First Flight

Well we made it! Making it through the airport was probably the most difficult part. MJ got annoyed with being carried pretty early on and got fussy while we were in line to pass through security. After that, D temporarily lost the keys (in the security line) and I temporarily lost our boarding passes (under a bench).
Our flight was a little late and we were all sweaty and cranky by the time we boarded.

MJ handled takeoff like a pro. He barely noticed. We were one of six babies on the plane so even if he had cried during takeoff no one would have noticed. The part that sucked was the turbulence. The actually bouncing wasn’t a problem, I think MJ even enjoyed it a little. But it was so, so bumpy that the fasten seatbelt light was only off for 15 minutes of our 4 and a half hour flight. When it calmed down enough to be able to stay upright D ran back to the lavatory and changed MJ’s diaper, then hurried back and put his seatbelt back on.

The flight attendant brought D and I free drinks as an apology for how rough the flight was. It wasn’t that bad to be honest, not as bad as we were expecting. Still, I’m not one to turn down free wine!

MJ fussed and cried all through dinner at D’s aunt’s house. He was tired and overstimulated and there were eight new faces floating around. It was a rough night for him (and consequently me.)

The time change was hard too, but it worked out in the end. MJ usually goes to sleep at 9pm, sleeps until 3am, eats and then sleeps until 6:45am. Last night he finally fell asleep at 9pm here (so 11pm in our time) and he slept until I woke up at 5:30am. That’s the most sleep I’ve had since my mom visited the week MJ was born.

Today we are having a big family lunch with D’s extended family down here in Los Angeles, and then we’re flying up to our hometown tomorrow morning.

We’re skating by on coffee today. Ten with the great night’s sleep I’m still dragging. I need more than one night to pay off my major sleep debt.

Two Months Old

Little man is two months old today. We had a visit with Fleet and Family Services and Miss Sue weighed him for me. He’s a whopping 12 pounds 8 ounces! Woah! He took the opportunity to pee all over her and her scale, but hey, you’ve got to take advantage of nakey time when it happens.

This last month, he’s had a lot of fun learning how to coo and smile. He loves to grin at you and dart his tongue in and out when you talk to him.

Last Saturday, D got some smiles out of him for the first time. It’s on my list of top five cutest  moments ever. D would lightly bop MJ on the nose with his finger and lots of happy grinning would ensue.  Since D doesn’t get home until around 4pm every day, he always sees MJ’s cranky time. But early mornings this kid is the happiest baby in the world.  He got up early with me on Saturday and MJ saved some smiles just for him.

We’re using cloth diapers now during the day when we’re home. We use Honest Company disposables while we’re out, but I just got my bumkins wet bag in the mail yesterday so when we get back from our trip I’m going to try using cloth while running errands. We’re still trying to figure out a nighttime routine that works, since he has leaked through every diaper combo we’ve tried so far. I’m hoping around Christmas I can purchase a few boosters and try them out with our GroVia hybrids.

MJ doesn’t hate the Ergo anymore (woo!) It took a lot of practice but he loves to hang out in it with me while I do housework, which means he’s sleeping better during the day AND my dishes are done!

This weekend he’s going to meet his west coast family for the first time, so I might not post for a week or so. We’ll be gone until the beginning of December and I’ll have lots of photos to share when we get back.

Hey, New Mamas? It’s Okay.

Today was a good day. Today was full of smiles, of sweet noises, of bubbles and cuddles and joy. I didn’t feel exhausted, MJ wasn’t crying from a stomach ache… it was a good day.
Yesterday? Not so much. In fact, it’s usually a coin toss on whether or not I’m going to end the day giving this sweet boy a contented kiss on the forehead or collapsing into my pillow crying off the previous day’s mascara.

It isn’t always a good day, guys. I know I’m not the only person navigating new motherhood who has bad days (a lot of bad days), and I’d dare to say I’m not the only one who struggles with being okay with that.

But you know what? It actually is okay.

It’s okay if you don’t want to hold your baby every minute of the day.
It’s okay if you wish you had a babysitter some nights (or every night.)
It’s okay if the sound of your baby crying sometimes causes the same eye twitch as nails on a chalkboard.
It’s okay if the act of making your ten thousandth bottle makes tears well up from a very, very deep place.

