Monday, August 17, 2015

The First. The Second. Then Our Rainbow Baby

My favorite family picture.
I've been meaning to write about my miscarriages for such a long time now. I'm not sure what was holding me back, but I do know that I want to share my experience because reading about other women's miscarriages helped me get through mine. I hope that my words will help others in the same way.

My husband and I decided we were ready to become parents in November of 2012. I knew very little about the science behind getting pregnant. We had spent most of our early adulthood fearing an accidental pregnancy that it seemed silly to fear infertility. I went off the pill. We were both healthy young adults. That should have been enough, right?


The First

On a whim, I took a pregnancy test in February 2013. It was 2am, and through my blurry eyes I saw a pink line grow darker and darker. I thought about all the clever ways I would tell Hubby. Instead, I just ran into the bedroom and shouted, "I'm pregnant! You're going to be a dad!" He woke up panicked, thinking that the house was on fire. We exchanged a quick embrace and kiss and fell back asleep. I couldn't believe that we had gotten pregnant so quickly.

I went to my doctor's office the next day during my lunch break to confirm the pregnancy. This would be the first of numerous times I would have to pee in a cup. I received a phone call with my test results that afternoon. The nurse stated that the test was negative, but to not worry as it was most likely due to the fact that my hormone levels were still low, especially in the middle of the day. She recommended that I return a week later and go in the morning.

I took several more pregnancy tests the following days at home to confirm what my body was already telling me. At this point, my period was already 17 days late. My chest was so sore that I could barely wear a t-shirt. I needed to pee every two hours and my appetite was out of control. After dinner every night, my stomach extended because of extra bloating. I downloaded a pregnancy app on my phone and started a Pinterest board titled "For Future Little One" that included pins of nursery color schemes and parenting techniques. I had no concerns and was excited to finally get it on record that I was pregnant so that I could schedule an ultrasound.

The urine test came back negative again. They decided that perhaps a blood test would be more accurate. I went back to work and waited hours to hear the results. Yet another negative result. I ran into my friend's office and sank on the floor in tears. She was kind enough to call another clinic to find out if I could be tested again as she had heard before of pregnant women with false negatives. I stayed at work, thinking that there was still hope. Shortly after, I went to the bathroom and saw blood.

On the way home, I called my husband in tears to tell him that I had lost the baby. I crawled into bed and stayed there the rest of the day with Bella. Hubby came home and held me for a bit before I finally fell asleep. I woke up in such pain. My body was disposing of what it no longer needed and it was excruciating.

I called the doctor's office the next morning. They directed me to the women's clinic on post where I miserably sat in a waiting room surrounded by glowing women with their growing bellies. Since my pregnancy was never documented officially, the doctor told me that it was just normal period blood and I did not have a miscarriage. Stunned, I asked him how it was possible that I had all the pregnancy symptoms and three positive home tests. He said that some women who have been trying to get pregnant for a long time may fake symptoms enough to have a hysterical pregnancy. He ended with, "We can't help you. This clinic is only for pregnant women, and you're not pregnant."

I left discouraged and confused. I made an appointment with another doctor so that I could receive some sort of explanation to my positive home pregnancy tests. This doctor, a woman, was more sympathetic and confirmed what I knew all along. I was pregnant. Something was wrong with the baby and my body let go.

My husband and I went shopping that weekend. He saw a book he wanted to buy for our future child. His response to my miscarriage was more hopeful. We had been able to get pregnant. That was the good news. I, however, was just angry at the world.


The Second.

I downloaded ovulation apps and period trackers on my phone. Trying to get pregnant consumed my life. Every month I would take a pregnancy test as soon as I could. Pregnancy symptoms and PMS symptoms are remarkably similar, which is a terrible mindf*ck. I had a pregnant patient come in the office with the same due date of what would have been mine. It was a struggle holding back my tears and act excited for her.

Finally, on November 1st, the test came back positive. I put a sign around Bella's neck saying that she was going to be a big sister the following July and sent her to my husband. He had just decided that he was leaving the Army. Our future was uncertain. We laughed at this less than perfect timing. We cried the happiest tears.

Two weeks later, I spotted a little bit of blood. We went to the Emergency Room to make sure that the baby was okay. After a three hour wait, I was finally taken back to get an ultrasound. The technician gave a short introduction: "My name is Veronica. Don't ask to see the screen. I can't show you anything. Don't ask any questions. I can't answer them." I hated her.

