tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59832431467316571752024-03-12T23:22:42.207-05:00Messi MamaAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-34705798536336304722016-04-14T20:30:00.002-05:002016-04-14T20:30:49.621-05:00The Day I Became A Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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First of all, I feel I should just put a quick disclaimer here...I tend to be overly honest. So I am highly likely to say something that was just a little too much information without even realizing that others might find it to be such. So now that you are prepared for that potential occurrence, let me tell you about what turned out to be one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.<br />
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Hannah's story really starts months before when I was twenty-something weeks along with Hannah and terrified of giving birth. So one day while my husband, mother-in-law, and I were browsing a bookstore, I decided I needed help to get over the irrational fears that were going through my mind. So I plopped down in the parenting section of Mardels and started rifling through books to find one that I thought would help. After looking at several, I stumbled upon "The Birth Book" by William and Martha Sears.<br />
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It was important to me that the book I chose had natural pain management techniques, encouraged me in the process of natural childbirth and...by far the most important to me...contained childbirth stories so that I could be encouraged that it was possible. This book provided that and so much more. It also covered nutrition and exercises to do during pregnancy, medicine available at hospitals, VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), different positions during labor, fetal monitoring, episiotomies, C-Sections, and pretty much everything else you could think of concerning birth. It also contained historical data on birth and was basically just a treasure trove of invaluable information. The only downfall is that it was written quite a while ago (in 1994) and therefore lacks some of the more up-to-date information on pain medications and other such things that are more current. But regardless of that fact, I feel that this book was a major part of the reason I was able to successfully have the kind of labor and birth that I had hoped for. Now for the story!<br />
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So on Tuesday the 7th I opted to get a membrane sweep done because I was 39 weeks, 5 days along and wanted to avoid getting induced (which which was scheduled to be done at 41 weeks, 1 day due to the increased risk of fetal death at that point) if possible. The sweep was not majorly uncomfortable like I had read online. There was absolutely no pain. But it only succeeded at giving me stronger Braxton Hicks Contractions, which I had already been experiencing for about a week. I was 1cm dilated at 36 weeks and 2cm, 75% effaced at 38 weeks. At the time of the sweep, I was 3cm dilated and at least 75% effaced (I forgot to ask for the exact number) with what my doctor described as a "really soft" cervix. My body was ready. My next appointment with the doctor was on Tuesday, April 14th at 9am.<br />
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On the 14th, I was 40 weeks, 5 days along according to the dating scan that had been done at 10 weeks of pregnancy. However, I know the exact day I ovulated because I took an ovulation predictor kit due to feeling a little crampy and it was strongly positive. Suffice it to say I know exactly when I got pregnant. According to that, my due date was the 13th, so I was still a day overdue even according to my own calculation. The doctor checked me and said I was 4cm dilated. She went ahead and did another sweep while she was at it. While she was measuring my belly to be sure Hannah was growing properly, she said, "Oh! You're contracting right now! Can you feel it?" I couldn't feel a thing. Literally. Nothing. But I had felt a few contractions earlier that morning. The day before I had a couple so strong that they almost took me to the ground and it was a good thing I was standing by a counter at the time. But they had never gotten consistent or closer together, so I was still waiting. Anyways, after the doctor checked me and discovered that I was having contractions that I wasn't even feeling, she got a little nervous. To be honest, so did I. Mostly because my older sister had given birth four times and every time made it to the hospital just in time to push. She could feel the head of one of them before they even made it to the room. I had been concerned that the same would happen to me all along because I tend to have a very high pain tolerance.<br />
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The doctor asked if I would like to go ahead and go over to the hospital and start some Pitocin to get things moving further along. I was 3 days away from being induced anyways, and my husband would be working the next two days, making it slightly more difficult if I went into labor spontaneously and ended up being like my sister. I wasn't entirely interested at arriving at the hospital with intense contractions and an urge to push, so I looked at my husband, who was off work and at the appointment with me, and asked, "What do you think? Do you want to have a baby today?" He said it was up to me, so I thought about all of this and the fact that the dishes were done, the laundry was done, we were all packed with everything in the car with us, and I had had a good breakfast and a full nights sleep. All of these I felt were important factors for going into labor. The having had just eaten breakfast and had a good night's sleep were especially essential, so I looked at the doctor and she said, "I would honestly be nervous sending you home at this point. I would be much more comfortable if you went." I had grown to trust my OBGYN and her instincts. We picked her because she leaned more towards the natural side of things, had a low C-Section rate, hated episiotomies, and encouraged movement during labor. She also was so very laid back that I knew she would let me labor without feeling a need to rush things along or hurry to a C-Section unless an emergency arose.<br />
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So I agreed. We went over to the hospital and checked in, getting all situated and letting people know what was going on. I had a few light contractions during the whole process, but nothing big. The nurse put me on a fetal monitor and contraction monitor to keep track of how I was doing. Another nurse put an IV in my other arm which was just to keep me hydrated. I asked her if I would be able to move around, and she said "not really very much" because of the monitors, but that they would help me change positions frequently. She asked if I wanted pain meds or an epidural. I said no, that I wanted to do this naturally. She informed me that this was fine, but that pain meds couldn't be given once I hit 6cm due to making the baby sleepy. Epidurals can be given at any time. I already knew this from The Birth Book. She checked me and said that by her estimation, I was at 3cm. It was 10:30am. Then she left me alone to see if I would progress on my own.<br />
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Earlier in my pregnancy, I had developed PUPPPs (Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy), which is an incredibly itchy rash that was all over my stomach and caused the stretch marks to be swollen and have scabs from scratching. (It was another reason for being ready to give birth...it goes away afterward). I had had it for at least a couple of weeks and was so uncomfortable. The contraction monitor really irritated it, and it was more distressing than the contractions themselves. I put some olive oil on it, which only succeeded in causing the contraction monitor to give erratic readings due to sliding around. But I didn't really care. I just needed relief. Matthew suggested I go to the bathroom a lot to have an excuse to move around. Since it's important to have an empty bladder during labor, I thought this was a good idea and employed it. I often buzzed the nurse and got to go to the bathroom. I washed the olive oil back off during one of those trips. It was better once I got it soothed with water, and then the monitors didn't bother me in the least. <br />
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During Early Labor, I was just chilling out and reading my textbook for a class. When Matthew (my husband) asked me if it was working to distract me, I was like "Not really, but I have a test that opens up on the 17th. I have to study for it." He took the book from me and informed that I was in labor and wasn't allowed to be doing school unless it was actually helping me in some way. As it was, I was merely doing it out of obligation and because I'm a bit of an overachiever. After I gave birth to Hannah, the doctor saw my textbook in the room as well and was like, "Were you seriously reading that during labor?" I had taken a textbook to every appointment with her and used the time to get it read, so she knew I tended to do that. What can I say...I actually looked forward to those appointments because when I got home, I got to write down that I had completed another task. It was rather refreshing. She was amused that I was reading it during labor, but not surprised. (I also get sidetracked easily. Just so you know. Back to the story). After that, Matthew asked if I wanted to watch Monk, and I did, so we started on Season 3.<br />
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Around 12, they checked me again and I was still at 3cm, so the nurse asked if I had discussed with my doctor about starting Pitocin or breaking my water first and what we had decided. We had never really discussed that, but I had thought about it. Originally I had wanted to just start Pitocin, but when I was there in the moment, I made a split-second decision and said probably breaking my water first. The nurse got ahold of my doctor and about 30 mins later, they broke my water. It was actually far less traumatic than I had imagined. There was practically no discomfort. Then they left me alone again to labor on my own. Matthew was the only one in the room, as had been the case the entire time except when the nurse helped me to get to the bathroom. After my water was broken, contractions started to become more regular and slightly stronger. They took a bit more concentration. I ignored what the nurse had said and got out of the bed and stood by it, walking around a bit and just working through the discomfort. It was more important to me to be mobile than to comply.<br />
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Around 3:00, the nurse decided it was time to start me on Pitocin so that my contractions would become more regular. She talked to me a little bit about it and I asked what dosages the hospital typically does. The night before, I had been doing research on Pitocin to see what was considered a "low" dose so that I could do that. In doing so, I stumbled upon this website that really helped me with my fears of being induced. I had read and heard that Pitocin makes labor hard because the contractions are stronger than they are normally. Most women who get induced ask for an epidural because the pain is so bad. I was terrified that I would be one of them. But, like I said, I found this website. It said,<br />
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"A lot of women swear that a pitocin labor is far more painful than a spontaneous labor. I won't argue with them. I've done two labors with and two without and can't say which was more difficult. I will say that pitocin is crazy effective in putting you into hard-rockin' labor. Hard rockin' labor is far more painful than soft-rockin' labor but--most of the time—it's the hard stuff that gets the job done. The reason pitocin is considered so much harder than natural labor is that it gives you really strong contractions in a less gradual time frame than you might get on our own. Let's look at it this way: Think of an old fashioned record player. If early labor is when the needle's on the outside of the record and hard labor is the inside track closer to the label (the label is your baby); pitocin picks the needle up from the outside and puts it on the inside. Left on your own, you'd eventually get there yourself but it might take a really, really long time and your record might skip—essentially keeping you in a stuck position. Your needle has to play that last song on the record before your baby's born. That's just the way it is." (<a href="http://www.fitpregnancy.com/pregnancy/labor-delivery/ask-labor-nurse/whats-pitocin-really">Source</a>)</blockquote>