It’s okay.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.

You’re not a bad parent if you don’t love every second of motherhood.
The love you have for your child is shown through your commitment to taking care of them, even and especially when you don’t want to. You are going to have great days where love spills out of your soul in a million places and you are overwhelmed with how blessed you are. But you’re also going to have days where you’re too tired, where your heart is heavy with things to do and things you miss, where you’re lonely and ragged and worn.

It’s okay.
You’re okay.
You’re baby is okay.

The bad days give way to the good ones, and those make the long nights and the headaches worth it.

That’s love, folks.
And it’s freaking beautiful.

Favorite Snapshots of The Month

Okay, I’ll be honest, there really isn’t a point to this post other than my wanting to show off how cute I think this boy is.

I’m a little in love.

Finding Jesus In The First Four Weeks

Tomorrow afternoon at 2:52pm, MJ turns one month old. I don’t think I’m alone in saying the first month with your child is a whirlwind. I feel equally that it went by too fast and that I barely made it through crawling at a tortuously slow pace. I have permanent bags under my eyes, a pile of laundry I’ll never catch up on, and leg hair that is sure to give me a good head start on No Shave November. I am tired in ways I’ve never experienced before.

In my last post, I wrote about how my transition into motherhood has been a slow one. I’m not sure if that will change as he gets older or if I’ll finally feel like I’m getting the hang of things right around his high school graduation. Maybe there isn’t a right way to transform from that girl who sleeps too much and spends all her money on makeup into that girl who survives on 30 minute naps and hasn’t seen her eyelash curler in a year.

If there is a graceful way of doing this, I haven’t figured it out yet. Most days are overcome by a mix of crying, caffeine, and emotion-packed text messages. The next day starts with me feeling worn out and unable to recognize the woman in the mirror. She’s flabby. Her hair is a mess. She really needs to floss. You get the picture. I don’t know who she is yet. Everyday MJ grows, so does this new and very unfamiliar me.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s more to her than a physical appearance that suggests a deep and intimate relationship with the flu.

She loves fiercely, in a way I never knew one could.
She has the type of patience that is only born from listening to your child scream for five hours straight and having no idea how to help.
She can be sustained by one sleepy baby smile, even if that smile is followed by the immediate need to change a diaper.
She does not doubt her body’s ability to care for her child, because she has seen her body grow, break, and mend in the awesome act of bringing him into the world.

Who I am as this sweet boy’s mother is so vastly different than who I was before that I have trouble claiming the title. Caring for a newborn requires so much from you, that I think it’s sometimes hard to believe you even had that much to give. I used to think I was giving 100% when I worked overtime, or traveled cross country. I can say now that until having my son I never knew what 100% looked like.

These last four weeks have brought me face to face with my need for a savior. It’s definitely possible for me to care for MJ and meet all of his physical needs on my own. But to be honest, that usually leaves me with a “me” that is cranky and depleted. She’s resentful and petty and has a habit of snapping at people who got a full night’s sleep. I want more than that.

That’s one of the beautiful things about Jesus. He finds us in the mess. He sees our chaos and hears the sound of our weary hearts and he meets us there. On days that I feel completely empty (and lets be honest, lately that’s every day) he’s in my dimly lit living room with me, surrounded by the bottles and the burp cloths and yesterday’s takeout boxes. He’s standing by my tired body as it bounces MJ on the exercise ball between the hours of 10pm and 3am. He’s sitting on the couch while I rock my crying baby in the recliner, singing the same four Christmas carols for an hour because they’re the only songs my fried brain can remember the words to. He’s there in the hopelessness and the joy, whispering, “you’re not alone” and “you’re enough.”

As I look back on this month, from MJ’s birth to today, I’m in awe at the changes I’ve already seen. I can feel God’s love at work in me as I raise this beautiful child. I’m challenged to make use of this season, where it would be so easy to just get by. I have the opportunity to use this time to lay a foundation for the relationship I’m going to have with MJ, and to deepen the relationship I have with Jesus. That’s hard to do at 2am. I’m not very good at it. But there are many long nights ahead of me, and I have faith that the savior who has sat with me the last 28 days has no plans on leaving anytime soon.

