. But I am back on the insomnia train. You know the one, ladies, where the minute you actually have time to sleep, you can’t. Because your body hates you. Either that, or I fall into a deep, delicious slumber and Baby L starts to scream like someone is peeling her skin off. Because not only does my body hate me, it appears that my child also hates me.

I am starting to wonder if I will ever sleep again. I remember wondering this when I was pregnant with Baby L, but…this? This is much, much worse. What is a mama to do?

Starting Over…

happy babying!

happy babying! (Photo credit: skampy)

So, now that I’ve gotten the BIG news out of the way (and if you missed it, go here…), I can start blogging about what it actually on my mind. No secrets here anymore, folks.

1. I am a little miffed that when I wanted a boy, I got a girl (which, obviously is the best thing ever, you know…now…) and now that I was hoping for another girl (because I am unemployed and want to save money), I am faced with the issue of buying more baby gear. OH MY GOD. MORE BABY GEAR. (I am, however, thankful that a lot of Baby L’s toys and activity stuff is pretty unisex so I don’t feel bad about putting my baby boy in a hot pink swing or anything. I guess it wouldn’t matter anyway, right? Whatever.)

2. MB and I decided a couple of months ago, after I took the first of four home pregnancy tests and had almost settled into the idea that I might be having another baby, that we would stay in our current location and buy a house instead of trekking all the way across the country with (not one but) TWO babies. The expense of that would have broken us and hardly been worth it at this point.  So, now we start the house search. I’m going to be honest. I have no idea what I’m doing. I just need a house big enough for us and two kids to have their own rooms. And a yard. Because these kids are going to play outside, dammit.

3.How am I going to take care of a one-year-old and a newborn by myself all day, every day? This little guy had better not hate the bjorn like his sister does or I am totally screwed. I am seriously having a lot of anxiety about this. Amazing that I am not having more anxiety about money and stuff like that. But no, I am concerned about the baby bjorn.

4. Would it be totally inappropriate to have a baby shower? My mom asked me that last night and, honestly, I have no freaking idea. I can’t really think of anything we need except for another crib (that transitions into a toddler bed eventually) but, if Baby O is anything like his sister, he won’t sleep in it until he is much older anyway. You know, like when he is 16. So, he will most likely use the Fisher Price Rock n’ Play Sleeper that saved my life with Baby L.) Do I just have a sprinkle?

5. I have many infant car seats. They are all pink. Is there any way that I can buy just the COVER thing for a car seat? Or do any of you have a boy-ish one you want to trade or something? Hmmm…bartering. This is new!

Any advice from you mothers of two would be GREATLY appreciated!

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Broken Condoms…Reloaded (Alternately Titled “Holy Shitballs” Which Seems to be the Common Response)

Seriously, I know the title sounds a little gross. And I also know that I might get some serious weirdos starting to hang around…but I will have to deal with it. Because I am too tired to think of a clever title that fits this post. Because, internet, I’m knocked up again.

And yes. You read that right. I, Broken Condoms lady, reluctant mommy blogger, is knocked up AGAIN. And before you all start dropping like flies with the sheer shock of it all, let me go ahead and clear everything up for you. Please feel free to let me know if I leave anything out…

1. Yes. I was taking birth control pills. And yes, we were also using condoms on the rare occasion that I actually let my husband touch me. Because pregnancy was enough to scare me into wearing a titanium suit around him if I had to. None of this worked, evidently. Hence this post. (Grrr…)

