Tag Archives: Family

On Sleeping…

I haven’t been very good at keeping you all updated on motherhood and that’s because during the time that I am awake, I am actually PRACTICING motherhood. And then during that time when I’m asleep, well, I’m trying to stay that way for as long as possible.

Baby L had a lot of sleep issues and gas issues and for the first weeks of her life. She was confused about day versus night and what to do during which period, which, as I mentioned before, forced Mommy to sleep on the couch for 5.5 weeks. Mommy was not a fan.

When I was pregnant and registering for things, I decided that, in the beginning, Baby L should sleep in our bedroom in a bassinet. Partially because I was still terrified of SIDS (still am) and partially because the guest room is such a clusterfuck after all the baby gifts and hand-me-downs from MB’s sister who has a little girl as well. I knew we were planning to move shortly after Baby L was born, so I didn’t see the point in setting up a crib/nursery when we would just be taking everything down in a few months anyway. So, I looked on-line for baby sleeping contraptions. And being that I was having a little girl, I wanted something cute. Not too frilly. Not too pink. But functional and pretty. So I settled on this plain white bassinet. It wasn’t anything fancy and it fit perfectly next to my side of the bed so that I could see the baby if I needed to (read: freaked out and started to be a total lunatic) in the middle of the night without having to get up and check on her (37 times because I think she might not be breathing). Fail.

The bassinet, while pretty and functional enough, was not up to Baby L’s sleeping expectations. Turns out: the womb to bassinet transition was not going to happen.

So, Baby L slept in the swing. Or on my chest. And while I totally enjoyed the chest sleeping/cuddling, my back was starting to pay. So we were back to square one.

With our move very quickly approaching, and thus having to downsize, I was starting to get super desperate and went back to where it all started. Target.com. Back in the days of pregnancy, when I had absolutely no idea of what I was in for, I read reviews for this “newborn sleeper” thing. The reviews were mostly wonderful except those select few that mentioned that this contraption will give your baby (gasp!) “flathead syndrome”. Now, internet, to a paranoid, confused, and often hysterical, soon-to-be-mom, “flathead syndrom” might as well be read as “face cancer” or “third arm”. So naturally, despite the glowing reviews, I resisted buying this “newborn sleeper” thing. Until all of our attempts at a normal, bedroom sleeping situation failed and then I broke down and bought it. AND IT SAVED MY LIFE.

While she still has her daily fussy times and sporatic cranky-pants moments, Baby L is finally sleeping 4-6.5 hours per night. IN OUR BEDROOM. Meaning that Mommy and Daddy are sleeping IN THE SAME ROOM. Like, for more than 30 minutes at a time! Can you believe it, internet? I’m pretty sure that this thing is the best thing ever invented. So if you are having trouble getting your newborn to sleep, GO AND BUY THIS THING. For real. (Shameless Fisher Price plug. They should totally pay me for this.)

Anyway, so, that’s about how things are going for us right now. Finally getting some sleep but now, we’re on to packing for our move in TWENTY days. And guess how many boxes are packed, y’all! TWO! (More on this later…)

 

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One Year Ago Me…

Okay, so after my last post, Ande asked what the ME from one year ago would say if she read it. And that’s a super good question. Because I don’t even think that today me would be friends with one year ago me. And not because that me wasn’t a good me, just that THAT me? Well, she didn’t want kids, she had toxic people in her life, and she was too stubborn to admit that she had everything in the world already that she could ever want. It sounds super cheesy. And THIS me, she knows that. But THIS me also knows that One Year Ago Me spent a little too much time worrying about everyone else and not really considering that everyone else didn’t matter as much as…well…ME.

A year ago, I had a job that I loved, but that made me feel like I was wasting my potential and running in circles. I was constantly overworked, underpaid and grossly underappreciated and I put up with it because…well, One Year Ago Me was sort of a moron. But that job, however ridiculously insane it made me, helped people, and at the end of the day, made me feel good. The people I worked for/with, on the other hand, were pretty much the worst. (And, as you know, they later proved that.) One Year Ago Me took my job home with me and considered that job to be one of the most important things in her life. FAIL.

A year ago, I was friends with a bunch of selfish people. I spent years and years being there for them through deaths and births and things that I, too, experienced, but received little to no support from those people during. I placed these people over family. Because I didn’t have a great childhood and I didn’t feel like many of my family members really gave a shit. And I felt like my friends would be my family if ever I needed them to be. Turns out, they were horrible, selfish people who would disappear when things in my life got tough. FAIL.

