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!

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! 

Blog Challenge 11: My Most Proud Moment

I feel like if I were to type "When I had my daughter," the moms would all be like "Yas queen," and all the single ladies would be like"Oh, seriously?" So I think we need to dissect this a bit.

Being proud eh? My most proud moment when I was younger was winning the 4th Grade Talent Show for singing "Castle on a Cloud" from Les Miserables. My mom found me a dingy old nightgown at GoodWill and unearthed a ratty stuffed animal. I've always loved to sing but stage fright is no joke. I took voice lessons from 2nd grade through Sophomore year and then high school politics killed my dream of ever being able to have any real performer-type things happen.

Anyway, my Voice Instructor played the piano for me and chose the song. I always wanted Disney. She always wanted Broadway. I remember being nervous and having this bear in my hands as part of the act, and as I sang and the more nervous I got, the more I just focused on the bear. It was just me and the stuffed animal. The song is about a sad, poor little child in London dreaming of not sweeping floors and one day having toys. It may have been my finest performance of all time and it won me first place against the boys in my class doing comedy routines and other people being talented as well. We may have a rogue VHS of this somewhere.

My one regret is I told my dad it wasn't worth him coming and that he also made me more nervous, so he missed it. My voice teacher said she almost messed up on the piano because she was so entranced by me and this bear performing such a heart-wrenching song to perfection. That was my peak I think, my American Idol moment.

Other proud moments in my life? At 18, I once told off an old man at Burger King who insinuated I was stupid for not being fast at math, which has always been a struggle for me. I was working the register and it broke and to make sure I gave correct change I started writing it out and he went off on me. I approached him later and told him I hope he never spoke to anyone else who was waiting on him like that again and he should be ashamed of himself for being so rude to someone trying to do well at their job.

I had proud moments with the kids I was a nanny for when they excelled at things, which they did often and still do. I've had proud moments of watching some of my favorite people grow into the fabulous mothers and women they are. But I will completely admit that my proud moment of ushering my baby from womb to world was because I did it completely without drugs, after my own mother said I wouldn't be able to handle it. Take that mom!

To make it even better, when I was super dilated and we had to ask for a wheelchair to get me into the building from the car where Luna was almost born Ricky Bobby style,  I was yelling a lot. It hurt! The nurses looked up from their charting and conversations all annoyed and said, "Is this your first baby, honey?" "Yeah," I muttered in pain. "Okay sweetie, just calm down and keep it down, you'll be fine." I could feel the she-dragon and if another contraction hadn't hit me so fast, I was moments away from yelling "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Less than 10 minutes later I was in a delivery room pushing, so I think I had a right to be a little loud.

My midwife said to me when I was screaming, "You need to push down and when you scream you push outward. Push down!" Getting my perfect daughter out in 3, bad ass, hardcore pushes, and then apparently making an intern faint, was a proud moment.

In motherhood, however, my proud moments have come from watching her with other people. It's not about walking and talking but her attitude that makes me proud. That kid perseveres just like her stubborn mother and when that happens, I get proud.

Last year she had a little boy in her after school program who kept hitting her in her crotch region and also put his hands on her throat once. I harnessed my mama bear and I said, "Baby, no one is allowed to touch you without your permission. And no one but mommy, daddy, grandma and a teacher helping you in the potty, goes near your private parts and still, you communicate with us when that happens. Now, we don't hit or hurt anyone, but if that boy is hurting you, and you need to get away, you get away from him and get help. Tell a teacher. You push him off of you and get to someone who can help. You don't let him hurt you!" She said "Okay mommy, I understand."

I was thankful it never came to that, but proud of her for telling adults what was happening and that she didn't like it. Most 4-year-old's might not. She now quotes the Aristocats often saying "Ladies do not start fights but we know how to finish them!" I do not disagree with her.

Overall though, I work on being proud of myself and I do this daily. We are our own worst critics aren't we? I get proud of myself when I get through a horrible day with no wine or no crying! I am proud of myself for working out consistently and finding ways to manage my anxiety. I'm proud of myself for knowing when to let people in and knowing when to just shut up. I'm proud of myself for not giving up when life has beaten me to a pulp but also not giving up on myself. And I'm excited for more and more most-proud moments, especially when you least expect them. We'll see if any are blog-worthy!

