Epic boob fail… coming to you LIVE (or the art of breastfeeding in public)

Breastfeeding happens anywhere, any time, in public and private. I am so used to pulling the girls out that it is inevitable that one day I'll give the live version of my birth announcement faux pas. 

Some people find breastfeeding in public offensive. Some people only find it offensive if the mom is indiscreet. This blows my mind. I find no shame in feeding a hungry baby any time she needs me to and I certainly don’t feel I have to cover up to do so. It is one of the most natural and loving things for a woman to do. Mothers should NEVER feel ashamed for doing what is completely natural. I celebrate these women (including moi).

Luckily, most states have gotten on board and support breastfeeding mothers. And if I ever see someone get the stink eye (including myself), I have no problem standing up for our rights (human, civil, and mother).
 
I've already sent my boob out to everyone I know when I accidentally photo (boob) bombed my birth announcement photo. And now that I’m so used to whipping ‘em out and breastfeeding, I know one day I’ll stand up and walk on down the street, my boob winking at the passersby. People pay good money to see a shot of a naked breast and I'll be giving it away for free!

Move over grandma!

I just took my first fitness class at my new gym. I'm easing back into the fitness routine but I think I took it a little too easy.

I should have realized something was amiss when I stepped into the studio and the music began playing at half speed and half volume. Remember the days when the batteries ran low on your cassette player and it sounded like a cat dying? Yeah, it sounded like that. The next clue was the playlist; The Supremes, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis, The Four Tops. As I took my fellow fitness-mates in, I realized I was the youngest person in the class by forty years.

The class was called Forever Fit. That should have been my first clue.

All the ladies were really nice but they were a bit curious as to why I took the senior aerobics class.  I told them I'd just had a baby so I was taking it easy. Excitedly they explained how the class differed each day of the week and that I could use heavier weights to make the class more challenging if I needed it and that some days they even did a bit of yoga. I didn't have the heart to tell them I took the class by mistake, so I might just have pull my Depends back out and grab a bottle of ginkgo biloba and say hello to my little friends every week.

Splat

I got lazy and changed my darling girl on my bed last night. As I slipped her wet diaper off and strategically began scooting the fresh diaper under her, she had a poop explosion all over the bed.

Baby: 1
Mom: 0

Aussie speak

On a recent trip to Australia a friend asked me if I wanted to nurse her baby. I looked at her like she was nuts. Was it a common practice to let friend's breastfeed each other's babies in Oz?  And I didn't even have a baby at the time, so I certainly didn't have any breast milk. It didn't take me long to realize Aussies speak a completely different language when it comes to all things baby.

If you came into my home right now and listened to my in-laws and hubby speak (all Australians), you'd think you'd walked into a foreign country.

Aussie Speak:

After waking up from a nap, grandpa took baby out of her cot, changed her nappy, gave her a dummy, wrapped her, patted her back to get rid of wind, gave her to grandma to nurse, went for a walk in the pram, and then gave her to mummy for a feed.

American translation:

After waking from a nap, grandpa took baby out of her crib, changed her diaper, gave her a pacifier, swaddled her, patted her back to burp her, gave her to grandma to hold, went for a walk in the stroller, and then gave baby to mommy to nurse.

It's three against one in the house right now so even I have begun to say cot, pram, and nappy. But it won't last. My hubby has come to terms with the fact that his daughter will use American terms and speak with an American accent, much to his dismay. 

But I have conceded to feeding her Vegemite (a black, tar-like spread that Aussies love with a passion, but Americans gag on), so we're even.

Epic boob fail

What's the first thing I did after giving birth? Send a picture of my breast to everyone I know, including all my husband's work colleagues. It was in one of the pictures attached to the birth announcement email. Epic fail.

But that's not all. My mother also sent my breast out for all to see and I posted it on Facebook. Luckily my sister caught it and I took it off Facebook but it is still in the inbox of everyone I have ever met. Or at least it was.

On the bright side, if there was ever a time for my boob to be out there, it is now. The girls have never looked better.


Don't scurry off too fast to go searching through your inbox...

Home, sweet homebirth

My baby girl is out! 6lbs 6oz, 19.5 inches.  Push ‘em out small, fatten 'em up later!

It has been almost six weeks, and she has already gained three pounds. She’s got a belly and a double chin. You go girl. Own your chubby cheeks!