The one place One Year Ago Me didn’t fail was with MB. It took a while to get somewhere in my head when we first started dating that I didn’t feel like something was going to get screwed up. And I had to deal with that for a long time. One Year Ago Me was celebrating her one year anniversary with MB and finally accepting that something was going right. And One Year Ago Me was a pretty happy gal in that respect.

The moral of the story? One Year Ago Me was concerned with being the most knowledgable at work, the best friend she could be, and coming to terms with being a live-in girlfriend. But she was, in no way, wanting to start a family. Because that girl didn’t really think that family was all that big a deal.

Today Me knows differently. Today Me has the best relationship with her mother that she has ever had. She is unemployed but she feels like things will work out and that, the asshole move that her former employer pulled, might have been kind of a blessing. Has the best relationship she has ever had. And now, has this beautiful daughter. Who lights up every, single moment of every single day.

So, to answer your question, Ande? It doesn’t really matter what One Year Ago Me would say. Because she had a dumb job, selfish friends and was too scared to do something that really meant something. She was kind of a fucktard.

In your FACE, One Year Ago Me. Your friends are assholes and you’re gonna get fired.

On Motherhood

 So, since the birth of Baby L, I have literally written 37 blog posts about motherhood. You know, like, in my head. Where none of you can read them. Shockingly, between diaper changing and bottle washing, and being puked on, I haven’t really had a lot of time to actually type things. But lemme tell you, I’m a hell of a mind blogger. If only there was some way to hook up WordPress to my actual brain, you guys would have reading material FOREVER…

Anyway, so yeah. What’s up, internet? I’m a mom now. And it is INSANE.

I have to say, internet, that it honestly is one of the most rewarding things EVER to have a baby and to be someone’s parent but it is also terrifying. I have never felt so truly inept* at anything as I did the first few weeks of Baby

sleep

sleep (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

L’s life. And I don’t say this to scare all of you preggos or to discourage those of you who aren’t yet on this path, I just mean to say that it is WORK. Granted, I would trade this work for any other work I have ever done in my life. Because even though I haven’t slept in my bed on a regular basis in five weeks, it was worth it the first time that little girl smiled at me. (Which may or may not have been because she was trying to poop, but you take what you can get at this age, because she is basically a meatloaf. A really, really adorable meatloaf.)

I knew that the sleep deprivation was going to be hard. And I honestly thought that, given the fact that I hadn’t slept well for several months anyway, (you know, because a ginormous belly does nothing for sleeping comfortably) I could rock the hell out of not sleeping. Because, I was in my twenties once.  (Hard to believe, but it is totally true.) I never expected, however, that my child would not sleep in or on ANY contraption that I purchased for sleeping. Because MY kid was going to sleep through the night right after birth. And she would do it anywhere that I put her, but she would MOST DEFINITELY love her bassinet.

FAIL.

Baby L likes to sleep one of two places: on my chest or in her swing. Period.

This makes sleeping in my bedroom impossible because I can’t sleep with her in the bed (believe in co-sleeping or not, when you are desperate, you are desperate) because MB is a giant and sleeps like he is even BIGGER than he is and is terrified that he will kill her and I can’t move the swing into the bedroom because it is huge and cumbersome and I need it to be accessible if and when I try to do things in other parts of the house. So, internet, I have moved into the living room. (Which, by the way, has recently become infested with spiders of all varieties, and I am totally phobic.This was remedied last week, but HOLY CRAP.) I sleep the first half of the night with Baby L in the swing, swaddled and comfy and after her feeding, she is changed, un-swaddled and sleeps on my chest.  I have to say, even though it means that I barely sleep at all, I rather like the cuddling. Because she is teeny and warm and adorable. And I grew her. So, there’s that…

During the first week, Baby L did not sleep at night at all. Evidently, she was confused about what to do when it gets dark outside and mommy is crying hysterically because she hasn’t slept in four days. Luckily, MB’s mom spent a few days with us after it became obvious that I might never sleep again and, since she works nights and was on vacation, she was able to hang out with the nugget while the parents actually slept. Together. In the same room. It has gotten gradually better and now she is sleeping, sometimes, up to five hours at a time after her bath and last bottle. Which makes mommy very, VERY happy. And if I weren’t so exhausted, I might even do a cartwheel or two about it.