The Ugly Truth about the Beauty of Pregnancy

Six months into pregnancy, I’m feeling pretty good. I have the big old baby bump and the hormones to boot!  But there’s so much that no book, no movie, and no Google search could ever tell you about the horrors of pregnancy. And the worst part is, it’s barely physical or mental, it’s all the outside sources converging into one big ball of disaster.

Part One: The Shower

My friends threw me an amazing baby shower. And I had my baby shower at the beginning of my 6^th month. Why? Everyone asked, “Why so early!?” Well, many reasons actually. The first one being, our due date is January 30^th, 2013. Who wants to wait until around the holidays when everyone’s broke and then try and get gifts out of them? The second one, I knew six months in I would still want to be around people in a celebratory capacity. When I’m 8-9 months, I’ll barely want my husband around me. Why push our luck? Thirdly, we live in Florida and October is a great month to have outdoor events and the free place we had the amazing event allowed us to take over the patio. It’s a win-win.

I work with most of my friends so the shower created quite a stir.  I work in a place with about 50 employees. I have a great relationship with about 30 of them. Everyone wanted to go. We’re open 7 days a week so my girls tried to make it on an early close evening and make it an easily accessible event. Two weeks before the shower the drama fairies dropped glitter bombs all over. People who RSVP’d were dropping like flies, and all of the sudden people we never thought would show up, were definitely coming. It was slightly overwhelming! On top of that co-workers were arguing about my shower and the schedule to accommodate everyone requesting to go.

The shower went off without a hitch. We have some amazing people in our lives who contributed A LOT. All of the sudden we had such an amazing collection of things, both necessary and fun. The girls who threw my shower are amazing and we will never be able to thank them enough!

Part Two: The Social Commentary

Everyone wants to know about your pregnancy, but what YOU don’t want to know, is their opinion on how you’re handling things. Doctors are one thing. Doctors are made to scare you. My doctor yelled at me for gaining too much weight because I started to be able to physically eat. My husband yelled back at her that he intended to feed his family and I looked beautiful. Then my doctor scared us into flu shots, which I’m still recovering from. She basically said that if we refused and the baby and I died, it’s not like she didn’t warn us; such a calming picture.

What’s worse is when people ask and you tell them and then they interject why they are right or why you are wrong. I’d been verbally accosted throughout my pregnancy, so I was used the form of mental abuse, but now there were other forces at bay. We’d made the executive decision to do cloth diapers. Why? My husband was allergic to regular diapers, and with a lot of help and advice from a co-worker and his wife I found out that I’d save an obscene amount of money with just a little bit of help. When someone asked about diapers and I told them cloth I got two adverse reactions. One saying, “Oh, that won’t last long,” and another saying, “Cloth? Ugh! What a pain!” I’d learned then that this “hippie” idea may not easily be reveled in.

Then there’s insurance. Everyone wants to know what kind of insurance you have if you have it. At this point I know so much better than to even reveal that part of our lives, but I’ll tell you this: it’s OUR BUSINESS. There are far worse off people in this universe than us, and what we do or do not have, whether coverage is great or crappy or nonexistent, we KNOW WHAT WE ARE DOING. This baby girl was NOT A SURPRISE. We entered into this amazing journey knowing that we could handle ANYTHING because that’s what we do and WHO WE ARE. No matter what, this baby girl will be LOVED and will NEVER go without the basic necessities in this world. EVER!

And of course, there’s the name. Up until last year my heart was set on naming any female of mine Lillian. But then when we were discussing boy and girl names and my husband threw out the name Luna. The middle name was easier. He came up with infusing both of our father’s middle names together into Raylee: unique and gorgeous. And so we had Luna Raylee Chriss. And that’s when the jokes came in. Look, every child will be teased but everyone just hopped on the point, “Wait, you’re naming your child, Luna Chriss?” Some of my favorite people didn’t get it right away. But then it sinks in, it sounds like ludicrous.  But what’s so ludicrous? Naming our baby girl something like Luna Raylee Chriss? Or naming our child something ordinary or trendy? She’s ours and she’ll wear that name with pride. So laugh all you want but our child will be amazing because she is OURS!

Part Three: The Gross Anatomy of Pregnancy: What the books don’t tell you!