I know there were haters out there, whom, when I said I was planning a homebirth, smiled at me but were really thinking, Ha! She has no idea what she’s in for! Just wait until she feels the pain. She’ll be screaming for an epidural!

I did not scream. Not once. Er… at least not until the pushing, but it was more like an animal grunting in the wild than a scream. The birth was as amazing as we’d hoped. It wasn’t a day at the spa but it certainly wasn’t me screaming in pain as if my arm were being chopped off. The pain was manageable and not once did I ask or want to go to the hospital.   

It all started the morning of Sunday, January 13, 2013.

For some reason I thought the first sign of labor would be the appearance of my mucus plug (basically, this is exactly what it sounds like, it plugs up your cervix until the baby is ready to be born and then your cervix releases it and it comes out your vag). During the final weeks, every time I went to the bathroom I looked eagerly into the toilet to see if there was anything slimy in the water. Peeing was a very exciting experience during that time.

I never did see that mucus plug.

The morning I went into labor (a week before my due date), I was all ready to get up and finish the last minute chores and projects before baby came. It was going to be a big day. And it was, but not in the way we expected.

As I lay in bed, I suddenly felt like I was peeing myself. I stood up and saw that my sweatpants were wet. I changed into another pair and they were immediately wet. That’s when I knew I was beginning labor. I put on my trusty Depends, that’s right, Depends (my sister-in-law suggested I buy them, because even after your water breaks your body keeps producing amniotic fluid, which continues to flow out).

My mother, my hubby, and I began racing around the house in a manic state, preparing everything for the birth. I’d been told that early labor can last many hours if not days, so I had the rest of the day mapped out with lots of activities. I got to do one of them. A walk on the beach.

After the walk, I had a contraction that made me rethink leaving the house again. Instead I put on the Golden Globes Red Carpet and in between contractions I watched the best and worst dressed (Lucy Liu what were you smoking!). Soon I left the red carpet behind, and Mick and I departed into our bedroom.

I lay on the bed snuggled up to my boppy pillow and the rest is a timeless blur. Mick put me into hypnosis (which does not take the pain away, but lessons it and makes it more manageable and puts me into a kind of deep meditative state). Mick stayed by my side the whole time and I breathed through every contraction, not a peep was heard from me until the pushing. I had the lights low and spa music on during the entire labor.

I never, not once wanted to go to the hospital or had a thought that I couldn’t handle it. I did have thoughts like, “maybe next time I should have an epidural. That might be nice.” That thought usually came in the middle of a long contraction but would soon disappear when I relaxed in between.

That’s the thing. You get breaks between every contraction. And I’d just lay peacefully, undisturbed, in my home, in my bed, until another came.

At 11pm the midwife checked my dilation for the first time (they’d been checking my vitals and baby’s vitals the entire time). I was at 9 and 1/2 centimeters (you push at 10 centimeters). When I heard that I was wanted to scream HELL YA!!!  

Next was the pushing.

I moved into the birthing tub, which was set up in the nursery (our daughter was born in the her own room- how cool is that), and I did not need to be told when to push, it was on my body’s terms. And trust me, you know when it is time. When you push you let out an involuntary grunt at the end. And when I say grunt, it is low and loud. It was the first noise I’d made since active labor began.

Pushing was intense and euphoric all at the same time. But I had a little surprise waiting for me each time I pushed... my regurgitated lunch. Yep, with every push, I also vomited. And I NEVER vomit. I can shoot back ten tequila shots, a dozen beers, and five bottles of champagne and never vomit. So this was quite a shock. My hubby said the bigger the push, the  bigger the spew.

The good thing about pushing is, you get a bigger break in between them. And all I can say is, I was so relaxed and aware during this time that I had the foresight to realize pictures would be coming soon. I had a feeling my eyes look liked a panda bear from the mascara I'd put on early that day (next time wear waterproof or nothing!). My husband confirmed my oh-so-scary eyes and I looked up at my mamma and asked for some eye make-up remover. Once that was done I was ready for baby.

