The Courage behind “Congratulations”

Sometimes even good things hurt.

My husband always reminds me “perception is reality.”  This is something I’ve thought about a lot.  It helps me remember the world doesn’t revolve around me. And it encourages me to not assume I understand how other people feel, or why they do and say the things they do.  But it also helps me find peace in my anxiety, as I over-analyze and try to apply my own experiences to someone else’s.  In the end, our experiences are our own, only our own- even when shared.  They are perceived through our own lens- our own perspective.  And they become our truth. 

I don’t know if you’re aware- but we’re in standing in the middle of a very large, very pregnant, “Baby Wave”. 

A “Baby Wave” is what many people call a period of time when it seems like everyone and their mother, (forgive me…I couldn’t resist) is pregnant and/or having babies.  It’s remarkable really. And it’s beautiful.  This phenomenon (I believe it’s phenomenal anyway) has the potential to create an instant bond between women, as they symptom-swap and exchange battle stories of past pregnancies.  Then one by one, they give birth to their beautiful little ones, and the cycle resets.  Then all is calm, until the next wave.

“Don’t drink the water!” is a joke commonly heard during these wave-times, exchanged between individuals who are not looking to join the preggo-club for a variety of reasons.  It’s a happy time full of wonder, swollen bellies, and hope. 

But there are some women- who aren’t making jokes.  Who quietly smile on the sidelines through the “Oh my gosh! When are you due?!” conversations.  The women who would give anything to drink the water, no matter how bitter the taste.

It’s uncomfortable to acknowledge that there can be pain even in the most beautiful times.  Especially when that pain is selfish, and that pain is our own.

So, in the interest of being transparent, here is my perception/reality: 

(hold on folks- it’s going to be a long, bumpy ride!  Go ahead and take your phone with you if you need to take a potty break. I won’t judge.)

I was naïve, 21 years old, and about to begin completing my three required internships to become an elementary school teacher. (spoiler alert: I never actually ended up teaching elementary school.) My husband and I didn’t have a real “plan”- but we’d been married two years and deeply desired to start a family.  Summer seemed ideal timing for a having a baby within my teaching schedule.  And so our journey began!

“Aunt Flo” was late that very first month- and I took a test. It was negative.  I cried.  A lot.

The next day I came home to flowers brightening our, tiny, dingy (seriously disgusting… but cheap) apartment; and my husband telling me he would love me no matter what.  My period still hadn’t arrived, and he convinced me to take another test. I did so grudgingly- and left it on the bathroom counter to process while I laid on the couch in despair.  (I wish I could say I became less dramatic with age, but it would taste like a lie.)

The next thing I knew- my husband was whooping and hollering for joy as he came bounding out of the bathroom to come shower me in kisses.  It was positive! We were having a baby!  For the next nine months, I felt like I was glowing.  I felt set-apart. I have never known as much joy as I did in then.  There were a lot of tears, but far more smiles, and I walked on clouds.  I was so proud- and so excited.

Pregnant with our first baby!

Four days past our due-date in June, we delivered our oldest- (a boy!) via Cesarean Section at 9lbs 3oz.  I hadn’t progressed, 0cm dilated 0% effaced- without a single “real” contraction.  He was “sunny side up” (meaning his face was out toward the front of my belly instead of back toward my spine) and his head was lodged in my pelvis making progression unattainable. 

I didn’t handle the C-section well.  I was still only first-learning how to cope with the anxiety/depression cocktail that is my mental health, and had an anxiety attack on the operating table.  Technically, the surgery still went flawlessly, but emotionally, it sent me spiraling into a depressive state.  Because of my sensitivities, I struggled with the juxtaposition of pain and numbness that followed, and to hold my baby.  At times everything was dark, and I felt angry.  I was so tired.  I was in so much pain. And I just wanted it to end. 

Eventually I began to heal, and feel like my old self- but I was terrified to experience that feeling again. 

The pain faded, and my desire for a baby outweighed my fears.  When I was 23 (working as a Middle School Science teacher) my husband and I found ourselves planning for another baby!  We were aiming for May to maximize the amount of time I would be able to spend with the baby.  That first month I found myself in familiar circumstances.  My period was late, the test was negative.  I tried not to worry, because this had happened before, but the next day instead of flowers and a dance for joy like my first pregnancy- I broke into a new box of feminine products.  I wasn’t pregnant.

I braced myself for the storm.  There were tears- but I tried to put my circumstances into perspective. I realized it wasn’t realistic to expect a positive pregnancy test right away.  It was amazing that it happened the first time with my oldest, but I needed to practice patience. I knew better than to assume things would always go 100% according to plan. That particular lesson however was short-lived, as the following month found us reading two pink lines and expecting another June baby! 

Pregnant with baby number two!

My second pregnancy was a little more difficult than the first. I felt cautious.  I was happy- but I was also scared.  Over the last two years I had many friends who experienced miscarriages, birth defects, or other complications.  I felt convinced something was going to go wrong.  As the due-date came closer, I began to feel a little more calm, but still anxious about what was going to happen.  I walked and walked and walked, and two days before his official “due date”- I delivered our second little boy, 7lbs 4 oz, with a flawless VBAC delivery.  (Vaginal birth after cesarean.) 

It seemed my fears were unconfirmed, and I allowed myself to cling tightly to this new little life.

Two years later- I was feeling empowered after my positive VBAC experience. I had been feeling strongly about having another baby, and secretly hoping for a “surprise” pregnancy ever since my youngest self-weaned at 8 months.  I was just SO sure we had another little one ready to join our family, and I couldn’t wait to meet them.  So at the comfortable age of 25, my husband and I decided to aim for an April baby.  We joked that was how we would get another summer baby to compliment my teaching schedule. (Since it took 1 month with our first baby, 2 months with our second baby- it would probably take 3 months with our third baby, and we’d get all three of them in June!)

We played it cool, but after the third month irrational worry started to creep in.  I kept my fears to myself, because I knew with my anxiety I wasn’t being logical.  But as time passed- I started to internally panic, and it became harder to keep to myself.  I asked a few close friends and family members to pray for us, but still no baby.  I felt guilty for mourning each month.  I felt I didn't have a real right to complain after having it "easy" with my first two.  After 6 months we decided to take a break.  My niece had be diagnosed with Morquio (MPS IV-A), and my husband was going to have some genetic testing done before we continued trying to conceive.  We couldn't afford IVF, so I was terrified a positive result would mean postponing having another baby indefinitely.  Thankfully- his tests came back clear- so we resumed our baby-trying.  Everything always seemed to work out just right for us. Except, no baby.  I couldn't wrap my head around it.