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That truly helped me to cope with the anxiety that I had been feeling that I would give in to pain meds when it was very important to me that I have as natural a labor as possible. I think that choosing to go ahead and go to the hospital rather than waiting three days also played a big part in helping me to not freak out so much about it because I didn't have all that extra time to grow more and more anxious. I had to accept pretty quickly that this was happening, and I think that helped me. I had settled in my mind and heart before I came to the hospital that regardless of how she came, I would be holding my daughter within the day, and that became my focus. So when they started me on Pitocin, I was mentally and emotionally ready. However, I was exceedingly glad that they had let me labor on my own for several hours first to see if I could do it on my own.<br />
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The nurse started me on a very low dose of 2 mU to see if it would help my contractions get into a more regular pattern. It worked and I was soon in active labor, with contractions coming regularly and labor progressing well. At some point the nurse checked me and I was at 5cm dilated. The contractions took more focus and I began to turn my thoughts toward things that made me happy in between contractions in order to "let go" of each one after it came, as the book mentioned above had instructed. It was very important to not focus on the pain of the contractions in between them and to rather dwell on joyful things. Mostly I thought about my husband and our wonderful life. I imagined our little girl. It was mostly a task of mind over matter. During the contractions, I really focused in on my breathing and Matthew started providing counter pressure by massaging my lower back, where most of the pain radiated. At one point a nurse came in and asked Matthew if he would like a ball to sit on. Before he could answer, I was like, "Yes! He would." I planned to commandeer that ball, but I hadn't felt right about asking for one since the other nurse had told my I couldn't move around much. I had been using Matthew's exercise ball at home for the past couple of months and kept telling him that I definitely wanted a birthing ball at my labor. The nurse brought it in and brought it to me instead of Matthew, which I found amusing. She said something along the lines of, "You can use this during contractions, and it may help". As soon as I sat on it, the pain went away. It was so wonderful. It made contractions so much more bearable. I continued to remain active, moving between sitting on the bed, standing, walking, sitting on the ball, and occasionally lying on my side. It was really just a bunch of experimentation to see what helped to alleviate the pain the most. Sometimes one position would work and other times it wouldn't and I would have to try something new.<br />
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Soon enough, my contractions were rolling on top of one another and apparently I looked like I was in a lot of pain because the nurse chose to bump my Pitocin levels down from 2mU to 1mU. I loved that nurse at that moment. Although the pain wasn't unbearable, it was getting hard to relax between them because I didn't have much time to do so. The contractions remained regular after that but became a little further apart, to about 3 mins apart or so, I believe. My OBGYN came in later and checked me and I was still at a 5, so she had them put me back at 2mU. I'm not sure if the nurse actually did or not. By this time, I had completely lost track of time because I had taken off my glasses and couldn't see the clock. Plus, I didn't really think about it. I was more concerned with getting through labor and delivery.<br />
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At one point, the nurse informed me that her shift would be over soon and she would be handing me into the care of another nurse. Although I didn't say anything, I was quite unhappy with this because she had already made it into my comfort zone. She had such a sweet and gentle nature and was so very kind that I guess being in the throes of labor caused me to allow her into my comfort zone much more quickly than I normally would. A little bit later, I went to the bathroom and that's when the new nurse came. My previous one stayed there and introduced me to her, saying that "she's one of my favorites". Of course, I knew she probably only said this to comfort me in my laboring state, but it was sweet. I would guess it was probably around 5pm at this point, as that seems a reasonable hour for a shift change and I had likely been laboring with Pitocin for around two hours.<br />
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My labor gradually became more intense and my new nurse checked me as being still at a 5 and said that she wouldn't check my dilation again until and unless I wanted her to because she knew I wanted a natural birth. I suppose she took more of the hands off philosophy. I decided right then and there that she was my new favorite. Not having to have my cervix checked while enduring contractions? Oh yeah! Right on! But I was still at a 5 at this point. I felt so downhearted after she told me that. I felt the same way I had felt in the weeks previous when I was experiencing Braxton Hicks...like my body was stuck and not doing what it was designed to do. I felt helpless and so sad. But only for a moment, because I reminded myself that this was not like the Braxton Hicks...I was legitimately in labor and I WOULD really be holding my little girl by the end of the night or by early morning. However, I told myself that she was coming tonight and set my mind and heart to that end. That may have played a big part in really taking on the contractions mentally and working through them. I wanted desperately to hold my little girl. I remember my doctor asking me at one of my appointments, perhaps the one that morning, where she got the stubborness from since she wouldn't come out. I was immediately like, "Oh, me. Definitely me." But my stubborness helped me get through labor because I was bound and determined to be holding my little girl before midnight.<br />
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I continued laboring and my contractions continued to get stronger. Eventually I had to turn to things deeper inside of me to relax between them. The deepest thing in me was my faith, so that was what I leaned on. I imagined the Creator painting sunrises and building trees. I watched in my minds eye as He looked on while waves crashed against shorelines and grass in a vast golden field like you find in Texas swayed in the wind. I saw Him fashion the tiny fingers of my little girl and imagined what he had designed her to look like. I thought of Psalm 139 and imagined Him knitting her together in my womb just for this moment, when she was ready to come out and I would get to meet her.<br />
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As it got even harder, I had to rely on the concepts I had taught myself years before when I was about 17 in choosing my thoughts. I had read Joyce Meyer's <i>Battlefield of the Mind </i>and, afterwards, decided that instead of being a pessimist as I definitely was at the time, I wanted to be an optimist. To that end, I truly set to work at that time really being diligent about not letting impure or negative thoughts have their place in my mind. I even have a praise song that I taught myself to sing any time I'm having impure thoughts. It triggers as soon as I recognize that my thoughts are, in fact, impure. It serves as a great distraction. At first, I had to really concentrate on singing the song every time a thought came to get myself into the habit, but now it comes on its own immediately as if it's second nature. In case you're wondering, it's "Fire Fall Down" by Hillsong United. I only sing the chorus in my mind because I can never remember the rest. ANYWAYS...I got sidetracked there for a minute....so as it got harder, I had to truly begin changing my thoughts. Every time I would think about how difficult it was, I would change the thought into a praise for God. I would thank Him for making my body the way He had, for giving me the ability to give birth, for blessing me with a child, for just about anything and everything that would allow me to focus on how much of a blessing this was rather than how hard it was.<br />
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Contractions got hard, and at one point, I was like, "I'm gonna throw up!" There was a bucket on the table. I'm not sure what it was actually for, but I asked Matthew to bring it to me, and I used it for expelling my toxic waste. I had known long before that I wasn't going to make it through labor without throwing up because I had thrown up until 19 weeks into my pregnancy, and I had heard that you can throw up during labor. I knew that since I was prone to it, I was likely to do so. The thought entered my mind that I was probably in transition because that's when many women throw up,as I had learned from the book that I mentioned above. Someone told the nurse that I threw up and from then on, she stayed in the room with us rather than coming in to check on me on occasion. She asked me if I wanted some Zoloft, and I was like, "No, thanks". I said this because throwing up, for me, feels like such a release. It's up there among my favorite sensations, with sneezing being right above it. (Hey, when you're throwing up for 19 weeks straight and can barely eat, you learn to appreciate the little things. It's AMAZING how much a sneeze can relieve nausea).<br />
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The back pain that I was experiencing intensified to the point where it was difficult to communicate. I would speak too quietly for anyone to hear me and would consequently have to gather all my strength to repeat myself, which came out in what Matthew describes as "grunts". I would give quick, typically one-word instructions such as "harder!" or "lower!" (I was telling my husband to press harder on my lower back or to move his hands lower to relieve the pain). For the most part, those were the only words I spoke. Other than that, it took all the energy and focus that I had to just do the slow, calm breathing that I had practiced for months. Sometimes I would get too focused on the pain and the nurse could tell because those were usually the times I gave my one-word instructions, so she would remind me to breathe. I listened to her and would refocus my attention on that. Sometimes I literally had to just focus all my attention on Matthew's face and imitate him (he was doing the breathing we had practiced) because I would literally forget how. Sometimes I would furrow my eyebrows, confused about how in the world he was doing that, but I would just copy him and I made it through. Sometimes he would do the faster breathing that we had also practiced that I had picked out because I thought I would like it, but in the moment, I decided I didn't because it was too hard to attempt to do, so I would kind of shake my head and do the slow breathing, and he would switch back to that for me.<br />
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At one point, probably around 7:30, Matthew's dad brought him some Subway and he left the bedside to go eat. He was still in the room, but I still wasn't thrilled about the prospect of him not being there. People say that during labor, they had all kinds of awful thoughts about their husbands. Numerous people warned us that he shouldn't take anything to heart that I said. I guess I was an odd one, because I can honestly say that I fell more in love with my husband during labor. He was such a great support and would often reassure me with comments like, 'you can do this', you're doing great', and other things like that. I relied heavily on those words of encouragement to get me through mentally.<br />