MB has, however, been a huge help when he is home on the weekends and has even let me have the day shift while he sleeps on the couch at night so that I don’t get all delirious and start streaking through our neighborhood or something equally ridiculous. And the crazy thing about sleeping in my bedroom? I feel guilty about not sleeping in the same room with my kid. GUILTY! Can you believe that? (If you are a new mom, you probably can and don’t think I am insane. Evidently, this is a thing.)

Either way, things are getting better, and sleep is becoming something that I do sometimes. Which I enjoy.  And I have a bunch of amazing friends who have either come by to help me get some random things done around the house or have at least been there to answer their phones when I call them and freak out about the fact that the baby has just spit up into my cleavage and it was more spit up than I remember ever having happened before and OH MY GOD is that OKAY? Is my baby sick? Should I call the doctor on call? (Which, mind you, I have done on THREE, count ’em THREE occasions since we brought her home.Yep. I am a spazz. And I’m okay with that, internet. I don’t know how to work a baby! Give me a break!)

I should really get back to my kid now. But I wanted to say THANK YOU to all of you ladies (and gent!) who have commented here, tweeted, emailed or come by to help, say congrats, or whatever. You guys rock my face off! (Special thanks to Kathryn for the cute goodies that I use daily because I MUCH prefer the adorable burp cloths to the gross white ones! I’m a burp cloth stuff elitist now, see what you’ve done?)

Okay, now which one of you is NEXT?!

*Except Math. I am super inept at Math.

Also, you guys should go here and buy some cute baby stuff! Expansion is coming soon, I hear!

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Once Upon a Time (The Finale…Wherein I Finally Had a Baby!)

(I’ll have you guys know that I have attempted to write this a total of four times in the last few days and that once it was finally almost finished, I somehow deleted ALL OF THE TEXT…so…there you have it.)

So, when they finally had me start pushing again, it was about 6 in the morning, right before shift change. The night nurse, who had mistakenly mentioned that, once I was dilated enough, they could use a vacuum contraption to assist with getting the baby out, was now leaving and the nurse who admitted me 20 hours before, Shirley, was coming back on. Shirley was an older lady that I rather liked, except for the fact that sometimes when I would tell her things that were happening, she would either seem not to hear me or she would act as though I was making it all up. (Like, when I told her the pitocin made me puke all night, she gave me a weird look, almost rolling her eyes and said something along the lines of, “That’s weird, I’ve never heard of that happening before. Which, by the way, is interesting to me considering that even I had heard that before and I am, by no means, a labor and delivery nurse. Anyway…) When she came into my room to take over the “pushing assistance”, four or five other random people came in behind her. When I was pregnant, one of the things that I was totally against was having more people than necessary in the room during my labor and delivery. The thought of random strangers staring at my vagina (and under crazy bright lights, no less) was super disturbing for me. (I was aware that there would be a COUPLE of people there, as it would be their job to stare at my vagina, but I really didn’t think that there needed to be any extras, you know, like med students or anyone like that.) So, you can imagine how appalled I was when Shirley’s randoms came filing in and readied themselves in the vagina-viewing spot in my room.

I didn’t pay them much attention at first, because at that point, nothing mattered more than the whole thing being over. But then, some of the randoms, along with Shirley, actually started cheering me on. Like my own private random cheerleader ladies. And I was RIGHT THERE. It was about to happen and all I could think about was punching every last one of them in their stupid faces. So, I turned to Shirley and said, very seriously, “I need you all to STOP TALKING TO ME.” Shirley calmly asked the randoms to STOP TALKING but then continued to say things like, “You can do it! Push! PUSH!!!” and then I ripped the needle out of my arm and stabbed her in the temple. Okay. That didn’t happen. But it could have. This was not a joke.

I pushed for about 30 minutes before I asked the doctor for the vacuum contraption. Baby L was having trouble getting past my pelvic bone and, even though I couldn’t feel a lot of the pain because of the numbness in my lower half, I was still having a really hard time using my body as a tool to expel her and the pressure was becoming more than I could take. The doctor explained to me that we could attempt the vacuum, but that I would still have to push like hell and that if it didn’t work, I would have to have a C-Section. And I started to cry. And I said, “Do it.”

