Dear brand new momma, it gets better. I promise.

I debated for a long time on whether or not to write this post. It’s taken me 7 months to sort through my feelings from my daughters birth and realize exactly what I was feeling. 

I’m in that wonderful part of life where everyone I know is popping out babies, so my feed is chocked full of brand new, sparkly mommy & baby photos. I found myself, more often than not, puzzled over these photos. Instead of being in awe of their beautiful pictures, I wondered how the moms could be so perfectly happy. Seriously, how in the heck was she wearing makeup after labor?! I didn’t have the energy to shower for days after birth. Gross, I know. 

We didn’t get a cute “going home” picture if front of the car either. I cried the entire way home from the hospital… and I didn’t really stop until my daughter was a few days old. 

My overwhelming emotion wasn't warm and fuzzy. It was fear. I was terrified of how our lives were about to change, that this little life was completely in our hands. 

Once we were home and the blissful (insert sarcasm) newborn days ensued, I only became more scared and guilt ridden. 

I felt guilty that I wasn’t one of the smiley, happy moms on Facebook. I was scared I wasn’t going to love this tiny baby enough. I was scared this fear would never go away. 

The first few days home from the hospital were my worst. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety since I was a teenager, and our 2nd night home from the hospital I truly thought I was losing my mind. I remember giving my baby to my mother in law and having my husband walk me outside. My fight or flight instinct in full effect. He stayed outside with me for a long time. He relentlessly assured me that we would get through this. He told me over and over that this overwhelming fear I had would eventually pass- that my body was flushing out hormones. That it had gone through a traumatic experience… I’d just pushed a human out of my body, after all.  

I thought once I held my little one in my arms that every feeling would snap into place. I thought we’d share a magical perfect bond. That didn’t exactly happen. I just knew something was wrong, broken. 

Looking back, I can see that I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t losing my mind or going crazy. I was experiencing postpartum depression. I am truly blessed to have an amazing support system. My husband held me and the baby as we cried. He assured me that this was temporary. Most importantly, he urged me to get help. My sweet mother in law saw me break down and lose it and never held it against me. I remember her sitting in front of me one night, while I held my baby and silently sobbed so I wouldn't wake my husband. She held and told that I wasn't crazy. I probably didn't show it very well then, but those words meant a lot. My mom and dad were amazing as well. They stayed over through some rough, colicky nights so that we could get some much needed rest- as much as I could while breast feeding. Their gift of support and sleep was truly precious. 

I reluctantly told my OB what was happening and got on some meds, which I’d been on in the past. The meds combined with being open and honest with my husband about my ups and downs helped a ton.

Thankfully my experience with postpartum depression only lasted a few weeks. Slowly, but surely, I started to form a bond with this tiny little human I created. I gave myself grace and time to figure out how I was going to do this whole mom-thing. Although it wasn't immediate, it did come naturally. 

The newborn days were tough for me, but it got better. TONS better. I can confidently say that being a mom is the best thing I’ve done. Everyone will tell you and at the time you won’t believe them (you will probably want to smack them), but you will miss those newborn days. You might not miss the screaming and lack of sleep, but you will miss the cuddles and the squishy, squinty-eyed, tiny-ness.

I’m writing this for any mom who might find themselves where I was as a new mom. Terrified that this part will never end. Scared that you're a freak, or broken, or not cut out to be a mom.

What you’re feeling is OKAY and it does get better. It gets better with work and help and time.

Those colicky nights WILL end. Your baby will eventually sleep (even at night!). 

If your breastfeeding, your nipples aren’t going to fall off. If you’re struggling with breastfeeding, but want to keep going, don’t let anyone force you into supplementing- unless you want to! Conversely, if you’re struggling with breastfeeding, and it’s ruining your life- buy that baby some formula and move on. Your baby will be fine.

Most importantly, if you don’t feel that magical perfect feeling from the beginning, it’s OKAY. Just like any relationship with someone you have never met, it takes time. You have to find your groove, even with a baby. 