I went to the doctor who ran some standard blood work, but assured me I was young, and because we had two successful pregnancies before “the plumbing worked”.  I offered an uncomfortable courtesy-laugh at his joke, but I didn’t feel like it was very funny.  He told me I shouldn’t be concerned.  It had been a year since we started “trying” for baby #3, but because we had taken a short break- I didn’t qualify for additional fertility tests, and he was confident I didn’t need them.  In fact, I was told that pursuing unnecessary tests could actually hurt my chances of conceiving so it was best to just keep trying and waiting.  “Next time I see you, you’ll be pregnant!” he told me.  I smiled hesitantly in my paper gown and waited for the room to clear so I could get dressed.

I was 26 by now.

And then I was 27.

I was struggling.

I watched the baby waves ebb and flow.  I told myself to relax.

Everyone told me to relax.

• “You have two beautiful boys, be grateful for them.”
• “It will happen as soon as you stop trying.”
• “You haven’t been trying that long- just be patient.”
• “It will happen when you least expect it.”
• “I had real infertility, you’re not infertile.”
• “You’re so young, don’t rush it.”
• “It took us X amount of time to get pregnant, everyone is different.”
• “Two is a good number.”
• “So many people have it much harder, they never have a baby at all.”
• “Are you really trying? If you haven’t done XY&Z for ___ amount of time you’re not infertile, you’re just not trying hard enough.”

Truth blurred with doubt and I was miserable.  I began to spiral.  I hated my job.  I pushed my husband away.  I felt like an awful and unworthy mother, like I was neglecting the blessings I had been given by wishing for something more.  There was nothing physically wrong, so it had to all be in my head- which meant it was all my fault.  I became angry with myself, frustrated at the cycle of worry I had both created & become trapped in.  I tried to remind myself that my children needed me.  I told myself I was being selfish.  I pushed myself to wake-up, get dressed, and do the things I was supposed to do.  I all-but invested in stock for home pregnancy tests, as month after month I peed on those stupid plastic sticks.  I'd forgive them quickly though, always convinced I was just testing too early, or that next month would be different.

I went to the baby showers.  I sat on the theoretical shore as a supportive, smiling face, for the passing baby waves- but I quietly hid the feeds of my pregnant Facebook friends.  Especially the ones who “Oh my gosh- we weren’t even trying!” 

It wasn’t their fault.  After all- I’d been there.  Both our previous babies were meticulously planned, but they had come so easily.  It can be surprising (and even scary!) when you get the news.  Surprising, scary, & exciting!  They wanted to share- and that was their right.

But here’s what I realized. 

Here’s where I remember that “perception is reality.”

That same beautiful moment, from a single pregnancy announcement, has been shared, copied, and even tainted.  While the emotion of happiness surrounding that experience is genuine & overwhelming, the ripples through perception are not uniform.  My lens of unfulfilled dreams took my ripple of joy and welcoming for this new life, and laced it with pain.  The news was full of light, but also shadows of bitterness. 

These moments aren’t fair.  But they are real.  They are individual, and they are all valid.

In the beginning of 2016, I decided to quit my teaching job, and work from home as a LuLaRoe consultant.  I wanted something flexible & low-key so I could focus on myself, and my little family.  I joined a gym- and began making time for the things I enjoyed.   I was making peace.  At the time I was preoccupied with the life-changes I was making, and to my surprise- just as everyone suggested of course- I finally got pregnant! A year and a half since our journey’s start to baby #3, but only one month after deciding to take this crazy leap of faith, we were finally expecting! 

My third pregnancy.  My three year old was the photographer- hence the cropped head.

“Expecting” is such an appropriate word for pregnancy.  Hopes and dreams are immediately whirled into action as quickly as those two pink lines appeared on the home pregnancy test.  I had expectations, and these particular expectations had been under construction for a long time.

Unfortunately, the foundation wasn’t quite set.  Our baby girl was diagnosed with Trisomy 18 (also known as Edwards Syndrome) and after 17 long, heart-wrenching weeks of pregnancy filled with tests, fear, and unanswered questions, we lost the heartbeat.  I delivered her tiny unfinished body on my oldest son’s 5^th birthday.

They say when you can talk about something without crying, you’ve healed. 

I’m not quite there yet, but it's happening slowly.  I’d like to write a post someday about everything that miscarriage has taught me, but not today.

That Fall, after a couple of familiar disappointing months, we experienced a “chemical pregnancy”.  The pregnancy test was positive on a Monday, and I began bleeding on Saturday.  I had two  LuLaRoe “pop-up” boutiques that day.  In the morning I prayed it was some kind of harmless spotting.  I pushed through the party, unwilling to believe that I could really be miscarrying again.  But the bleeding didn't stop. I took a pregnancy test on my lunch break, and it was negative, so I knew the pregnancy had not been viable long.  I smiled, and laughed and complimented ladies as they tried on clothes that made them feel beautiful while I was falling apart from the inside out. 

Every loss is significant, but to me, it just felt like one long, painful blur.  This would have been another summer baby.

It’s been almost 3 years since we first started trying for baby number 3.  Many of the ladies I surfed the “baby waves” with during my first two pregnancies have since had another little one.  Many of them had the sweetest most beautiful little girls. It's so strange to feel so happy for someone else while still feeling so sad for yourself.  Sometimes I worry my sadness is blemishing their happiness, but I'd like to think it has the opposite effect.  Seeing those little ones reminds me of hope- and that good things happen.  It stings to watch with empty arms- but my heart still feels full. I scoop up my own little ones and hold them a little tighter.

This week I went to Walmart with my youngest to search for some coordinating clothing for my men-folk because we had family pictures coming up.  I decided to do some light grocery shopping while I was there, and I was in the bread aisle when the modern marvels of technology delivered the news that another one of my friends was pregnant by surprise, one of the friends who had two children the same ages as mine, but also already had a gorgeous little girl since. I kept my composure & continued shopping for about ten minutes before breaking down in front of the Oreos.

The right thing is to say “Congratulations!” when something good happens to someone else. 

But what do you say when your heart aches, and the words feel hollow?  What do you do when their something good is your nothing?

You sob in the middle of Walmart like a crazy person while an old man awkwardly tries to get to the Nilla Wafers behind you.  You take a deep breath and let yourself feel everything for just that moment.  You wipe your tears and realize that there’s an appropriate time and an inappropriate time to share your heart.  You remember the times when good things have happened to you too.  You remember life isn’t fair, and that’s ok.  You choose to make room for happiness right beside the sadness in your heart.  There’s room for both.  You acknowledge that this is their moment, and you will have your own turn in your own way to interpret those ripples and process your own residual experience.  Even if it isn’t when, or how you thought it would or “should” be.

You take courage, and find strength in the face of grief.

