MOMMY MUST-HAVES!

Have I mentioned I love making lists? Well, I'll say it again. I love making lists. They calm me down and bring order to my little piece of the world. Amidst the chaos of yesterday, I started writing a list in my head, as I tend to do under stress. I'm sure I would be much better off were my stress-relief some form of physical exercise, but alas, list-making it is...

I posted this question to friends shortly before Addison was born: "What was something that you REALLY used when you first had your baby?" I didn't want to register for things that we would either take back right away or kick ourselves for keeping later. 5 months into being a mommy, I have a pretty good idea about all that. I'm not going to include obvious things like diapers or car seats, but here are a few things I was extra thankful for or wished I'd had from the start...

TOP 5 MUST-HAVES FOR MOMMIES

1. A BASSINET. We didn't even register for one. After all, we had an adorable crib with custom-made bedding from my ridiculously talented friend Lori. Why would she sleep in anything else? Erik's intuitive mother got us one despite our ignorance. Well, after a month of sleeping on mommy or daddy's chest, a bassinet in the bedroom was the next best thing. We would push that soothing vibration button and she would be out like a light. And mommy slept a little easier too.

Our 5-in-1"Sleep System"

2. A SWING. I'm not talking about those cutesy little cradle swings that move gently from side to side...the ones that cost an arm and a leg. We started out with a Mamaroo, which is pretty much the coolest swing on the planet, and we gave ourselves mental pats on the back for finding a deal on Craigslist. Addison hated it from the beginning. No, instead she prefers the old fashioned ones...you know, the ones that swing you so high you ALMOST complete some sort of death-defying 360 degree loop? (Something I was terrified would happen to me while swinging on the playground). Yup, that's her. The faster and higher the better. This is something we still use and we wish we had had from Day One. Sometimes new technology ISN'T better.

Our magical Graco swing!

3. A BOTTLE WARMER. I know so many women out there use microwaves to quickly heat Baby's bottles. I'm not judging; I'm sure thousands of moms have done the same for theirs. But ever since I saw that supposed study on how microwaved water killed plants, I just can't bring myself to do it (even if the reporting websites completely lack credibility). It sounds just scary enough to be true. In a mere 4 minutes and 17 seconds, Addison's 6 oz. bottle is the perfect temperature. Dr. Brown's bottle warmer = $40. Peace of mind that my baby is most definitely not drinking toxic, plant-killing formula = priceless. Caveat: As one of my super-smart friends posted in the comments below, the plant killing experiment was not able to be replicated; I admitted as much above (see "supposed study" and "websites completely lack credibility"). Your microwaved bottles are most certainly safe. Probably...

We love our Dr. Brown's bottle warmer! 

4. SWADDLERS. For all you moms of sweet, dainty little girls and calm, happy little boys, soft swaddling blankets or even cute little gowns might be sufficient. For Addison, we required something resembling more of a baby straitjacket. It had industrial strength Velcro and a pocket for the legs. The first night we used one was the first night she slept through the night in her bassinet. We were ready to buy out Target's stock. Unfortunately, since our baby is part Hulk and part Houdini, even those failed to restrain her for long, but they were great while they lasted.

Our industrial strength swaddling blankets...

5. ONESIES WITH MITTEN CUFFS. From the moment Addison was born, her fingernails grew at an alarming rate. She used them to claw her face, poke her eyes, and stab us, her loving parents. She especially liked to wield her weapons while she was sleeping, ensuring that she would scream bloody murder and wake herself, and everyone else in the house, up. These little suckers put an end to all of that. We were actually starting to worry that we would delay some sort of sensory learning because she wore them so much. It was the only way we could keep her poor face scar free. For awhile I was actually thinking that we would have to have some specially made in toddler size!

Our saving grace onesies!

Honorable Mentions: A Comfy Glider/Rocker, Tuck's Pads, Mommy-sized Sweatpants, WubbaNub Pacifiers, and the NoseFrida Nasal Aspirator

I would love to hear below what YOU couldn't live without as a first time mom! Maybe together we can save someone money...or help them spend more!!  

I Hope...

I had fully intended to sit down tonight and write a relatively light-hearted blog this evening detailing Addison's second month. In light of today's news however, my mind is somewhere else tonight.

I still remember April 19, 1995. I was in 8th grade. I don't remember exactly how I found out about the Murrah Building bombing. All around me I saw taut faces, hidden tears, kids being picked up from school early. I knew something bad had happened. But I'm still not sure that at the age of 13, I fully grasped the gravity of it all. Even as I visited the fence covered with mementos and stared past it to what was left of the Murrah Building, my innocence somehow stayed in tact, my mind unable to connect the horror before me with a person's capacity for evil. It sounds crazy, but when I saw that fence and the love and support it represented, the first word that came to my mind was hope.