Two pushes later, and Baby L was lying on my chest and all of the punchiness had disappeared. Tears were rolling down MB’s face and I was so totally in shock that it was all over, I almost couldn’t even react. But then I looked at her. She was silent and her eyes were wide and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. If you have ever had a baby, you know that it is impossible to put into words what that first moment is like. Because there is nothing like it in the world. You’ve made a perfect little person and you just met her…and you love her more than you ever thought you could love anything or anyone. And that moment was so emotional but so short and then they took her away to take her vitals and whatnot and I was awestruck. I felt high and cloudy and almost like I was out of my own body. And then the doctor reminded me that my work was not done and that I still had to deliver the placenta. This was nothing. In fact, I don’t think I felt anything at all and when she told me that it was out, I turned to her and said, “You can just throw that away, I’m not gonna eat it.” And then everyone had a good chuckle and seemed to forget what a heinous bitch I had been just a few minutes earlier. I guess they deal with that a lot. As I was told later, the randoms were surgical staff who were called in because no one thought I would be able to deliver vaginally and they were preparing to take me to the OR. I sure dodged that bullet.

 

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Baby L was born on May 19th at 7:22 am. She was 6 pounds 14 ounces and she was 19.25 inches long.

When I look back now, I can barely remember a time when I didn’t have her. I can’t imagine a world where I wasn’t so overcome with love and I can’t remember a time when I slept more than 4 hours at a time. The pregnancy that seemed as though it lasted an eternity, seems like it was just a spot in my memory (I’m sure that it wouldn’t feel that way if I went back and read this blog!) and my life before seems so trivial. And I can safely say, even after all of the resistance I had towards becoming a mom, I am the happiest I have ever been. I feel renewed and purposeful and elated that I have been given a WHOLE PERSON to love and to love me…FOREVER…

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Once Upon a Time…….(Continued)

So, where was I? Oh yes…proposing to the anesthesiologist. He laughed at me. The end. I am still engaged to MB. Which I suppose is as it should be…

After the epidural, the pain stopped altogether. I mean, I couldn’t feel anything from the bottom of my ribcage to the tippiest tips of my toes. And it was glorious. After about fifteen minutes, though, machines started beeping and a woman bolted into my room and stood in front of my heart monitor, looking clueless. At first, I thought she might just be lost. Or mildly retarded. But then when my nurse came in looking a little frazzled, I started to get a little concerned. Mind you, this is where things get a little hazy for me. Baby L’s heart rate slowed and my blood pressure plummetted to 70/45 and I felt weak and panicked and completely out of my mind. My nurse assured me that it was nothing to freak out about (SERIOUSLY?!) but I was convincing myself that one of us was not going to make it. And not because I felt like I needed to be all doom and gloom about the birth of my daughter. But because I had never had so much as a tooth pulled up until about two years ago and being in a hospital and hooked up to all these crazy things and all the beeping machines was the most terrifying thing that I could have imagined. After a few minutes of the “everything’s okay” and “these things happen” from the nurses, they dropped a bit of ephedrine into my IV.

Now I want you all to keep score here, okay?

First, they give me pitocin. Which I don’t want in the first place. And which evidently makes me puke.

Then, I get the epidural. Which is amazing because I can’t even feel this “pressure” that I keep hearing so much about, but which also, evidently, wants to kill me.

THEN, they basically dose me with methamphetamine. Which I am pretty sure was the reason that I was suddenly acutely aware of the growth of every, single strand of my hair.

That’s a lot of stuff…But, they aren’t done, internet…Oh no…

After about an hour of monitoring the bejesus out of my pulse, BP and baby L’s heart, and things had started to return to normal (all except for my pulse, which was ridiculously high, but probably because I was on METH), they upped the pitocin. Because, naturally, when someone says they DO NOT want something, the best thing to do is to give them MORE.