You say “Congratulations!”

My sweet boys playing at Grandma's house this weekend. 

Working on Staying at Home- Guest Post by Robyn

" Stay at home mom. "

          For some, this term brings up feelings of guilt at having to be a working mom, for others it may bring up feelings of confusion as to how someone could “sit at home” all the time, and for yet others it is simply the term used to describe what they are. 

The decision on whether to be a stay at home mom or a working mom is a very difficult one to make. No matter which decision you choose to make, there are judgments cast against you. Working moms are criticized for not being around to raise their children, for not being home enough. People say things like, “I don't know how you do it.” or “How could you leave your baby?” Stay at home moms are criticized for not helping to provide for their families and for sitting around all day doing nothing. People question how you don't get bored or joke about how nice it must be to have so much free time. The truth is, there are sacrifices to be made in either decision, and they are sometimes very hard ones to make.

            When I had my first son, there was no question; I was staying home with him for as long as I could. I stayed with him for nineteen exhausting and amazing months. It was a very tight, difficult time for my family, but I absolutely cherish every second I was able to spend with him, and in many ways they were the best nineteen months of my life. My son and I bonded in such a special way that I just don't think would have been possible had I spent all of those days at work rather than with him. Sometime towards the end of those months, though, my husband and I decided it would be best for everyone if I went back to work. We wanted to buy a house, so the money would be nice, and I needed to do something “useful” for my own sense of self worth. Going back to work was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I cried for weeks beforehand, and every time I dropped my son off to daycare for almost a year. I felt so guilty that I was spending more time at work than with my child and that someone else was essentially raising my child instead of me. Every bad habit that was brought home from daycare, and every new thing he learned was a reminder that someone else had more influence on him than I did.

           Shortly after I started working, my husband and I got pregnant with our second child. I was so excited, but with that also came the dread of telling the superiors at my job. Being a teacher to middle school children, I did not have the pleasure of hiding my pregnancy or breaking the news in my own way. My students were kind enough to call me out in class one day, something along the lines of, “Are you pregnant? You used to be really skinny and now you're not.” Thanks so much for noticing. By the way, I was only about eight weeks along. Fortunately, a lot of teachers are women so schools seem to be pretty understanding and accepting of pregnancies. It wasn't very long before the gossip started, though. While walking through the office one day, I overheard two coworkers talking about me and how they were certain I wouldn't come back to work after the baby was born, saying, “It must be nice to have money like that, wish I could just stay home”. This sort of judgment has never made sense to me. Lets face it, unless you are in someone's everyday life, you have no idea what their finances are or what sacrifices might be being made to make something happen.

            My second son was born in September. I stayed home for 8 weeks, though I received some grief for that from a few coworkers, including an email that was highlighted and done in bold stating the average maternity leave is only 6 weeks. I knew before he was born that I wanted to stay home with him for at least his first year. For various reasons, I returned to work after my 8 weeks off, with the intent of only staying for 5 weeks. I enjoy my job, but I enjoy being a mom more. I have come to the conclusion that it is impossible to give your all to both your job and your children. In the end, one or both ends up suffering. The hardest part about my decision to once again be a stay at home mom, was giving my resignation.

            I don't care how old you are, the principal is scary. Having only worked at my school for a little over a year, I did not know my principal well, other than that she did not go out of her way to talk to me, and she made me nervous any time she did. I decided the best thing for my nerves would be to send a resignation letter via email. Call me a coward if you like, but it was much easier that way. Much to my surprise, my principal was not only very understanding of my decision, but during one conversation she told me that in twenty years I will look back and know that I made the right decision. In another conversation she suggested that I could return to my job when my kids were in school, and in yet another she told me I was welcome back any time I like and asked if I would be willing to substitute once in a while.

            It has been three weeks since my return to stay at home mom status, and in so many ways it is different than the first time I held that title. I do not get to spend hours just gazing upon the face of my little baby, and I do not get to spend all day laughing and playing with my little boy. Life with two children is a little more chaotic than with just one. But it is also that much more beautiful. I have the pleasure of watching my boys interact, which can be one of the most heart wrenching, amazing things I have ever seen. I get to watch my sons grow and learn each and every day. I really don't believe a day goes by that I am not amazed by my toddlers intelligence, compassion, sense of humor, and imagination. The baby gets bigger by the minute I think, and is learning and talking and becoming his own little person as well.

            While I am sure at some point, perhaps even multiple times, during my time as a stay at home mom, I will feel unappreciated or useless or invaluable. See, we as moms are very hard on ourselves over everything. I am not sure that we can help it. As I have felt in the past, I am sure I will have pangs of guilt when I am spending money that I did not earn, or doing something fun with the kids while my husband is at work. Then I will remind myself, or likely my husband will remind me, that I am valuable and I do have a purpose and my job is important.

Mom Confessions- "I will NEVER"

^That picture was taken before I had kids. (See how cool I was?)  Before I had any clue about what my body, mind, emotions, and very soul was about to go through as I made the transition from girl to mother.

With the new year starting, my Facebook and Pinterest feeds have flooded with New Year's Resolutions.  As we stand on the edge of fresh beginnings and new horizons we find ourselves intoxicated with the sense of possibilities and a surge of good intentions.

Right about now you're probably starting to realize that running 30 minutes every morning before work may not be 100% realistic... and you're convincing yourself that your "no more soda EVER" resolution was really more of a guideline than an actual rule.

Coming down off the high of New Year's resolutions is expected.  (Besides- we have all year long to get back "on-track" right?) We've spent the last month reminescing, gorging, and justifying in the anticipation of this "fresh start".  It makes sense that we would set some unrealistic expectations.

But as women- we tend to be pros as setting unrealistic expectations. (...uhhh does the word "PINTEREST" mean anything to anyone?)  I am GUILTY!  For many of us- we spend a good part of our lives anticipating some of the sweetest milestones life has to offer; mainly marriage and motherhood.  If you think about how much we can build ourselves up before making our New Year's resolutions each year- it may give you a better idea how so many of us find ourselves looking up from a pit of unrealistic expectations when we finally reach those momentous events.  And the worst part: We dug ourselves into that pit ourselves.

I was no exception.  Along with the typical list of wants, hopes, dreams, and expectations for my life as a parent- I also had a pretty extensive lists of "I will NEVER"'s.  As an oldest child, teacher, and experienced babysitter- I felt like I had seen my fair share of "non-examples" and I was pretty sure there were some things that, when I became a mother myself, I would NEVER do.

But then I had a baby.

And then I had another one.

And then I realized...

1.) "I will never co-sleep with my baby."