2. How do I feel about this whole mess, you ask? Well, internet, I feel a lot of things. I’ve been keeping this under wraps for awhile so a lot of that emotional shit, I have since come to terms with, but let me try and run you through what I have experienced thus far. First there was denial. I think that when your first child is 5.5 months old and you find out that you are, indeed, expecting again, the first thing that happens in your brain (especially if you have been taking any and every means of preventing this from happening) is that you decide that it can’t be true. It has to be some cruel joke that the Universe is playing on you. Wait, is it April Fools’ Day? You got me, Universe, you really, really got me. But then you start to vomit and you think, “Hey, I must have a stomach bug.” Seriously. I convinced myself for 4 days that the positive home pregnancy test was the Universe playing a joke and that the morning sickness was actually just a stomach bug. After I puked a few more times, though, I just started to have a little breakdown. I kept thinking about all the things I was about to have to do (AGAIN) that drove me so crazy the first time. You know, like the not sleeping (which I am, obviously, currently not doing anyway) and the back pain and the intense need for double cheeseburgers from McDonalds. And then I cried a lot. Daily. For a LONG TIME. I considered options. And I discussed everything with MB (who, by the way, was in support of whatever I decided even though he felt that we, as a couple, are strong enough to do this shit all over again. Curses.) I stared at my daughter for hours and contemplated the birth of our second child and what it would mean for us and our family. I reasoned with myself about eventually wanting to have another child in the next couple of years anyway and how having this baby would make me…well…DONE with childbearing. And that thought gave me solace. But then I cried some more. Because, holy crap, internet, the kids will only be a year apart! And how will I chase a child who will inevitably be starting to walk and carry a newborn around and not sleep all while MB is at work all day?! How will I manage?! But then I stared at my daughter some more. And I thought about how hopeless I felt when I found out I was pregnant with her. And how doubtful of my abilities I was before she was born. And I felt a little bit better. Because dammit, I am a fantastic mom. Am I necessarily ready to be the “mother of two”? No. But was I ready to be a “mother of one”? Hells no.

The acceptance part started after I had to go to the Health Center and get a proof of pregnancy again so I could start the medicaid process (because, though, MB and I are now married, my insurance did not start until January 1st) AGAIN. (Which, if you remember, was pretty much the worst thing EVER for me.) A week later, the crying had stopped, for the most part, and shockingly, the Health Department had my Medicaid set up before I showed up for my appointment. (I didn’t have to make a SINGLE PHONE CALL.) I saw that as a good omen. And then I was all set to hear the heartbeat of the baby (as it was estimated that I was about 14 weeks along at this point) and the PA couldn’t find it on the Doppler. And this might sound crazy. Or horrible. Or whatever…but I was actually relieved. I felt like this might be my “out”. She set me up with an Ultrasound (which was more than three weeks away) and sent me on my way. To panic some more. Needless to say, I started the processes all over again, thinking that it might just be a fluke. Hello, denial.

My ultrasound was yesterday afternoon. I told my sister-in-law in the morning what the situation was and she offered to come with me to the appointment in case MB couldn’t get home from work in time. MB made it home at the speed of light and the three of us trekked downtown and, just like that, I’m gonna have a little boy. Due June 6th, 2013.

3. So, yeah, I know I didn’t answer “how do you feel NOW?” in that monster paragraph up there. The truth is. I feel peaceful. Obviously, fat. And sleepy. And a little scared. But also a little relieved that this whole thing is already almost half-way over and no one could tell I was pregnant (SCORE!). I haven’t gained any weight. I haven’t been nearly as sick as last time. Things have been fairly uneventful. So, do I feel good about the whole thing? Ehhh…I don’t know if GOOD is the right adjective. But I feel okay. I am alive, I am healthy. My baby is healthy. And I still have a wonderful partner and a beautiful daughter to remind me that this is not the end of the world. (Because, in some intense moments, I feel like I could lose it.)

4. I haven’t told EVERYONE in the world yet. By that, I just mean that I haven’t announced the news on Facebook. And I probably won’t do a giant, “We’re pregnant!!!” post. Because the people who matter have either already been told or will be soon enough. I don’t need to tell 200 more of my closest friends. Also, I am still sorting out the fact that I feel sort of ashamed that I let this happen so soon after having Baby L. Yes, I know I did all I could to prevent it, internet. But it feels so…irresponsible. Seriously. I mean, come ON, internet. Who DOES this?

(As I type this, THIS is what is happening on my TV. How can I not be optimistic?!)

http://youtu.be/DkLRXMBFtYo

Anyway, so that’s what’s going on over here. And maybe why I have been sort of distant lately. Please don’t break up with me, internet. I can’t do this alone!