After an hour of pushing the midwife told me to reach down and when I did, I could feel the feathery hair on my daughters head, ready to crown. I made a decision right then that it was time. I was done with all this pushing. When the next urge came I pushed like a motherf*cker, and got her head out. Then during the next urge I pushed again and out she came! Those last two pushes are called the ring of fire, and yes, it felt fiery as I pushed and it hurt but I was so excited it didn’t matter and it was over quickly. Out of everything, the pushing was the most intense but I didn’t mind it. Or maybe I just have a bit of amnesia.

I don’t care! She came out and she was healthy and I was in a state of euphoria that I am so thrilled I got to experience drug free. And thirty minutes later, after birthing the placenta, I lay on my bed with my baby nursing. It was exactly what I’d hoped for. No drugs to interfere with our bonding.

And there you are. I loved it. I will do it again. Just not tomorrow.

One final note: Because I know the women want to know (men, you may want to avert your eyes). Yes, I tore. Only slightly. And no, I didn’t feel it. There was way too much other stuff going on for that to matter. Oh, and no, I did not do a doo-doo in the tub. The vomiting was enough!

Any questions?

Help a new momma out

It used to be that when I went to visit a friend with a new baby, I always thought of the baby and what little gift I could bring for them. But by the time the baby comes, it has everything it needs. Baby showers and grandparents take care of that.

Where the gift is really needed is with the new mom. And I don’t mean a spa treatment (though I’m sure no one would complain about such a treat). I mean a gift like food, extra hands, and your time.

At the end of my childbirth class they gave us a page to put on our fridge for visitors to see. It had suggestions of what friends visiting can do for you- like take out the garbage, load/unload the dishwasher, or bring a meal.

We live in a time where being a supermom is praised and I think the best way to be a supermom is taking care of yourself and baby and letting other’s take care of you, especially in the beginning.

I was horrified by an article I read recently where a woman was gloating that hours after giving birth she was on her Blackberry, answering emails for work. That to me is not a supermom. That is just sad.

Traditionally, in Asian cultures, mothers are treated like a Queen for the month after giving birth. It is called Zuo Yue Zi, or sitting month. The mother’s only responsibility is to feed her child and rest. Her own mother or other members of the community take care of the rest. They see the month after giving birth as the most important of all. The mother needs this time to restore her health and energy and prevent future illness. Overall, it is the crucial time that will sustain the well-being of both mother and baby for life.

I love this idea of taking care of mom so she can take care of herself and baby. Mom has been through a lot over the past nine months and it ends in a marathon called labor. Besides the UFC throw-down her body has just been through, she now has a large wound inside uterus (approx. 9 inches round) that needs to heal- I’m talking about the exposed wound from the placenta. And there may be other parts of her body, lower down, that need healing. So give the girl a break.

Bring her food, lots of food, and good food that will nourish her body (not that it has to be rabbit food- just leave the In & Out burger for a later date). Or show up empty handed, with good intentions. Do a load of laundry, wash a dish, or massage her feet (if she’s had time to wash them!). And if you think the first visit is gonna be about you, stay away. No high maintenance friends needed (luckily, I got rid of those a long time ago!).

Eventually, the new momma will settle into her new normal and she can try her hand at multi-tasking again but during the first few months, the only multi-tasking she should be doing is feeding the baby and having her back rubbed.

I wish I had known this sage advice before now. I would have been a much better friend to the new mommas in my life. Sorry ladies! Next time, I’ll step it up!

Wait, what did you just say

When I say I’m having a homebirth I have been pleasantly surprised by people’s support and awe. They stare in wonderment at me and say how impressed they are. But at some point in the conversation it will come around to pain. Everyone asks what medicine I will use for the pain. When I tell them not only will I not be using any drugs for pain, but I will not even have the option, that’s when the look of terror sets in. Man, woman, young, or old, it is all the same. I have lost them at this point. I can see written across their forehead, is this woman insane.

It has now become very clear to me that all people think about when they think about labor is the pain. No one can see past it.

Women go to great lengths to protect their unborn child from harm throughout their pregnancy (many won’t put anything more than a Tylenol into their bodies over the nine months), but when it comes time to bring their child into the world to take its first breath the mother yells, pump us up with narcotics to the max!

I definitely thought that would be me, but it’s a funny thing when you become pregnant. Suddenly everything changes and instincts kick in. Through my research, I discovered that labor doesn’t have to be surrounded by fear or pain. And yes, labor will most likely have some pain but it will also have great joy.