At the age of 20, when the World Trade Center tragedy (that seems too light a word) struck, I wasn't quite so naive. My mom woke me up with a phone call and told me to turn on the news. I sat there for hours staring at the television, the coverage both enraging me and numbing me all at once. Although I didn't understand the lasting ramifications for our country that day, I felt unsafe, terrified that someone could think they were doing the right thing, furthering a cause by taking the lives of so many. Whatever shred of innocence I may have had left disappeared that day.

More recently, as a new mom, the shootings in Aurora and Newtown have affected me in a different way. I am no longer scared for myself. I cradle my daughter in my arms and I am terrified beyond words at what her future will be like. I shudder to think that instead of a future inevitable act of terrorism being a major event in history and in her life, it will most likely be as commonplace as a car accident. I cannot bear the thought of my beautiful little girl and her entire generation growing up either too frightened to step outside of their houses or so angry they probably shouldn't.

Today, as I sat and gaped at the coverage of the Boston Marathon bombings, I was taken back to that day so many years ago - the day that my innocence shielded me from what people are really capable of, the reality that safety is most often just an illusion. My heart is broken for the children who just lost their innocence forever, for the families that went to cheer someone on, their hearts full of pride, only to end up crying in the streets, and for the pain of rebuilding lives that so many will have to endure. It also breaks for Addison. This is the world that she is going to grow up in. While I feel helpless to change it, I pray that somehow, some way, we can help her hold onto her childhood as long as possible. That we can make her understand but not be afraid. And if we do our jobs, maybe someday she will find the hope in the darkness just like I did so many years ago, but instead she will hold onto it, using it to make a difference. Maybe even change the world. Oh, how I hope...

Mommy Musings - Month 1

It's a good thing I didn't publicize any resolutions or themes for this year, because blogging more often would have definitely been on the list. Whoops! As all moms know, free time is at a premium and mine is mainly spent cleaning or playing with Baby Girl. Even now Addison sits on my lap, cheering me on with her squeals and baby talk. I am going to try to make my "Mommy Musings" a "thing"... a monthly update on Addison, mommyhood, and our life in general. This one will center around Addison's first month of life...I have a lot of catching up to do!

Month 1: Our first month as a family of three wasn't quite the fairytale I had imagined. I spent virtually all of my time while I was pregnant worrying about the act of labor itself. I figured motherhood would come naturally and as crazy as it sounds, I barely gave it a second thought. After all, I had waited three years for this miracle; surely I would bond to her immediately. They did put Addison on my chest as soon as she was born, but she was having a little trouble breathing so they took her very quickly; I barely caught a glimpse of her. They whisked her away for a very long time, and honestly, I was so exhausted that I barely protested. I had been up for about 36 hours at that point and I was borderline delirious. Several hours later, when she started screaming inconsolably, I couldn't help but feel slightly relieved when the nurse took her away. The only thing on my mind was sleep, and there was little room for gult.

Once we got her home, the constant screaming continued. She had trouble nursing and was jaundiced, so we had to supplement with formula to ensure she was getting enough to eat. She rarely slept at night, preferring to nap exclusively during the day, and even then only giving in to sleep when she was wrapped up in the arms of her mommy or daddy. Erik and I took turns staying up all night so that we weren't complete zombies. We saved all of our energy for Addison and left nothing for each other or ourselves. I couldn't help but wonder what we had gotten ourselves into.

I can remember one night in particular in which I came into the bedroom where Erik was sleeping at about 3:30AM. I was crying hysterically and Addison was screaming in my arms. I had tried EVERYTHING, and at that point she had been screaming in my face for around 4 hours straight. I felt like a failure, a lunatic, and a sleep-deprived time bomb all in one. He jumped out of bed, let me crawl into it, and took over for the rest of the night. I felt a new respect for single moms at that moment; I don't know how I could have done it without Erik's help.

I had another breakdown about the time I finally worked up the courage to look at myself unclothed in the mirror. I remember telling Erik at that moment that my body was "ruined." Up until then I had been wearing baggy sweats like a security blanket. All throughout my pregnancy I saw different magazines touting celebrities going from due date to physically fit in mere weeks. I was honestly shocked that after almost a month, my body looked nothing like theirs... never mind their stylists, personal trainers, nutritionists, chefs, nannies, and plastic surgeons.