Even more importantly, if you feel something may be off, get help. I’m not saying you have to go get on medication, but talk to your doctor. Talk to someone.

You’re not broken, or a freak. 

You’re a mom and you’ll get through it.

Owen's journey

While my hands are free, I figured I would recall Owen's journey into my arms. Owen is my second birth. I was very confident in my abilities to achieve VBAC. It had been 8 years since my C section and I am perfectly healthy with no ill effects from the first surgery. Should be a piece of cake-  right???

Here is the scene around our house the week of Sept 24th 2015. .... 2 weeks past due, Mother in law flew out for the birth of her grandson and she only had a week here in California. My mother was telling me to walk him out, the doctor was telling me to relax, and every woman I came in contact with seemed to have sure fire labor starters to share with me. (stressful is an understatement). Desperate to not let down my mother in law and the family that has gathered in our house; I tried them all and nothing was happening. Finally, the evening of September 23rd I was feeling 'different'.  I went to bed and woke up at 9pm with cramps. THIS IS IT! finally!  I got in the shower, thinking I had all the time in the world. By the time I got out of the shower I was yelling for my husband. I told him, let Aiden (our 8 year old) sleep, call my mom to come here and take him to school in the morning, wake up your mom, text everyone who has been on labor watch and help me get my pants on! I was feeling like an extremely focused drill sergeant- and then there was the pain. HOLY FRIJOLES the pain! 

 At the hospital a small city had gathered to meet this baby. I had no concept of time at all. I vaguely remember puking, crying and getting mad that the pain medicine was only lasting for one contraction. (reality was the pain medicine lasted for an hour at a time and I was sleeping in between).  Oh sweet pain medicine how you have forsaken me.  This went on for many hours. My pour husband was cat napping and trying to help me with pain. Bob Marley "one love" seemed to be the best pain manager.  The beloved aforementioned pain medicine stopped my cervix from dilating... so even though my contractions were seconds apart, nothing was happening. Somewhere around noon on September 25th (felt like no time at all), I heard Owen's precious heart beat stop during a contraction and it seemed to take forever to start back up. No one seemed to be doing anything, there was no panic, no monitors beeping, no nurses rushing to my side. I couldnt take it anymore, I said.. please just get him out. It seemed like no one listened to me. (because I kept passing out I didnt realize things had already been in the works to get an OR).  Apparently I was waiting in line for an OR.  The trip to the operating room was a blur. I was so excited that we were finally going to meet our precious boy. My memories of my first C Section had me thinking it's all down hill now, but  I was shaking... not with fear but really shaking. It was maddening... I was shaking so hard from the medication. My husband later told me that my blood pressure was so low (the actual reason I kept passing out), that they had to keep giving me adrenaline.  I was shaking so hard and then I was freezing so they put a warming blanket on me, that made me hot and instantly nauseous.  Oh man... what a miserable surgery. I guess I was pretty close to death but I dont remember any of that. I remember being so thirsty I couldnt talk, and I heard my husband begging me to stay with him and asking me to open my eyes, I was still shaking uncontrollably- at 2:02 pm on September 24th I heard my sweet sweet baby cry!

  And best of all, I opened my eyes (still shaking like mad), in the recovery room to see my husband and son holding our precious baby and everyone in our personal crew surrounding them.  The happiness and love filled my heart and then came the nausea.  ick recovery stinks.

 

The hidden side effect of breastfeeding

I havent been blogging at all. I have millions of ideas as I sit and breastfeed ; I could possibly blog while I'm holding the baby with one hand and my phone with the other.  However....   the size of the modern cellphone and the average size of a woman's hand creates a problem.  I can not handle this phone one handed. The only thing I can manage to do is lay the phone down on the arm of the chair and either type EXTREMELY slow or I can play candy crush.  ..............  Since I am ALWAYS one handed these days, I find myself spending way too much time wasting my mind playing app games.  I am now hopeless and have done no writing, no artwork and am on level 512 of candy crush, level 230 on the newest candy crush jelly saga, level, 475 of bubble witch and when I am out of lives on all of those the rest of my time goes to reading other people's posts on facebook.  I need an intervention, I need a bigger hand, or maybe I can try my hand at talk to text on my phone.   Is anyone else feeling very trapped in the day to day of endless breastfeeding and baby care?  I love my precious baby boy, and believe it or not I spend a lot of time with my husband and 8 year old, but when I am home alone with baby--- one hand is on my phone and the other is holding baby.  The horrible truth of video game addiction is a very real lack of valuable work getting done.  Maybe my spring fever will snap me out of this funk. 