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Soon, however, the smell of the food got to me, and I yelled "Food! Out!" Right before I threw up. I'm laughing now as I remember the way Daddy (Matthew's dad), and Matthew scurried out of the room. It was funny even then. I knew I was in transition (7-10 centimeters dilated). However, labor also intensified and I began to doubt my ability to do this. After Matthew had returned, the nurse said something along the lines of "I know you wanted a natural birth, so whenever you're ready to have your cervix checked, I'll let you decide." I told her that I wanted to go to the bathroom first. She and Matthew helped me to the bathroom. I had one contractions the way and two while in the bathroom. The toilet was SO comfortable that I said I didn't want to move. The nurse got this really compassionate look on her face and simply said, "yeah, but toilets make nurses nervous", and Matthew just nodded. So I got up and had a contraction which I had to breathe through. They helped me back to the bed and I laid on my side and had such a strong contraction that tears started streaming down my face. I looked at Matthew and said, "Can I do this?" He got down by the side of the bed, took my hands in his, and said, "Yes baby, you can DO this. You're doing so well. You're doing so well. You're almost there." Transition is the shortest phase, and I knew that intellectually, but going through it makes you lose your mind. I needed to hear that so badly right then because I was just about ready to ask for some pain meds. But his saying that strengthened my resolve, helped me to recommit, and gave me the courage to have my cervix checked. It was a highlight of being in labir thay I remember a year later. I was terrified of having my cervix checked because I didn't think I could emotionally handle her saying I wasn't in transition and had a long time to go. </div>
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I rolled over on to my back to have it checked, and the nurse smiled and said, "You're at an 8". In started weeping with relief and just kept saying over and over " Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." To God, to her, to Matthew, to the whole world. I was so relieved because I knew I would soon meet my daughter. Two contractions later, And I was fully dilated and able to start pushing. I just remember closing my eyes through those two contractions and when I opened them, there were what seemed to me like 10 people (actually 5) all dressed in surgical garb, including my OBGYN. It was such a relief to see Dr. Allison Huebert. She was like the boat that comes to rescue you. She brought calm into the room. </div>
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"I need you to listen to me, OK Brittany? Look right at me. Focus on me. We're going to start pushing now, OK?" I just kept repeatedly saying, "Yes ma'am" and put all my focus on her. I trusted her to tell me when to push, and she did a great job instructing me, flowing with my body and not rushing things. In fact, there were times when she stopped saying "push" and I kept pushing becuase I was determined to get that baby out. She would just say, "Oh you're not done. Gonna keep going? Well OK then". Now, I know I should have listened to her more and I probably wouldn't have had a 2 degree tear (which she patched up beautifully). Soon, I gasped, " I can't breathe!" and they quickly put an oxygen mask on me. The fresh air was such a relief. </div>
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After about 40 minutes or so, she asked if I would like a full length mirror brought in so I could see and be encouraged to push. I nodded and they wheeled in a huge mirror. For the first time ever, I saw the top of my beautiful daughter's head. She had a full head of dark hair that the Dr. Huebert was twirling as she came out. It was so long and thick that she couldn't resist. Seeing her gave me new resolve and I pushed like I hadn't before. She kept encouraging me to keep my eyes open during the pushing stages so I could see her slide out. At one point, Hannah started to slide back in, as is nomal in delivery, and I said in a firm voice "Oh no you don't, young lady! You are coming OUT!" I then tensed my muscles so she couldn't slide any further in (Kegels paid off). Everyone in the room laughed and Dr. Huebert said, "Oh she sounds like a mom now!" Finally, finally, after about 55 mins of pushing, my little girl's 17cm circumference head emerged, and within five minutes, out came the rest of her. Her cord was cut and I held her right away. I felt another pushing sensation and said, "Has my placenta come out yet, because it's coming!" And out it came, practucally on it's own. I only had to give a very small push. I then handed Hannah off to the nurses and she was taken care if, then passed to her Daddy and Grammy. It was the most beautiful experience of my life and produced the most amazing little human I have ever met. </div>
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10:16 pm: Hannah Abigail Day. 8lbs, 13 oz, 21.5 inches long. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-40961519294967263972016-02-11T07:14:00.001-06:002016-02-11T07:28:23.183-06:00A BBA, an MRS, and the Job of a Lifetime<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjShqjmK768yZ_QeHdKuyujZ7S3isVjHXEDMXKVlBoI619Y5RL4zM_JfZ1cU4Ev9LrPcQwl55JxYBNTwyXbNwDn2LRGiMv4dpXwOrab14z5pmbKXTbX2e340htZLZeNwPUEeWvzoA9y0FM/s1600/IMG_2637%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjShqjmK768yZ_QeHdKuyujZ7S3isVjHXEDMXKVlBoI619Y5RL4zM_JfZ1cU4Ev9LrPcQwl55JxYBNTwyXbNwDn2LRGiMv4dpXwOrab14z5pmbKXTbX2e340htZLZeNwPUEeWvzoA9y0FM/s320/IMG_2637%255B1%255D.JPG" width="240" /></a>I recently (this past December) graduated from college with a B.B.A. Many have asked me what I want to do with it. This is my apologetic, of sorts, about what I DON'T want to do with it. And what, one day, I DO want to. You see, I have noticed this trend in society that says that women have to be doing some kind of work to be considered worthwhile. They either have to be doing some kind of work, or have seven children and be 'unable' to, in which case they are shunned for having so many blessings (???). But I have to ask...why?<br />
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Is motherhood not worthy? Why do you have to have a stock portfolio and bank account full of slips of paper with dead presidents on it to be considered worth something? What about the LEGO letters I made with my (almost) 10 month old? What about the fact that she knows how to find and turn the pages of a book....on her own? What about the fact that she can already say "Mama", sign "food" and "milk" knows the word "No" (AND responds to it....sometimes =P), and has discovered the toilet, pots and pans, and is capable of climbing stairs? What currency is that? Is it a worthy one in our society?<br />
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You know what I want to do with my Business Degree? I want to build massive Waffle Block/LEGO/Little People cities all over the living room floor with my daughter. I want to walk around the house like a crazy person saying things like "<i>yellow</i> squash, <i>red</i> apple, <i>black</i> fridge", "EHH! Don't you tear Mommy's book!!", "Are you allowed to climb on the table and pull the Tablet down? No you are NOT allowed to do that. Nooo....Hannah...no..I said NO!". "Put the computer cord down. You can't play with that.", "Oh did you find your book? Yay!!", "You LIKE the piano, huh? That makes Mommy happy to see you happy." I want to take her to the library and the park with my mommy friend (her blog is <a href="http://newcrunchymom.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">here</span></a>), who has a son her age. I want to show her how the world works and be a part of her exploration. I want to be there with her as she discovers, learns, and grows.<br />
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What do I want to do with my life...my degree? I want to grow up to be like my Mother-In-Law. She got TWO Associates degrees in the middle of raising THREE young boys. (She was eight months pregnant with the youngest when she graduated with her second Associates). Then, she raised her boys. She taught them how to cook, clean, read, write, question, explore. She home-schooled them. She hosted Pampered Chef, Usborne Book, Origami Owl, and various other parties. They made movies when they were around 9, 11, and 13 (they made them over the course of several years, and one is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbmsvixrCYQ" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">here</span></a>). Now, one of them (mine <3) is a Meteorologist, undertakes epic debates on Facebook, and is a bit of a Theological nerd (his blog is <a href="http://www.thehopefulheretic.com/" target="_blank">here</a>). The middle son is working on his Bachelors degree and is full of all kinds of interesting insights. The youngest is dating a wonderful girl and going to Tech school. The two younger ones help run the farm and are about to take it over for a while. (Obviously my husband can't because he's too busy attempting to keep track of me. =P). The boys are in their 20's now, and what is my Mother-in-Law doing? She is back in school getting an Accounting degree, working at Weight Watchers, traveling frequently an hour and a half away to see her siblings and parents, running an 80 acre farm with cows, chickens, guineas, dogs, cats, and a garden, and who KNOWS what else. She is amazing. I am so proud of her. And I want to be just like her.<br />
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Don't get me wrong...I DO want to use my degree. But in my own way...my own time. I dream of one day decorating pastries or making useful objects like nursing covers and hats or something. Maybe refurbishing and selling furniture or something like that. Definitely writing and selling books. I have so many dreams. But right now, I am in the trenches of young motherhood, and that is exactly where I want to be. 2am with my not-supposed-to-be-awake-and-definitely-not-playing daughter, days with banging on pots and pans, and moments with memories like an arm reaching out as she says "Mama!" for the first time. THAT is what I want to do with my degree. THIS is where I want to be. This is my happy place, for now. And I have embraced it in all its sleepless glory.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-16734820921230156002016-01-21T20:36:00.000-06:002016-01-21T21:23:43.994-06:00My Daughter the Lab Rat<div dir="ltr">
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I donated my baby to science. Yeah, you read that right. She was part of a program known as <a href="http://www.smithsonianmag.com/innovation/skateboard-device-helps-risk-infants-learn-crawl-180956691/?no-ist" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">SIPPC</span></a> (Self-Initiated Prone Progressive Crawler), where she was hooked up to an EEG (electroencephalogram) once a week and strapped to a scooter twice a week and observed as she attempted to learn to crawl. The first time they put the EEG hat on her head, she smiled, as if she knew she was contributing to a better world. My little girl may have just helped change the future.</div>