Phases

Parenting is tricky. And not just because you have to learn it all from scratch because every book you can read on the topic will tell you something completely different. But because being a baby is probably pretty hard. But they can’t tell you that. Because they are just babies, you guys. They can’t talk.

The minute you get used to that thing he/she is doing that is so annoying that you think you cannot take it for another moment, it stops. But then this other really annoying thing happens.

Take for instance teething. Teething is uber annoying because it causes the baby a lot of discomfort. And it can look like different things are happening, when really, your baby is just preparing for the ability to bite your fingers off. They pull at their ears. Which makes you think that they might have an ear infection. So you bring them to the doctor and their ears are fine. They could run a low fever. Which makes you think that they have a cold. They could stop sleeping. Because…you know…what is the most annoying symptom of ANYTHING? You guessed it. Not sleeping. And when the baby isn’t sleeping, you aren’t sleeping. And when you aren’t sleeping, you walk around like a mom zombie for days or weeks on end wondering if you’ve just left the toothpaste in the refrigerator. (I may or may not have done that. I can neither confirm nor deny.)

But teething isn’t the only reason that babies don’t sleep. They sometimes don’t sleep if they are too hot. Or too cold. Or in an unfamiliar place. Or there is too much noise. Or not enough noise. Or they are too far from you. Or too close to you. Or they napped too much during the day. Or they are overtired because they didn’t nap enough. Or because it is Tuesday. Or really any other day of the week.

This is currently how Baby L rolls.

I feel exhausted. And achy from trying to sleep with my really tall husband and really tiny baby in a Queen-sized bed. I feel cranky and overwhelmed and then ashamed of myself for feeling cranky and overwhelmed. And then I just feel more exhausted from feeling ashamed of myself. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

But it did get me thinking about these “phases” that babies go through. And how when she was first born and Baby L only slept about an hour and a half at a time and only on my chest or in a swing and I lived on the couch for 6 weeks. I remember thinking that I might never sleep again. And I might never know the joy of a bed. Or cuddling with MB. But then it ended. And we were on to the next thing.

And then it was reflux. And Baby L was miserable and crying and colicky and driving me absolutely mad trying to find ways to help her. And I remember having tried everything and one day, in the middle of one of the non-sleeping, crying hysterically days she was having, I sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor and sobbed. Because HOLY GOD, when will it all end?! And then it did. And now it seems like it was so long ago, I can barely remember it.

I have to be strong and tell myself every day that, “Yes. You will eventually sleep again. And no, Baby L will not sleep in between you and your husband until she is 37 years old.” And sometimes I have to tell myself these things at 4am when I wake up with a cramp in my side because I have been sleeping in the most awkward position for the last 3 hours and I cannot move my left leg. And sometimes I have to tell myself when MB is at work and I am trying to get Baby L to nap in her crib and all she wants to do is scream or play. But we all do it. We have to. It is survival.

And, this too, shall pass…

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On Tragedy

I should have known that yesterday wasn’t going to be a good day when MB’s glasses were inexplicably lying on the floor next to my side of the bed when I got up in the middle of the night to check on Baby L and stepped on them. I couldn’t, however, have known that it would be the kind of soul-crushing day that it ended up to be.

When I originally heard that there had been a shooting in Connecticut, that is all I really knew. I didn’t know where or who the victims were. I didn’t know anything else. Just that some other asshole had opened fire in a public place. Again. Looking back, I am ashamed that my original reaction wasn’t one of shock, even without the details. Because these things are so terrible, no matter who the victims are. But the truth is, internet, that things like this happen so often these days that I think I got a little desensitized to them. I mean, haven’t we all to some degree? If you don’t become at least a little desensitized to this stuff, you would have to lock yourself and your families up in your homes to avoid being murdered at Target while shopping for toilet paper.