Of course there were beautiful moments interlaced throughout each day. Staring at the beauty of Addison's angelic, sleeping face. Breathing in her sweet scent as I held her in my arms. Gazing into her big blue eyes. Those times helped me remember to relish her first month, to recognize that she would be walking and talking in the blink of an eye.

I'm still not sure why I was so unprepared for the intensity of that first month as a first-time mom. Sure, we had heard that we would have a lack of sleep. I had been told that I would be in a lot of pain those first few days months after giving birth. Those things were true, but it was so much more. I know we weren't alone in our difficulty, because once we revealed our experiences to close friends, we could swap similar stories for hours. Honestly, I think the truly hard parts just aren't talked about, unless you google "hysterical, hormonal, sleep-deprived mom of newborn" (which I may or may not have done). Is the difficulty kept quiet due to the fear of sounding ungrateful for the blessing of a child? Is it the worry of being thought of as a bad mom? I feel a little of both, but I also feel the responsibility to tell other women it's normal! It doesn't necessarily mean you have post-partum depression or a colicky baby. Babies scream, parents get tired, and moms are hormonal. And even though it may not subside quickly, it will pass. I promise. And when it does, you'll be happier than you ever thought possible.

Addison at one month approving of the bookcase Daddy built her. 

The Doula Experience: Love It or Leave It?

What exactly is a doula? I heard that question several times when I announced we were going to use one for Addison's birth. Since doulas are not as prevalent here in OK as in other parts of the country, most people I talked to were not familiar with the term. (One of my friends sheepishly admitted later that she thought a doula was some new, hip baby toy). A doula, in short, is a labor coach. They are there to provide encouragement and support for the weeks leading up to the pregnancy and the birth itself. They can also be an intermediary between you and your doctor should he recommend something you don't want but are too frazzled to fight against. They usually specialize in one or two extra things as well, such as massage, placenta encapsulation, or even belly casting.

Because I am a procrastinator by nature, I waited until a couple of months before the birth to start looking for a doula. I found my options limited, but diligently looked over each doula's page anyway, weighed their pros and cons, and contacted one to interview.

I should have seen it coming. When we first sat down to ask the doula questions, I knew she wasn't a good fit. I knew I wanted someone extremely calm in the delivery room with me - a quiet, strong presence. She was too talkative and loud, very nervous, and not at all experienced. However, I am not good at saying no, so when it came time to tell her "We'll be in touch," knowing we wouldn't be, I instead found myself saying, "Where do I sign our contract?" as Erik looked at me in horror.

Over the next several weeks, I tried to look at the bright side. Her inexperience would hopefully mean that she was a little more eager and devoted to me and to getting things right, as she needed my delivery for her certification. I chalked our first meeting up to nerves, and tried not to dwell on it. She did contact me several times via text to check on me, which I appreciated. I was the ideal preggo, never calling to bother her or ask her questions. I did not speak with her again until the night I was ready to deliver.

When I called her a little after midnight to tell her my water had broken and we were headed to the hospital, she was somewhat surprised, I think, as we had planned to labor at home for awhile. She took it all in stride, however, and agreed to meet us at the hospital as soon as she could. The first hour or so was fine as she walked with me through the halls, encouraged me to listen to my music, and rubbed my back for a few minutes. When she fell asleep on the couch as Erik was helping me through a contraction though, I started to see the writing on the wall.

The initial reason I chose her for an interview out of everyone else was that her doula profile said she did lots of different massage techniques to ease the "discomfort" of delivery. Once the pain really kicked in, however, she became invisible, not getting off of the couch except to take a smoke break. No encouragement, no massages, nothing. My nurse and Erik were the ones championing me through it all, telling me I could do it. I did not hear a word from her through the 4 hours of really hard, pitocin-driven labor.

After the birth, we talked a little bit when I was coherent enough to realize she was STILL in the room. (We're talking HOURS)!! She told me that at one point, she had looked at Erik and said, "She's done," meaning I was about to cave and ask for the epidural. Can you imagine if I had heard that while I was laboring?! Knowing that the person you hired to coach you through your birthing experience not only didn't help you in that moment, but didn't even believe in you? That's disheartening to say the least.

Personally, I would not call a doula again were I going to have another baby, although I know that good ones are out there. All I can say is that IF you are thinking of hiring a doula, don't do what I did. Don't try to help someone who needs their certification if you don't think they're a good fit. Don't hire someone because they're a friend of a friend. And DON'T hire someone because you feel bad saying no. I think my experience could have been much more amazing had I gone with my gut and done just that. It wasn't all bad though. Somewhere between the moment our doula fell asleep and the moment I held Addison in my arms for the first time, I found my inner strength, and it turns out I didn't need a virtual stranger to help me do it.

