Yep, those were the words that came out of my mouth the day my mid-wife said she thought she saw twins. It was also the day I new I was psychic. Up until that day, 7 weeks and 3 days into the pregnancy to be exact, I had been searching eBay for triplet strollers, matching outfits, and reading up on twins. I told Donnie (my husband in case you were wondering) that either something was wrong with me or there was more than one swimming along in there. So, when the mid-wife said it, I was not in shock. I was just scared she would say triplets. I could handle twins, but triplets had me trembling in my boots. I do remember thinking as she excitedly told Dr. Wolfe, the head doc and the one who ended up catching Colton as he flew out-more on that later, that she was way more excited about it than I was.
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Throughout my whole pregnancy, though I was elated to be starting my family, I was nervous about what type of parent I was going to be? Was I going to be a pushover? Was I going to be a dictator? Was I going to be somewhere in the middle? And as Abby is just 4 months old, I’m still trying to figure this stuff out. It dawned on me one day, though. Sucking out boogies for Abby has become the ultimate lesson in parenthood.
To give some background first…We had a rough start to Abby’s life. She was born with a partial vocal cord paralysis and had to spend the first 10 days of life in a children’s hospital. They poked. They prodded. They ran tests. They put her under anesthesia. They put a feeding tube in. And every time these things happened, I had to leave the room. I couldn’t be there for her. I felt like an awful parent, but I didn’t want to start crying again. I would just say to myself, “This isn’t what my dreams of having a baby was supposed to be like.”
So when we got to bring Abby home, after finding out that the vocal cord paralysis would heal on its own, I would cringe every time she cried. Because, well, the thing with her vocal cords caused a not so natural sound to come out. I still wanted to cry. I was constantly handing her off to my husband and had thoughts that I wasn’t going to be a good mother. But then, she got a boogie in her nose and that changed everything.
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First of all, yes.
Yes, I give birth to my son in a parking garage. Yes, without a doctor or midwife. Yes, he’s fine and so am I.
I had an epidural-free hospital birth with my daughter and it was mostly a positive experience. However, my daughter was posterior and required nearly three solid hours of intense pushing, flat on my back. Wanting to avoid that scenario again, when I became pregnant with my second, I did a bit more research. I discovered some techniques that could have helped avoid that (get up and walk around, for instance) and started to lean towards a midwife birth, possibly at home. Then I happened to watch “The Business of Being Born.” That was it. I wanted a home birth. However, I was working full-time and parenting a not-yet-two-year-old and, you know, creating life. So as time slipped away, I reluctantly put away my dreams for a midwife, deciding to just stick with the plan. I was going to deliver, drug-free again, in the hospital with our OB-GYN.
Have you heard what they say about the best-laid plans?
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Before my son Jack was born, I would proudly tell people “I plan on going back to work after 6 weeks; I am not giving up who I am just because I have a baby”. And I truly believed this. Time went on, Jack was born, 6 weeks turned into 12 and my mind and my heart changed. I never imagined the amount of love, or guilt I could feel. The love for this wonderful, perfect human being that was ours; and the guilt due to the fact that I had to leave him in order for our family to survive. I cried, panicked, tried to find ways to stay home, but eventually the day came where I had to kiss my son goodbye and head off to work.
There are days I feel like #1 mom of the year. At the end of the day I have a happy baby, a happy husband, made a decent meal, I’m helping support our family and my house is in tact. There are days where I feel like I can take on the world, where I want to shout “BRING IT ON!”. Working lets me get dressed up and have interactions with adults. It lets me get my mind off the everyday routine. That said, I am realizing more and more that the days of “supermomdom” are few and far between.
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“Enjoy it while it lasts, your kids will grow up way too fast.”
“Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.”
Clichés, right? But you know the thing about clichés? They’re clichés for a reason; they’re almost always true. For me, these ones couldn’t be more so.
My nine-month old has been going through unbelievable changes at warp speed (and without warning).
Last week, my father-in-law asked me when I thought Cookie would hold her own bottle. “Probably not until she goes to college,” I sarcastically replied. Well, she showed me. She was holding her bottle the next day and has been ever since.