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It all started when a good friend of mine posted about the study on Facebook, and mentioned that she was working with the Scientist/Physical Therapist who spearheaded the project, Dr. Kolobe. They were looking for babies in my daughter's age range at the time (between 3 and 5 months) to be a part of it. We immediately jumped on the bandwagon and started traveling to OKC to strap her down and entice her with toys that she would crawl towards on the scooter. The purpose was to measure her brain waves with the EEG, because when you learn a new skill, new areas in your brain are activated. The research team wanted to compare the brain of normally developing babies to that of those with Cerebral Palsy. They have found that children with Cerebral Palsy don't have certain connections in their brain which allow for movement, and they speculate that these connections are formed as early as 3 months, when they are learning how to become mobile. The hope is that one day children with Cerebral Palsy will have their own scooters that encourage them to crawl and hopefully they can be more mobile throughout life.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUR7RnYte2Gez9BYKRlDdzk0dFq7Hq5e1uDTq9epKdBwDw4_Y1QZZDYhZ-XE-N_UbeF87UlR6nkXmi1RMtZoOYIT2Ex0yM7Fe7swjMhHx2qPE6nJHICS9ImNobjDUeMBknQ8XcqVvDHA/s1600/IMG_2425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUR7RnYte2Gez9BYKRlDdzk0dFq7Hq5e1uDTq9epKdBwDw4_Y1QZZDYhZ-XE-N_UbeF87UlR6nkXmi1RMtZoOYIT2Ex0yM7Fe7swjMhHx2qPE6nJHICS9ImNobjDUeMBknQ8XcqVvDHA/s320/IMG_2425.JPG" width="240" /></a>Although Hannah protested at times, I think she loved being a part of the project as much as we did. At the very beginning, they did an assessment on her to test where she was developmentally. They also took pictures and video of her throughout to compile so we can see how far she has come. She went from being unable to move at the beginning of the project to crawling at the end of it. We thought that day would never come, but it did...just six days before her eight month birthday. A mere three weeks later, she was pulling up and walking along furniture. </div>
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Being a part of the study helped her. She came to recognize the wonderful physical therapist who came to our house weekly and smiled every time she saw her. She sat still when we had to establish a baseline with the EEG on her head. She loved the people and enjoyed being able to get to toys (although she did get upset when we had to move them away so she could go for them again). As time progressed, she got better and better at getting around in what we referred to as the baby Semi Truck. Eventually we struggled to keep up with her as she attempted to get the toys. </div>
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But more than that, she helped build a better future for kids everywhere. One day that scooter (without all the observation equipment) will help babies develop new neural pathways so they can be mobile. Today we went in for the final assessment, and Dr. Kolobe said, "No one has ever done this before. No one has ever measured the brain as a new skill was being learned. Because this is a skill, not a milestone. So it will be very interesting to see how the brain develops. She is helping, and we thank you for that." She was so passionate. Pure excitement rang out in her voice as she explained how the science worked. It truly is a phenomenal project.</div>
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There is a Jewish idea known as Tikkun Olam. It is the idea of acts of kindness which serve to repair our broken world. Anyone can do Tikkun Olam, even my little 3 month old (she is now 9 months). One day I will teach her about Tikkun Olam, and explain how she helped. I hope, when that day comes, that she understands the importance and worth of this valuable concept, and I pray she goes on to do great things. </div>
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"You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you." -John Bunyan<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-69815020149215264422016-01-18T13:12:00.001-06:002016-01-18T13:12:36.535-06:00Mood Modification for Mommies<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/brizzlebornandbred/4934882110/in/photolist-bLHrwi-nhd7JD-8xTHVr-8w5ywj-euYoS-A8zQK-6janC-5UHvGW-bvc7PH-afXHjZ-cGQMp-4dJwrs-7tzmvA-5Vq68J-7ZDb3-dySSgM-4j3pct-az1VK5-6aJLUT-RkGQ5-izzdb-bU9U8H-bqk1eF-5MfqrY" target="_blank">Paul Townsend</a></td></tr>
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I wrote in a <a href="http://messimama.blogspot.com/2015/12/sleep-deprivation-and-end-of-world.html" target="_blank">previous post</a> that I had been experiencing sleep deprivation with my now nine month old daughter. While things are back to "normal" (read: OUR normal) with typically 4 feedings between 9pm and 8am, I still wanted to explain a little bit about what had brought me to such a place of sheer desperation that I was willing to compromise one of my core beliefs to get what I wanted. But first, let me explain a little about that core belief and how it came to be. </div>
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My biological mother is not exactly what you would call a "woman of her word". I basically take anything she says with a grain of salt, because it's probably not going to happen. She said she would send me a birthday gift. Never happened. Baby pictures of me that I asked her for? Never got them. The $200 that she promised my sister to help her with college when she was struggling? Such an exchange never occurred. It was hard to handle when I was young, but as I've grown up, I've learned to simply accept and overlook it. Because of it, however, I made a pact with myself long before Hannah was born that no matter what, I wanted her to be able to trust me and to know that I loved and wanted her (my mom also gave her rights to me away when I was 9 and has proven through her actions that she really prefers partying and reckless living to relationships with her children). </div>
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When I was pregnant with my daughter, the evidence of this pact revealed itself in my commitment to, no matter how much I threw up and could barely eat for nineteen weeks, never say that I wished I hadn't gotten pregnant or that I in any way considered her a burden. I felt she would be able to, if not hear me, possibly understand in some way that I felt that way, and I didn't want that. After she was born, my desire for her to trust me propelled me out of bed day and night to feed her, no matter how hard it was or how much I felt like I was having to sacrifice my body to this tiny human. I wanted so greatly for her to know that I would always come for her when she needed me. </div>
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At around six months, that all changed. I had read one too many "authoritative sources" that said infants should be sleeping through the night by 4 months. But more than that, I had started listening to and watching the wrong stuff. Mommy blogs that encouraged me to complain when I didn't like something rather than focusing on what I DID like and how many blessings I had. Netflix shows that promoted "following your heart", no matter what it destroys in the process. Facebook posts that encouraged a person to pursue pleasure and get quick results, with no need for hard work and dedication (I'm sure everyone saw that Zuckerberg was giving away $4.5 million to certain people who copied and pasted a status).</div>
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Listening to and seeing these types of things constantly can really influence a person. They caused me to try the Ferber cry-it-out method, even though my mommy instinct told me it was a bad idea, simply because I wanted my own way. I forgot completely about what my daughter NEEDED from me (<a href="https://breastfeedchicago.wordpress.com/2013/05/24/5-cool-things-no-one-ever-told-you-about-nighttime-breastfeeding/" target="_blank">here</a>'s a really cool article about that). There have been many times in the past when starting my day with Facebook would leave me feeling grumpy and cranky all day. On the days when I don't start my day with Facebook, I always feel more energetic and ready to take on the day's tasks. So I've changed my strategy. Now I start my day with the Bible and a YouTube video of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/samuel8955" target="_blank">Sam and Nia</a>, because they are always so encouraging and have great attitudes about life. I choose Netflix shows that have a lesson learned in them and promote positive messages. I have noticed that I'm much more positive in my outlook. I get more accomplished and don't complain so much. </div>
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I remember a conversation I had with my husband a couple of months ago (it takes me forever to write a blog), when I was just starting to come out of this "poor me" mentality. We were sitting at the kitchen table, and I told him how I wanted to start focusing more on my blessings and quit complaining so much. He told me that he noticed I had been trying to do that the previous couple of days, and that the change in my attitude from what I watched/read before this new commitment and what I watched/read after it really showed. He asked me a few months back, when I was in the throes of complaining constantly, "Are you going to be like this all the time? Because I'm not sure I can handle forever being like this." Fast forward to our kitchen table conversation, and I will never forget the words he said after acknowledging he had noticed a change, "This is the woman I married. You're so happy and full of joy. I like it." This is the woman I want to be, and this is the woman that my family needs me to be. Not the complain-a-holic constantly seeking her own comfort. </div>
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What you place before you really does become a part of you. Jonah Lehrer, a scientist who studies the brain, stated that, "when we're watching someone else do something, our brain doesn't think we're watching it. Our brain is convinced we're actually doing it too". "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wo26sCH-Fw" target="_blank">Slow Fade</a>" by Casting Crowns really captures how things can slowly influence us. The first two verses really hit home: "Be careful little eyes what you see. It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings. Be careful little feet where you go, for it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow". I don't want my daughter growing up learning to complain all the time and seek her own pleasure above that of others. Sometimes it's hard to constantly be on the lookout for things that are negatively influencing us, but it can also be so important. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-70753151933754999482015-12-26T21:02:00.000-06:002015-12-26T21:02:16.499-06:00Sleep Deprivation and the End of the World<div dir="ltr">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBGLXlf5yyA29fV410xIV0zT5RqDXXu5AsM9LT8oZGs7qM7gTHfhzPudWh1G2L3uGUROTycigbRXe5rDSjws_b9mxn_1DOiYatp86gU2CBdpuPI0mJ1XdUTdrQt2ZezC1EZYGCvSCHa4/s1600/IMG_2309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBGLXlf5yyA29fV410xIV0zT5RqDXXu5AsM9LT8oZGs7qM7gTHfhzPudWh1G2L3uGUROTycigbRXe5rDSjws_b9mxn_1DOiYatp86gU2CBdpuPI0mJ1XdUTdrQt2ZezC1EZYGCvSCHa4/s320/IMG_2309.JPG" width="240" /></a>I'm pretty sure I know what will be the cause of the end of the world....lack of sleep! I have some pretty morbid thoughts at 4am (usually the third but lately the 5th wakeup and feeding that my 8 month old demands of me) which are not very loving. So lack of sleep=lack of love=no compassion=anger=riots and violence=death=END OF THE WORLD. So you see, my mommy issues have just solved all the world problems. You're welcome.</div>
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So what caused all this upheaval? Well...in a word (okay, two)...sleep training. I attempted the Ferber method every night for 5 nights and not only was unsuccessful but ended up with a very angry baby. It's probably because I didn't do it properly and she didn't know what to expect. On the first night, I let her cry for 5 minutes before going in to comfort her. I then added a minute each time. The second night I went in after 7 and added two minutes, and so on. I didn't let her cry for longer than 15 minutes on any night before going to comfort and I never fed her for comfort. I guess the problem was with my expectations. From what I had heard from other moms and read online, I just assumed that doing this at the beginning of the night and getting her to sleep initially would mean she wouldn't wake up the rest of the night and would learn to comfort herself. So when she cried 2-3 hours later, I fed her. I didn't feel like it would be right to just make her quit eating at night cold turkey since she was eating on average 3-4 times a night, so my goal was just to get her to sleep initially.<br />
