Celebrating the Mother in Motherhood

Ahh. My baby just turned 6 months old. Before we do the whole, “Time slow down!” and, “Stay little forever!” thing, I have to push pause. This is about me.

What?! About you? You have a baby now – how can you be so selfish?
Chill, ya’ll. I’m allowed to have this.

Bottles, Breasts, and Babies

I am good at breastfeeding. It is easy for me. It is my favorite part about motherhood. I have become a die hard lactivist. August 1st starts World Breastfeeding Week and I am pumped (pun intended). Everywhere I look I see articles and research and pics – oh my! Breastfeeding fascinates me.

When I was pregnant, breastfeeding was the topic I was most anxious about. We were so prepared for the birth of our girl but despite a breastfeeding class, I did not feel even slightly ready once baby got here. I’d seen my sister nurse a few times but that was pretty much the extent of my knowledge.

Kensington’s Birth Story

Birth is such a messy, hard, glorious miracle. There are no words that can capture the pain and joy experienced. Each birth is unpredictable and unique. No birth is greater than another.

It’s been four months and I’m not over her birth. I don’t expect to be over it in 4 more months, 4 years or by the time she has kids. It is the single greatest thing I have ever done.

3 Strangers Who Changed My Birth

Birth is an intimate thing – if not THE most intimate thing. It’s the same body parts, same noises, same hormones used for sex. Your life will be forever changed by the process and the result of this chain of events.

When I got pregnant, I knew some of these things. I assumed I’d be spread eagle on a bed surrounded by very few people. I assumed I’d get an epidural and pop out a perfect, little babe. I assumed I’d listen to the doctors and nurses when they told me what to do. There would be sweating and yelling and water breaking everywhere (oh, the movies).

I never thought about a different kind of birth. It wasn’t a topic of conversation for us. But as my pregnancy progressed and my body continued to change, it forced me to think about this intimate, life changing moment.

Brag About Your Birth

I started writing this blog after the birth of our daughter, Kensington. The birth of my motherhood. It’s a day I can not wait to write about. But before I write about that day, I feel like I have to preface it. Which is a shame, but it is what it is. This might get a little feisty.

I had an unmedicated water birth. Any eye rolls? Anyone tempted to stop reading altogether? I feel ya. People are so annoying about, well, just about everything these days. If you are not interested, no hard feelings – but there’s a point to be made here about all kinds of births.

Since I Can’t Be a SAHM

This week was better for two reasons. The first being that I no longer pump (cue the hallelujah chorus – I’ll get to this subject soon). The second reason is we found a nanny. Not only did we find a nanny, but we found a great one.

When I discovered it was nearly impossible to balance my at home full time job and take care of Kensington, I reluctantly went searching for help. We decided against out of home child care for many reasons but one of the most prominent being that Kensie won’t take a bottle. She needed to be close to me for feedings.

I wrestled with the process for the longest time. I badly wanted to make it work but my marketing job is too demanding. I was trying to please her and keep my head above water professionally, and both my parenting and workload were suffering.

Some Weeks Reek

This week has been rough. To start, I returned to work after maternity leave (a reason enough to write off a whole week as being rough). In addition, my child gave a whole new definition to the term “blow out” at the doctor’s office (If you follow me on Instagram, you saw the war zone; my pants, the table, the doctor – no one was safe). We were there in the first place for her excessive, volcanic acid reflux. So if you’re keeping track at home, that is both ends expelling bodily fluids rapidly and violently while I try to leave her for long periods of time. Like I said, it’s been a rough week.

Father’s Day is two days away and other than this and this, I haven’t gotten an actual present. The old me would have had this bought months ago, carefully planned and primed in advance.

Ah, the old me. The one who smelled good. The one who went for runs and took naps. The one who could sit on the toilet without a child in her lap. The old me, who last year during this exact week, found out she was pregnant.

My Dad’s Not-So-Subtle Reminder

I grew up in a house with parents kissing each other in the kitchen and tickling each other on the couch. Gross, right? Wrong. The gross part is after one of us four girls asked them to get a room, my dad said firmly (every. single. time.), “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here.”

Yes, “That’s what she said” jokes fly at family dinners and we may have watched one or two movies we shouldn’t have when we were younger, but nothing beats your own dad reminding you that it wasn’t a stork that dropped you off.

A Better Father’s Day Gift

My husband gave me a massage for Mother’s Day and I finally got it this week. I left the baby alone with him for the first time ever. I think it took me the first 55 minutes of my massage to relax.

You see, my husband had never changed a diaper when we had our girl. We are both the youngest in our families and although we have nine nieces and nephews, we are far from being described as kid people.

The Only Advice to Give Moms-to-Be

You know how it goes: get pregnant, get advice. Bad advice, outdated advice, weird advice.

You MUST know how to swaddle well. My baby acts like you are wrapping her in thorns. Never been swaddled a day in her life.

Make sure you read to her for an hour a day. Her whole library takes approximately 8 minutes to read. Now what?