If I'm Never Asked When I'm Having Another Baby, It Won't Be Soon Enough

I may have referenced this subject in ancient posts, but definitely not recently. And I think it bears repeating. I find it completely crappy and inappropriate when people ask women when they are going to have "another baby," or even "a baby," at all. And here is why:

Much like randomly touching a pregnant woman's belly or telling someone how to birth or raise their child, it's super not okay to put these weird expectations on women. Some women have no desire to have babies, some women cannot have children for various reasons, and some of us just want to live our lives as we have designed them.

"Oh, just the one?" "Really, just one?" "You don't want any more?" When I get these questions my heart begins to cry in my chest, why? You all just have no idea what being a a parent is like...FOR ME. And I stress FOR ME, because everyone has a different experience.

I've come to this place again because recently I found out that two women in my life are having babies, and both of them I thought, had no interest in having babies. And when I found out the blessed news, I felt really badly that I hadn't had a real conversation with them about motherhood and just made my own assumptions. I felt badly that I made assumptions, because similar assumptions have been made about parenthood for me.

This isn't a blog entry to "set the record straight." This is just saying we need to be more compassionate IN GENERAL, but especially in regards to parenting, parenthood, and making babies. Upon further discussion with one of these gorgeous, child-bearing women it became clear that she had kept her journey extremely private, and had an extremely difficult time becoming pregnant. This is not uncommon; I've known many women who have shared this with me, but, it's also very, very delicate.

For me, motherhood has been super tough. A lot of it had to do with working and doing the mothering thing, and a lot had to do with how we've had to arrange schedules and sacrifice to make everything work for our awesome daughter. So when you approach me about when baby number two is coming? Guess what, it's not that simple, and it's not a fair question.

I have two half sisters from my dad's first marriage but was raised in every way, as an only child. It never occurred to me in my youth to ask for a sibling, or that I would ever have one. I just lived my little life.

My daughter has started asking about a brother or sister. I always opt to buy her another dog. We treat the dog as her brother anyway. What's funny is the second child discussion isn't even a closed subject. I mean, anything COULD happen. But again, not an easy question or answer, nor a fair one.

Every single woman, family, and child is completely different and I really wish we could just quit the judgmental assumptions, and this goes for me too. Even small ones are just ridiculous. I remember a close family friend becoming pregnant with her fourth and idolizing her as this super mom that just "must love kids." She then revealed to me she really disliked infancy and infants in general, but loved having kids as a whole. It was sobering to me because I think we are often led to believe that we fall in love with these burping, pooping, milk-draining babies, and just become Martha Stewart in home life, but instead we are mombies, accepting each stage and falling in and out of love with certain aspects of mom life daily. 

The snarky, cynical and mean side of me has not-so-nice responses to that ugly question of "when is the next one," from time to time. But it wasn't until recently that I discovered how much that question negatively affects me. And mostly, my answer just all goes back to that Taylor Swift chorus in her infinite wisdom of, "You don't know, what you don't know."

I feel like in the continuous trend of empowering women, and as I'm raising a fierce little woman, we really need to change our attitude and view of what "should be" part of life in general, and what women "should do." Excuse me but we are laboring under some bullshit expectations, pun intended. 

There was an old episode of Sex and The City that suggested we need to stop "should-ing" all over ourselves. This is still relevant. Sex and The City was actually a series that also handled some of the facets of women and their drive to have kids, or lack there-of, and the complications of all aspects of child-bearing. We need to support each other as people, but especially as women to just do what is right for YOU. 

As Amy Poehler said, "Good for them, but not for me." Make it your mantra! And I think it is every woman's right to design her life as shes fit, share what she wants to, and to not have to answer insensitive questions like, "When are you having a baby, your second baby or your 15th?" Let's take it easy on each other, starting now! On your mark, get set, go!

Trigger Day -- Six Years Ago Sucked

Six years ago at this time I had a 3 week old. I've written about this a lot. My daughter was diagnosed with "Failure to Thrive." I think one of my first posts of this year's challenge was long winded in reference to this so, I'll get into why I'm revisiting it.