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Worst. Decision. Ever. </div>
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She used to wake up happy and smiling. Now she wakes up crying because she doesn't trust me anymore and doesn't understand why sometimes I make her cry it out and other times I just feed her right to sleep like I have since she was born. When I rest my hand on her belly or rub her head to comfort her before nursing during the day, she grabs my hand and pushes it away angrily. It makes me sad.</div>
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I've gone back to my previous method of just nursing on demand as long and as many times as she wants. The problem is that now she wants the comfort 4-6 times a night instead of 2-4. Worse still, each session is 20 minutes to an hour long, during which I have to stay awake because side nursing makes my skin get a sudden bout of restless body syndrome and it feels like ants are crawling all over me and I have to move, but can't. And, to top it off, the last couple of nights she has decided that 2am and 4am are good times to wake up and play for an hour, which forces me to put her in her bed and let her cry until she's ready to cooperate and nurse back to sleep (I go in and can tell if she's ready to cooperate or not just by her reaction when I walk in). And to top THAT off, she will only take about 45 mins- and hour's worth of naps during the day, though she does dream feed. </div>
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She is SO cranky during the day at times when she needs a nap but won't stay asleep after nursing. It breaks my heart because I know what she needs but am at a loss as to how to get her to understand her need for sleep and go with it. It's hard to listen to her crying. I don't want to anymore. I want to go back to the days when I could just go nurse her right back to sleep without any issues. I guess what my husband says is true...you can lead a baby to bed, but you can't make them sleep.</div>
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The worst part of this is when I try to talk myself through the 4am crazies with stories of single moms who work 12 hour shifts and still manage to hold themselves together without sleep. Of moms who haven't gotten to be moms except for a very short time and would take those sleepless nights and run with them with glee. Of women who haven't gotten to be moms at all and have lost that opportunity. Moms whose babies have serious medical issues and whose lives are far more heartbreaking than mine. Compared to all of them, I live a pretty cushy life and have it made in the shade. But my sleep-deprived self is unable to empathize on a mere 4-6 total hours of sleep a night, none of which are consecutive.</div>
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I constantly question myself. I know I shouldn't feed her to sleep but should put her down drowsy. I often do. I know I should put her in her bed and just let her play in an effort to get her to take naps during the day. Tried that (she cries because she knows the bed is for sleeping. I've read the books and articles and listened to the mommy advice. I've even made her flat out cry it out until she stopped at times when absolutely nothing else worked (the most was like 30 mins, I think). She won't take a pacifier and her dad can't take over because she rejected the bottle at 3 months and won't take it back. She will take a cup, and we're hoping to turn that into a long-term solution. </div>
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I know something's got to change. I realize now, after many sanity-inducing and encouraging talks with the husband, that cry it out just won't work for us. We may try the preemptive feedings, or I may accept that I am a mom now and sacrifices are inevitable because this is a beautiful, wonderful choice that I made (this is my current approach). One thing I do know, however, is that this journey has taught me something valuable....one approach doesn't work for everyone. I have mommy friends who did cry it out. I have friends who did Ferber. I even have friends who nurse their babies day and night without question and on demand until they are weaned (you superhero moms, you). </div>
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Since before Hannah was even born, it was my primary goal to let her know that she could trust me. For the first six months of her life, that is what got me up for the night feedings. When my body and brain fought it, my heart cried out that she needed to know that she could trust me. It got me through. In a later blog, I will go into more detail about what changed (It will be called Mood Modification for Mommies, because I like alliteration. Haha).</div>
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For now, I'm going to focus on the smiles she gives me when she's made a new discovery around the house. The amazing feeling I get when I'm standing in one room and she crawls to me from another full of happiness and accomplishment. The feeling of pride when we're in the grocery store and everyone points out how adorable she is because she gives them cute smiles. That wonder I see in her eyes when she sees the snowflakes in a snow globe swirl around or watches intently as I make a new sound with my mouth. The joy I see when we play Legos or read a book. That's my daughter, and that's the little girl I want to focus on. One day the sleep will come, but for now I choose to focus on the good moments. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-8715805573261298002015-08-18T15:30:00.000-05:002015-08-18T15:30:01.278-05:00Moms, You Are Not Alone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Motherhood is hard. It is by far one of the hardest things I have ever experienced, and I, somehow...only by the grace of God...survived foster care. Sometimes it's beautiful and wonderful. Sometimes it's exhausting and grueling. But mostly it's hard.<br />
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I made a mistake today.<br />
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But first, a preface to the story. Because I like long blogs and stuff like that. Anyways. See, my back has been hurting very badly lately. By the end of the day a couple of days ago, I couldn't even bend over. Why? Simply bad posture. Leaning forward slightly to where my back curves in order to nurse the baby takes a major toll on my shoulder and neck area. In addition, I'm constantly bending over to pick her up out of her playpen. I try to do the whole bend at the knees thing as much as possible, but it's just not a viable option much of the time.<br />
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So I felt it was time to fix it. I had been nursing her in a disk chair, so I didn't have good back support. I decided to switch it out for my nice office chair. (This is the mistake part I mentioned earlier).<br />
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My four month old went on a hunger strike. I am not even joking. She nursed for maybe seven minutes and then refused to eat any more. I tried nursing with my nursing pillow, without it, and even with and without it on the bed. Nothing. She refused to eat. She didn't want a pacifier. She was slightly placated with a teething ring for about five minutes. Didn't want to walk around. I was so confused. Maybe she actually is hungry? Tried nursing on the couch. Nope. What do I do?!?! Finally, after she was screaming her lungs out, I decided that she MUST be hungry, because it had been a while since she had eaten, so I gave in and gave her a bottle. I did NOT want to do this as I'm low on bottles and have three major trips coming up in the next two months (plus I'm trying to keep my milk supply up in case she increases her intake, as babies are prone to do at this age). But alas, the child must be fed.<br />
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She took the bottle (Yay!!), and it satisfied her just enough to where she was willing to nurse on the couch. Then I put her on her play mat, tried to hold back the tears, told her I loved her, and made sure she was cooing.<br />
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Then I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed for fifteen minutes.<br />
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"Why God? Why did you make her SO MUCH like me? I don't like me! I didn't want an emotional, fussy child. I needed an easy one to practice on first! She used to be so compliant and...happy. What did I do wrong?! I wanted a mini-Matthew! Please God. Please. I don't know what I'm doing. I didn't even HAVE a mother to model child-rearing for me (I actually DID have a mother, but...well let's just say I was no longer living with her by age five). I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING. And by 'Don't know what I'm doing', I don't mean it the way most people do who can say "Oh my gosh I'm turning into my mother". How fortunate for them. I am so completely and totally lost. Please don't let me mess up my child. I want to do well. It's sooo important to me to do well. What do I do?! You've got to help me!"<br />
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Nothing. Not a stir. No whisper in my heart. No thunderous answer or big booming voice. I suddenly felt so alone.<br />
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To make matters worse, I was going to Bible study that night and was seriously reconsidering this option because I did not want to bring an unhappy, fussy baby out in public. That's just rude. Fortunately, though, she calmed down enough to where I felt comfortable taking her out. I brought a bottle and had everything all ready to go.<br />
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On the way, I prayed some more and thought a lot. I want so badly to be a good mom. It's my dream job. It's what I've always wanted to do. To top it off, I am determined to do better by my children because of the way I grew up. It is my number one desire for life and always has been (Ok, only since I was fifteen, but that's long enough). Was I even doing it right? I didn't know. How do I raise this child? And not just 'raise' her, but raise her well to where people find her to be a joy to be around and she has manners and minds me and all that jazz? How do I know if I'm doing it right?<br />
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And finally, in those quiet moments of contemplation on that car ride, the whisper came.<br />
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"Let ME mold her into who I want her to be. Let Me."<br />
"But <i>I</i> have to mold her" (because I seriously doubt He's coming down here to raise her).<br />
"She will mold you, too."<br />
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And suddenly I understood what my job is. It's not to get it perfect. It's not to do everything exactly right. My job is to seek God as much as I can in this journey and let Him guide me on how to raise her. In that process, while He's molding her through me, she will be molding me as I learn her personality, her likes and dislikes. Sometimes she may seem just like me, but she's really not. She's a completely separate other human being, and it's my job to be her guide pointing her right back to the One who gave her life.<br />
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The Bible study went fairly well, and the host left me with the words "She did good!" ringing in my ears. But the best part was yet to come.<br />
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After her pajamas and diaper change, I nursed her (on the bed to avoid another hunger strike) until I didn't feel like she was getting enough (because I had pumped since she had a bottle). Then I heated up a bottle. She adamantly refused this, so I just walked around with her. She laid her sweet little head on my shoulder, which she never does unless she's asleep. She was cuddling with me. Of her own accord. For the first time ever (she's four months old). Then she started to get a bit fussy so I tried the bottle again. She didn't want that. Pacifier? Nope.<br />
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She wanted to nurse from her Mama. She wanted me. And suddenly it was all worth it.<br />