(Veronica ended up being one of my patients later on and she was the sweetest woman. She didn't remember me, but she told me how she hates that part of her job when she can't find a heartbeat and isn't able to comfort her patients. I was so excited to tell her later on when I was pregnant again.)

The doctor who spoke to me about my results was not any kinder. My cervix was still intact, but there was no heartbeat. "It's probably still too early. You're only six weeks pregnant. Everything looks fine. Come back for a follow up appointment tomorrow."

Little Miss gets hundreds of kisses a day.
My husband couldn't stay with me at the follow up appointment. It had been yet another three hour wait and he had to return to work. I sent him away, reassuring him that I would be just fine. Dr. Guidry came into the room with a solemn look. He explained to me that the pregnancy was most likely not viable as the gestational sac and yolk was not the proper size. That plus low HCG levels and the lack of a heartbeat meant that I needed to prepare for another miscarriage.

He wanted me to return in a week for another ultrasound and HCG count before we made any decisions. I let my coworkers and bosses know about the situation because I would no doubt be missing work. A week later, I was bleeding again. I called my boss to let him know that I would have to miss work again. He asked me if I found anyone to cover my job. I was losing my second baby. Work was not a concern for me at this point.

Before Dr. Guidry could even do an ultrasound, he let me know that "this was it." This was the miscarriage we had been waiting for. But wait! The sac had grown. There was still no heartbeat, but there was hope. He was amazed.

The following week, I started bleeding profusely at work. It was enough to saturate a pad. I was also cramping badly. It was a busy day and I didn't want to leave my coworkers so I asked around for Tylenol and answered a few phone calls with tears in my eyes. I eventually left the office after persuasion from my coworkers, but before I left a patient's mom stopped me and spoke to me about a fundraiser for her son. I had to act as if everything was perfectly fine.

I met my husband in the Emergency Room. At this point I was in agonizing pain that started from my lower back and wrapped around my stomach. Hours passed in the waiting room. They had to draw some blood from me and my terribly small veins were not giving a single drop. I was poked three times before they found a good vein. I was in tears.

The nurse tried to comfort me by saying, "I know it's a big needle, sweetie. You don't have to be scared."

Did she even look at my chart? I was losing my baby. It wasn't the needle. Please make her go away.

Four hours passed before I was taken back and seen by the doctor. She confirmed that I was having a miscarriage, prescribed me some pain medication, and sent us home with her apologies.

I remember asking my husband during the drive home how he could possibly believe in God after all that we had been through. He said that we were done trying. He couldn't see me in so much emotional and physical pain again.

I had a follow up appointment the next day. The young doctor asked me if I knew what was going on. I told her that I knew that my pregnancy was not viable.

"Oh. We're using big girl words," she replied pretentiously. I wanted to punch her in her stupid face.

I was prescribed Cytotec to induce the miscarriage, Vicodin for the expected pain, and anti-nausea medicine to counteract the Vicodin. We decided that I would take this over Thanksgiving weekend
so that I could have time to recover. My husband and I had previously agreed to host a Thanksgiving dinner for a group of misfits with nowhere else to go and we didn't want to cancel on everyone. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom passing clots and using a heating pad to help with my cramping. No one knew.

We put up our Christmas tree that weekend. I wanted some sense of normalcy. The majority of the weekend consisted of naps, changing out bloody pads, and counting down the minutes until I could take more pain medication because the cramping was the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.

I remember texting the few people who knew about the pregnancy the words: "We lost the baby. I am okay." I could overhear my husband on the phone with my sister telling her that I was doing fine and in bed.

Hubby captured this candid picture of us and I love that it captures my joy.

Then Our Rainbow Baby

A funny thing happens when you're trying to get pregnant. You're suddenly surrounded by beautiful babies and pregnant women. Friends and family start asking you when you're going to have children and all you can give is a smirk and avoid eye contact.

My friend at work had an unplanned pregnancy shortly after my second miscarriage. She was reluctant to tell me because she knew my history and didn't want to hurt my feelings. I was truly happy for her as she was born to be a mom, but I went home that evening and spent some time crying into my husband's shoulders.