And then I puked again. And again. And then again. And every time I threw up, MB called the nurse and told her. And she rushed into the room and handed me a weird, green contraption to vomit into and then she gave me more ice chips. (I never thought I could hate ice as much as I have grown to…)

At this point, I had been in labor for about 12-14 hours. And the contractions were getting stronger. To the point where this “pressure” that I hear so much about, was beginning to become “a thing”.  I was tired. I was cold. I was hungry and vomiting. And now I felt like someone was attempting to push a cantaloupe out of my rectum. Yes. So, they told me I could start pushing. And I thought to myself, “SWEET! This is almost over! Because once you start pushing, the baby comes out. And then they put the baby on your chest and you cry and then you get to go home.” (This is totally inaccurate, as it turns out…) I pushed and I pushed for a couple of hours and I even made some progress. There was mention of some sort of vacuum that the doctor could use to expel the baby, but I wasn’t progressed far enough yet for this to be used and it became evident that Baby L was warm and cozy and completely content to stay inside a little longer. So, the nurse told me to go ahead and rest for an hour or two and that she would be back to resume pushing around 4am.

And then I threw up again. Because who can rest when a cantaloupe is trying to get out of them?

After the last puketasm, the nurse offered to give me some Phenergan. Which, if you are familiar with medications, is an anti-nausea medication which has a tendency to make you VERY, VERY sleepy. This, on top of the meth and everything, made my mind…well? WRONG. Everything was wrong.

The ephedrine was making me feel like a crackhead, the pitocin was forcing the NOTHING out of my stomach, the epidural made me paralyzed completely, and the Phenergan made me so tired that I was actually mumbling incoherently in between the contractions. Which, by this time, were painful again. Not that I really had any idea what was going on or anything.

Then it was time to push. Again. This time, I, being on a host of medications which were very contradictory to each other, I couldn’t even remember HOW to push. Or make sentences. Or stay awake.

(AND…to be continued again…Sorry, ladies and gents, my kid is hungry…again!)

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Once Upon a Time…(A Totally Incoherent Birth Story with a Lot of Parenthetical Statements…) Part One…

…I was able to write a blog post because I didn’t have a baby. I know, it seems unrealistic to think that I might have 4.5 seconds to check in with my bloggy peeps. Bear with me, I’m working on it!

So, I am here. But I must warn you, Baby L likes to be held. Like, all the time, and I am currently typing and therefore NOT HOLDING HER (gasp!) so this might get cut short.

I wanted to share my birth story with you before it became old news, but alas, with all the visitors (oh, so MANY VISITORS) and hours of cuddling and shushing my new spawn, I am a little slow getting to it. So, I’ll try my best (taking into consideration the many, many sleepless nights recently and my inability to form a complete thought) to tell you ladies and gents how it went down!

So, as you know, I was pretty anxious to get that little nugget started on “life on the outside” because I was tired of being tired and spontaneously vomiting and waddling around the house like a giant penguin and I was beginning to think that she was, despite all the spicy food and the yoga poses that no pregnant woman should even attempt and the everything else I could think of that might induce labor, never going to come. Of course, because I am nothing if not on a schedule (and when I say on a schedule, I mean that I always stress about being on time and doing things when they should be done, but am often a little late anyway and then I beat myself up about it even though the reason for my tardiness is usually just slack-assiness) and it wouldn’t have been right if my daughter didn’t inherit this trait from me. So, just like clockwork, I rolled over in my bed on my due date, May 18th, and felt a gush. Yes, my water broke first thing in the morning, on my due date. (Remember? Intentions of being on time…)

Because I wasn’t in any pain, I really also wasn’t in any hurry to get to the hospital, because, lets face it, internet, labor is long and painful, and why would I want to rush into THAT when I could take a nice, hot shower and maybe do a load of laundry? Okay, I didn’t do laundry. But I could have. And I did do some dishes while I was waiting for MB to get home from work and take me to the place where they pull that alien out of your pelvis. But anyway, my mom came over within minutes of my phone call to tell her that I believed it was “time” and she immediately started trying to make me eat food. Because if you know my mom, you know that this is what she does. And in such an exciting time, who wouldn’t be hungry? Right?! Shockingly, when you feel like you are peeing an ocean into a giant maxi-pad and anticipating the most excrutiating pain of your life, you don’t really want a hard-boiled egg or strawberry yogurt. Go figure.