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Sometimes I may not get it right. I will often get it wrong. But all I can do is my best and let God handle the rest. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-26965313712981744532015-07-07T15:30:00.000-05:002016-01-07T10:19:56.842-06:005 Must-Haves for Every New Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgof1JZTKleG5Hom4ao1rYJHPDUnCoO4rawRuLOLp7XBbQQVBfixHm9jtPvZCfTzxkkOuZbkkJ1AaRFY3a-vQIFKaUqsLV-tXS9_pP0Zaa9tts8fWrdmLMK_wt7-ztFEsCpaqNCjUdh0yU/s1600/IMG_2201%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgof1JZTKleG5Hom4ao1rYJHPDUnCoO4rawRuLOLp7XBbQQVBfixHm9jtPvZCfTzxkkOuZbkkJ1AaRFY3a-vQIFKaUqsLV-tXS9_pP0Zaa9tts8fWrdmLMK_wt7-ztFEsCpaqNCjUdh0yU/s200/IMG_2201%255B1%255D.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
When you are still pregnant with your first child, you really have no idea what you are in for or what to expect. That's where this post comes in. My little girl is almost 3 months old, and there are a few things (most of which I stumbled upon) that I have found to be absolutely essential to surviving the first few months. So, I'm going to save you a lot of time and crying (both you and the baby) and just tell you right off the bat so you can get it now. Or put it on your baby registry, as the case may be. Here we go!<br />
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1. Super Special After Baby Mommy Underpants<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrmIAPGkkLN9RGkZ-4YRJJPgbUX3lCGqfOL007yBScfhbZTLkljbna4QVmwcVwE_8XkRlpkH7xhAjbwpKwbgonbK8s_zOD3Ss3fd1vCjGQVpOCix47130286XiVXiWqXhSftPdkqBfPqk/s1600/IMG_2189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrmIAPGkkLN9RGkZ-4YRJJPgbUX3lCGqfOL007yBScfhbZTLkljbna4QVmwcVwE_8XkRlpkH7xhAjbwpKwbgonbK8s_zOD3Ss3fd1vCjGQVpOCix47130286XiVXiWqXhSftPdkqBfPqk/s320/IMG_2189.JPG" width="320" /></a>Yes it's awkward and I know you probably don't even want to talk about it (or think about it, for that matter), but the fact of the matter is that there will be blood, and a lot of it. So you see the picture to the left? Don't think about it. Just buy it. You won't have to worry about blood getting on your clothing, and they're purple, which just makes everything better. That way you can focus on that little bundle of joy you just brought home instead of all the gore that came along with it.<br />
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2. The Best Baby Bed Ever<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARPCe-WzQYcP9Mo9wuVCw6jvKHv_6IPvuLbvfql-RPlRygDAH4eeTyph7DLmg3xLD3FB78HQH0ST3t2tt9X7BAnFfbxAPa005oYnm80MiLvkTreSsRCkNWN3jmBDHEQwFcjO1QORxijo/s1600/IMG_2188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARPCe-WzQYcP9Mo9wuVCw6jvKHv_6IPvuLbvfql-RPlRygDAH4eeTyph7DLmg3xLD3FB78HQH0ST3t2tt9X7BAnFfbxAPa005oYnm80MiLvkTreSsRCkNWN3jmBDHEQwFcjO1QORxijo/s320/IMG_2188.JPG" width="320" /></a>So this next item was actually an accident and bought totally impulsively when my husband and I were out shopping for the remaining items from our registry list that we didn't get at the baby shower. As it turns out, it was a good thing we did, because it was the only thing our baby would sleep in. She didn't like the playpen because it felt too big to her, and she hated being swaddled. And, with the whole "sleep the baby on the back and with nothing in their crib" recommendation due to the risk of SIDS, this worked great because I didn't feel a need to cover her with a blanket. It's a <a href="http://www.gracobaby.com/products/pages/little-lounger-dakota.aspx" target="_blank">Graco Little Lounger</a>. It does have buckles, but I just took the top padding up and shoved the buckles underneath to use it for sleeping in. It also has a vibration function, which is just amazing. She slept in that thing for a good month and a half, and the batteries never wore out, even though I was really bad about leaving the vibrator on and falling asleep.<br />
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3. Listen to Your Mother and Get the Swing.<br />
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My mom had been telling me to get a swing since our daughter was born, but I didn't want to put the effort into going and buying one because I wasn't convinced that it would be worth it. In short, I didn't listen. Then we went to the in-laws one weekend and discovered the wonder of the swing. We took it home with us rather than leaving it at Grammy and PawPaw's. Our daughter loves this thing! There have been so many times when I would try everything to get her to stop crying, and nothing was working. Then, as soon as I put her in the swing and got it going, she was happy as a clam (are clams even happy? I don't know). This only works, of course, if your child isn't starving. It doesn't particularly matter what kind of swing you get, as long as you don't have to sit there and swing it yourself. Make sure it's electric.<br />
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4. The Gateway to Less Crying<br />
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I know what you're thinking. "Bottle Warmer! I don't NEED a bottle warmer! Breastfeeding all the way! Yeah!" I know, I know. That was totally me. Then when I was 36 weeks along, my little sister came to visit me from another state with her 6 week old. (Our girls are 2 months and 20 days apart!). I was all excited about practicing my skills before my little one arrived, so I offered to babysit while she and her husband went out to eat. While she was gone, I had to warm the bottle up under hot water while the baby cried. It took F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Things seem to take a lot longer when you have a crying baby on your hands. Well, she happened to be in town for my baby shower, which was the next day. My older sister got me this bottle warmer at that baby shower, and the next day I went out and got bottles because I suddenly realized that maybe I might want to go out to eat with my husband at some point. Without the baby. Go figure. (P.S. I later did go out on a date with my husband when my daughter was 2 months old, and my babysitter LOVED this thing. She made a point of mentioning that to me when I came to pick her up.) I'm just telling you...you will use bottles. Just wait until they're at least 3 weeks old, and it's fine. No worries! And you can go on dates! Whoo! This one is the <a href="http://thefirstyears.com/products/night-cravings-bottle-warmer-cooler" target="_blank">First Years Night Cravings</a>, which is awesome because it comes with a cooler that holds two bottles and a cooling pack (included). The cooler has come in REALLY handy because it's great for going out in public. We later got a Munchkin brand one that was a little smaller to fit in the diaper bag, but I wish I had just gotten a smaller, more portable First Years brand such as <a href="http://thefirstyears.com/products/quick-serve-bottle-warmer" target="_blank">this one</a> (which we did later get for my little sister), because I like it better.<br />
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5. A Good Nursing System<br />
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The prospect of nursing in public, for me, was terrifying. Modesty is very important to me, and I just did not like the whole idea of sharing my stuff with the world, but I did want to be able to feed my little girl in public. I found a system that is WONDERFUL. I had these stretchy maternity shirts that I got at Walmart when I was pregnant because they are amazing as an undershirt for those last few weeks of pregnancy when you have this giant gap between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your pants. These covered that gap seamlessly without looking weird while still being fashionable. Well, as it turns out, they are also AMAZING for nursing in public because, since they are made of stretchy fabric, you can simply pull the neckline down to nurse your baby. This means that your belly stays covered the whole time! If people are going to see anything, they'll see a black undershirt! Oh yeah! I put this thing on under every shirt I wear before I go anywhere. It also comes in other colors. The other thing that really helped me with my nursing in public woes was a nursing cover. I actually made the one shown below (disregard the baby sling, which I didn't end up liking) by hand using instructions from <a href="http://www.handmade-adelaide-baby.com/nursing-cover.html" target="_blank">Handmade-Adelaide</a>. However, I know that some of you would not be so into the make-it-yourself idea. It would be soooo worth the cost tp buy one because it would be hard to survive breastfeeding without it. It covers me completely and I have never had to worry about flashing somebody. <a href="http://www.toysrus.com/buy/nursing-covers/boppy-nursing-cover-lupine-5600108k-trs-12066448" target="_blank">Here</a> is a comparable one to buy.<br />
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So anyways, that's my advice! As a bonus, you should totally get this DVD called The Happiest Baby on the Block (find it <a href="http://www.happiestbaby.com/store/Babies/Happiest-Baby-DVD-plus-Sleep-CD-Combo-p18.html" target="_blank">here</a>). It really, really works for those times when the baby just won't stop crying and you have no earthly idea what they want because you have already tried everything (which will inevitably happen). The techniques given in this DVD are really effective. I am simply amazed every time I say "Shhhhhh" into my daughter's ear. She stops crying immediately. It's truly phenomenal and you would just have to see it to believe it.<br />
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If this helps you at all, or you know someone who it might help, please feel free to share this.<br />
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What things have you found that helped you on your journey through parenthood?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-62270238241146043962015-07-06T23:54:00.000-05:002015-07-08T14:43:27.193-05:00How to Get Rid of That Pesky Pregnancy Itch Safely and Effectively<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I was pregnant with my first child, my stretch marks developed into PUPPPs (Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy), which is an incredibly itchy rash ALL over my belly that I have scratched so much as to now have open sores. It was supposed to go away after I gave birth, and it did for the most part, but it does still itch some. But I've found something that really, truly works to alleviate that itch for a while. <br />
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Before I stumbled upon this neat trick, I tried so many things like:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Lotion</li>
<li>Anti-Itch Cream (designed for pregnancy)</li>
<li>Plain Vitamin E Oil</li>
<li>Rubbing a baby wipe on the area</li>
<li>Extra Virgin Olive Oil</li>
<li>Coconut Oil</li>
<li>Lemon Essential Oil</li>
<li>Lavender Essential Oil</li>
</ul>
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I had to be careful with the things that I tried because I was pregnant and there are so many things you have to watch out for. However, after doing some research online, I decided to try some of my<br />
Essential Oils to see if they would work.<br />
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At first I tried Lemon oil. That didn't work, so I tried Lavender. That didn't work either. I was beginning to feel a little hopeless until I went to my doctor one day. She asked me what I had tried for it and suggested I try Vitamin E Oil (this before I had tried it). I took her advice and stopped by the store on my way home.<br />
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I first tried rubbing Vitamin E oil by itself on the area, but that wasn't effective, so I added some Olive Oil to see if that would do the trick.<br />
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Of course not.<br />
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Finally, I added 4 drops of Lavender Essential oil to about a teaspoon of Extra Virgin Olive Oil mixed with a couple of teaspoons of Vitamin E Oil. SUCCESS!! At last, I had a remedy that was both safe and effective for dealing with that itch.<br />