Every year on Facebook, the pictures and the posts come up and internally I just start to shrivel. It was really hard. That may even be an understatement. I had extra to deal with, bigger things than just baby, and in retrospect, if I could go back and tell myself to wake up a little more and pay better attention, that diagnosis may not haunt me and still bring me to tears as I type.

She recovered right? Healthiest kid on the planet, I have now! She just had her first sick day of the school year and didn't even have a fever. She was just covered in boogers!

So why does it bother me? I've attributed most of my problems to having a rough run coming into parenthood only to find out that's just the first layer of the onion on so much stuff. But when I think about that time, and extra stuff thrust upon me, other than just being a mom trying to breastfeed, oh man, talk about trauma.

I'm lucky that I was strong enough and had the support I did from moms, friends and my sister coming to make sure I could recover. I was lucky that I didn't just disintegrate into some kind of mental coma because a lot of those doctors were not nice. But, my daughter received excellent care and was just as strong then as she is now.

So this day, much like car accident day, just triggers me. Going to the doctor 6 years ago for a check up and being told she had to be hospitalized and then having to live at the hospital for 10 days and, 8 of those Luna and I were completely alone with only my best friend bringing me good coffee and occasional Chik-Fil-A, that was rough.

Recently I started revealing the whole truth about the experience to a friend and could barely hold back the tears. It actually shocked me how much it still affected me. I have a healthy, smart, awesome kid, but not being able to fully breastfeed her was devastating to me. A lot of the resentment and frustration with immediate family "helping" but not helping, is still there. I had to scrape myself off the metaphorical payment during that time and I realized it was just me and Luna. We were all we had, with the occasional awesome visitor.

When I got home I was so scared and it became even more-so about Luna. I live this every day for her. Even in the car accident, it was all about Luna; didn't matter my head was bleeding, if that guy would have harmed her beyond repair from his negligence, I may be writing my memoirs from a jail cell. 

I think it's important but still surprises me that I'm still recovering from something six years ago! That "Failure" in the title is hard to shake. I'd been so terrified to be a mom and everyone just promises you can do it, something like that three weeks in messes you up!

Now when I watch Luna I think I can't wait to tell her what a little badass she is. How she is just the strongest, fiercest redhead and I love watching her conquer everything on her plate. It's then I remind myself that I have a pretty big part in that, so I think that is all steps of my mental recovery on this taxing day.

So today is one of two pretty severe and annual trigger days. I may have a good cry. I'll definitely hug the little one a little harder, and I'll try and be more gentle on myself. I'm just a work in progress and I'm okay with that. Everything truly is one day at a time. That's all we can do, even on a Wednesday!

Last Day Of Five - All The Feels

Tomorrow is my daughter's 6th Birthday, thus making today the last day of her being 5. This whole age five thing has been an interesting ride, I will say.

She is fierce and strong-willed, which is a love-hate thing. Some days I am just in awe of her. Others, I get so mad that she's exactly like me.

The other day we had a face-off that was one for the books. I said, "Now go brush your teeth and go pee before we leave please." Her response, "Um, yeah I'm not going to do that unless I can watch Doc McStuffins on your phone in the car for the drive." I saw red. WHAT!?

This kid could be a negotiator one day. She seems to have a plan of attack and well thought out reasoning for everything. I think my favorite part of 5 was watching her become such a little person though. During some very dark and trying times she would actually reach out to comfort me and when she got frustrated with me, she'd call me out, which was both amazing and infuriating all at once. 

She grew into her own and has more independence. It's amazing. Dressing herself (it never matches but I could care less, it's just adorable), bathing herself, feeding the dog, walking him a bit more, putting things away on her own. She thrives.

She's learned to read and compare words and have real discussions with me, more than "She was mean to me today and I'm never talking to her again," or "He called me this or that name!"

She was the most fun for Christmas ever. Totally into it and so engaged for the entire thing. It made the holiday so exciting and fun.