Isla Faye's birth story

Even before I got pregnant with my little girl, I was mesmerized by natural birth. I watched the documentaries and read the books. I just KNEW that was what I wanted. I found an OB that was very supportive of natural birth and even looked into a birthing center (which didn’t work out due to insurance reasons) instead of a hospital. I wanted ambient lighting, a special playlist, and my husband by my side.  I’m also deathly afraid of needles, so getting to bypass all of that was a HUGE plus in my head. I was definitely more scared of getting an epidural than I was squeezing a human out of my lady parts. And besides, I didn't need pain meds anyway. I’d have my focal point, my hypnobabies CD, and whatever else I could figure out in the next 9 months- I’d be fine.

It’s important to note that this was all decided in the early, magical days of pregnancy. 

Fast forward about 9 months, when the days are not so magical and instead very uncomfortable, sleepless, and sweaty (I was fortunate to be VERY pregnant during the heat of a Texas summer). At about 36 weeks things started to change for me. I was dealing with stressful and downright dangerous situations for me and baby daily. By the time I reached 38 weeks I began praying that I wouldn’t make it to my due date. Knowing that I could potentially be pregnant for 4 more weeks was daunting and put me in a very bad place mentally. 

At 38+6 my feet began to swell, totally normal I know. By the end of the day my right leg was about twice the size of my left and I felt like I’d pulled a muscle in that calf. I figured this was a normal part of late pregnancy, but I figured I’d call my OB just in case. After describing my symptoms to a nurse she told me to come in for blood work right away because my symptoms were spot on for a blood clot. Definitely not what I expected. I kept my cool through the blood work and the waiting afterward. I even held it together when my OB explained that I failed the blood test and could possibly have a blood clot. When I asked him what we would do if I did, in fact, have a blood clot and he responded with “Well, I’m not really sure. I’ll have to get in touch with a high risk specialist and go from there”, I lost it. Hearing that from my doctor (whom I completely love and trust to this day, btw) scared me more than anything. I’d made it this far with a pretty much unicorn pregnancy, and now, so close to the finish line, my baby could be in danger. I have never been so scared in my life. 

After a long wait in the ER and a doppler of my leg, we found out that I didn’t have a clot. I was relieved, but also so very very done. I was done being pregnant and all of the unknown. I wanted her safe in my arms. So after discussing it with my OB and him reassuring me of it’s safety, we scheduled my induction for later that week. I was happy to have an end in sight and excited that I’d get to hold my baby girl so soon. And my type-A-ness was very excited to have a plan in place. 

But I also felt a lot of guilt. Being in induced was on the very bottom of my birth with list, especially an elective induction. I was so set on my un-medicalized birth, that I felt guilty for changing my mind. I truly felt like I was making the right decision for me and my baby, but I also felt ashamed. There was a voice in my head telling that I was taking the easy way out, that I was a bad mother before even becoming a mother. I was torn, but I had the support of my husband and my OB (I’m serious when I say that I trust that man!) and that was all I needed.

When we checked into the hospital at about 8am I was at 2 and about 50% effaced (what I’d been for about a week). 

*8:30 am- I got my first dose of cytotec Nothing really happened

*noon- I was checked again- still at a 2, so we did another dose of cytotec. After this 2nd dose I finally started to feel mild menstrual like cramps… surely I was making some progress.