Oh dear. I can already feel the evil glares pointed my way across the internet.
If you Google "co-sleeping dangers" (DON'T) you would be with me on putting this on my list of "NEVER"'s.  However...  you'd be surprised what measures you would take after only a few brief hours of cat-napping on the floor beneath your child's swing before they woke up and realized once again that no one is holding them and this is unacceptable.

I've come to accept that co-sleeping is an incredibly PERSONAL decision.  I've discovered that it can be an amazing aide in making sure my baby and I both get enough sleep to function, and it encourages breast-feeding when I might otherwise be inclined to cozy-up under the blankets while Daddy fixed a bottle.  It eases my mind when I can simply look over and see that my child is well and breathing rather than causing me to dash across the house and check in the crib when my "something is wrong!" mother-instincts kick in.

While co-sleeping is a personal decision, it needs to be an informed one.  There are a lot of things to consider.  For instance- you should NEVER co-sleep if you are drunk or under medication that would not allow you to wake-up easily.  You should refrain from extra-soft bedding such as large fluffy/heavy feather comforters, or multiple coverings/pillows.  (Less is more when co-sleeping)
You should be aware of bed placement and make sure the bed isn't pushed against a wall where the baby could slip down and get stuck.  You also need to consider your personal sleeping style.  If you (or your partner) tend to be a heavy sleeper or thrash around a lot, you may want to consider an option other than co-sleeping.

Co-sleepers are also a great option.  I made sure to research SAFE co-sleeping and for me- it was a surprisingly amazing option.  Albeit something I thought I would never do.

{Image Credit: Here}

2.) "I will never keep my baby in the carseat."

After horror-stories of dented heads and obese children with minimal emotional attachment I vowed I would never be one of "those moms" that kept her baby in the carseat carrier.  I used to look at mothers who toted their children to church in their carseats and think "How can they do that to their baby? He/she is getting so little stimulation! The poor little thing is trapped in its seat! How hard would it be for the mom or dad to just hold their baby instead of leaving them in the seat on the pew beside them?"

Apparently it would be pretty darn hard actually.  We were pretty great about holding rather than "toting" our oldest son.  The carseat generally stayed in the car unless he was sleeping or if it was a quick trip into the grocery story. But with the addition of a second child- my husband and I found ourselves significantly more stretched.  Balancing a toddler AND a baby means both you and your spouse almost constantly have your hands/laps/arms full.  Not to mention those families that have more than two children... single parents... or parents of multiples!  I seriously do not know how they do it.

Something I hadn't considered was the fact that those times when I see those moms and their carseated-babies, is only a TINY fraction of the time those mothers and spending with their babies.  30 minutes in a carseat once a week is really not going to cause emotional trauma to your child.  I had no idea how much time they spend cuddling, crawling, and exploring with their baby at home.

In addition- while my first son was relatively mellow and content to roll around on the floor or cuddle in my arms, my second son is nothing short of a restless explorer.  He is constantly pulling on things, sticking things in his mouth... you know the typical baby stuff.  At home we can baby-proof, shut doors, etc... outside of our house is a different story.  Sometimes I just don't have the energy to chase after my mobile minion and the carseat provides an incredible relief as a safe-alternative to running myself ragged.

So I've pretty much stuck with the new mindset of if he's happy- let him be. This doesn't mean I wait until he's screaming before I take him out, in fact I still think I'm pretty good about keeping him liberated from his carseat... but I'm not as high-and-mighty about it.

And I certainly don't judge other moms so quickly when they have a contained little-one in tow.

{Image Credit: Here}

3.) "I will never give my child something just because he cries for it."

Yeah... this isn't one I'm proud of.

It's really important to me that I don't raise whiny entitled children... but it's also really important that I don't have a nervous breakdown because my eardrums just shattered into a million tiny pieces.

We encourage using our words to explain what we want and how we feel instead of crying (whining) when we want something.   And I give myself a big pat on the back for having a toddler that usually does pretty darn good at it too.  But as anyone who has ever had a toddler knows- sometimes logic is the joke of the day.

Choose your battles mama.

If I'm sick, if I'm tired, or if I'm just having a really lazy day- sometimes I do myself a favor and spare the house from the 30-minute compromise of "You need to tell me what you want so I can help you" and I resort to the guessing game. (Note: this can often back-fire and turn into a HUGE mess so always proceed with caution.)

"Do you want juice?"
NO! (Angry)

"Do you want cheese?"
No! (Frustrated but happy you are recognizing their unhappiness)

"Do you want bread?"
Noooooo.... (Still crying but open to negotiation)

"Do you want toasted bread?"
Yes. (Still sniffling)

"Ok here is some bread- lets toast it"
NOOOO!!!! (freak-out mode activated)

"Do you want this? Do you just want the bread?"
Yes. (Sniffling but relieved.)

"Ok here you go."
Thank you mommy.  (Smile- note crocodile tears still streaming down face.)

Once the bread is gone and he starts whimpering again- you better bet I go straight for the bread bag and hand him another slice.  Sometimes... it's in everyone's best interest.

{Image Credit: Here}

4.) "I will never feed my child unhealthy food."

Cue laughter.

oh dear....  I really have nothing to say in my defense.  Graham crackers will be my undoing.

And those darn cookies.

{Image Credit: Here}

5.) "I will never ignore my child when they are crying."

No decent mother wants her child to cry.  We just don't.  It hurts our hearts. When my baby cries it's like every bone in my body starts screaming for me to DO SOMETHING!  That's why if someone were to have told me 5 years ago that I would occasionally ignore my child when they were crying I would have voted for them to be sent to the looney-bin.

But if I'm being honest... there come some moments in every mother's life where she needs five seconds.  And if you aren't a mother you may not realize how literally I mean that.

FIVE. SECONDS.

Time to yourself- without responsibility- is now a fantasy.  It's like when people say you have a piece of your heart living outside your body.  It's true.  I don't know if I'll ever be 100% worry free EVER again.  Even when my sons are grown with children of their own I'm sure I'll still wake up sometimes in the night and wonder where they are. (Maybe not... but it's seriously hard to imagine right now.)

This post has taken me almost a month to write- and I still won't get a chance to proof-read it because THAT is how precious time is when you've got little ones.

I remember a time after I had my first son when I was feeling particularly overwhelmed.  I felt like he was constantly crying, never sleeping, and always needing me.  I found myself becoming emotionally dramatic- crying, feeling so tired and angry.  That anger was like a red flag.  I certainly wasn't angry at my baby ( I wasn't angry *at* anything really) but I knew I needed to calm down.

A woman who came to bring a dinner (...yes I was having dinners delivered to me and still managed to get super overwhelmed- it happens.) saw how I was feeling and gave me some of the best mother advice I ever received.

Sometimes babies just cry.