She has manners and knows how to hold her own in social situations. I've loved seeing her independence evolve. I still have those moments where the memories of her as a baby come up on Facebook and my heart hurts but I love this stage more I feel.

I wasn't the biggest fan of infancy honestly and once we got to 4 and 5 I knew how to do things with her instead of feeling like we had to be more carefully involved in certain things. We can go have adventures now!

I'm not that mom that gets teary-eyed often about her growing but I try and let her know I see and appreciate her doing new things and being more "Luna" than before. She's such a trip and of all the things I've done, she's by far my best achievement and reason for life, without a doubt.

So we're entering the next age tomorrow and I'm so ready, or as ready as I can be. I'm thinking this year we do an epic road trip and she starts being my date to some weddings. I think we'll try some better beach days, new parks, maybe some pottery painting and craft classes. We are going to enjoy all of 6.

I'm still not ready for crazy sports schedules, sleepovers and too much time away but I'm ready for this next walk of life with her holding my hand because it's not going to fit in mine the same next year. Let's do this!

Me As a Mom Part Two

Yesterday we journeyed into Luna's entrance into the world and before we go into my feelings of immediately failing motherhood, I just want to say...I was just on Amazon looking for "Tooth Fairy Kits" because my child is so tense about her loose tooth coming out and it's driving me insane. I can see the other one coming in behind it. Do all parents go through this?

And that's where we can start. Do all parents go through this? We ask ourselves that DAILY, don't we? No, let's be honest now...it may even be HOURLY. Because we have these epic parallels don't we? "Every child is different and unique." "What works for one won't work for everyone." It can all be overwhelming.

I got everything all at once it felt, which is probably a common feeling. One of my oldest and closest family friends became a dad of twins long before I got pregnant and I quote him often when he said to me, "Man, I thought I was tired before." Babies are tough. Period. And disclaimer, I loved sleep BEFORE I was pregnant. Huge difference between 6 hours of sleep Alison and 9 hours of sleep Alison. And now, sleep is my favorite hobby.

During my therapy in college for my anxiety and depression, one thing that was made very clear to me was the importance of sleep as self care and that getting the right amount has everything to do with my depressive feelings and anxiety levels. Now I knew infants would require my all but let me explain something...I was very much a mess and I thought I had the support I needed. Turns out I had no idea what kind of support I needed.

Everything after the birth was a blur. Then and now. Visitors and everything. And the way it is portrayed in television and movies? Bullshit by the way. I remember the sweet moments of some of my favorite people holding her and meeting her. One of my favorite co-workers at the time, who has since grown into this incredible woman with a step daughter of her own, held Luna and just looked at her and said, "Oh, wow...she's so REAL!" She wanted to hear every moment of the birth story immediately.

One thing I remember vividly is that I was obsessed with this idea of skin to skin but also am always the coldest person on the planet. I had the robe and stuff and the socks but was still freezing. I also wanted to immediately stick her on my boob which is where she would stay for 2 years. I was going to breastfeed. There was no other plan.

I thought I did okay her first day, but before I knew it I had so many people in my face and in my ear talking about how to hold her, "Put her here, she has to do this" and I was just so exhausted. Hello? I just had a baby. Again, in a haze and I thought things were okay.

I'd asked for a Lactation consultant because again, breastfeeding was my only plan. All of the sudden a surly nurse was telling me to "Sit up, move this way, put her here." I remember being so uncomfortable and just wanting to find a way that worked for me to not hurt. Then the nurse started barking at me about inverted nipples, which I read a lot about, and I was just tired enough to be offended and cranky. It's COLD in here I thought, and come on! She shoved a nipple shield on me with little direction and then was gone, while again, I sat in this twisted position just trying to get Luna and I to get breastfeeding going.

It's six years later I still look back on everything with tears. Even as I type, I cry because...I had no close friends that were mothers. My dad had me at an older age and clearly didn't breast feed. My mom breast fed but wasn't one to talk about how it actually was and the few mothers I could talk to ended up with formula. If I'm being brutally honest, now with serious reflection, there were definitely home and life circumstances that didn't help my chances to succeed either, but that may very well turn into a book later. Stay tuned!