There is so much more to labor than pain. Pain is one aspect and there are many tools I can use to manage pain. These tools have been around for centuries, before medical science stepped in and took away a woman’s role in childbirth.

If you are curious, here are some of the tools we have been taught and will be using; counter pressure, breathing, visualization, movement, massage, a birth ball, birthing exercises, gravity, a rebozo, a birthing pool, and hypnosis. Hypnosis is the tool we will be relying on the most. Women who use hypnosis have a significantly shorter labor and are much calmer (I’ll go into more detail about hypnosis and birth in a latter post).

All those tools aren’t just for pain management. They are tools that when utilized make your labor faster and easier because you are using your body as it should be used in labor, to work together, with the baby, as one unit in an organic way. If the baby is not in the optimal position to be birthed, this can be painful. In a hospital you have no choice (a lot of times) but to accept that the baby is positioned in a way that makes you both uncomfortable and sometimes will even mean distress for the baby, which can lead to a C-section or a painful labor.  Yet, if you use a rebozo, or get up and move, or let gravity assist, the baby will work with you and shift to a more comfortable, safe position.

Women have been giving birth for thousands of years and in many countries around the world (yes, I’m talking first world countries, too) do not use pain killers and/or only use something like nitrous oxide (laughing gas) to take the edge off (Australia, for example), which is not even offered here.

I know that my body knows how to birth a baby, just like a cow trusts her body to birth her calf (okay, that is the only time I’ll be comparing myself to a cow!). And, yes, thank God we do have the medical professionals to be there when or if a mother or baby does really need it.

I have met and seen a multitude of women who have given birth naturally, without pain killers, and the question that is always asked is, “would you do it again?” And the answer is always a resounding “YES!” 

That tells me everything I need to know.

Why me... why not me?

We have dealt with our fair share of challenges this past year; our continuing struggle with infertility, months of IVF, which happily ended in pregnancy, then, just as we past the three month hurdle and settled into a safe pregnancy, hubby was diagnosed with the Big C, but we dealt with it all and moved forward and for the past few months everything has been running smoothly. And not once during this year did I ever really say to myself, why me?

There may have been a fleeting thought of the why mes but it wasn't until I was on that examining table this week and was told the baby had turned breech that I felt a deep down, overwhelming feeling of the why mes? Why another challenge? I thought we were past all this!

But, again, I did not let the news cripple me. I spent the twenty-four hours between being told the baby is most likely breech to going in for the ultrasound to confirm her position, doing everything I could to spin her back into the optimal head down position.

And I am thrilled to say, she is no longer breech! The midwife may have been wrong about her position to begin with but I had been saying to my husband for two days before we went in for our check-up that the baby's position felt different but I thought I was just being paranoid. And maybe I was. But who cares! The ultrasound has now confirmed she's no longer breech.

And we got to see our little one on the ultrasound again, which we hadn't done since she was twenty weeks. It was exciting to see her taking practice breaths, yawning, and sticking out her tongue.

But I still think about that moment of the why mes. It was only for a moment but it hit hard. And yet, I did not let it take me down (okay, I only had 24-hours of thinking the baby was breech and maybe if she had stayed breech I would not be so unfaltering).

In the long run, a breech baby is something that would soon be forgotten once she was out in the world in my arms, healthy and happy. Would it really matter how she got here? Maybe. I do believe natural birth has countless benefits for mother and child but I have to believe that however she gets here, the joy will override any disappointment from not having my optimal birth plan. I may mourn the loss of my plan, as many mother's do, but it would hopefully be eclipsed by the beauty of bringing life into this world.

Or, at least this is what I say now that I know that we are back on track. Ask me again once I've gone through childbirth.

A breech of trust

We had quite a shock on Friday when we were at our prenatal visit. As the midwife was feeling the position of the baby she informed us that our little one had turned into a breech position. I immediately burst into tears because it was quite a large wrench to throw into our plan for a homebirth.

Our little girl is in what is called a "frank" breech position, which is the optimal breech position and contrary to popular belief in America, you can safely deliver breech babies naturally. Luckily, we are working with one of the doctors in LA that specializes in vaginal breech delivery (Dr. Stuart Fischbein). 

BUT, I am not sure what we're going to do if she stays breech. We only have three weeks until the due date!