This isn't exactly true... we all know that babies cry for a reason.  Either their hungry, tired, cold, uncomfortable, poopy, etc...

But what she continued to explain was that after you've exhausted all the options you can think of- once you've rocked, swaddled, fed, changed, rocked swaddled, burped, checked their toes twice for hairs, and fed, rocked, and swaddled again... sometimes you just need to set them down safe in their crib, shut the door, and take five seconds.

literally five seconds.

Enough time for some deep breaths.  Some visualizing.  A reset.

It's something I never thought I'd do.  It's something I never thought I'd need.


But mamas are human too.

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And that's ok.
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A Girl and Her Pump: A Tale of a Working Mother who Breastfeeds

Did you know that roughly once a day I'm hooked to a mechanical device that vacuums the mother's milk from my body?  Oh really-no you didn't?  Because the greater majority of my coworkers, friends, and family all do.

[Image Credit: Here]

It truly doesn't sound very glamorous the way I described it, but anyone who has been tethered to a breast pump will know where I'm coming from.  When you're suctioned to that device willing the clock to move just a little faster- glamorous is the last thing you're feeling.  Uncomfortable would probably be an understatement.

Imagine you're sitting in a storage room at work.  Surrounded by discarded odds and ends, a broom without a handle, a generic box of maxi-pads, and an old dusty box television on a cart with wheels. Now add the part that you're essentially naked from the waist-up and hooked-up to one of the most awkward-looking devices involving suction cups known to man.  The storage closet is barely big enough for you to stretch your legs before they hit the door, which has a nice-sized gap under it.  A big enough gap that you can see people's shoes as they walk past you.  The people who you're praying are legally deaf because the hallway outside is silent aside from the scuffling of their feet and the device you're clutching in both hands is making a sound comparable to Niagara Falls.

The fun part is every once in awhile when someone in need of one of those supply-closet supplies comes along and their shoes stop right in front of the door.  And you freeze like a squirrel in the middle of the street when a car is coming.  You locked the door right? Maybe you accidentally unlocked it when you thought you were locking it.  What if you locked it- but they have a key?  Should you start scrambling now?  Should you just call-out and tell them not to come in? Should you stick out your legs in that teeny storage room and wedge the door shut when they try to open it?  Because they're totally going to open that door.

Thankfully- they never do.  (Ok maybe it happened once but that's another story)  But in that moment you really are convinced it's going to happen.  And it's a terrifying moment with your heart in your throat when you start to wonder if your personal choice to breastfeed after you go back to work is about to become a lot less...personal.

It's unnatural- and anyone who says it doesn't feel a little... well weird, is lying.  And as if the physical discomfort wasn't enough- the knowledge of knowing that everyone else knows doesn't help.

Making the choice to breastfeed can be like facing a hurricane.  If you don't- you're seen as selfish, incapable, or lazy.  If you do- you're seen as an extremist and holier-than-thou.  A storm of judgement, comments, unsolicited advice, and emotions of all kinds.  I've breastfed both my boys- with formula supplements when I needed a break or when I was at work. (Let the judgments fly)  And I've felt almost every range of emotion you can feel in relation to feeding your baby.  Everything from joy to guilt.

Even after I'd made the decision to breastfeed- my emotional roller-coaster wasn't over.  Going back to work had me facing another decision: to stop breastfeeding during the day, or to pump while I was at work?  In reality- I had already made my decision.  I wanted to breastfeed as long as I could, and pumping would help ensure my supply didn't dry-up.

Unfortunately- while I was comfortable with my decision, not everyone else was.  Not being available during lunch is not something that goes complete unnoticed when you're working in a highly collaborative field like teaching.  And unfortunately- my classroom is not always a realistic location to get the job done.  I've found myself cornered in more than one awkward conversation with a coworker (often male coworkers) about why exactly I can't make that lunch meeting- or where in the world do I go?

Being shy the first time around while I was pumping for my first son was a lot more realistic.  I was a new teacher- and didn't know too many people. I was also teaching 3 grade levels so I didn't have common planning or lunch time with many of my coworkers.  My absence wasn't nearly as missed.  (Although to my horror I did find out last year that I was the butt of several breast-milk jokes around campus...awkward.)  This year I've had to face the storm head-on. I've had to learn how to be comfortable with being comfortable...when I feel...uncomfortable. lol

I remember one conversation in particular where I was discussing with a non-nursing mother how/where I planned to pump during the day.  Trying to be helpful, she suggested that I go to the restroom.  When I seemed less than enthusiastic about that idea (...the bathroom? I should sit for approximately 15 minutes on an open toilet seat in a smelly cubical where people poop and pee while I handle my newborn's food? No thanks.) She then explained to me about a teacher she once knew who locked the door, turned-off the lights, and sat on the floor under her desk while she pumped.  While I agreed about the locked door and lights out- the mother was shocked when I told her I planned to just sit at my desk rather than uncomfortably huddled on the floor under it.  Despite explaining that my desk is well out of view of the door and/or any windows- she seemed appalled that I would sit there at my desk "like normal" while doing that.

I guess I could see where she's coming from.  As I mentioned before- it's not "normal"... but is it really such a big deal?  Is breastmilk really so gross that it goes in the category of things that belong in the bathroom?  Am I being too liberal in thinking it's closer to being compared to eating my lunch at my desk than some kind of unsanitary biohazard?

I honestly really don't know.

I'm not sure what makes the pumping at work scenario so uncomfortable- but I have a sneaking suspicion it's closer to the fact that everyone around you is uncomfortable about it (or you think they are uncomfortable) rather than the actual nursing mother being uncomfortable with it herself.

While I'm comfortable with own pumping... maybe I wouldn't be so comfortable if the roles were reversed with someone else.Or maybe it just has something to do with the secret vs. sacred debate.  Breastfeeding is natural, but it is also private- and not something most women are 100% open about all the time.

But enough with me type-talking to myself- and on with the (hopefully) helpful part of my post:

TIPS FOR PAINLESS PUMPING AT WORK:

While pumping isn't all daisies and roses- there are a few tricks and tips I've learned along the way that can make the process slightly less unpleasant- and maybe even a positive empowering experience.

1.) Be familiar

• Get to know your pump.  Read the manual, test putting it together and taking it apart.
• Try it out at home.  Even if you're home with your baby and you don't "have" to pump- it's a good idea to try it a couple of times to get an idea of how long it's going to take and the general process from start to finish so you aren't feeling so anxious when you're in an unfamiliar setting and a time-limit.
• Using a breast pump for the first time can be an unsettling surprise.  I would suggest trying a hand-pump first if possible.  You have a little more control and it can help you get used to the process without the automatic suction of a mechanical.
• Talk to other moms who have pumped and/or read up on some personal experiences and tips.  (Oh wait- you're already doing that!  You rock mom!)