*4pm (they checked me every 4 hours) I was between a 2-3 (I think he was being generous at this point) and I felt pretty defeated. I was so scared they’d send me home. My OB told me I had a few options- do a 3rd dose of cytotec, try a foley balloon  (which sounded terrifying), or do nothing and wait it out. I was determined to get this show on the road by this point so I opted to do option 1 and 2. My OB explained that the Foley would be “pretty uncomfortable”. After the foley balloon was inserted I turned to my husband and told him through gritted teeth that if this was “pretty uncomfortable”, then I would definitely be needing that epidural”. Turns out my pain tolerance is virtually non-existant. Oh well. This was when my original birth plan went completely out of the window. And I could not care less. I wanted my baby and that’s about the only thing I cared about. 
*5pm my foley balloon fell out and I was finally at a 4! We started pitocin and I asked for my epidural :) 

*6pm I got my magical epidural- this was so much better than expected BTW! The entire process took about 20 minutes and didn’t hurt at all. (5 stars, would definitely recommend). The best part was the catheter… I didn’t have to get up to pee! Talk about my dream come true. The only part of this entire process that was slightly miserable was the nausea. I’m sure it was all of the medicine I had flowing through my veins, but I wanted to throw up almost the whole time I was in labor. I spent the rest of the night sleeping, coping with nausea, and watching Netflix with my husband. The nurses kept asking me if I had “an urge to push”, to which I always replied “I don’t think so?” and they’d tell that I’d KNOW when I needed to, so I left it at that. The truth is, I never did.

10pm I felt a tightening in my stomach beginning which lasted throughout the next few hours. I told the nurse about 2am that the tightening in my stomach was getting more intense- I still didn't think I needed to push though. However, when my OB checked I was at a 10! Turns out I didn't know after all.  

I pushed for about 45 minutes before my beautiful baby girl came into the world screaming at about 4 a.m. She quieted as soon as they laid her on my chest. I remember being relieved and tired and shocked that she was actually there. 

I did have a tear (between a 1-2, I believe), but thanks to that magical epidural I didn’t really care. My doc sewed me up while me and baby had our skin-skin time.

Other info/tips

I thought I’d want 3 people in the room the whole time- my husband, my mom, and my mother in law. Turns out I only wanted my husband for 98% of the process. He was my rock and the only thing I needed to get through birth. Once I was ready to push I brought my mom and MIL in.

I regret not using a mirror. I thought it’d be weird/gross seeing all that up close an personal, but  I am the only one in the room that didn’t get to see the instant my little girl came into the world. 

You will not care about pooping, one damn bit. 

Justin made a playlist of our music for me to listen to during labor. This ended up being one of the only things from my birth plan that I kept, and I am so glad I did. Our baby girl entered the world to an Avett Brothers song, and if you know us, that is pretty stinking perfect. 

And there you have it. My completely medicalized, so very hospital birth. I wouldn’t have done it any other way. 

Also, I hope I don’t come across as bashing natural birth, it just didn’t work out for me, this time anyway. I still totally support it and my inner hippie still would love to hang out with Ina May on the farm. And nothing gets my ovaries working like a natural birth story!

 It took a couple of months or so for me to deal with my feelings of guilt surrounding Isla’s birth. I can finally look back on it and see the beauty, but it took a lot of tears and time for that to happen. If any mamas or future mamas are reading this and have that weight of guilt surrounding your births, whether it was your decision or not- IT'S OKAY. You did it! Or you’re going to do it, and you’ll have your baby. Yes, I CHOSE my induction. I scheduled that sucker and it was great. I’ll probably end up scheduling my next one. I knew what was right for me, and you'll know what is right for you. Do you research and listen to your support team, but in the end it's just you and your baby. And that is all that matters

I wasn't ready

I wasn’t ready, and I’m still not.

I've been a lot of things in my life. Done a lot of "jobs". Retail/fast food management, office management, customer service rep, drug screening, pr rep, online promotions rep, direct sales, nanny.