Back to baby. We got home. My dad did laundry constantly. My husband cooked way too much food. I thought I was breastfeeding okay. I remember now a few times saying, "If she wasn't getting enough, she'd be miserable right? Like, if I was that horrible of a mom she'd tell me, right?" 

Breastfeeding hurt. Badly. Not because I had thrush or clogged ducts or any of the things that scare you in the books. Turns out Luna was a lazy nurser and I had not the best hold. Breastfeeding started to hurt me so much I would lock Luna and I in my room and cry and drink water and suck on hard candies and repeat until she was done. I didn't leave the house for fear of breastfeeding in public and would only let visitors come after she'd been fed. I was just about to call La Leche League for support because the only thing that helped was a nipple shield my husband got at Wal-Mart, and I didn't think she was getting enough but was also completely exhausted with a house guest arrival looming. We went in for her two week appointment, where I thought I could talk to someone, and they didn't have us on the books, didn't care and pushed it another week. This was when everything changed. That last week before the appointment was horrible and the pushed back appointment made everything worse.

At 3 weeks old Luna was diagnosed with "Failure to Thrive," which means she was losing weight, not gaining. Again, I still cry when I think about this and while some people have never heard of failure to thrive, for me, it was just a diagnosis of "Failure to Mom." We went from the pediatric office to the hospital because we needed to supplement with formula and get her weight up ASAP. They also wanted to test her for other reasons beside bad mothering that she might not be gaining. It was horrible waiting to get into a room and calling family members and repeating that "Failure" word over and over.

When we got in the room, for whatever reason Luna and I were completely alone with doctors and nurses and I just remember sitting, being freezing and crying while I heard "Oh it's not your fault, what formula should we try and we have to put in a feeding tube, you can start pumping and we'll do this and as soon as this and the doctor and..." It was a whirlwind of emotions drowned in tears. 

Enter the nurse I met at Massage Envy just over a month ago; she recognized me and looked sad. She said sweetly, "I meant it when I said I hoped I'd never see you. But congrats. She's beautiful and a little fighter, I can tell." She and one other nurse became my quick favorites and lifelines during our stay. 

It broke my heart that I couldn't breastfeed her and she still had to have formula. It STILL breaks my heart and brings me to tears. Now, plenty of people have had healthy babies with formula and I'm not judging ANYONE who chose that, but as a mother and parent you probably understand that when it's not part of your plan, it certainly throws a wrench in things. The postpartum hit me the hardest here, while stuck in the hospital. 

Luna and I were alone for 8 out of the 10 days with the exception of my best friend at the time who came daily to bring me a Starbucks, Chik-Fil-A, or just to hold the baby so I could shower. We were in a room that was shared with 4 other families of varying baby ages and illness and injury. There was a communal shower on the floor and exhausted parents would shuffle around in and out of common areas and the nurses station. It took me 5 days to realize I could leave Luna with the nurses for 10 minutes to get Starbucks downstairs instead of the shitty cafeteria coffee.

My oldest half sister had offered to come help. After 10 days in a hospital fighting with a mean doctor who didn't know how badly I needed to be out of this environment to get my daughter and I well, I was afraid maybe the doctors were right...if I went home alone with Luna maybe I'd just fail again. 

It was 10 days of pumping and supplementing with tests and blood draws and hospital food. When they put the feeding tube in her first day, I cried and curled into a ball. Luna ripped it out herself on the end of the second day and breast fed and bottle fed afterwards as if to say, I got this. I just couldn't give up on breastfeeding. I refused.

I remember being so distraught and I had one low moment, and one moment of resolution looking back. In all of this my husband, with good intentions I hope, said, "Some women can't breast feed, and that's okay. Maybe you just can't!" It was then I quoted Rachel from Friends and said with hatred, "No uterus, no opinion." It was my dad who calmly said, "Sweetheart you have been with that baby 24/7 and all you do is look at her and love her. you couldn't possibly notice her losing weight like that and this is not your fault." This is why my dad still is my calming force.