How blessed am I?

Our First Few Weeks

                                                                            MJ and Daddy at the hospital

Sorry for the lapse in posts. MJ and I are slowly finding our routine, and I hope to be posting regularly again soon.

Like I said, MJ and I are figuring each other out. I feel like we had a rough start with getting to know each other. I didn’t connect with him right away like I was told I would. I cared for him, I knew he was my son, but I didn’t have that overwhelming feeling everyone talks about when they describe birth. Maybe it was because he came by c-section, maybe it was all of the medication running through my veins, maybe it was the obstacles in recovery afterward… who knows. What I do know is that the feeling came eventually. Instead of hitting me all at once like it does to some, it crept up on me. It worked its way into my heart little by little over the course of the last few weeks. Then one moment, I looked at him and realized I had never loved anyone more. We’re getting there. This boy has been a lesson in humility and faith like nothing else in my life so far. Every day brings with it moments where I doubt my ability to love him, provide for him, and protect him. In this job with no instruction manual, I constantly feel like I’m failing. I didn’t give him the natural birth I had prayed he’d have, we struggled through our attempt at breastfeeding with LC’s, nurses, and midwives until finally the formula I had been supplementing with took over. I didn’t burp him well enough, I let him sit in that diaper too long, I relied too much on the swing yesterday…. you get the picture. When you’re entrusted with something so innocent and perfect, it feels impossible to do the job right. There’s always something to improve upon, something to do better.

That’s an exhausting place to be. I don’t think it’s healthy or realistic to live in a state of “not good enough.” The fact of the matter is that last fall, when D and I were praying together on the mattress we shared on the floor of our new apartment (we hadn’t purchased a bed frame yet) God was listening. He heard us ask for this child, and knowing how this would all play out, he gave him to us anyway. He knew how MJ would have to be born. He knew how we would struggle with latching and supply and nipple confusion. He knew the newborn sized prefolds would be far too small by the time D and I felt coherent enough to start using cloth. None of this is a surprise to Him. He saw how we would struggle and trusted us with this beautiful boy regardless. If that doesn’t make me feel capable and “good enough” for this child, nothing will.

I started this blog with high hopes. I had a vague idea that motherhood would be messy, but I didn’t yet know what that would look like. Now that this journey has started, I hope this blog can be a place of transparency and sincerity. I will do my best to be an open book, and maybe that will help another new mama trust herself with this beautiful gift she’s been given.

If you’re having a hard time believing that you’re the best mother your child(ren) could have, please believe me, you are. You are enough and then some. You are the sun in your precious baby’s life. Everything you do is enough.

MJ’s Birth Story

On September 19^th at 8pm, I started having contractions. I was 40 weeks and 2 days. They were a little stronger than the prodromal labor I had been having for the past three weeks, but I was hesitant to think much of them since I had been wrong so many times before. I took a bath, drank some water, and went to bed around midnight. At 2:30am the contractions were seven minutes apart and lasting a minute and a half. I took another bath and got up, since they were too strong to sleep through. Around 6:30am I woke my husband up and he spent the morning with me in the living room. I called my mother around 11 and told her I thought we might be having a baby that day.

For the rest of the day I labored at home, waiting for my contractions to pick up in intensity. At around 8pm they did and we headed to the hospital, now fitting the 5-1-1 rule. I was checked for dilation and was completely unprepared when the nurse told me I still hadn’t dilated at all. But I’m in labor!  I thought.  REAL labor! We stayed on the monitors for a while and they gave me a shot to help me get some sleep, then sent us home.

heading home from the hospital- still very pregnant.