The Satisfaction Acquisition

Wow!! The first month of 2013 is already drawing to a close! Last January I wrote a blog that talked about choosing a year-long "theme" instead of making a list of resolutions that I knew I wouldn't keep. My 2012 theme (2013's will be a later post) was to work on being satisfied in each major area of my life. As I looked back over the list today, I was awestruck at how God has worked in me over the last year, helping me to be more satisfied than ever. During my reflection on His goodness, I came upon this particular excerpt, and reading it STILL gives me chills.  

SATISFACTION IN MY "BABYLESS" SITUATION

Yes, we remain without child. DHS has had a big hand in that, because they never put us onto their adoption list! For six months we've been patiently and prayerfully waiting...all the while not being advocated for at all! I'm thinking God must have something truly amazing and miraculous in store for us because we've just been through too much. It almost makes me laugh (if only to keep from crying). Everytime another roadblock comes up, I just shake my head and look up...He has a plan. Meanwhile, I have learned to really and truly find satisfaction in my time (and our time) alone. I think I have to be satisfied with the silence before I am blessed with the noise.

When I wrote that, I had spent the previous three years questioning Him, pleading with Him, ignoring Him, and crying out to Him in anguish. I can remember days when I could barely get out of bed. Days when crying probably burned more calories than a marathon…those painful, screaming sobs that seem to rip right out of your chest, taking pieces of your heart with them. I can remember the anger burning in my eyes and spilling onto those closest to me, and eventually the bitterness dulling its edge. I remember days when I fought to the surface of normalcy, fought against the negative, and days when my hard heart pulled me under like an anchor. And I remember writing those words above when I was filled with hope, ready to surrender to the uncertainty of His plan.

Less than a month after that post, I was pregnant. And just a few short weeks later I was holding a positive test in my hand. It turns out God did have something truly amazing and miraculous in store for us…I sit holding her in my arms right now.

It's Okay!

I love lists. Grocery lists, to-do lists, packing lists - I like making them in my head, writing them down, checking them off. Sometimes I even add things to my to-do lists that I know I’m about to finish, just to have the satisfaction of marking through them. There’s just something about visually seeing all you’ve accomplished. I also enjoy other people’s lists. David Letterman’s Top Ten used to be a nightly favorite when I could stay awake that late. ESPN’s Power Rankings are something I look forward to every week during basketball season. Lists provide humor and wisdom in a short, concise format that I appreciate. One of the lists I love the most is the "Hey, it's okay..." list in Glamour magazine. I love thinking, "Someone else does/thinks that? I'm not crazy after all!" Below is my own post-pregnancy list. Enjoy!

HEY, IT'S OKAY...

To spend an entire day of maternity leave in your pajamas. Or five. 

To be secretly disappointed that your stomach didn't return to it's pre-pregnancy state immediately following delivery.

For your Christmas wish list to consist of one word...SLEEP. 

To realize at about 11:00PM that the only thing you've accomplished that day is memorizing your baby's face as you watch her sleep. 

To have not the slightest clue as to what day, week, or even month it is at any given moment. 

To discover that you only need about half of the things you registered for and a lot more of the things you didn't. 

To force a bow on her head any time you leave the house. Who knows where those "Gerber Baby" scouts may be lurking!?

To have an inexplicable, sudden need for an SUV to transport your giant family of 3.

To stare at her adoringly while she's sleeping in her crib, then duck down at the slightest indication that she's waking up.

To dread going back to work more every day, even if you love your job.

For your phone background to change from your puppy to your baby right away. And your screensaver. And your profile picture. And your...

To consider a day that includes showering, fixing your hair, putting on makeup, and wearing actual shoes a success.

To realize that you've found your life's purpose wrapped in God's tiny miracle. And for you to be wrapped around that tiny miracle's finger already. :-)

A Baby Story

I can't believe it has been 3 1/2 weeks since I met my precious baby girl. I can't believe that I have failed to blog about this blessed news for 3 1/2 weeks either! One thing I've found out rather quickly: motherhood (or should I say sleep deprivation) makes you lose all sense of time and reason in those first few weeks. Nevertheless, she is HERE. I have had several women that have never had a baby ask me for the REAL story of birth. Not the "Oh, you forget it all the minute you see her," or the "It's not that bad once you get the drugs." I'm going to tell it like it is for those women, the ones that are where I was a few weeks ago...anxious, uncertain, and terrified of the unknown. (If REAL grosses you out, please feel free to stop reading here and just scroll down to her cute picture)! Thankfully, this story has a happy ending...