And most recently, over the course of two days she went from nothing to crawling to cruising and pulling herself up.
My child is seriously growing up too fast for me. Continue Reading »
Some say “Kay-gl” others say “Key-gl” but no matter how you say it, just please know that you and Kegel= best friends foreva! (Or at least for the immediate and near future.)
I was doing pre-natal yoga during my pregnancy and my Yogi told us that we needed to be doing our Kegels like they were going out of style. (For those who may not know what Kegels are, just think about when you have to pee and you want to stop in the middle. Squeezing, those muscles, is what constitutes a Kegel exercise). I had heard of them but didn’t realize how important they were in the process of childbirth and thereafter. Immediately after giving birth to my baby I added the “Kegel” to my “What people should really tell you but kinda forget to about giving birth” list.
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What should a new dad expect when he and his wife bring a new baby home? Is he to sit idly by while Mom does her nurturing, feeding, and caring for the newborn? Is he to be her servant bringing supplies to her for every conceivable situation? What does he do?
Gone are the days when Dad earns a paycheck to support the family and does little else. Dad is no longer allowed to work all day and watch sports all night while his wife brings him a cold beer in between cooking dinner and raising the kids. Yes those stereotypes are mostly gone even in my home state of Arkansas. Believe it or not most of us bought shoes back in the 90’s and tried to get with the program.
When I became a dad for the first time over a year ago I had every intention of being an involved father. I was going to do everything that the baby needed. I would not sit idly by.
Then when we actually got home with our beautiful little boy, Braden, I was afraid. Continue Reading »
When I told my soon-to-be husband (and father of our baby) that I was going to write a blog post on keeping our house clean, he jokingly asked: “Are you just going to write N.A, non-applicable to this household?” That should give you an idea of the cleaning situation in our house. It wasn’t always this sombre, though.
We used to clean our apartment once a week and it would actually stay somewhat decent for the whole seven days. The kitchen counters would get kind of dirty and the laundry would sit unfolded for a couple of days, but we would get it together on Sundays and make a big cleaning. Once upon a time, cleaning once a week was enough. Then we had a baby. A sweet little baby came into our lives. He moved right in to our house and brought along a bunch of stuff. Who knew babies could own so many things. That dirty laundry on the corner? It’s the baby’s. That pile of laundry to fold? It’s the baby’s. The toys scattered throughout the house? The baby’s. The bottles, sippy-cups, and plastic plates piling up in the sink? You guessed it. Continue Reading »
Before I had my daughter, I used to worry about, “How am I going to look after being pregnant?” It might not help that as you get further along, people begin to tell you how gigantic you are. Why on earth anyone thinks this is ok is beyond me. The more they say it, especially early on, the more I worried about how I would ever look normal again.
I read all the books, assuring me that although right after delivery I would still look pregnant, it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Other moms reassure you by saying that they simply snapped back into shape a week post partum, regardless of exercise and what they ate. So you begin to believe that the bag of Doritos, a box of pink frosted cookies, a small carton of ice cream and fettuccine alfredo won’t have any affect on losing the extra weight. I told myself, “It’s better that I gain a few extra pounds – for the baby,” or “I’m eating this so the baby can have a variety of tastes,” and “It’s not like I eat a pan of brownies every night.” Although just because the batter never made it in the oven doesn’t mean it wasn’t a whole pan of brownies.
My son Hunter was five months old when he was introduced to his first solid foods. I was beyond excited he was now at the age where he could experience fun new tastes and textures other than plain old milk. As a mom, it was a thrill to witness his reaction to each flavor. The tastes were so foreign and unfamiliar, yet stimulating to his sensitive little taste buds. I can still remember his face when he tried his first food-bananas. The look in his eye seemed to scream “more, more!”, while he smacked his tiny lips. In the following months, he would literally eat everything; from green bean casserole to the hearty vegetable stew medley, and everything in between. I can remember thinking to myself, “this is fantastic! He’s not a picky eater!”, and thanking my lucky stars above.
I neglected to knock on wood, however, because eleven months later, all of that changed.
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