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If this works for you, or you know someone who could use this information, please feel free to share this post with your friends!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-84413024646388661572015-07-05T16:36:00.001-05:002015-07-05T16:36:26.311-05:00A Complete Guide to Birthing A Baby Naturally Is Right at Your Fingertips<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNQnNEjwfp3DazueLWJI3S_6fGpTtx8j6yT_20EznLN_loWR-dufahOW-W9WFuzJeNqAB42xYWOnTqnBp7T5e9h_nosGBm-apyxCHOWazXZDtvgAiVF9WhUrsgwvCOWLZfD52XEVjDpc/s1600/IMG_1975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNQnNEjwfp3DazueLWJI3S_6fGpTtx8j6yT_20EznLN_loWR-dufahOW-W9WFuzJeNqAB42xYWOnTqnBp7T5e9h_nosGBm-apyxCHOWazXZDtvgAiVF9WhUrsgwvCOWLZfD52XEVjDpc/s200/IMG_1975.JPG" width="150" /></a>The story of my first daughter's birth really starts months before when I was twenty-something weeks along and terrified of giving birth. I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to give birth in my purely petrified state. So one day while my husband, mother-in-law, and I were browsing a bookstore, I decided I needed help to get over the irrational fears that were going through my mind and taking me down. I found myself in the parenting section of Mardel and started rifling through books to find one that I thought would help. After looking at several, I stumbled upon "The Birth Book" by William and Martha Sears, plopped down, and started perusing.<br />
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My husband and I owned a book written by the Sears family on vaccines, so we knew theirs was quality material.<br />
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It was important to me that the book I chose:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Contained natural pain management techniques</li>
<li>Encouraged me in the process of natural childbirth </li>
<li>Contained childbirth stories so that I could be encouraged that it was possible</li>
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This book provided that and so much more. It also covered:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Nutrition and exercises to do during pregnancy</li>
<li>Medicine available at hospitals</li>
<li>VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean)</li>
<li>Different positions to use during labor</li>
<li>Fetal monitoring</li>
<li>Episiotomies</li>
<li>C-Sections</li>
<li>Historical data on birth</li>
<li>Pretty much everything else you could think of concerning birth</li>
</ul>
It was basically just a treasure trove of invaluable information. The only downfall is that it was written quite a while ago (in 1994) and therefore lacks some of the more up-to-date information on pain medications and other such things that are more current. But regardless of that fact, I feel that this book was a major part of the reason I was able to successfully have the kind of labor and birth that I had hoped for. I truly encourage you to check it out, because I think that all mothers can benefit from this book, whether they have been through labor or not. I personally plan to read it again for my next child. Also, if this is helpful to you, or if you know a soon-to-be mom, please share this post so that they, too, can benefit.<br />
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P.S! Look what I got out of the successful techniques this book recommends with no pain medication, 12 hours of labor, and 1 hour of pushing:<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-73798691436168649462015-04-08T13:05:00.000-05:002015-07-01T11:13:51.715-05:00Against My Will<div style="text-align: left;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/stevie_gill/3950697539/in/photolist-727mJP-4FX4mg-64MnXE-oWds5s-36VJGN-6r9fLF-okMtDK-dLfMhb-i4PFw1-dQLRkw-BgMHw-6dqe7s-8gA8AQ-3cXRGU-sm6sq-jENjFr-bEx8qg-4weZN5-gz5JKB-5YvW7S-qwuSku-5N4iuT-Dvs6-oJ9wUP-bPAZrD-bDZAXP-8o2tDX-eaWA72-59Sw44-yWGAC-35k9Rh-5bEzce-qe2YW-otEvF-5R7xJn-CY9rf-ofDZX3-549pZq-7Fyq5v-ddWfLA-sqPEty-pQshfJ-3rxBLR-fLUjh-MaL3w-a2C4xU-EmsFZ-kdJuX-rURtUx-Nefb" target="_blank">Clock Face</a> by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/stevie_gill/" target="_blank">Stevie Gill</a>, licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/" target="_blank">CC by 2.0</a></td></tr>
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I think I would probably be perfectly happy keeping this baby inside me until she was ready if I didn't feel so pressured by society. I love being pregnant most of the time. I love the little kicks and turns. I love knowing that while she's still inside me, I can protect her. As soon as she's out, I can only do my best where that's concerned, and it will never be a guarantee. I love just sitting and relishing the moments when I start thinking about her and she moves around, almost as if in response to the love that I am sending her way. I love imagining what she will look like. Who she will be. What she will love. But, for some reason, I am not overly anxious to meet her deep down inside. Deep down inside, I'm....content. I'm happy that I'm finally here...that I'm finally living my dream of being pregnant. It feels wonderful.<br />
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I mean, I have the occasional discomforts like the stretch marks that have developed into PUPPPs, which is an incredibly itchy rash ALL over my belly that I have scratched so much as to now have open sores. It's supposed to go away after I give birth. But I've found that rubbing a Vitamin E oil/Extra Virgin Olive Oil Blend with about 4 drops of lavendar essential oil on it seem to take away the itch for the most part, so I'm coping. And I fell on my pelvis a few months back, which led to a chain reaction of being barely able to walk in the morning and unable to turn over without pain at night. But then I figured out that as soon as I empty my bladder, I can walk again, and if I turn over onto my knees and then onto the other side, it's practically painless. So I've learned to cope with that too. So for the most part, pregnancy is great and I'm focusing on the positives and even am looking forward to the next pregnancy (but not the 19 weeks straight of nausea and vomiting that will likely come with it, as was with this one). I love all the good moments.<br />
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But society. I feel so pressured to have this child, and I have since about week 36. I'm due tomorrow. She's not here. I had a membrane sweep yesterday and contracted for several hours rather sporadically. Then it went away once I went to sleep. They came back when I put some more clary sage on my belly. I got the sweep because I really don't want to be induced, but my doctor induces at 41 weeks. So I have to have this baby within one week or be faced with labor-inducing medication which I have heard makes many women submit to an epidural because the medications cause the contractions to be much harder than normal contractions. God designed this whole process so perfectly. It's really a beautiful thing. Your body is supposed to contract slowly, then gradually get faster and harder, allowing you to adjust both mentally and physically. Inducement takes all that away and your body is forced into a situation which it just isn't ready for. On top of that, my doctor will break my water right at the beginning. Everything I've heard about that just equals good old fashioned pain. The bag of waters cushions the baby's head from pressing too unbearably on the cervix throughout the majority of the labor. If it's gone I get to deal with the increased contractions on top of a heavy head putting extreme pressure on my cervix.<br />
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I'm so terrified. I was already scared enough about making it through labor naturally, since a great many people say it's simply not possible anymore with all the wonderful pain relieving options out there. Well, I wanted to. I wanted to connect is some awesome way to all the brave women who have gone for centuries without the convenience of modern medicine. I wanted to do it the way God designed it in the first place with no interventions. I feel like that right has completely been taken from me if I don't fit within the parameters and have this baby by the time someone says I should.<br />
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I've seen the statistics. I know it gets more dangerous as time goes on to keep the baby inside. I guess I just like to push things to the envelope and wanted to give my body as much time as it needed. Just until 42 weeks. I'm not too unreasonable. But nope. 41 weeks is safer, so that's what my doctor does. She's right. I know she's right. I just feel like because of this added pressure, I have to find ways to induce my labor naturally so that I can "beat" the doctor so to speak. I've done clary sage, raspberry tea, a membrane sweep, etc, etc. I've contracted, but it's not turning into anything, and that is perhaps the hardest, most frustrating part.<br />
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I am so annoyed. I've had a full four days of noticeable contractions and they just won't turn into anything. I feel like I have to just sit around and wait for something to happen. I hate it because I can't focus on anything else. The pressure makes me spend all the contracting time hoping and praying it turns into something so that I can avoid being induced. I should be resting. I should be getting ahead in school. I should be ignoring them, but they make me so anxious that I just can't seem to focus on those things. I last through about an hour nap and then feel guilty because I feel like I should have spent that time going for massively long walks. I should have been breathing in the clary sage from my diffuser or rubbed it on my belly. I should have had some more tea or done some perennial massage. Something. Anything. I hate all this early, possibly false labor. It's so irritating because I can't work on school through it, I can't nap through it. I can't even ignore it at this point because it's a little too strong for that. I'm trying to save all my energy and breathing techniques for the real thing because I know I will need it if I have any hopes of going natural with it, but it's getting harder and harder. I have school to do. I have dishes to do. But all I can think about is how much I hope that this turns into something so that I can avoid the horrible atrocities that I've created in my mind about being induced. It's such a difficult path to walk for someone who so loves to have everything orderly and under control. I often feel as if someone has switched on the cruise control in my car and I have no way to turn it off, so I am simply forced to just go the speed limit that has been placed upon me. No more. No less. <br />
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Have you ever felt pressured by society?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-15788429904498957052015-03-30T15:53:00.000-05:002015-06-22T17:27:48.664-05:00Not My StoryWalking out of the hospital, I felt discouraged, sad, and just a little bit angry. Ok, fine, a lot angry. I had become THAT woman...the one who walked into the hospital at 3am after 9 straight hours of pretty steady contractions convinced that this was going to go somewhere. Eventually. I hadn't counted on labor lasting so long. I had read the posts, knew the averages, and accepted that it was a possibility, but I forgot one little detail...they were talking about the average time for ACTIVE labor. This was not it. I knew that. But I was still hoping against hope that maybe, maybe, I could walk home with a baby in my arms. My contractions were textbook. They were coming 30 mins apart, then 20, then 15, back up to 20, down to 15, and finally 10 mins apart, which is when I decided to make my debut.<br />
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I hate that I fell for it. I promised myself that I wouldn't. I was going to be that impressive first timer who shows up at the hospital just in time for just the right amount of care without the risk of too many interventions. I've read the blogs. I've seen the criteria. I knew the 4-1-1 rule. I didn't even plan to go to the hospital until I couldn't talk through my contractions, just like all the books and blogs and doctors advised. But when I was there, in that moment...overly excited about the fact that these contractions were actually doing something...I lost my mind. I got so anxious to meet my little girl and kiss her tiny fingers that I couldn't help myself. I went to that hospital. And I became that woman.<br />