2.) Be Prepared

• Breast pads are a must especially the first few weeks while you get used to your pumping schedule.  Nothing like an unexpected leak to put a damper on your pro-pumping attitude.
• Check your pump bag before you leave your house. (Even if you packed it the night before)
• Extra things I like to have in my pump bag aside from actual pumping/storage supplies include my smartphone, chapstick, a snack, hairties, hand sanitizer, and back-up breast pads.  
• If you're really prepared and space in your bag allows- you can even throw-in an extra back-up shirt.
• I like to keep a receiving blanket in case I find myself needing to pump in the car or somewhere that doesn't have 100% guaranteed privacy to give me a little bit of back-up modesty.

3.) Storage

• Find a storage method that works for you.  
• Keep in mind the guidelines for safely storing breast milk- and make sure that whatever method you're using is keeping your baby's milk safe.
• I prefer bags like the Lansinoh brand for long-term freezer storage.  These bags are bigger so you can fit more than the usual standard 5oz inside if you pump a little more than usual one day.  You can also freeze them flat then stack them to save room.
•  
• For short-term storage I'm a fan of Philips AVENT BPA free containers.  They have a wide opening for easy pouring- and because they are bigger than other milk-storage bottles (like the medela ones) they are fairly easy to wash and you don't have the issue of having the separated fatty-milk getting stuck inside after being refrigerated and being unused.  Plus bottles are reusable! Go green! 
• 

4.) Ambiance

• You have to own your choice to breastpump.  Feeling overly uncomfortable or intimidated is going to make you tense and make it more difficult to pump as much as you could if/when you are relaxed.
• Don't check your e-mail.  Along with the stress-minimizing effort, you want to avoid doing anything "work" like.  It's tempting to try and be "productive" while you're sitting there for a good chunk of time every day- but just remember that you ARE being productive.  You are feeding your baby (and saving your family some money!).  Set that time aside and try not to worry about anything else.
• Try and replicate your regular breastfeeding environment as much as possible.  Do you put your feet-up when you're breastfeeding your little one?  Do you browse Pinterest on your smartphone? Try and replicate the experience as much as possible to help remind your body that even though the baby isn't there- it's time to produce some milk.
• "Bring" your baby to work.  This is another great reason to bring a receiving blanket.  If it's one your little one used that morning it may smell like them, or seeing it will remind you of seeing them wrapped in it's soft fabric.  A favorite for many pumping moms is to bring a picture of their little one with them.  You could even take it a step further and have several pictures or videos on your smartphone of your baby to look at while you pump.
• Turn the lights off-check to make sure the door is locked- grab a snack and put your feet up.  Even though you don't have your baby with you- this is still your time together.  You are doing this for the soul purpose of nourishing and sustaining them.  Even if you can't be together for breastfeeding- it can still be a bonding experience to know that you are doing what you can for them while you're apart.

5.) Go Easy on Yourself

• If you are lucky enough to be able to breastfeed your little one for any amount of time- it is a blessing.  Even if you have to quit earlier than you had planned or you end up breastfeeding less often than you would have liked.
• Pumping (like actual breastfeeding) is HARD!  You may feel discouraged from time to time... and that's ok.  
• Remember to keep your personal emotional and mental health in check.  If pumping becomes a stressful obligatory burden- you may want to weigh the pros and cons of pumping at all.  
• Every baby, every mother, and every breastfeeding/pumping experience is unique.  Remember that even if you can't pump and your baby needs to be on formula during the day, you still have the option to try to continue breastfeeding when you're home at night and on the weekends.  
• Some breast milk is better than no breast milk.  And even NO breast milk is better than a stressed-out mother.  
• You know your body and your baby best- so be sure to make the best decisions for both of you.  

Happy Pumping!

Sloths don't only live in trees

So when I thought about overcoming adversity it ended up taking me to kind of a dark place, since I've really never done anything but succumb to it. I hope it's not too much of a downer. It just kinda came flowing out once I started.

-Nikki

I do not consider myself a particularly hardworking person, nor have I ever been one. As a child school came fairly easily to me so I came to believe that it would always be easy. Once it ceased to be uniformly easy for me I began to simply despise the subjects that I had trouble with, rather than doubling my efforts to conquer them. I did the bare minimum in everything and did perfectly well enough. This pattern continued throughout my academic career and though I graduated with a perfectly respectable GPA, I failed to sufficiently prepare myself for college and ended up delaying it. Once I finally got myself there I fiddled around, changed my mind and major, transferred back home to community college, and dragged the process of earning and AA out over four years, doing just the minimum required of me all along. During this time I worked in retail, although with a bit of effort and application I could have done better, despite my lack of a completed education. Yet I couldn't see fit to do more than the bare minimum. Now don't get me wrong, I worked hard at the jobs I had, but I didn't do more than was truly necessary.

The only times I've ever felt like I've truly worked, done satisfying, productive work, has been during my time in the theatre. I spent every extracurricular moment from age 14 onward either performing in a show, working tech for a show, or assisting with drama camp. During a show I will stay long after rehearsal is through, work tirelessly at home to build props or costumes, and I will sing myself hoarse until all my songs are as perfect as I can manage. Then I'll beg for more. The sloth disappears in the theatre.

That's my claim to fame, my one redeeming list of accomplishments to rescue me from being labeled “lazy” or “useless”. And I hate that that is true about me, but it is.

Now in adulthood I have yet to ever begin an actual career and I am now a stay at home mom, which, yes, is a most worthwhile thing to do, no argument here, but I cannot help still feeling useless. Those who know me know that my seven month old son has spent the bulk of his life dealing with a serious health issue, and so, therefore, have my husband and I. At 6 weeks old my son started having seizures, and after months of tests, and countless drugs tried, they persisted. He was finally diagnosed with epilepsy, and just a month ago he underwent major brain surgery to stop his seizures. Long story short, we've had a rough half year, and much of it has been spent seeking solace with my friends and family near and far while we sat with our hands tied and our hearts breaking. Far too much of that solace came in the form of compliments about my personal strength and fortitude for coping with our situation, as if it was my choice and I was choosing to be strong and was suddenly a record-breakingly awesome mother. My loving friends have stated countless times how I'm a super mom for getting through this and they marvel at my strength.

I hate it. I hate this praise. I am not strong. Enduring this ordeal doesn't prove that I'm a great mother or a particularly pragmatic or resourceful one. I've been along for the ride. I've simply handed my sick kid over to doctors and pleaded “Fix Him!”. I haven't done anything worthy of praise, nor have I done anything above and beyond the call of duty. I've done what is required of me. My list of requirements is just a bit different than some other moms, so, by comparison, it may seem somehow more impressive. It's not, though. I'm only surviving, striving each day to know what to do and do it. I'm no different than any other mother who loves her child.