Finally, in March of 2014, I was pregnant again. I took the test on my husband's birthday and was overjoyed, yet cautious. We had a difficult time celebrating this time around because we were so used to pregnancies ending in sorrow.

Every cramp was frightening. I checked for blood every single time I went to the restroom. Hearing our baby's heartbeat at our first ultrasound was the most remarkable feeling because we had never heard a heartbeat before. My previous pregnancies never progressed that far.

I felt relief when I reached the 20 week mark of my pregnancy because it meant that if anything should happen, I would be sent to the Labor and Delivery floor rather than the Emergency Room. It was a big deal.

Our Rainbow Baby was born two years after we had initially started trying to become parents. Whenever I am having a tough moment with Little Miss, I have to remember the long journey it took for us to reach this point.

 We are so in love with our baby. She is the one we were meant to have.

Curious Crawler

This child is on the move! She started crawling a week and a half ago and just a few days later she started to pull herself up to a standing position. 

Little Miss spends every minute she's awake finding new ways to endanger herself. Seriously, kid. Do you know how much effort it took to keep you alive these past nine months? And now you're actively trying to hurt yourself!

Okay, I know she's just a curious child, but how is it that EVERYTHING is now dangerous? And how does she consistently find the most deathly object in the room and sprint for it?

We removed our towering bookcases from our living room as well as the coffee table with its ridiculously sharp corners. Hubby even removed the drawer handles from our TV stand because Little Miss still isn't steady when she's standing and nearly hit her face against the metal handles when she fell down from playing with the Xbox power button. (P.S. Unplug the Xbox to deter babies from wanting to press the bright green light a bajillion times.)

As I was looking at different baby proofing products, I saw a lot of moms on message boards say that you should just keep things like tupperware and pots and pans in baby accessible cabinets so they can just play with them. Hubby and I are not "Let Baby Bang on Pots and Pans" type parents. You should have seen Hubby's face when I gave him this option. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being those parents. In fact, I envy them because they're most likely less high strung than we are. We like a neat house and my nesting instincts from pregnancy never went away.

The kitchen cabinets in our first house in Texas were baby proofed with latches and we hated them with a passion. I wanted to find another option that was also non-permanent as we're most likely going to move. I saw this option on Amazon, but wasn't super happy with the price so I made my own using dog collars from The Dollar Tree in less than ten minutes. 



1. Purchase collars and cut nylon webbing to remove buckles.
2.  Rethread nylon webbing through the buckles. Trim proper length of nylon webbing needed to loop around cabinet handles. Hot glue in place to secure. You can also sew in place, but you can only do so much during nap time.
3. Test strength of your new cabinet lock and admire your cleverness. 

And BOOM. Cabinets secured for $1 each. 

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Real Talk About Breastfeeding

I'm not going to write about the benefits of breastfeeding. I'm sure you've already done extensive research on all of that. Instead, let's talk about all the things books will not tell you about breastfeeding.

1) Your baby surprisingly knows what to do for the most part, even if you don't:

When the nurse handed me my 20-minute old baby and told me to try feeding her I looked at her baffled. I didn't even know how to hold my baby and suddenly I was supposed to feed her? The nurse asked if I had taken any classes and I told her that I had done plenty of reading, but no classes. "Uh oh," she responded. Thanks for the encouragement, lady.

Then this total stranger grabbed my boob and stuck it in my baby's face and she latched on like a little fish. And it was amazing.

2) It will hurt. A LOT:

The lactation consultant at the hospital will ask you if it hurts. When you say that it does, she'll tell you that you're doing it wrong. She'll then take your boob with her ice cold hand and shove it further into the baby's mouth and ask if that feels better. You'll say yes, even if it doesn't just to get her to leave you alone.

For the first month it will feel like someone is trying to twist your nipples off for thirty minutes at a time.  Eventually, your nipples will toughen up and you will no longer wince every time she eats.

3) Milk can spray across the room:

At some point you'll be coming out of the shower and realize that milk is spraying out of both boobs and you'll be paralyzed in the bathroom, naked, with both hands cupping your breasts. Just let go, girl. The bathroom counters and floor can be wiped off later.

You will also accidentally spray milk into your poor child's eye and the stunned look on her face will be hilarious.