I tried to lay down in bed for a few hours but the contractions got stronger quickly and I wasn’t able to lay down anymore. I went into the living room, lit some candles, turned on Pandora, and labored alone until around 3am. At that point they were 5-10 minutes apart, almost 2 minutes long, and strong enough that I was needing to vocalize and stand up to get through them.  I woke my husband up again and he sat with me in the living room for a few hours while we tried to decide when to head back to L&D. He finally decided to call the midwife and she told us to go ahead and come back in, and said if I still hadn’t progressed there were a few things we could try. We headed back into town (which was by far the most painful car ride of my life) and D somehow managed not to wreck the car through all of my yelling.
We were wheeled up to L&D at 5am (I think?) and found I was 5cm! I was elated. The shot they had given me hadn’t helped me get any sleep like we had hoped, but It had helped me relax enough for my body to get things moving. They got us a room, hooked up my IV, and let me labor for a short while. I had planned on having a natural and unmedicated birth, but after getting to 6 centimeters I was sure I didn’t care about that anymore. D did as he had promised and reminded me of the reasons I had initially decided not to have any drugs or an epidural, but reminded me that he supported whatever decision I made. I consented to IV Stadol and that helped me enough to be able to lay in bed so they could get the baby’s heartbeat on the monitor. I was checked at some point and had made it to 6.5 when the Stadol wore off. They recommended not using it again, since it rarely worked as well with the second dose and we didn’t want the baby to have too much in his system when he was born. I asked for an epidural and a little bit later the anesthesiologist showed up. They asked D to leave the room which I thought was odd, but I was so desperate for them to get it placed that I didn’t argue it. It took a minute to get the epidural placed and the nurse had to hold me still during a few contractions, but we finally got it and the relief was almost immediate. I was checked again as soon as it was placed and found out I had dilated to 9cm without it! I felt really good about that and expected to reach completion fast. My midwife told me they would let me rest for a while and I would be ready to start pushing within the hour. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and got some blissful sleep before some nurses came in and told me the baby’s heart rate was getting a little too low for their liking (in the 60’s during contractions.) They propped me onto my left side and and had me rest that way for a while. They checked me again and found I had a cervical lip, so they propped me onto my right side to see If the change in position would help and also started me on a low dose of pitocin (I still have no idea why. I remember the nurse telling me but I can’t remember a thing from that conversation.) 30 minutes or so went by and they switched me back to my left side. (It was around this time that the epidural had completely lost its effectiveness. I vaguely remember begging for them to “make it start working again” but I think the nurse just rolled her eyes at me.) The midwife came in and explained that baby’s heart seemed to be having a really rough time (in the 40’s during contractions now) and they wanted to get him out asap. They got me prepped to start pushing in a matter of minutes and a nurse helped me through my first few practice pushes. Let me just say, I thought pushing would be something very simple to get the hang of, especially since I had full feeling by then. That wasn’t the case. The nurse was attempting to manually push back the cervical lip during pushes (OUCH) and the pain from that coupled with the fact that I just really didn’t like this nurse had me distracted. We weren’t getting anywhere when the midwife came in. I felt more comfortable with her there and she walked me through how to push well enough that they at least told me I was doing it correctly. With each push, the baby’s head would move back. I wasn’t getting any closer to completion and my cervix had begun to swell.  For some reason his head wasn’t making it into the birth canal. The midwife walked over to the front of the bed and told me we were going to try for a few more minutes, but after that we needed to consider “plan b.” They held my legs for me and told me to get angry and push as hard as I could. I was so scared during contractions, I could hear his heart beat on the monitor and the length between beats just kept getting longer. At the time, it felt like 5 minutes, but my husband says I actually pushed for about 45. The midwife walked back up to me and put some counter pressure on my back through a few contractions while she explained how the c-section would work. They stopped the pitocin and put something into my IV that was supposed to slow down my contractions until the surgery but it ended up not working. Anesthesia was busy and took another 45 minutes to get up to our floor. This was the only part of labor that felt longer than it actually was. If you asked me, I would have said I was writhing in that damn labor bed for half the night.  Not the case. My husband held my hand and let me scream into his shirt the whole time while I worked through the urge to push with every contraction. That pressure is no joke, holy crap. I felt like I had lost all control. Eventually though, the anesthesiologist came up and put more medicine into the catheter in my back. I gave him a tearful “thank you” and the L&D floor was spared from the sound of my yelling.