I was not anticipating this turn of events and I have not done a lot of research into breech births, so I will have to hit the books. I know I have three options if she stays breech: 1) natural homebirth (if baby stays in a Frank Breech position), 2) vaginal hospital birth with epidural, 3) C-Section. 

But first I'm taking action steps to turn the baby and hopefully I will not have to make one of those decisions. As much as I want a homebirth and I do believe babies can safely be born in a breech position, I'm not 100% convinced, and a woman in labor needs to feel safe above all else. 

We are going in for an ultrasound tomorrow to confirm the baby's position and I will save my reading on breech births until after that appointment. For now, I am doing everything I can to turn the baby. I am all about action!

There is a wonderful site called Spinning Babies which I was referred to in my birthing class and these past twenty-four hours it has become my bible. I am now doing multiple exercises and inversions to spin this baby!

Example of
forward-leaning inversion

I won't go through all of them but most of them consist of me getting myself into an ass up, head down position, so that the heaviest part of the baby, her booty, moves towards my chest and her head moves into my pelvis.

Breech Tilt

My favorite position (because it is the most extreme and comical but also the most effective), is the breech tilt. 

I lie on an inclined, twin mattress, with my feet up and my head down. I place a warm compress on my pelvis and a bag of cold peas on the top of my belly, to encourage my baby girl to move her head to the warmth. I also place large head phones in my crotch and play Beethoven. No, these were not my awesomely creative ideas, this is what you're meant to do. 

I do this for twenty minutes, four times a day. Sometimes hubby comes in to keep me company and he'll playfully talk to my crotch to encourage baby to move towards his voice. 

Between that and several other inversions I do through out the day, I feel like I'm training for a race again. If these positions don't work, there are many other things I can do to spin the baby but sometimes the baby just doesn't want to turn and I will have to trust my body and hers, if this is what she wants. 

Until then, I will continue my spinning Olympics and start researching my options. Who knows, I could go into the doctor's office tomorrow and find that it was all for nothing, and she is not breech. 

For now, baby and I are going to get our Beethoven breech tilt on as hubby speaks sweet nothings down my pants.

Hand on my belly

Questions, questions, questions...

I get asked a lot of questions. I don't mind them. I was very curious about pregnancy before I became pregnant and more so after.

One question I am asked a lot is, "why do pregnant women put their hands on their belly?"  There are different reasons and I'll break it down by trimester.

1st Trimester:

a) To indicate that my bulging belly is in fact, a baby, not a food baby.

b) My tummy hurts and my hands make it feel better

c) To have a little mommy and me time

Baby bump, not food baby!

2nd Trimester:

a) Again, to show that this is a baby, not last  night's spaghetti!

b) Something is moving inside me and I want to feel it (was that gas or baby? Not yet sure)

Baby resides here

3rd Trimester:

a) The damn baby is pushing my diaphragm into my ribs and it effen hurts, so I'm pressing down to make the pain go away. (oops...I mean, I love you!)

b) A big belly makes a nice shelf to rest my hands on. And my coffee cup. And my iPad. And...

c) To feel her little feet and bottom poking out as she moves around in her tiny home (this is way cool)

Oh la la... nice shelf!

But the most precious moment is when my hubby touches my belly. I didn't know I'd feel all mushy about it, but I do! I know, I know... I'm such a sap. 

Hubby still knows how to party

We had our CPR class tonight. Or, at least, I did.

Two hours before the class started, my husband called to tell me he was drunk. It was definitely not a call I was expecting on a Monday afternoon. Though this is not typical behavior (I swear!), it wasn't the first time I'd received such a call from him. To be clear, my hubby is not a lush, but, especially in the days when we lived in NYC, he'd sometimes attend lunch meetings, which turned into night drinking with colleagues or clients.

This time it was a holiday lunch that became more liquids than solids, not that surprising for this time of year. When he called it was clear that he was too drunk to drive to the class. He offered to take a cab, but I thought learning how to give infants life saving chest compressions while three sheets to the winter wind was not the way to approach infant safety. (Not that he would have been handling real babies! Only baby Annies- anyone remember those from health class??)

But I was not mad. In fact, I was amused. After the year we've had, I was happy to see him let loose. These days we do not sweat the small stuff.

Happy holidays!