I suppose you could argue that I could, somehow, have “run away” from the problem, but I'd be a monster, so I'll give myself that much credit: No I did not abandon my child. But there is nothing extraordinary about what I've done for him. This is particularly galling to me because I had such great plans for my boy and being a parent. I had planned to give him every opportunity to learn from and early age, and to expose him to all manner of activities so he can find what he loves most and prepare himself to do it for the rest of his life. I wanted him to have more than me, to have everything. Then he got sick, and fell behind developmentally and suddenly all my dreams of rearing a brilliant child who would excel at anything he chose to attempt, were wiped away.

It had been my desire to work hard with and for him, to do more than I'd done in most other areas of my life. I wanted to work for him because I loved him, as I was always able to work for the theatre, because I loved it, but once he got sick I was doing all I could just to keep my head above the water. So again, I was doing the bare minimum.

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Luckily we are now out of the woods with my baby's illness, and normal life can truly begin. My great plans for parenthood may now commence. I have high hopes that I will, in time, be able to achieve all my goals for my child's education, that I won't let him down with my innate laziness. I also hope that I can attain my own career goals and feel like a complete and fulfilled person who is contributing to society, not merely a dependent and a burden.

This is an exciting time in my life, and I hope that the useful me can indeed conquer the lazy me and stand victorious atop a tower of achievements at the end of my life so that my children can emulate me, rather than use me a an example of choices to avoid.

Six Sunny-Day Diaper Bag Items

Fun in the sun…

When I was little- I remember my stay-at-home-mom taking full advantage of the Florida Sun year round planning activities for my brothers and I.  We went to parks, the springs, lakes,  you name it!  We basically lived at the beach.  And for awhile- we even had SEASON PASSES TO DISNEY WORLD!!!!

I mean- holy cow. Can there be anything cooler when you’re a kid?  Methinks not.

{My brothers and I covered in fake snakes at Animal Kingdom- looking appropriately terrified.}

{This is when I was older and I actually had to save-up to go to EPCOT, but Disney never gets old. I'm the one on the right and my friend Skye is on the left- plus there's another TETO author Mandi in the middle.  We are so cool. She better not take this down.}

Now as a mother of my own- I work.  I lament not being able to attend playdates at the zoo, the splashpad, someone’s backyard.  When summertime finally rolls around I find myself sunken into my “me-shape” on the sofa and unwilling to get up for more than the occasional food/potty/toddler-screaming-and-needs-chocolate-milk-now break.  I’m sure a lot of this has to do with having a newborn. (That’s what I tell myself anyway) but either way I still feel pretty bad. 

My poor little toddler is corralled in our apartment watching the 1123^rd episode of Sesame Street streaming on Netflix for the 1123^rd time.  (At least he gets all the graham crackers he can eat…right?!)

Anyhow- we HAVE managed to get out of the house one or two times.  With two kids I’m finding it’s becoming even more important to really be prepared. 

When Graham was a newborn, I did the typical first-time-mom thing and went ALL-OUT with his diaper bag.  (I’m talking like five receiving blankets…kind of ridiculous.) By the time he was 18 months we were usually pretty good with an extra diaper and a thing of wipes shoved into my purse. 

During my pregnancy I found things started to be a little more difficult.  The first time I’d walked around the pregnancy block I didn’t have a toddler.  It is a totally different game.  The first time you’re tired because you’ve never done this before.  It’s all new.  Every ache, every discomfort, every flutter- it’s a big deal! And it’s exauhsting.  The second time around I worried less about whether or not my feet were swollen, and more about whether or not Graham was getting his basic food groups 4/7 nights a week. I worried less about my pregnancy-induced eczema and more about squeezing in those bedtime stories.  The second time around it’s not only about the baby in your belly- but it’s about the baby outside your belly too.  That leaves a lot less “about” for you.

But I’m getting off-track.  The point I’m trying to make, is that when I got pregnant we started to emphasize the preparedness factor again.  I needed more water- and Graham would see me drinking so of course he needed a drink too.  I walked a little slower so grocery-runs took a little longer and we needed some fruit-snack gummies to keep him occupied.  It took a little more time to get out the door, but once we were out, everyone was a LOT more happy.

Now that Xander is here, we’ve switched from an over-the-shoulder diaper bag to a backpack.  It’s nothing fancy (just the free one we got at the hospital) but can I tell you what a LIFESAVER it is having both arms free?!  This is especially true if Hubby isn’t around and I need to carry both boys. Amazing.

Now when we’re out and about, there are a few things this mama wouldn’t want to be without.

(…that kind of rhymes. I’ll pretend I did it on purpose.)

Six Sunny-Day Diaper Bag Items

1.)    A Clean Sippy.

Graham isn’t too thrilled with sippy-cups anymore,  but it sure makes my life a whole lot easier.  We should probably try giving him a straw-cup of some kind instead, but the sippies are still working for now.

Sometimes if we know we are going somewhere (like church or Grandma’s) we will just bring an empty cup.  But this post is about fun in the sun- so let me tell you I would fill that bad-boy up with some good old fashioned water.  Water is WAY better at quenching thirst, not staining clothes, and not going nasty in the diaper bag if you accidentally leave it in there after your sunshine-filled-fun is over.  (I won’t judge!)

And let me remind you, Moms and Dads get thirsty too so it’s always a great idea to bring a big water bottle of your own.  I have frequently had one that served the main purpose of re-filling Graham’s cup and ended up taking a few swigs myself.

2.)    More Diapers! (and wipes)

I doubt I need to tell any mamas out there that it’s a good idea to always bring one or two more diapers than you think you’ll need.  In reality- you won’t need them. You really won’t.  BUT if you don’t bring them- your child will magically become the fountain of youth in his or her pants and you will end up with a soaked carseat and a soaking-wet screaming child.  I  hear it happens.
Also, some of us aren’t too great at re-stocking our diaper bags and it’s always great to have a buffer of some extra diapers from the last time in case you totally forget to grab some this time.

3.)    Extra clothes

Something I actually learned as a teacher before I was a mom- is that it’s always good to have an extra shirt (and pants if possible) for YOU… just in case.  A lot of moms use common sense to stick an extra onesie in the diaper bag for their baby, but I go ahead and throw a t-shirt in there for me too.  Babies aren’t the only ones getting covered in spit-up or soaked when there’s a diaper explosion.  Being out and about is bound to be WAY less stressful if you’re comfortable, and I don’t know about you, but NOT being wet and stinky is always a plus for me.