I've been a professional cuddle buddy, a writer, a radio personality, a cook, a waitress and a counselor. I've even been a foster mom.  Being a stay at home mom is by far the scariest, hardest, greatest thing I've ever done. I'm scared I'm going to break him or warp him. I'm afraid I don't know enough about anything to teach him. I'm terrified of not being able to provide him with everything he needs and some stuff he wants.  Like all parents Alpha and I want to give him the world.  We want him to have what we didn't and honestly our parents gave us a lot.  We want him to have better and know how to get it for himself.  It's daunting to think that I'm in charge of this little life. Everything I do, every moment will have affected his outcome. It’s humbling. It makes me cry...makes me want to call my parents and apologize for thinking I knew it all. For judging the way they did things. It makes me look at other mother's with compassion. Even when I think "wayment...wtf is she doing?" I just want to walk over and hug them and say " I feel you, girl." I realize I'm not as selfless as I thought I was and I miss being selfish. I had an epiphany in the summer of 2014. I wasn't really ready to be a mom. That was crazy considering the time and energy and MONEY we'd already invested.  I wasn't ready. I'm not ready. I might not ever be ready. I'm trying to figure out how to balance being me and living the life I'd just decided I wanted with being a mom. I know that I have to show him that he can be Cannon and live life to his highest desires. I have to do that by...well doing that. I'm just not sure how to "do that".  I'm learning. Every day.

Motherhood

You create a life and for nine months this little creature develops inside your womb.  you deal with morning sickness and constipation and all the other symptoms that come along with pregnancy.  You deal with sleeplessness, restlessness,  body aches, and hormone flares.  Every member of your household is on an emotional roller coaster because of your pregnancy.  Your joyous and a few seconds later you are sad.   Commercials on t.v. make you laugh, cry, and throw the remote.  You deal with the excruciating pain of labor or the painful recuperating of c-section.  But when you look at those little rosy cheeks, those beautiful big eyes, all the pain and suffering you went through means nothing.  You forget all the body aches, and the nausea.  You feel that instant gratification when they yawn, cry, sigh, and smile.  Life will never be the same again.  They steal your heart, your nights, and your life and make it all into this world that you can only dream of.  You will have sleepless nights and days filled with crying.  you will want to pull your hair out when you cant figure out whats wrong with your little baby.  and even though some days you wonder what your life was like pre-baby, you will feel like you were incomplete and now you are whole.  Life is a wonderful thing and never you will yearn for the old times when you could just pack up and go.  you will bask in this new found life of love and diapers.  Enjoy it.  Take in every moment. Create memories.  It goes by so fast.  In a blink of an eye, they will be graduating from high school. 

Ramblings of an Insomniac New Mother

*just a quick note.  This blog is the prime example of the type of insanity that happens to a person like me. As a writer, times of sleeplessness used to be some of my most productive times creatively. Motherhood has reduced me to a rambling ball of nerves wrapped up in oily skin and topped with a frizzy afro. This was started on the 3^rd of January and so much has gone on that I can’t even remember where I was going with it. Changes in color indicate the  different times I’ve opened this to write.

I can’t blame my insomnia on new motherhood, I wish I could though. Its just been compounded by this new station in life.

I didn't used to suffer from insomnia.  I enjoyed it.  Embraced it.  I mean sure I had my moments but for the most part meh,  it was just a part of me.  Now I resent it.  It takes me forever to fall asleep and I can't let myself go to deeply because it's just me here to take care of baby boy.  With his reflux he has choked in is sleep twice this month alone.  And that's actually after seeing a huge improvement in the last few weeks.  Eben when he has his good night's he still nurses every two to three hours and afterwards I need to pump.  And I realize that when he stops nursing at night I'll STILL have to get up on cycle to pump.  That's 20 to 30 additional minutes.  Sometimes by the time I've finished pumping,  labeled and stored the milk,  I crawl in bed almost in  time for him to open his eyes and give me a gummy "I'm hungry ma" smile.  Most nights I pump and keep at least one bottle in the room with us just to catch a small break. Sometimes, when he doesn't wake up,  I try to ignore the burning and the leaking only to give up and tearfully drag my but to the pump.  I've dropped bags of  fresh squeezed boob juice ....sometimes I've spilt every drop,  didn't even get it detached from the pump.  And I'm typically a "producer" so we're talking 12 ounces of milk here.  nothing feels as good as the nights when daddy is home and I can count on him to hold a bottle in his sleep while I pump. For that matter pumping in the day is hard bc my little guy doesn't like to sit/lay on his own after feeding so that I can pump.  He'd rather just latch on again please and thanks ma. So my pumping sessions tend to be limited to the night time hours.