4) You may wake up in a puddle of milk:

Sometimes nursing pads slip while you are sleeping. Thankfully, milk stains wash out of sheets and clothes (for the most part).

5) Mornings will be spent milking yourself like a cow:

Engorgement happens, especially in the mornings. Your supple bosoms will turn rock hard. This may mean that your letdown will be too fast for your baby so it will be beneficial to pump or self express before feeding her. I find that if I don't do this she will be more likely to spit up or pull away. Think of the scene from the movie The Neighbors while doing this and laugh at the absurdity of it all at 4am.

6) You will be the sole provider of nourishment for your baby, and it will be exhausting:

This is probably the toughest part of breastfeeding. Although your husband is around, there is just not much that he can do other than change diapers, and do you really want to wake him up in the middle of the night just for that? Sure, you can have him take over for a feeding if your baby will take a bottle, but that just means you'll have to get up to pump anyway so that you can keep your milk supply up.

7) Those first few weeks you will wonder if formula really is "that bad":

I can't tell you how many times I wanted to quit that first month. Even hubby was willing to go to formula because he saw how badly I was struggling. However, using the bottle is really troublesome as well because it requires measuring, warming, and washing. It's easier to pop out your boob.

Full tummies make us happy.
I'm glad I stuck with it, but I can certainly see why some moms choose formula over breastfeeding. It's rough, man!

Eventually, you'll become a pro and will be able to breastfeed while walking around the house. Just make sure you've closed your curtains.

8) Wardrobe decisions will be based on how easily accessible your boob is to your child:

Nursing camis, stretchy shirts, and button down tops will be your new best friends. I miss wearing cute clothes and I've already warned The Hubby that I will be treating myself to a brand new wardrobe when I stop breastfeeding.

9) Milk wasted is a real thing:

The next best thing to a baby drunk on milk is a smiling baby. If you can get a milk drunk baby to smile, your heart will melt and all will be good with the world again.

It is remarkable how easily you can comfort a screaming baby just by feeding her, and sometimes nursing is the only thing that will calm her.

10) Holy cow! You're making milk! You're amazing, Mama!

Seriously. The human body is pretty darn cool. Applaud yourself!


1. Always keep a water bottle by your side as breastfeeding makes you extremely thirsty. Make sure the bottle allows you to drink with one hand, like this one.
2. We go through ten bibs in two days. My baby is a spit up expert and the use of bibs means I get to change her outfit less often.
3. You will leak milk and nursing pads will make it less messy and embarrassing. I prefer the Lansinoh brand over the Medela ones.
4. The Feed Baby Pro app is such a lifesaver, especially in those early days. I started using it while at the hospital as nurses would come in the middle of the night and ask when the last time I fed my baby was and how many wet or dirty diapers we've changed. And you'll be like "I can't remember. I just popped a human being the size of a watermelon out of my vagina twelve hours ago. Please GTFO so we can rest."Sleep deprivation is not pretty, folks. You can set an alarm to alert you when the next feeding is and it'll track which boob you last fed on, which is especially helpful for me because I can never remember.
5. Forgot those tiny burp cloths. You need maximum coverage. I like to use flannel receiving blankets instead.
6. I first tried using a natural nipple butter and found it to be useless in relieving pain. Get the lanolin!
7. Some say you shouldn't have the television playing in the background, but you're going to need something to keep you awake at 2am. I recommend binge watching on Netflix the following shows: Parenthood, Gilmore Girls, Friday Night Lights, Alias, Chuck
8. I love our Mombo Nursing Pillow and find it to be sturdier than the popular Boppy.
9. I live in these nursing camis from Target and have four that go into rotation. 

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Dear Baby: This is Really Hard

Dear Baby,

Let me preface this by saying that I am truly happy to be lucky enough to be your mom. I love you, I absolutely do. But being your mom is so incredibly difficult, Baby.

I am writing this to document my journey. I want you to know what I am going through so that when it is your turn you won't feel like a failure if things aren't perfect.

I remember calling a good friend of mine after she had her baby. She had been dealing with infertility for so long that her son was a miracle, yet she wasn't completely happy at the time. I couldn't understand it, but I do now. You will get it too one day, and I will be there by your side to help you get through it.