Fat Face

Everyday I receive lovely compliments from strangers, friends and family... "I can't believe you're giving birth in a month!" "Your bump is so small." "I can't even tell you're pregnant from behind."

So why do I feel like a fat arse? Oh, wait! I know exactly why.

It all started at my baby shower when a good friend of the family said to me (and I paraphrase), "You and your sister were always so skinny growing up. I'm so glad I finally get to see you with a fat face."

And now I have a complex. A fat face complex. I am pulling my hair back from my face as much as possible because I seem to think this will make my face look thinner. And I'm keeping my chin down and shoulders back in every picture. And sucking my cheeks in like a fish.

Why is it that I can hear a hundred compliments but ONE negative one asphyxiates me?

Help... I can't breath... my fat face is suffocating me...

Homebirth is where the heart is

After going through IVF, I assumed I'd have a typical hospital birth with pain meds coursing through my veins. But once I became pregnant every instinct in my body said to go the natural route (btw, natural does not mean vaginal with drugs. It means vaginal without drugs. Too many people think that if you don't have a C-section it is a "natural" childbirth. Er, no. Natural means, just that. No drugs.)

Over the past few years I had read and seen things that made me question if a hospital birth was right for me.  Yes, I'd seen The Business of Being Born,which is a great overview of how labor and delivery has become big business in America but by no means was I going to make my choice off of one documentary  So I began doing my research. I read a ton of books, looked at the how the rest of the Western world viewed birth (and pregnancy), read the stats, and talked to friends from around the globe, before finally coming to the decision to have a homebirth.

We found an amazing birthing center in LA (The Sanctuary) and have had an amazing experience. What my husband loves most about this process is the time they spend with us at every visit and that they see this as a continuing process; before, during, and after labor. We had friends living in Holland, which we visited and discovered that most births are done at home with a midwife and the midwife stays with the mother and child for days and weeks after the birth to continue their care (btw, the Netherlands has one of the lowest neonatal death rates, the US has one of the highest). Ever since then, my hubby always loved the idea of all around, natural care.

His only complaint about our birthing center- there's a whole lot of hugging that happens at each visit. But he deals with it.

What I love about the practice is that their goal is not for me to have a homebirth but to have the safest, natural, and most relaxed birth experience I can. I am monitored very closely, and as long as I stay low-risk, we will move forward with the homebirth. But if there is any indication that assistance will be needed, then they'll come with me for a supported hospital birth, along with a doctor who will respect my wishes to stay drug-free, with as little intervention as possible. At this point, everything is running smoothly, and with only a few weeks left, homebirth is most likely. Woot!

At our birth, we will have a midwife and one or two assistants. We will also have a Doctor hanging out on our couch, sleeping and eating our food, unless he is needed. He's our warm and snuggly security blanket.

And to answer the question that most people ask, no I will not be using any pain medication and no there will not even be an option for pain medication. Please, pick your mouths up off the floor. We are using many other natural techniques, the main one being hypnobirthing. Pregnant women are warriors, not wimps.

Don't freak out! There's a lot of fear and misinformation about homebirths but it is not my job to educate or convince anyone. I am in love with my decision and that's what matters.

And as I say to all moms-to-be, I don't care what you do. Just do what feels right for you and your baby. There are gonna be a ton of decisions to make in the future about your child and there will always be lovers and haters along the way, but stick to your guns and feel free to tell the haters to shut it.

As I like to say when someone opens their mouth to give me their point-of-view of my life:
Your opinion of me is none of my business.

Guilty pleasure: pregnancy after IVF

After I spent years trying to conceive, going through every fertility option under the sun, and finally succeeding after the long and stressful process of IVF- because that's how bad I wanted a baby- pregnancy has become a guilty pleasure.

The pleasures are typical and beautiful: the sound of the heartbeat, my growing belly, the first flutters of movement inside me, the ultrasound photos, the maternity clothes (at least, for the first few months, before I became a swollen hippo), the extra calories (in cookies and cakes), and so on.

But what I didn't expect was the guilt over the displeasures of pregnancy.

Every book says it's normal to have anxieties when pregnant, which vary from worrying about losing my old life, being a good mother, never having fun again, losing my figure forever, losing my freedom, etc...

But I went through IVF. I wanted this baby really, really, really bad! And I better be grateful at every moment.