They wheeled me to the OR and D stayed behind to get dressed up in his mask and booties. The anesthesiologist there was different than the man I had met earlier and she was a godsend. She walked me through every step and let me know that every sensation I was feeling was normal. The epidural gave me the shakes so my husband had a hard time holding my hand when he came in. It was such a comfort being able to look at him the whole time. I’ve always been terrified by the thought of a c-section, but he and the whole team of people in there with me were so supportive. They delivered our son and I got to hear him cry for the first time before D walked over to see him get cleaned up. They brought him over to me and let me kiss his forehead before he and D left for the nursery. I fell asleep while they were stitching me up and really can’t remember how long that took. Actually the next few hours are a big blur. I vaguely remember holding our son, but I couldn’t tell you if that memory was the first or fifth time I held him. They told me later that the umbilical cord had been wrapped around his shoulder and waist like a seatbelt, so he wasn’t able to descend far enough to make it into the birth canal. Each contraction constricted the cord and he had a bruise on his back from the pressure. But his APGAR scores were good and other than a little jaundice he was perfectly healthy.

I had to have two blood patches for the spinal headache I got from the epidural, so I spent more time in the hospital that I would have liked, but a few short days after he was born we finally got to take our little boy home.

So, readers, meet MJ. Born 7 pounds 12 ounces and 20 inches long at 2:52pm.

A Lesson in Faith

Today is my Estimated Due Date, and while I suppose it’s possible I could go into labor before midnight, I highly doubt that will happen.

I knew before getting pregnant that first time moms often go past their due dates, and I also know that due dates are more educated guesses than an exact science. It’s something I thought I had been mentally preparing myself for over the last ten months. However, when that day that you’ve had marked on the calendar for so long finally comes… and then goes, it’s hard not to feel frustrated.

Everyone knows that person who delivered two weeks early, and everyone knows that person who just never seemed to go into labor on their own. The further away from that first scenario I get, the more nervous I become that this show’s simply never going to start, at least not naturally. I have a midwife appointment in three hours where we’ll be discussing induction, and a large part of me is very, very sad about that.

I trust my body to deliver this baby when it’s the right time, but unfortunately my Midwife’s insurance doesn’t like to leave things unresolved, and my insurance isn’t too keen on the idea of me ignoring my Midwife’s recommendation. So if this baby doesn’t come before next week, someone is going to get my body going for me.

It’s not the birth I wanted.

I’m trying to prepare myself for that possibility, though I know (and hope) that I could go into spontaneous labor at any time. I don’t want to show up at the hospital still in disbelief that my body didn’t comply with the timeline set for it by others. I need to be ready for that.

But to be honest, I don’t know how to be. I don’t agree with the sentiment that all that matters is “healthy mom, healthy baby.” I think, in most cases, mothers should be able to ask more of their healthcare teams than simply not killing them. I don’t think it’s selfish or unrealistic for a mother to have a say in how and where she births her baby. I had a beautiful vision for this birth, and it seems like there has been a hiccup or obstacle around every corner. That’s hard to come to terms with. A large part of it is in our financial situation- we can’t afford to pay out of pocket for prenatal/maternity care right now, so I’m stuck with what our insurance will cover. That doesn’t leave a lot of options, especially for someone looking for a less medicalized birth. I knew that, getting into this, but I hoped and prayed I would find a provider who would work with me as best she could.

Now that I’m one week away from having this baby (I’m not allowed to go over 41 weeks) I’m saddened by how little say I have in this process. I’m overjoyed to meet my son, but I feel like I’m betraying an agreement between us by not allowing him to choose his own birthday. He doesn’t know he’s on the clock. He doesn’t understand the concept of “birth.” His only job right now is to grow and develop and be. It seems forceful and wrong to pull him out of this season of his life before he’s ready.

But that’s my only option. That or refuse care and have this baby in my bathtub (I think D would pass out.)

So… I’m wrestling with this. I know many inductions that went beautifully and ended in happy mothers and healthy babies. I’m hoping for that experience. I’m going to do my best to fight for forms of induction that I feel are safest for me and my son, and I’m going to give him as much time to come on his own as I’m able. I’m going to continue to spend time in prayer over this, trusting that no matter what happens, my son and I are in the hands of someone much wiser than me. Whether this baby comes on his own or with help, I am still so blessed to be the one who brings him into this world, and regardless of how his birth occurs, we’re going to celebrate that beautiful day every year for the rest of my life.