So many moms post pictures of themselves on social media with their newborns and everyone is smiling and happy, myself included. No one ever talks about the lump in the back of your throat when you can't get your baby to stop crying. I feel so defeated and inadequate when you cry, Baby. I know that you can't help it as it is the only way you can communicate right now, but it wears on me.

You cry when you're hungry so I stick my boob in your face. You cry when you're tired and I say to you, "Little girl, just go to sleep. No one is keeping you up." You cry when you're not being held so I swoop you up in my arms. You cry when I'm not walking around while you're being held so I find myself taking laps around the kitchen island while I try to get dinner ready for the night.

I find myself whispering in your ear, "I love you, Baby," whenever you cry to calm myself.

I spend my time begging you to just take a nap long enough so that I can use the bathroom or eat a sandwich for lunch. My days are monotonous: nursing, changing diapers, rocking you to sleep. I count down the minutes until Dad gets home so that I can have just a moment of rest and someone to talk to who actually understands what I'm saying.

Then there's the enormous stress of taking care of you. I think about you every second of every day. I hate taking you out of the house because I never think that you're warm enough and I'm terrified of you getting sick. I worry about my own health now because who would be able to take care of you if something should happen to me? The amount of anxiety I have now that you're here is astronomical.

When you were two weeks old we went to the post office together. At the time Dad and I were using a convertible car seat rather than an infant car seat, which meant I had to unbuckle you and put you in a sling. It was 30 degrees out so I did all of this in the cramped backseat of the car to keep you warm. As I pulled you out I saw that you had pooped out of your diaper and through your clothes. I had no choice but to carry you inside anyway, with poop leaking onto my own clothes.

As we stood in line, I felt a sudden gush of blood coming out of me and it would not stop. We made it home, covered in mustard yellow poop, and I hurriedly changed you and nursed you until you fell asleep. For that hour of time I feared I was hemorrhaging and needed to go to the hospital. I started to cry, not out of fear for myself, but for you, Baby. What would you do without me?

When we picked up Dad from work that evening he cheerfully asked me how my day was. I answered him not with words, but with tears. "This is really hard, " I finally blabbered.

As a first time mom, I am always questioning my parenting skills. Am I giving you enough tummy time or will you never be able to crawl and walk? Should I be talking or singing to you more often? We haven't been reading to you nightly like I promised we would. Does this mean you won't like books later on in your life? Is it okay that you're still sleeping in your Rock 'n Play instead of your crib? Will you ever be able to sleep without being swaddled? What if a fire starts in the kitchen and we're upstairs? Do I tie you to my body and jump out the window, hoping that the snow will cushion the fall?

These are things that go through my head daily. It's overwhelming.

I'm someone who needs a set schedule so it drives me crazy that I don't know if you're going to sleep for five minutes or five hours at a time. Do I have time to shower or will I end up running to you with soap in my hair because you woke up earlier than I expected and started bawling?

There's also the physical pain I've been experiencing ever since returning home from the hospital. My lower back pain was so terrible that I had to kneel on the floor to change your diaper instead of bending down to get to your level and cross my fingers that you don't spray poop in my face. Nursing and carrying you around has wrecked my shoulders and neck, so much so that sometimes I fear I won't be able to do it anymore.

But, Baby, whenever it is your turn to become a mom, you'll see that you are capable of handling so much more than you ever imagined. Something in you, like it has in me, will drive you to keep on going because you are doing something so much bigger than yourself. You will love this job more than any job you have ever had in your life. You will be rewarded with cuddles, smiles, and sweet coos instead of a paycheck, and that will be more than enough.

Each day will get easier so do what you can to simply survive those first few months. Leave those dishes in the sink. Wear the same pair of yoga pants weeks in a row, even if there's spit up on it. Have your husband order pizza for dinner because you set off the smoke detector for the seventh time in four months. Cry all you want. Be in bed by 7:30pm and asleep by 8pm.

Just know that you are the best mom for your baby and that after this you can conquer anything.

I love you, Baby. Thank you for teaching me that I am stronger than I thought I was.