Pregnancy is beautiful yes, but here’s what the books never admit: Your boobs grow to porn star proportions. It’s alarming and not charming. They itch and they’re sore so even though your husband wants a little boob time, if he comes near you, you’ll slap him away. Your ankles at one point, no longer exist and you do in fact get the ever dreaded “cankles.” It’s not a good day.

Bending down in any way becomes something out of a science fiction novel. Either you’re getting yelled at for not squatting or your knees bump the belly or the belly bumps other things. It’s so awkward. Your hormones are so out of hand you feel bipolar. You’ll be crying and then laughing and then crying.  Forgetfulness plays a large part too, so odds are you’ll forget if you were laughing, why you were. You’ll forget something that just happened 10 seconds ago.

The gas is out of this world. It’s not even the smell, it’s the activity. You’re a walking whoopee cushion. You’re just one big ball of bloat and gas. And I think I saw the hints of a double chin in some photos: scary!

 

The bottom line is that pregnancy is definitely an adventure in more ways than one. You’d be surprised who comes out of the woodwork to surprise you with love and support and sometimes gifts! Then again it can stir a dirty jealousy in people. Some people, people we’ve had into our home, fed and helped out, have treated me like a chubby leper! No “Congratulations,” no card, no gift, no acknowledgement! But a high school friend you haven’t even seen for four years will pleasantly surprise you and send you an expensive gift off of our registry.

Pregnancy is tough. It’s not easy in any way. But it is a gift. Some people enter into it hastily. Others enter into it accidentally. If you’re like us, you enter into it knowing it will change your lives for the better and take you into a realm you never thought possible. And everything they don’t tell you, you’ll come to easily. And everything people do tell you, you’ll learn to tune out. Just remember: it’s about you, your partner and the life you’re nourishing. Keep that in mind and all these other stressors just kind of…fade away!

What to Expect When You’re Expecting the Conversation About Expecting…

Someone once told me that there’s no “right time” for a baby. There’s no “readiness” for a child. You just adapt. I guess I can see both sides, but personally I see it differently. To me there are two choices, you either consent to having a child, embracing the possibility, or you take the proper precautionary measures to keep “single” life alive and kicking.

Years ago my husband and I made the agreement: kids when we’re 30-ish.  And then a couple years later we thought, “okay we can stop being ‘cautious’ when we’re 28.” But then this year, all of the sudden, it hit me that age 28 wasn’t so very far away anymore. I’ll admit I had moments for the past two years where my body was begging for babies but I’d always seemed to skirt around them. The puppy purchase certainly helped.

Occasionally when I’m acting too baby crazy, my husband tells me to yell at my hormones and ask them to leave us both alone, but he scared the shit out of me at the beginning of this year when he told me he was actually okay with the idea of us having a baby.

I’d recently given up on the whole, planning of a life thing. Five year plans turn into 12 year plans and you’re almost never where you thought you’d be…ever. Sometimes you just go with the flow and adapt. You make the decision to let life happen instead of waiting for it to knock on your door and ask for an invitation in.

And thus the “expecting” conversation happened. All of the sudden we just weren’t afraid or feeling cautious. I think it came with the new security we’d found with stable jobs, real paychecks and new responsibilities and capabilities.

I’m not one of those women who can strategically plan to conceive. I feel that takes all the fun out of it. It makes the whole thing a chore, instead of something made out of love. I can’t even keep track of my cycle, let alone the other things around it so we agreed: we aren’t “trying” we’re just not trying to not try.

Don’t get excited people. Us Chriss’ believe in things happening as they should. After many mistakes and miscalculations, we like to make sure we aren’t in over our heads. We like to be pretty darn sure of things. Our engagement, wedding, and move to Florida all happened out of our sureness, not out of a fleeting idea.

We have almost been married three years and are still on our honeymoon. We barely fight anymore. Where we once had to fight out of frustration with every other person but each other, now we usually have a good row now and then just to keep with the spice of life, but our fights are miniscule compared to pre-married life. We grow, we work and we live out of love, and so will each step forward.

You may be reading this thinking, “Oh wow, so they’re like trying to have a baby,” but life is never that simple. Seeing as how you can’t force something to happen and you’re never really ready, I think it’s safer to just say…”It’s all happening.” And it’s happening at its’ own pace. We are ready but we’re not rushing. It’ll happen when it happens. And then another blog entry will appear about “The Happening!”