I remember Columbine. I had just graduated from high school a year earlier and I remember thinking that it was absolutely insane that something like that could happen. Like, in a school. And that it could have just as easily been MY high school. But I felt as though I had dodged that bullet because, hell, I had graduated already. These things could not hurt me. Crazy people don’t shoot up movie theaters or shopping malls. They just don’t. And then things like this just kept happening. And happening. And happening. And I would see it on the news and my heart would hang heavy for a couple of hours and then I, along with the rest of the world, would move on to lunch at Panera. Or an afternoon meeting for work. Or a pedicure. And I didn’t forget, but I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I couldn’t think about it anymore.

Yesterday’s events hit me hard. Harder than, I think, any other random act of crazy has ever hit me. It felt as though a piece of my heart actually turned black and died along with those tiny, innocent victims yesterday. And maybe it is because I am a parent now. And the overwhelming love I have for my own daughter creates an overwhelming fear of evil. Or of the whole world. And now, when I hear about tragedy like this, I am no longer able to control my humanity. I cannot turn this off. I cannot ignore this tragedy because I know that if my child were taken from me, I wouldn’t be able to continue to live. She is not a piece of my heart, she is my WHOLE heart. She is what helps me to believe that there is still good in the world. Because there has to be. For HER. There just has to be. Otherwise all of the reasons I was terrified to bring a child into the world are justified. And how could that be?

I’ve thought and thought about the victims’ families in these last 24 hours. I have cried for them. I have prayed for them. I have mentally cloaked them in hugs. I have thought about them not being given another opportunity to hug their sons and daughters and I have hugged my daughter twice as many times as I have ever done before. And I have meant it more than I ever have before. Because, I fear. And because I love. And I want to believe that there is a solution. That there is hope that things will change. That no more innocent children (or innocents of any age) will be taken in such a horrific way.

I don’t know what the solution is. I know that it isn’t to board up the windows lock the world out. I know that it isn’t to be numb to the whole thing. I know that it isn’t going to be easy. But I know this: As I type this, I am watching the most beautiful creature in the world play and learn and laugh and she is worth it, you guys. They all are. A solution has to be found.

Who Needs Vodka? I Made a Person!

Today, I was looking through a couple of posts I wrote exactly a year ago. Not really for any particular reason, just because someone had recently read them and sometimes, I just like to go back and remember what things were like when my life changed. In one post, I wrote about how frightened I was about becoming “one of those women” who becomes baby-obsessed and who ceases to be an individual once their kid is born, because they become a mommy machine. And I was thinking about how awful this was to me back then. And how my biggest fear was losing myself once I gained a child. The funny thing about it is, there is NO WAY not to be obsessed with your own kid. There is also NO WAY not to be a mommy machine! Especially as a stay-at-home-mom. Because you eat, sleep and breathe mommy-hood. And there really isn’t anything you can do about it. And, to my surprise, I don’t really hate it.

Since having Baby L, I have become “one of those women”. And I am not ashamed to admit that my kid is my whole life. And I am not ashamed of the fact that there is NOTHING in the entire universe I would rather do than spend time with her and MB. I feel a little weird saying that. Because, evidently, a year ago I would have slapped you if you had suggested that I wouldn’t want to go to Happy Hour.

And don’t get me wrong, internet, I desperately want to go to Happy Hour. And don’t think that I haven’t made plans to do so…but at the end of the day, I am exhausted. Or I am snuggling with the little nugget. Or I am on the couch with MB, all cozy in a big blanket, watching “The Walking Dead“. (Because nothing says romance like zombies.) And I feel bad for not being all social butterfly now that Baby L is 6 months old. And it isn’t that I don’t love and miss seeing my friends and drinking too much vodka. I do. But I also just feel so much peace when I’m with my little family. I feel whole and content and so much LOVE, people! It is difficult for me to leave that for vodka. (And if you know me, you may think that I must currently be drinking to have said something so ludacris…but I promise, I’m sober. For the time being at least…)

And I may have become obsessed with my kid. And I may be a diaper-changing machine. But I didn’t lose myself. I evolved. And I am pretty proud of this lady. And most days, I don’t stress about missing Happy Hour. Or singing karaoke. Or vodka. Because those things will be there when I’m ready for them again. Right now, I just want to spend every minute I can appreciating this family.

I really just can’t bear to miss a thing.