Luv,
Mom

P.S. Can you please smile at me a little more often? Cause Mama needs it some days.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

I Will Miss: Your Tortoise Neck


Your neck and its million and one tiny folds only reveal themselves when you are truly relaxed. I like to compare it to that of a tortoise as you like to shrink it back and forth. If you're crying, forget about trying to get in there to clean out the collection of lint and remnants of spit up, making it one of your stinkiest body parts. This means that I am forced to wipe off that "neck cheese" while you're sleeping or nursing. The cold makes you shrink your neck back in, and just like that it disappears again.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Dear Baby: About Your Father

Dear Baby,

They say that little girls grow up and look for husbands that remind them of their fathers. I know that you'll probably be completely grossed out by this, but I hope that this is the case because then we would never have to worry about you.

Your dad is amazing and it is so easy being married to him. He is the man I compare all other men to when friends or family members come to me with their relationship problems. I tell them to "find someone who treats you the way my husband treats me." There's this fallacy that marriage is something you need to work on in order to last. Baby, if you have found the right person marriage will never feel like "work" to you.

Now, I don't claim to be an expert when it comes to marriages and relationships. However, Dad and I have been together for ten and a half years and I can count on one hand the number of fights we've had.  We've been through more hardships together than the average couple during that span of time. Five of those years we spent living over 3,000 miles apart. We survived a deployment and countless weeks away from each other due to the Army. The house you are living in now is the fourth house Dad and I have lived in in just five years. The two of us slept on an air mattress in an empty bedroom for the first few months of our marriage until we slowly built enough in our bank account to buy real furniture. Together, we got through two heartbreaking miscarriages, which I will write about some other time.

Your dad got us through all of this with good spirits simply by being the remarkable man that he is.

Dad is extremely overprotective, which means he'll send you a text before you leave for work in the morning to tell you to be careful driving with foggy windows. He'll always make sure when walking on sidewalks that he walks on the side closest to the road so that he can hop into action if he has to. He'll grab your hand if you're walking through a crowd. If you stay in the car and he steps out to grab takeout he'll stick around and make sure he hears the doors lock before leaving your side.

You will find some of this to be overbearing and I'm sure you will roll your eyes at him at some point, but just know that he does these things because he cares about you so much.


With his protective side comes his sensitive side. He cried the most at our wedding, making all of our guests cry along with him. Marry someone who will pour tears uncontrollably when he sees you walk down the aisle. This is important. He cried when I told him I was pregnant and that he was going to be a father. He cried when we first met you in the hospital, and you can be sure that he will cry when he walks you to your future husband and gives you away.

Your father is so smart, but he doesn't rub it in your face like some others do. He's humble and extremely hardworking. You will never find him complaining about anything. In fact, I just discovered that he has been suffering from daily back pain for all of his adult life due to his time serving in the military. He's never mentioned it once. Marry someone who won't be a big baby when he's ill. This is also important.

Dad will like to surprise you with gifts, ranging from small to extravagant. He has purchased Kate Spade purses and Tiffany earrings for me "just because" and surprised me with gummy bears and flowers after my first day at work. Marry someone who is so excited to give you your gift that he never manages to wait until the day of your birthday or Christmas. Most of all, it's important to reciprocate back. You don't need to spend a lot of money. Just make sure you grab an extra York Peppermint Patty at the checkout line for him at the grocery store or splurge on the pricier chocolate milk. Leave love notes in his lunchbox and on his dashboard. These small things will matter to him.



My sister and I never grew up with any men around. We were responsible for taking out the trash, washing our own cars, fixing anything around the house, killing our own spiders, putting together any furniture, and lugging anything heavy on our own. It made me independent and it helped me survive a year without Dad around when he was deployed to Iraq. Although I want you to be independent as well, I also want you to find someone who will do all of those things for you without any hesitation.

Dad actually gets angry with me when I try to lift anything heavy, open my own doors, or take out the trash. He finds things like this to be his duty as a husband, and I am okay with that. Here's the important thing, though, Baby: At no point should you expect your husband to do these things or else you will grow less appreciative of it all.  I never forget to thank Dad for the things he does around the house, even if it's just changing out a light bulb. On the other spectrum of things, Dad still thanks me for making dinner, doing the laundry, and even for taking care of you all day long. Appreciate each other. This is important.

Your father tells me he loves me at least ten times a day. He'll literally wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me this. Marry someone who will do this, even if you don't necessarily want to be awakened at two in the morning. Also, marry someone who will tell you that you're beautiful daily, even if you haven't showered and have bright pink acne medication on your face. This is important.