We got to the hospital about two hours after my water broke and I still wasn’t having any contractions. And I was okay with this, internet, because I really felt like I was gonna coast through this labor thing like no woman ever had before. I really believed that the lack of pain was a total indication of my impending EASY LABOR and DELIVERY. And then, once I was strapped to the bed and bound by an IV of pitocin (which I adamantly stated that I did NOT WANT, but was told that because my water had broken, I had no choice…) and my cervix was checked, the pain began. I wouldn’t even say that it was that terrible, but definitely not too much fun. Because when you go from just feeling like you’re constantly peeing on yourself to pretty bad menstrua-like cramps every six minutes, it is not only uncomfortable but sort of…well…terribly annoying. Things went on like this for about four hours. I contracted, I squeezed MB’s hand and whimpered until the shit stopped, and then I braced myself for the next one. When the contractions started getting more painful, I mentioned the epidural to my nurse and, since I was only about 2 centimeters dilated at that time, she thought it would be better to wait about an hour before calling the anesthesiologist. And I didn’t argue, because I was still coherent, my hair still looked decent and I wasn’t yet dehydrated or starving. But then the vomiting began. And when I buzzed the nurse to tell her that I was puking up the ice chips that I was using to keep my mouth from feeling like I was eating sandpaper, she immediately called the anesthesiologist. Literally, within five minutes of my first puketastic event, I was getting a needle stuck INTO MY BACK. (This is where the crying began. And not because epidurals hurt, because they don’t, those of you who are scared of them, but needles scare the bejesus out of me. And even though I never saw it, I KNEW WHAT THAT GUY WAS DOING BACK THERE…and I was terrified. But seriously, ladies, if you are scared of the needle, don’t be. You will propose to the anesthesiologist as soon as your feet start to tingle. Promise.)

And now…I have to say…

TO BE CONTINUED…The spawn is waking up and will be demanding nourishment momentarily. But, I’ll be back. I swear…

A First

I have this friend who sends me a Happy Mothers Day text message every year even though he knows that I don’t have any kids. I was never sure if he just didn’t pay attention to who he was sending out his mass texts to, or if he just did it…well…because he is a moron. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had sent it to MB too, actually. Anyway, this morning, I rolled over and before my eyes were even open, I heard my phone vibrate and then I heard MB whisper, “Happy Mother’s Day, baby. You’re the prettiest mommy ever.”  And then I melted into a heap of goo on my side of the bed. Because seriously, you guys, like, within days, I’m gonna be someone’s mommy. And not in that figurative way that happens when your friends call you mom at parties because you hold their hair when they puke. No. Like an actual mommy.

I’m planning to spend today just like I spent yesterday: floating in my own mommy’s pool and wishing I could have some sort of delicious alcoholic concoction to take the edge off all of this waiting and hoping that, by the end of my swim, I am in labor. (Just as an aside, though, can I just tell you how wonderful the water feels when you feel as though you are the size of a house? If you haven’t yet taken advantage of a swimming pool or other body of water, you should get on that. I felt like myself. Almost.) But I wanted to come by here and wish all of you mommies and soon-to-be mommies a Happy Mother’s Day. I hope that you all get to spend it doing something that makes you happy.

An Open Letter to My Daughter (Just Minutes Before Her Birth)

Dear Baby L,

I want to start by being honest with you hear and telling you that you will not be born in mere minutes. You are perfectly content to continue to reside in my uterus and according to the doctor that I saw this morning, will remain there for several more days. The title of this post is mainly just to send a signal to the universe (and you, I suppose, letting you know that IT IS TIME, and lets get this show on the ROAD.) But before you do grace us with your presence, I wanted for us to have a little talk, you know, our first mother/daughter.

If you have ever read this blog, then you are well aware that I was not really totally excited about becoming a parent. I didn’t really trust myself to be someone’s mom. And, to be honest, I am still not so sure I know what the hell I am getting myself into. I was pretty open about how crazy and horrible and beautiful making you was and you might be offended about the fact that I sometimes cussed at you here or called you a parasite. But seriously? Let’s face it, girlie, you kind of WERE a parasite. (Just sayin’.) You’ll understand all that when you have kids. But I want you to know, nonetheless, that even though I may not have been ready for all of this crazy that has happened or to become your mom, I am pretty sure I am ready now. And I am going to do the best damn job I can. But if I do happen to put your diaper on backwards or forget to put those weirdo mitten things on your hands and you scratch yourself in the face, it is NOT because I don’t love you. It is because I am a completely incompetent parent and am totally learning. I swear, it will get better. (Until I have to talk to you about boys and/or puberty. Then I just might totally fuck you up. And yes, your mother just said “fuck” because you aren’t born yet and cannot repeat everything I say like a parrot.)