And while I’m throwing clothes in the diaper bag, I stick an outfit in there for my toddler too.  I usually go with something simple and light that won’t take up too much space and will “work” in any location. (So probably not footie pajamas.  Think tshirt and shorts.)

4.)    Hand Sanitizer

Baby wipes are fantastic at giving you a quick hand-wash if you’re grabbing lunch, but sometimes it’s nice to have that extra “sanitization” factor- especially if you’re somewhere like a theme park and your child has been hanging off of every hand-rail he or she can reach; after every weirdo under the sun has wiped their snotty fingers all over it.  (I speak as the girl who set her hand in a pool of fresh mucus while waiting in line for Buzz Lightyear many years ago.)  There are tons of cute little mini versions available so this shouldn’t take up too much space or be too inconvenient.  You can even buy a big one to keep at home for refills when your to-go size starts running low. 

5.)    Snacks

Ah. My favorite.  Snacks snacks snacks.  They will save your child from apparent-starvation, and you from apparent loss-of-sanity.  We like to just have a few mini Tupperware containers of different snacks to help switch things up.  I like to have a variety of sweet and salty and we try to go for more filling options.  (Graham crackers broken into fourths, Nilla Wafers, Goldfish crackers, club crackers, dry cereal, fruity marshmallows, pretzels, etc…)  Graham loves fruit gummies but I hate having to deal with the wrappers after he’s eaten them.  (Remember what I said about valuable real-estate? Every nook in that bag is precious!)

6.)    Sunscreen

I really have failed on this one.  But I have the best of intentions and I vow to be better!  When I was little- my mom would always slather us in sunscreen before we went to the beach.  And I had to keep on my shirt.  That was lame.  I hated it.  But now as an adult who can clearly see the horrific effects of skin cancer,  I am SO GLAD I was forced to be lame. 

While I’m great at sun-screening it up for Graham at the beach (Xander hasn’t been yet), I’d really like to get better about making sure he has it on anytime we are going to be outside for more than a dash from the car.  I feel like actually having it IN the diaper bag would make it a lot easier for me to remember.

I used to keep some Aveeno baby eczema lotion in the bag when Graham’s skin was breaking out, but he seems to be growing-out of his eczema (fingers crossed!) so I haven’t recently. (That’s valuable real-estate! Be prepared- but don’t carry more than you have to mama!)

{There are two of my elementary school friends looking way cool in their swimsuits on the beach and my brothers and I in our t-shirts on over our swimsuits. I had enough sunburns in my teens to leave me cowering under a blanket and umbrella when we go now though. My boys are lucky- Graham has some of those cool new sunscreen shirts and I'm totes jealous that we didn't have those.}

 So those are the essentials.  With a newborn I also add a spit-up cloth and a receiving blanket in addition to the regular baby blanket I keep in the carseat for a swaddle/nursing cover. 

Honorable Mention Items:

-Hair-ties/clips for mom!

-Pacifier (my boys don’t usually take one but we have it just in case)

-Socks for the kids (addresses blisters and/or chilly feet if you get wet and they are riding home in the A/C)

-Cell phone charger (Maybe it’s just because I’m addicted to technology, but everything goes a lot smoother if mom knows she isn’t going to be stranded somewhere with a dead cell phone.)

-Gripe Water/Baby Tylenol/Band-Aids/Other meds  (Holy goodness. Yes. Yes. Yes. This should probably actually go on the regular list. Gassy babies, unexpected teething, allergic reactions- these are all major fun-killers.  Your day out will end quickly or be incredibly miserable if you don’t have the necessary remedies.)

-A favorite toy (for entertaining during car rides, lines, etc… Don’t go overboard on the toys or bring a REAL favorite because it is entirely possible it will get lost and be gone forever.)

Ok this post is getting ridiculously long and it’s close to midnight so I’m off!  Thanks for dropping by, please come back and read the rest of our Fun in the Sun posts this week!

Ah, summer...

It's that special time of year where everybody complains about the incredible heatwave... that happened at this same time last year... with the same temperatures...

This season has a habit of making people forget about things that happened before, as every summer tends to mush together in our brains. We habit forming humans create routines for the seasons, and hot weather in particular produces shorts, flip flops, sunscreen, cool drinks, and late nights. Many people can relate to this, but only a special few can identify a summer when your life was on the verge of change. Your last summer before becoming a mother.

Having an autumn baby meant that I was steadily becoming heavily pregnant during the time of year when the sun was threatening to scorch the earth. More often than not I felt like an overheated manatee left out on the beach to dry. Being a person who loves to hang out by the pool, that summer was unusual for me because I never stopped by, not even once to dip my toes in. Feeling rather self-conscious I was worried my burgeoning baby bump would encourage unwanted gawking, especially as I reminisced about the summer prior how I had enjoyed sunbathing slathered in coconut oil with a smooth, flat tummy.

I became rather focused on how my body was changing, and while I gave some consideration to how my life would be affected, there is really nothing to prepare anyone for parenthood. I would think to myself I should relish my freedom while I still have it, but the luxury of solo trips to the store and being able to come and go as I please would not be something I could fully appreciate until it was gone. Thankfully my fear of losing everything I came to understand as a self-actualized adult was smoothly replaced by my growing excitement and anticipation as flutters became kicks and people began to recognize me as pregnant and not that fat girl with a pretty face.

Admittedly there were some aspects of the change that were unpalatable for me because I was experiencing my pregnancy alone; At that time my husband was deployed to Iraq so I was left to fend for myself. That meant when I got 11pm cravings for Wendy's, I would have to be my own best friend and go get it. When my belly got too big to see my body from the waist down, a mirror on the floor became responsible for making sure I was wearing the same pair of shoes on both feet. And most importantly, late at night when I got a sharp kick to the bladder, I didn't have anyone to pre-warm the seat for me, so I'd have to suck it up and plop down on a chilly toilet. Although these are all things I would have loved to have experienced with him, the independence of it all became another defining aspect of that summer.

I have many fun and even some not-so-pleasant memories from that time, but collectively it was a season I will forever cherish. During that short phase even though I thought I understood everything, it is only in hindsight that I can fully comprehend what a special and unique time in my life it was. My experiences I had back then will always stand apart from all the heatwaves I have had and will have from here on out - even when it's old age that turns my brain to mush and not the heat.  For the rest of my life, I will always honestly be able to share how I am blessed to have a summer memory as distinguished as turning the page in my life from being simply a woman to becoming a mother.
-JLH

JLH is the devoted wife of an adrenaline junkie soldier of the US ARMY, and the mother of a quirky and sassy five year old girl. The author has a love for the absurd, a penchant for the strange, and enjoys walking on the wacky side of life.