But most of all, Baby, know this about your father: He loves us. Every single action he makes is with us in mind. We are so lucky to have him.

Luv,
Mom

Friday, November 21, 2014

Dear Baby: You're Beautiful!

Dear Baby,

You are just over two weeks old now and already I'm worried about your self esteem when you are older. You see, your grandmother has been so persistent about what I should do to help mold your physical features. Every single conversation I have with her, either via Skype, texts, or phone calls involve a lengthy discussion about your "flat nose" or "big face." There is absolutely nothing wrong with you (other than the fact that you refuse to stay asleep right now).

You, my beautiful daughter, are absolutely perfect in every way.



My mom is an amazing woman and I hate to sound like I'm bashing on her. She did so many things right when raising us as a single parent.  I know that she means well, but I am beginning to see that she is the reason why I have such low self esteem.

Your grandma is very concerned with how wrinkly your hands are, the fact that you furrow your brows like Dad, that you have double eyelids, your ears being squished by the hats we put on your tiny head to keep you warm, the way we swaddle you and how it binds your limbs, the nose you inherited from me, and most importantly the shape of your face.

How can there possibly be so many things "wrong" with such a little person who is so new to the world?

I've been told to start pinching your nose so that it's pointier. I refused.

I specifically remember sitting in the backseat of the car when I was in elementary school and being told that everything about me is wonderful, except for my flat nose. "Whenever you can, pinch your nose." What a terrible thing to say to a young girl.

I've been told to have you sleep on your stomach and to alternate the side of your face you sleep on as your face will just "get larger and larger" if you remain on your back. I refused.

My mom claims that my sister's head "has a good shape" but mine is "not good"as I slept on my back when I was a baby. I tried to explain to her that infants who sleep on their stomachs are more likely to die from SIDS. And then I went on to tell her that I have a large face because she has a large face and her own mom has a large face as well. But try explaining genetics to a woman who is set in her ways.

I grew up being so self conscious about my appearance and it has unfortunately followed me through life.

When I went bra shopping with my mother the first time she insisted on getting me pushup bras because I lacked in that department at the ripe age of twelve. One time I gained a little extra weight and my mom very seriously said to me, "Min, if you're pregnant you can tell me."

I have been struggling with hormonal acne and terrible scarring for years now and absolutely nothing has helped it. It's something that I am very emotional about, but what makes it worse is that I dread showing my bare face to my grandmother and mom when I visit home because I know they'll make remarks. I remember my mom telling me she was sending me a birthday gift and it ended up being acne cream. They're visiting us next week and I am hoping my face clears up before they see me.

Right now, as I sit with you drifting away on my arm, I feel remarkably unattractive: My long hair is knotted and has not been brushed in days, I'm wearing the same milk stained top I've been wearing for days as I wait for the laundry to be finished, I have heavy bags under my eyes, and the right side of my face has exactly five large pimples taunting me.

But I promise you, Amelia, you will never hear me say any of these things in front of you. I will do my very best to raise you to love everything about yourself. The first step is for me to love myself.


Luv,
Mom

Friday, October 3, 2014

Dear Baby: It's 2am and I'm Hungry

This post was written on May 3rd, 2014.

I now wake up at 12 am, 2am, and 5am for potty breaks every single night. Then, my alarm goes off at 6am so that I can be ready for work. I was finally adapting to this schedule. Your dad makes fun of me because I literally roll out of bed so that I can do this.

But for the past two days I've been waking up in the middle of the night and can't fall back asleep because of starvation. Last night, I was craving more Taco Bell. I even woke up Dad to tell him. He offered to pick some up for me, but I couldn't do that to him even though I really needed Taco Bell.

Instead, I went downstairs and devoured everything I could find in the kitchen. A hardboiled egg, three tangerines, some honeydew melon, and a few rolls of Hawaiian bread did the trick.


I'm someone who requires at least nine hours of sleep to function well. I'm so thankful that this is a long weekend where I can hopefully catch up on some rest.

Faithful Bella follows me downstairs and sits with me. I have a feeling she'll be up with me for all the 2am feedings for you when you're finally here.

Luv,
Mom

Dear Baby: You're Kicking My Butt

This post was written on May 2nd, 2014.