Anyway you look at it, that’s pretty awesome.

Pregnancy Update: 39 Weeks!

How big is baby: A pumpkin.

Cravings: None recently.

Symptoms: More of the same. BH all day every day, backache, swollen feet. What’s new?

Mom is feeling: Desperate enough to go for voluntary walks outside in the summer in Missisippi in hopes it gets things moving.

Dad is feeling: Very stressed lately. Not only is Baby J due in less than a week, but I got sick and chipped a tooth (which is going to need a dentist asap.) My poor guy needs a vacation.

Belly: This just in: I no longer fit into restaurant booths.

Weight Gain: 30 pounds.

Doctory stuff: As I mentioned earlier, I got sick last week, hence the lack of a 38 week update. I’m almost done with the antibiotics and finally ditched that pesky fever and baby is looking fine. Still no progress. Nothing. Nada. Ms. Kim did say that it looks like his growth has slowed down and she expects him to be perfectly average in size (THANK YOU JESUS). This practice has a policy that won’t allow me to go past 41 weeks, which bums me out a bit. I know dilation/effacement doesn’t give much indication of when labor will start, but I’m a little worried this little guy might try and stick around longer than he’s allowed. There aren’t many forms of “natural” induction that I’m comfortable trying, but as we get closer to the 22nd I might just give some a try.

Things we’ve done to prepare: Bought some more disposable diapers for the first few weeks and finally picked a pediatrician. D installed the carseat and I got our bags all packed. I’ve also rearranged the furniture two more times trying to figure out what baby furniture goes where. I still don’t like it, it might have to move again. I made a freezer meal we both actually enjoyed, but then miscalculated my meal plan and we ended up eating it for dinner a few nights ago. Oops. Here’s to hoping this is the last pregnancy update I post!

We’re ready for you baby, come on out!

Pregnancy Update: 37 Weeks!

How big is baby: Getting close to melon-sized

Cravings: At this point anything I don’t have to cook.

Symptoms: Lots of BH/cramping and pressure but nothing that feels like labor. Baby J’s wake/sleep cycles are pretty regular now. So much so that I avoid going to sleep before 11pm because I know he’s going to wake me up with a couple sharp jabs if I do! I’m drudging my way through some allergies right now (to what I have NO idea) so that mixed with getting up to pee every hour is making sleep complicated.

Mom is feeling: I have some days where I’ve wrapped my head around the fact that he’s going to be here soon, and some days I wake up and have a moment of panic when I look down and see just how huge my belly has grown. Overall, the nerves are settling down and I’m getting more and more excited  to meet our son.

Dad is feeling: D on the other hand seems to be feeling more nervous every day. He’s very excited still, but we’re both realizing how quickly we’re going to be a family of three.

Belly: Now has it’s own gravitational pull.

Weight Gain: 27 pounds.

Doctory stuff: GBS was negative (woohoo!) and I declined having them check me this week so I don’t know if I’m dilated at all. I was scolded for not picking a pediatrician yet, so I need to get on that next week. Ms. Shaw also told me that I could labor at home for as long as I feel comfortable, which was great to hear. I know the nurses aren’t as on-board with a mostly hands-off birth, but I’m hoping having one of these three ladies there will help baby’s delivery go as smoothly as possible.

Things we’ve done to prepare: RE-RE-RE-registered for the childbirth class. We showed up AGAIN for a childbirth class and were sent home because the instructor called in sick at the last minute and no one had saved our phone numbers from the first time. They did give us a tour of the LDRP suites which was pretty neat (and short.) They also informed us we can self-hydrate and eat during labor, woo! I got some more prefolds in the mail, so those are washed and prepped and I washed the fabric portion of our swing that we got from our neighbors. It took me twenty minutes to wrestle that thing off the frame, and then D came home from work and showed me the button that collapses it, making the fabric basically fall off on its own. But hey, it’s clean. D also tried his hardest to fix the mold issue we’re having on the front patio, but I think we’re just going to have to call in the maintenance team and let them handle it like last time. I’m headed to Louisiana today, since that’s the closest Target, and I’m going to pick up a nursing pillow and a few other things. It’s all coming together!