12:10AM November 19th.
I woke up to go to the bathroom for the millionth time (nothing new there), but this time it was a little different. There was clear liquid running down my leg. I knew immediately that it was time. I calmly woke up Erik and told him that I thought my water had broken, then called my doula (I will write another blog about the doula experience later). I had planned to labor at home for as long as possible, but for some reason as soon as that happened I wanted to go to the hospital. I wanted to know how far along I was after being stuck at a 0 for weeks and weeks. I had this crazy notion that I was going to be at a 5 or 6 when we got there. Little did I know...

1:30AM
 We arrived after packing our bags and taking care of the pooches. They put me into a gown, checked me (I was a fingertip), and I started walking up and down the halls. At this point the contractions were very manageable, probably 5 minutes apart and 30 seconds long. My doula walked with me and we talked, occasionally stopping to breathe through a particularly bad one. After I tired of walking we tried lots of different positions. I even tried to sleep! The worst part was having to be still while they monitored me for 20 minutes every hour when moving around felt so much better. When I figured out how much a warm shower helped, they had to DRAG me out of it to be monitored. I felt very in control of my body and the pain during those long hours. I just knew that at my next check I would be an 8 and ready to have her. I would stun everyone with my practically effortless, in control labor.

8:00AM
Dr. Wonka came in to check me. He delivered the reality check...I was a ONE. A freaking ONE! I immediately started to tear up because I knew that he would make me start pitocin. If you aren't progressing, they make you do this because you have to have your baby within 24 hours of your water breaking. All I had heard was that once you start pitocin, you HAVE to have an epidural due to the pain. Even now I cannot tell you why I was so against having one. I'm not really scared of needles or anything. I guess I had just heard so many horror stories about epidurals gone wrong, and nothing but benefits from NOT having one, that I just didn't want one.

8:30AM
They started the pitocin drip. Once they do that, you have to be monitored at all times which means you can no longer walk around. This made controlling the pain much harder. The contractions immediately got worse. They were more intense and closer together. I started crying and wallowing all over the bed, trying to escape the pain somehow. It's amazing how fast pride leaves you during labor. I had no shame at this point.

11:00AM
By this time I was completely out of my mind. The pain from the ever-increasing pitocin dosage had taken over everything. I was loud and hard to keep still. I'm sure the nurse wanted to request a different patient, preferably one who was sleeping. The contractions were coming so close together that I could NOT get any rest. All I wanted to do was close my eyes for just a few minutes. It was around this time when the nurse informed me that I was a 4-5. I started to really cry then. I had been laboring for almost 12 hours and I was only a 4!!! I was starting to give up. I wanted the drugs. Just as I was praying to God for strength, there was a huge gush. This was my water breaking FOR REAL. Evidently, before it had only been a leak from a small tear in the sac. I immediately started throwing up and the pain started changing to more of an intense pressure. The nurse checked me again and I was a 7. I told her that I felt like pushing. She looked extremely alarmed and told me NOT to push. That at only a 7 I could do some serious damage if I did. I was confused...my body was telling me to push! I concentrated for the next hour or so on NOT pushing.

12:00PM
Finally, I looked at the nurse with crazy, bleary eyes and screamed, "SHE IS COMING!!" I couldn't stop pushing and I knew that the nurse was wrong! She checked me and immediately called Dr. Wonka because I was a 10! I had to again wait to push until he got there. This was one of the hardest parts of the whole labor. It goes against every instinct and it is quite painful to defy nature. When he finally got there, I was ready! I could feel EVERYTHING. I was not numbed, drugged, or deadened in any way. It was the most excruciating, liberating pain I have ever felt. I wanted to meet her! I wanted the pain to stop! Those two thoughts alternated in my head as I pushed. For the next 20 minutes, I was the woman in the movies who you can hear screaming down the hall. The one who makes other moms-to-be cross their legs and will their babies to stay inside...yup. That was me. At 12:38PM our little Addison Claire was born. 

That one sentence ends the story in the happiest way imaginable. She was healthy, weighing 7 pounds and  7 ounces, measuring 22 1/2 inches, and filling her mom's heart. Her arrival did NOT make me forget the pain. I remember every second of it (obviously). But I survived the pain. And to anyone out there wondering if they can labor without pain medicine (especially while on pitocin)...if I can do it, trust me, so can you. Just concentrate on the ending to YOUR story.