Dear Baby,

Please know that these are not complaints. I am probably the happiest pregnant lady on the planet. Anytime I experience any of these symptoms, I smile for a moment because it just means that I am finally pregnant.

I am listing these for you so that you know that your mother loved you so early on and had already dealt with a lot way before you even tore up her crotch. At this very moment I'm hoping that you are a girl, just so that you aren't completely traumatized by the thought of your mother's crotch, but that's a totally different issue.

  • I am starving all the time, but only seem to enjoy chicken in battered and fried form. Anything else is repulsive.
  • I take it back. I can eat Taco Bell chalupas and bowls of Pho every day if your Dad would let me. Your poor father sometimes spends so much time grilling meat for us and I can't even force down a bite.
  • I have to pee every two hours, minimum. Sometimes I barely make it to the bathroom and only have to pee a little bit. How is this possible, Baby? I'm scared for my third trimester.
  • I can smell everything. This is a terrible thing when a patient has an especially bad body odor and I'm trapped in a room with them for an hour with the door closed.
  • Chest acne. This is a real thing. 
  • When it gets really cold, my boobs hurt so badly that I can barely function. It was a long winter, Baby.
  • Walking around the neighborhood or up the stairs feels like a six-mile hike in the woods.
  • My permanent bedtime is 9pm. This is also due to the amount of times I have to pee in the middle of night. It's totally ruining my sleep cycle.
  • The bloat. Oh, the bloat! And the gas! At the end of the night, I look at least seven months pregnant, even though I'm barely two months. 
  • Random spouts of nausea. I'm fortunate enough to not have thrown up yet, but when I'm driving to work in the mornings I sometimes have to stuff saltine crackers down my throat from my emergency car stash. I think if I do get sick enough to throw up one day, I may not make it to a trash can or toilet. I sometimes think about what kind of conversation I would have with my boss if I threw up on myself and was late to work.
Ah, the joys of growing you in my tummy. Seriously, though. All of this is worth it if it means you get to be a part of our lives.

Luv,
Mom

Dear Baby: Love at First Sight

This post was written on April 7th, 2014.

Dear Baby,

We found out about your existence on your dad's birthday just over four weeks ago. I had waited until that day to take a test just in case it would be positive because how amazing of a gift would that be? I had nothing else to give to your father on his 27th birthday. He had already bought himself an extremely expensive pair of leather shoes, which I'm sure he will be wearing to your graduation and wedding.

The pink line was so faint that I didn't even want to tell him the news. I spilled the beans anyway and waved the pee stick at him. "See, there's a line. There's definitely a line there!" I took another test the next morning. The line was significantly darker. Dad was still sleeping with Bella. I crawled back to bed and whispered to him, "Honey, you're going to be a dad!" We were overjoyed.

Our first doctor's appointment was this past Friday, April 4th. It was the absolute longest and scariest four weeks we had ever experienced. I was terrified of losing you. Every little cramp or back pain was sure to be a sign of a miscarriage. You see, my past two pregnancies never lasted long enough for us to hear a heartbeat. 

Dr. S. didn't want to do an ultrasound initially, but I begged and begged. I couldn't wait another two weeks to find out if you were okay. Sure enough, we saw you wiggling in my tummy and eventually heard your strong heartbeat. I wanted Dad to record this special moment, but he totally screwed up and recorded the floor instead. I hope he gets his act together before you start walking.


I, of course, was bawling during the entire ultrasound. The kind lady printed out some pictures of you, which I carried around in my purse for days. We shared an elevator with a random man while leaving the office. If your dad hadn't been there I probably would have blurted out, "Hey! Do you want to see a picture of my baby?!"

I can't even describe how happy I am to know that you are healthy and that we will finally get to meet you on November 16th (P.S. November 16th is a Sunday. We would appreciate it if you arrived mid-morning the day before so that it's convenient for everyone. Dad thinks that babies should always arrive on Saturdays).

I am still so incredibly petrified of losing you, but Dr. S. is confident that everything will be just fine. He said that most women miscarry before they see the heartbeat and those who do see a heartbeat are 95% likely to carry to full-term. 95% is a great number, Baby. So great that we decided to tell everyone in the family that very day. 

You are already so loved. I know you are going to be incredibly spoiled, as you should be.

Luv,
Mom