My sister ended up flying in the day before we were discharged and came to the room. She looked at me in terror and said, "When was the last time you were outside? You're pale enough as it is but now your skin matches the walls!" She commanded my husband to hold the baby and took me outside for the first natural air and sunlight I'd seen in over a week. She got home with me, held the baby lots, and had infinite patience in making sure I felt motherly again.

Luna bounced back after what will live in infamy as my own personal "hell week." Reflecting on this will always completely break me in every way, but I like to share because I think we don't get enough support easily available for new mothers, no matter WHAT YOUR PLAN. Maybe I didn't know where or how to look, but I regret being afraid, feeling completely ashamed and not asking for MORE help. And any mother reading this who has gone through or is going through something similar, I'd love to hear from you. Reach out if you need a shoulder. 

Needless to say we've never had any food issues since the,n and she continues to be one of the healthiest kids I know, but for such a rocky start, and as a mom who knows she still has bad days and crappy ways of parenting, I return to this story often as a reflection for just how far we've come in every way. 

What You Should Know About Me As a Mom

First, I want to thank ALL of you that read my blog yesterday. I so appreciate each and every one of you!
Second, I wanted to give you all a view as to my whole entrance into motherhood so to speak.

Now this is just MY journey and what worked for me versus didn't work for me isn't for everyone. So I mean none of the following as a trigger for any woman, especially those trying to conceive and feeling frustrated. This is just my path and I want to support you continuing yours, whatever that looks like for you. So here we go.

In 29 days, exactly 6 years ago I gave birth to my beautiful, redheaded ball of sass, Luna Raylee. Luna came out one day after her due date and was born on 1-31-13 at 11:31AM. Not joking. I pointed this out in my exhausted stupor right after I pushed her out of me.

It took my husband and I about 6 months to conceive in 2012 after about 4 years of my being off of birth control and neither of us actively getting in nature's way. After 4 months of nothing happening, not even a late period, I did change my diet a bit and stopped drinking any wine or other alcohol and that was the exact month we conceived.

My first indicator of pregnancy, which I blissfully ignored, was going to Spin class at the Y and it being unnaturally difficult and making me so tired as if I hadn't been religiously going the past 2 years. But then I missed my period and we waited 5 days to make sure no sign of it and there it was, a positive on the pee stick! One trip to the clinic later and we were a go.

True to form for an elder millennial, (Major points to Iliza Shlesinger for coining this phrase by the way) we had no insurance so we went to the local Health Department and quickly made friends with the Nurses who told us "It's not often we get this as happy news, so congratulations! Let's set up your other appointments!"

I had a great pregnancy after 3 months of not wanting to eat, puking and having weird food aversions like marinara, ketchup, hot dogs and anything "too smelly." My husband loved to feed me after in my first trimester it once took him 2 hours to get me to decide on something to eat, he made my requested Chicken Quesadilla and I took one bite and almost lost it because it was, "Too chickeny."

I gained too much weight but wasn't too uncomfortable, although I did have had magical cankles. I also had heartburn consistently which I had never had in my life before. So she came out after about 14 hours of slow labor that I had no idea was happening. I ate spicy food because I was so terrified of being induced (My hippie college years made me decide to go natural birth, even in a hospital setting) so I was doing all the things to encourage her naturally and when I was up once an hour on January 30th into the wee hours of the 31st, I thought nothing of it. It was the curry not the baby.

I continued to think nothing of it until I woke up with the worst back pain ever. My dad was staying with us and I remember once he arrived I caved and started drinking a little caffeine again. So my dad made me a delicious cup of coffee and I took one glorious sip before I just did not feel good. My back was getting worse so I decided to take a nice, hot shower. 

I was letting my husband sleep in after a late shift and after I got out of the shower, which is where my water must have broken, unbeknownst to me by the way, I was so uncomfortable I made him get up. When I got him up, somehow I demanded pancakes and then started yelling about being not okay and very much in pain. So this was my active labor.