Ha! Inner B* has one thing to say about that, Pregnant mommas who have struggled (and those who haven't) YOU ARE ALLOWED TO HAVE ANXIETIES, TO HAVE DOUBTS, TO FEAR WHAT'S AHEAD!

Yes, I struggle with anxieties and there are days I want this pregnancy to disappear, and I want my body back, and I want to go to a bar and get plastered with my girlfriends, and take a spontaneous trip around the world and do bad things.

But what keeps me hanging on is that deep down I know this baby will be the greatest thing that has ever happened in my life. And I will love her with a fierceness I have never known. And it will all be worth it.

And just because I went through so much to get here, doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be a human being, and have my OMFG! moments about impending motherhood. All it means is I am experiencing exactly what every other pregnant woman has ever felt, whether she got knocked up on the first try or the hundredth try while laying on a doctor's table, watching her baby being placed gently into her uterus.

So there!

--

*Inner B is my subconscious- she's not shy to say how it is, good or bad, right or wrong.

Would you like a side of dis-ease with your pregnancy?

About three months after I learned I was pregnant my husband and I began spending a lot of time in hospitals. Not for me but for him. 

Though I am an open book when it comes to my own struggles forgive me if I am vague when discussing my husband's recent diagnosis. It is out of respect for his own privacy and journey. He doesn't mind talking about it but he's a man and Australian, which means he's more private when it comes to his own life.

That being said, I will share my own experiences of being pregnant and dealing with a husband who is 'sick'.  I put that word in quotations because through all of this he has never felt sick or looked sick (except after certain treatments). And we do not like to think of him as being sick, only that life has given us a wake-up call to live each moment to it's fullest and to make some changes so that we will both live a long, healthy life. 

As I re-read that last paragraph, Inner B* is rolling her eyes, thinking how sickeningly optimistic I sound but for once I need to bitch-slap her because this is truly how we both have approached this time in our lives. 

We've learned that the only way to live with genuine positivity is to stay in the moment and take it one step at a time. If we ever stop and think, "what if..." we are doomed. The "what ifs" will kill you before any disease.

And so, at three months pregnant, I sat in the family waiting room during my hubby's procedure that would confirm what we already feared. 

The saddest part about being in that waiting room was seeing the families. Because many of the families are waiting to hear news on their young child. I'm sitting there, my stomach just beginning to show signs of the life growing inside me, and I am surrounded by mothers and fathers living out their worst nightmare. And I was thankful. Thankful that it was my husband and not my child who was in the other room. Having this situation thrust upon my hubby and me is bad enough, but I know (without knowing) that a sick child is the scariest moment of a mother's life. And every subsequent moment that I have spent in that waiting room I have felt the same way.  

After the procedure we had to wait several long days before the results. 

The worst moment is the one you see depicted again and again in movies, books, and TV shows. It's the moment you sit in the little room and hear the diagnosis. It is surreal. And you never know how you'll react (I cried, hubby began to sweat profusely) but it wasn't the worst diagnosis it could have been and there were lots of relatively painless options to stop it in its tracks. The worst part is being told the "what ifs...". We listened and then put those damned "what ifs" in our subconscious, and stayed focused on the good news. It is treatable.

Several weeks later, I stood next to my hubby as he received a round of treatment. I was repeating to him like a mantra "breath... relax... wiggle your toes... breath... relax... wiggle your toes..." and we began laughing, because we knew the tables would turn in a few months, and he'll be the one standing by my head saying these same words. And I hope I remember how helpless I felt next to him, watching his face squish in pain but knowing there was nothing I could do but be there for him. 

God help him if I don't remember! But I have a feeling he'll be happy to remind me.
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*Inner B is my subconscious- she's not shy to say how it is, good or bad, right or wrong.

I have become that girl

I always said I would be that dainty pregnant woman, wearing cute clothes, eating healthy salads, and keeping my legs where they are meant to be-inches apart instead of spread as wide as the grand canyon.

After a week of holiday binging (er... make that two weeks), I found myself sitting at the classy Miller Lite Victory Lane bar at the C gates in Atlanta's Hartsfeild Airport my legs spread from here to LA, a pregnancy book in one hand, greasy wings smothered in blue cheese in the other, and my belly protruding proudly.

Sometimes you just gotta say f*ck it.