I just lost my train of thought.  Cannon just rolled over to nurse, this time I'm more a pacifier. I didn't used to suffer from insomnia.  I used to enjoy it.

And what do I do when I can’t sleep. One would think that I’d bust out my lapto and write; that with all that’s going on in my life pertaining to motherhood I’d have a million and one anecdotes to jot down. I do…have a thousand stories a day and honestly I put them on my facebook  as a way of documenting them because even with the fancy phone I got as an “omg! You’re pregnant and I’m going to freak out so as your husband and dat baby daddy you gone get this phone and shut up” gift, I am barely functioning. Actually sitting at my desk to write is so rare…it just requires getting up. I don’t get up unless I have to pump, pee or eat.  Just keeping it real.

Now, part of that has to do with depression…not just post partum, but other issues.  It’s exhausting.  When I find myself inexplicably awake after hours of bouncing, singing, diapering, carrying and nursing I just really don’t even what to blink.  Breathing actually takes too much effort.

I’m getting better. Once a week I maniacally clean the house and rush the trash can down to the curb.  I do laundry and I fold it and sometimes I even get it back to the correct closets.

The Thin White Duke has died.   I’m nowhere near awake enough to process this. I just can’t. Why would I even be awake to see it cross my timeline.   Like, they literally just posted this…dear lord, I gotta check on Selah. I wonder if I should text Cannon’s Godfather. His mom is going to freak.  It’s way too early to text. I’ll just post on facebook and then check when I wake up.

Cannon and this rolling over. Oh my gosh. I woke up to go pump and I can hear him talking and fussing. I step back in the room and witness him just rolling around like a…little Cannonball. How does he always wake up when I’m pumping?  I go pump, basically because you are asleep and not eating, but some how just after I pump you’re awake and hungry? And people  wonder why I’m sleepy and cranky.

Crawling. I just witnessed my baby crawling.  I thought I was just hallucinating. I closed my eyes and he was a few inches closer than he was before. Sleep drug me down but as I opened my heavy lids again he was closer still. I sat up and paid attention. It’s so slow and boy does he sound pissed, but seriously this boy is crawling. Okay, this…I don’t know if I should cry or laugh or both. I’m scared. It will be a while before it’s a good mobile moving around type of thing, but can he just slow down. I need like a week of sleep before I’m ready for this. Cannon, just stop you barely turned four months old.  What the hell was in those vaccines they gave you this morning? I gotta find my phone, no one is going to believe me if I don’t get this on video.

Today is my anniversary. Ten years. 10 and we’ve known each other since forever really. Not really forever but you know longer than ten years. Like, 16 years.  That has nothing to do with anything really, but it occurred to me that I was still working on this blog and how I am all awkward insomniac rambling so I could add this and  maybe it would make sense.  Looking, back on everything, none of it really makes sense.  Maybe that’s what I was going for?  How insomnia combined with new motherhood makes things not make sense. 

Crap there goes the baby waking up. I knew I should have just taken my laptop to the bedroom. Doesn’t this kid ever sleep more than 10 minutes at a time? I should have asked them that as his check up. Is it normal for a four month old to only sleep in cat naps?Maybe he has insomnia as well. Can babies have insomnia?

 Okay, The word count is over a thousand. I sound crazy. I don’t even know how this thing started.  I used to so enjoy my insomnia. I got crap done, I wrote books, drank coffee, made love.  Now, all I do is pump and troll facebook. Oh, well at least my stash of milk is back up. Too bad no one has contacted me about buying it yet.