The mean contractions started by about 7:30AM January 31st, 2013. I had made plans with all of my friends from work, as I had been scheduled to work that day as my last day, to have Taco Thursday at my husband's restaurant. I started texting everyone that I wasn't feeling good and the bets on baby time started immediately. "No, I'm not in labor," I kept saying. After a contraction fit where I threw my phone the next text they received around lunch was..."Luna is here."

We sent my dad on an errand and my best description for what happened next was my writhing around like some kind of farm animal trying to get comfortable in hay. My poor pug was just all over feverishly trying to get his mom to stay calm. Finally my husband got a heating pad on my back and did one of those weird things they teach you in birthing class that you think is stupid with pressure points, but then actually works. At one point my 20lb pug crawled on my back on top of the heating pad and laid down and was then crowned the best dog to have ever lived. He somehow gave the perfect pressure to calm the pain. I had 10 minutes of calm bliss before I tried to move to the bedroom for more comfort and things were getting worse.

When my dad returned at about 9:45AM with some things I wanted for my "Go bag," he heard two of my contractions from the bedroom and grabbed my husband and said "Uh, those were kind of close together, we need to get in the car." 

With help down the stairs and into the back seat of our gold Pontiac Grand AM we named, "Goldmember," which I hated and my husband loved, I fell trying to get into the back seat and got my belly wedged between the front seat and the back seat. Of course my husband laughed while helping. The weather was a cool 60 for winter in Florida, and we took off with windows down, just my dad, my husband and I. We waited to call my mother because her and I had a weird relationship and she told me I could never have a baby naturally so not exactly a calming, supportive force. She remembers getting the call with my screaming in the background. 

We sped through all of Tampa to get me to the women's center. We left by about 10AM, somehow got to the hospital by 10:40AM and could see the ER driveway when we were stopped at the hospital crosswalk by an old man with a walker literally taking his small, sweet steps to get across. My husband muttered, "You've got to be kidding me!"

When we got there I needed a wheelchair because I felt some serious pelvic pressure in the car. I was in so much pain and no one was even paying me any attention in the lobby. I screamed so loudly and a nurse said "Okay, hun, is this your first baby?" I muttered yes with an annoyed look. "Okay honey, calm down, we'll get to ya." When they got me in the room and in the gown my husband had my pants and top ready to put in the plastic hospital bag and looked at them saying..."Uh, is that normal?" Apparently everything that happens right before delivery happened on the car ride and in my pants. I was too busy having a baby to notice. I heard a nurse say, "Okay, we're going straight into delivery!" 

So they get me into delivery and I'm screaming and in pain and finally my midwife says "You're pushing out when you scream, push down." This was the most constructive thing said to me in this crazy time. Three huge pushes later, no drugs and she was out, with red hair to boot. And the delivery wasn't bad at all. I remember crying to my half sister that it wasn't that bad and what happened if we ever had another one. She said "Honey usually it doesn't tend to get worse." It was everything after that was much more difficult for me.

Just before I left my job at Massage Envy I had met a nurse who worked in the NICU and pediatric ward at Tampa General. I told her I was delivering there and she said, "Well I wish you luck and I hope I don't see you there as I'm in the section with the sick little ones and I want you to have a happy, healthy baby!" This comes into play later in the story so stay tuned.

I had considered a home birth, but being an apartment renter just decided my place could never be clean enough for that. And I read the books and did the birthing classes, but in my opinion, nothing can actually prepare you for parenthood. 

Breastfeeding was SO HARD for me. You see all these women everywhere just looking like a goddess with a baby on their breast and I just felt like some cow barely hanging on. Now, I've introduced you to Luna's world entrance and tomorrow we'll talk more breastfeeding. I'd love to hear your birth and conception stories also and encourage you to email me to share anything. Again, this was just my journey with Luna but I hope that you laughed and for tomorrow, we'll have more tales of parenting. And for those of you reading this on a day where you're feeling like a "less-than-awesome" mom, you're doing so much better than you think!