Baby showers & booze

This weekend I had my baby shower, filled with lots of friends, lots of fun, and yes, lots of presents.

A friend of mine asked me if I served alcohol at the shower. I did. I served champagne and mimosas. I guess there are some girls who won’t serve booze because if they can’t have some, then no one can.

Wow. That shocks me. I mean, if it was against my religion or something, I can understand it. But to deny your guests just because you’re not drinking? That’s just not copacetic.

party favor 

Baby showers aren’t fun for everyone. I know. Not too long ago a baby shower meant heartbreak for me. And baby showers aren’t just hard on fertility-challenged women but some single gals, too.  It’s not all about me. No, not even my own baby shower. And I will not deny my guests just because I’m not drinking.

If you don’t have kids (and even if you do), it’s only fun for so long to listen to conversations about nipple pads, dirty diapers, and all things motherhood.

In fact, I was originally going to incorporate a drinking baby shower game (baby bottles filled with beer- whoever chugs the fastest wins!) but in the end I went with baby bingo. And a nursery rhyme game. And a game of old wives tales. And… oh, wow, those sound so lame as I write them down… maybe I should of done the drinking game!  

All in all, the shower was wonderful (thanks momma!!) and I was surrounded by my loving friends and family and that’s what matters. But I have not forgotten where I was only seven months ago. Struggling to conceive. 

I have not forgotten you ladies, those who are still trying. Those who feel heartbroken and lost and frustrated, not knowing if it will ever be you.

And I will always be there for you with a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, and a bottle of champagne to pop your misery into. 

That Depends

A ninety-year-old lady has taken over my body!

I waddle when I walk.

My back aches.

I wake up and pee all through the night.

I groan when I stand-up.

I cart a back pillow around where ever I go. 

And the other day, I sneezed and peed myself a little. 

Sex and sugar

The number one question I’m asked by women regarding pregnancy is: What food do I crave?

And the answer is sugar!  Or at least it was before I found the cure for my sugar cravings.

Before pregnancy I’d honed my eating habits so that I craved mainly healthy foods. I did not deprive myself of the sugary good stuff but my only true cravings for it were when I was bored, PMSing, or pumpkin pie came within my sight line.

I was not happy about my new cravings because I did not want to become a big, fat heifer and form a new habit that would be near impossible to break once a baby came into the picture, so I consulted my doctor, midwife, and acupuncturist and they all said the same thing, my body needs energy and it needs it now!

My body isn’t stupid. It wants instant gratification and sugar gives me energy, fast!

The cure: protein.

I added protein into most meals and the sugar cravings disappeared (b/c the energy in protein will sustain me longer and I'll no longer need a quick energy boost). Woohoo! That doesn’t mean I never, ever crave sugar! So don’t crucify me if you see my scarfing down a triple fudge brownie sundae. I’m still a pregnant woman with hormones running through every pore of my body.

A peek behind the curtain

The number one question men ask me about pregnancy: how often do hubby and I have sex?

Yes, men are very curious to know about pregnant women and sex. I should mention the men that ask this question are not parents.  So let’s talk about sex.

Yes, we have sex. No, not as often as we did before pregnancy.

The first trimester was a bit dry because of the fertility medicine I was on (progesterone). That stuff is nasty. I won’t go into details but let’s just say no woman would want her man traveling below the border when on this stuff. But that doesn’t mean the well was dry. There were other ways to satisfy.

During the second trimester, most books say pregnant women become sex machines. They just can't get enough. I experienced an increase but nothing too crazy. My sex drive was pretty damn good before pregnancy so I'm not complaining. It basically stayed the same.

But I ain’t gonna lie. The growing belly gets in the way and doesn't exactly scream sexy. The whole feeling like a mother while trying to be a sex kitten can be a buzz kill. That's when a copy of The Joy of Pregnant Sex comes in handy (yes, this book does exist). 

I have no idea how my husband really feels about my changing body (except the boobs. He loves that the girls are blowing up!) but he’s a man, so I feel secure in saying that he’s just happy to get some.

The most interesting question I had put forth to me regarding sex was from one of my husband’s good friends, who asked, “I hear pregnant women are really horny and want to jump all their husband’s friends. Is that true?”

To which I answered, “Only the ones I wanted to jump before I was pregnant.”