Secondly, we should talk about your father. You may notice that he is a complete softie for you. And you may also have noticed that if you bat your eyelashes enough, you can pretty much attain anything your little heart desires. (This works for me too, by the way, and I rather like it. Don’t screw it up.) You should know that he already loves you more than anything in the entire universe. And your father has the biggest, purest, most amazing heart anyone could possess and you should treat him with respect. Because he is moral and loving and generous and will give of himself in ways that most people cannot. He is a gift to the universe and his kindness is rare. And he helped make you. And I have NO doubt that he will someday embarrass the bejesus out of you, and you will want to run and hide from him, but that’s normal. Just try and remember how special he is and be kind to him (and to others) because if not, you will break his heart.

I would like to explain the rest of the family to you here, but I just don’t have that kind of time. You will encounter some really interesting characters and some of them you will totally adore and some of them will make you want to shove sharp things into your eardrums. And that’s okay. I will warn you about those ones on a private and individual level.

Just know that, in these final days of your hostile takeover of my body gestation, your entire family is looking so forward to meeting you. Your father and I have everything set up for you, including 47 potential places for you to sleep, as we were not sure where you would be most content once removed from my body. We love you infinitely and we will do our best to avoid turning you into a psychopath or a douche canoe.

Love and kisses,

Mom

 

 

I haven’t even HAD my baby girl yet and this already stresses me out!

Forty Ounce's avatarmilk & honey ~ geeks & gangstas

If you haven’t figured it out already, your role as a parent includes keeping your daughter off the pole, which requires setting standards of how she should expect to be treated by others, as well as explaining her anatomy to her.  As much of a free spirit as I am about sexuality and femininity, I found the latter to be one of the more difficult lessons for me to relay to my 4-year-old.  It all started when she was 3, and stopped wearing diapers. I was so proud of myself.  Potty-training– DONE. The next thing I know, we’re watching cartoons and I see her chubby little toddler fingers exploring her nether regions. I mean, you can’t blame her– she’d never had access to that part of her body back in diaper-land.  Undies offer a freedom that I had to teach her to respect.

“What are you doing, pumpkin?” “I’m touching my privacy,” she says matter-of-factly in her…

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Keeping On…

During pregnancy, you can definitely start to tell when the “glow” starts to wear from your face and is replaced with that “I am 33 weeks pregnant and would stab myself in the neck if it hadn’t taken me so long to get THIS CLOSE to the end”. You can tell when this starts to happen and when people are starting to notice because people are no longer all excited and hugs and giggles when they see you. Nope. Now they smile politely and sympathetically as if to say, “You look sort of miserable/homicidal. Please don’t hurt me. I love you and promise that I will bring you chocolate next time I see you. Or…you know…I can just run to the nearest Dairy Queen right now and pick you up the largest Blizzard they have. Yeah. Let’s do that. Be right back. You like peanut butter, right?”

The Medical Assistant at the doctor’s office gave me that look on Friday right before she took my weight. She was brave about the whole thing, given the fact that she had no ice cream to offer. And I like her, so she is still alive.

The good news about the whole thing is that I only have seven weeks left. SEVEN. Meaning, like, less than two months. That is so awesome, I can’t even stand it! There is still so much to do and so many decisions to make with regard to when exactly we will be moving and if we will be moving in with family for a couple of months prior to the cross-country move in order to save money. I am so torn about this because, while I know it will benefit us (A LOT), I really can’t stand living with family. I haven’t done it since I was in my very early twenties and then only for a few months until I moved in with a couple of girls (one of whom being the one that I lived with for the last 200 or so year before I came to my senses and, instead of murdering her, just moved out). I really don’t love the idea of living with anyone at all. Ideally, MB and I would stay where we currently are until we can make the big move. And while I know that this would be extremely difficult with my not being employed right now and everything, I think it would be better for our new little family to get to start off alone, without interruption and without too many people all up in our faces. I just have to decide if my sanity will withstand a newborn and cohabitating with any members of the family (mine or MB’s) and then just suck it up until we get the hell out of dodge.

I guess I will just have to play this one by ear and see how it all turns out. We will just have to do what we can afford to do. And I will have to just keep in mind that, no matter where we are, it will be temporary and SOON we will be where we need to be. Uggghhh.  I just can’t wait to get things started already! I want to skip over all of this stressful nonsense and get to the good stuff.

 

 

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