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I walked out angry and sad and disappointed, but I think I was the better for it. While I was there...hooked up to a fetal monitor in a hospital gown with an oxygen monitor on my finger and trying not to cry because I had made a fool of myself...I got a little pep talk from my husband. He told me about something he had read recently about how God had "interfered" with the Egypt plan, so to speak. He talked about how Abraham knew that his descendants would be exiled. His descendants knew it. That was all part of the plan. They knew deliverance would come, and it did...through Moses. But what they weren't expecting was Pharoah. Moses approaches Pharoah and tells him to let his people go, and what response does he get? "No. In fact..hey...give those people more work." "That wasn't part of the plan, God!" Moses and the Israelites might have thought. Why did their deliverance have to come at such a cost? Why couldn't it be easy? There's a verse in Exodus that answers that question. God himself says, "Go to Pharoah, for I have made him and his servants hardhearted, so that I can demonstrate these signs of mine among them, so that you can tell your son and grandson about what I did to Egypt and about my signs that I demonstrated among them <i>so that you will know that I am the Lord."</i> (10:1) That was it. That was the reason. Simply that God wanted everyone to know, for generations to come, that He was in control. That no matter how much Moses or anyone else looked like they were running the show, they were really just ambassadors on His behalf.<br />
<br />
It's God's story. He's writing it. Our lives are simply a line of text in that story. He's the One Who is in control. It's something that I lost sight of as I sat around awaiting the arrival of our firstborn daughter, but it's a lesson that needs learning more often.<br />
<br />
After my husband finished his story and analogy, I said to him, "I knew I shouldn't have prayed that a week or so ago that he would help me to quit feeling like I have to be so in control." We laughed, but in all seriousness...I'm glad I prayed that prayer. It may have meant I ended up in the hospital and looked silly, but hey....He got the message across, didn't He? I am just a part of HIS story, and that's what really matters.<br />
<br />
Has there ever been a time when you wanted to be in control and learned that you weren't?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-89460140656322237602015-03-04T22:11:00.001-06:002015-06-22T17:26:50.909-05:00The Beautiful Burden of Binge Watching<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJ63xQzZXF7m1HxuwOms5xWDWTC-4VYHFsLloHXymGOhr55pTPQmqLhYLzhRSCwZDYDYwen9V5e11hzJO-27FS3CHrYW7RsGoZzaWGcOA0Hra_rmZZrA9HXCNT1zMjAWqQv5S90ObKnM/s1600/IMG_1702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJ63xQzZXF7m1HxuwOms5xWDWTC-4VYHFsLloHXymGOhr55pTPQmqLhYLzhRSCwZDYDYwen9V5e11hzJO-27FS3CHrYW7RsGoZzaWGcOA0Hra_rmZZrA9HXCNT1zMjAWqQv5S90ObKnM/s1600/IMG_1702.JPG" title="Me totally not doing school (the laptop is off to the side)" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is What I SHOULD Be Doing</td></tr>
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I have determined that there should really be some type of AA program for binge watchers. I mean, I seriously am in need of like a twelve step program or something. It is just ridiculous the amount of online streaming I can manage to fit into one day. Like, almost an entire season. I wish I was kidding, but if I time it right and count very carefully, I can totally pull off 16 entire episodes (there are 22 in a season) of 45 minutes in just 12 hours. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.<br />
<br />
But. That. Is. So. WRONG.<br />
<br />
I haven't actually gone that far in quite a while, but three or four (ok fine, or five) a day is pretty normal at this point. Which adds up to somewhere around two to five HOURS of television. A day. That's as much as 25 hours a week, assuming I take a couple of days off to DO something. There are so many more productive things that I could be doing. Like writing a book. Or READING a book. Like the one about birth that I HAVE to finish before the baby gets here. Or sewing that skirt and those 3 pairs of jeans that I have been neglecting for a month but all have tears in them. Or making granola for my husband, who is fresh out of cereal for breakfast. Or making bread because we are now out. Or writing those papers for class so I don't have to write them when I'm sleep deprived and juggling the demands of school, a newborn, and household chores.<br />
<br />
This has got to stop.<br />
<br />
But I LOVE my 7th Heaven. I also hate it. I love the drama, the hype, and the way I get to escape reality. But I hate the way it controls me, how I just can't stop, how I'm so enticed to watch more. Even though I love how it lets me escape reality....I have no need of escaping reality, because I lead quite a wonderful life, actually. So what I really end up escaping is responsibility.<br />
<br />
There. I said it.<br />
<br />
It's not even that I don't have a plan. I totally have a plan. I have a wonderful planner wherein lies the assignments I need to accomplish for school and the appointments that I have to show up at. I have a chalkboard with a menu on it of food that I need to make for the next week and a half to two weeks. I also have laundry in the basket and dishes in the sink, neither of which are actually written down anywhere, but kind of serve as their own reminders.<br />
<br />
The problem, I think, is that I take one look at the planner or the dishes in the sink, suddenly feel overwhelmed, and resolve this issue with the thought "I shall cope by watching a show", which of course turns into several shows and less time to accomplish things. That's one potential problem. Or it could simply be that I am flat out bored. I look at my planner and see all the empty space because I'm two months ahead in one of my classes, almost a month ahead in another, and at least two weeks ahead in each of the other two online college classes that I'm taking. Dishes take a total of maybe 30 mins to an hour a day and laundry is pretty easy, too. Who knows what the issue is. But in order to not think about it...7th Heaven here I come! Oh the excuses I can come up with to willfully rot my brain out.<br />
<br />
But I realized something today. I am FIVE WEEKS away from GIVING BIRTH. To a human. Who I will be responsible for. Forever. That kind of hit me like a ton of bricks today. Do you know how much I legitimately have to do before she gets here? Way too much to be sitting around binge watching T.V. Granted, the every day stuff is pretty easy and even a little boring, but there are other, bigger things that I have yet accomplish that MUST get done. Meet Pediatricians and decide on one (at least we have a family doctor if that doesn't get done). Go to the baby shower. Put the car seat in the car. Prepare the room. Kegels. I don't even have the "Go" bag ready yet, people. Oh so many things.<br />
<br />
So I decided to quit. Cold turkey. Just STOP binge-watching. Because I don't have time. But I'm not stupid. I know that I legitimately, honestly, can't do that. I am the obsessive type and I am really bad at directing my obsessions toward non-productive things (other than the class I'm two months ahead in....rather proud of that). Therefore, I know I need help. A lot of help. Because I can't just "quit" Netflix/Amazon Prime. That's like an alcoholic saying they can just "quit" alcohol. W-h-a-t-e-v-e-r. Not gonna happen. But I wish. I wish it was just as easy as saying "I quit" and then doing it, because I have a TON to do.<br />
<br />
Ok. All this ranting has made me all depressed. So I think I'll just go watch some 7th Heaven to bury the feeling of helplessness and powerlessness that I now feel. (Not really, but it is, admittedly, mighty tempting. *sigh*).<br />
<br />
What are some things you feel powerless to overcome?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-3827594582120019222014-12-25T12:19:00.000-06:002015-06-22T17:25:14.377-05:00The Daunting Task of Parenthood and ChristmasI'm going to be a mom in a mere fifteen weeks, approximately. The thought of it is thrilling, yet daunting. Technically, I'm already a mom, what with the gymnastics going on in my stomach that didn't start until bedtime and the consequential need to implore my husband to sing to our little girl so that I could sleep. That's parenthood, right? The bedtime fight? (The singing actually worked, by the way. She stopped her flip-flopping and got still so that I could sleep. She likes her daddy's voice, thankfully).<br />
<br />
But parenthood is so much more than that, and the real test comes when I have to figure out what to teach my little girl. That, indeed, is the daunting part of this task I have been handed. I remember sitting in the living room as I received a long-winded speech about the pitfalls of my actions from my mother. At the end of it, inevitably, was the ever-present reminder: "It is my job to train you up in the way that you should go, so that when you are old, you will not depart from it. Because one day I will stand before the throne of God and have to be accountable for what I taught you. So I'm not here to be your friend. I'm here to be your mom." I even once jokingly told her that I was going to put Proverbs 22:6 on her gravestone because she said it so often and it was like her life's motto.<br />
<br />
And now, soon, it will be my turn. It will be my job to take the torch and carry it forward to another generation. I just have one problem. There are some things that I'm standing on the fence regarding what I believe about them. The fence isn't the greatest place to be. It's a bit unstable and I often feel like I'm about to fall. But regardless, I will be responsible for what I pour into this child, and I value the position I have in her life very highly. To me, it's quite a serious matter....what I teach her. I feel that it is both the most rewarding and the most heavy responsibility that we have as parents.<br />
<br />
I'm not so worried about the easier things like ABC's and school and tying shoes. Rather, I'm apprehensive about the bigger things that I'm not even sure about. For instance....Christmas. Today is actually Christmas day, and while I understand that I won't have to teach her about all the ins and outs of it for a couple of years, when she will comprehend what I am saying, I also realize that sometime before then I need to decide what it is that I actually want to teach her about it. A few years back, I did a bunch of research and discovered the depressing truth that Christmas had entirely pagan roots. I stopped celebrating it. I still don't plan to, but I am nevertheless stuck with a dilemma...do I emphasize the pagan roots in teaching her about it, or do I emphasize the charitable spirit that Christmas now has? A year ago yesterday I was working in a bakery and refused to promote Christmas in any way. I wouldn't even put the colors red and green together on a cake or cupcakes. I attempted to avoid the cake orders that were Christmas-y. I dreaded the moments when people walked in and wanted me to write Happy Birthday Jesus on a cake. I sometimes passed it off to another bakery worker. Didn't they know that he was actually born during the Jewish feast of Sukkot in September/October? They didn't celebrate their own birthdays two months later....why His? And it was well documented that December 25th, the time of the Winter Solstice, was the feast of Saturnalia and the birthday of the sun god Tammuz. Why was everyone celebrating this and fine with it? It was pure pagan. I was excellent at judging everyone and their dogs (who often wore Santa suits).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgol2O1KQxFvshLsu1NiYw4L5kYD37JSlL-QJ35FL6CwAb07eR3FnzaR71vyeV9eoSGvyiaLzTb03WQ8xZzwjojwhA0ibnxQm7APW7E2_0jr50_XZGM4v-2S32hQo30z4ng6faly_00v6A/s1600/2064335798_5cdd360202_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgol2O1KQxFvshLsu1NiYw4L5kYD37JSlL-QJ35FL6CwAb07eR3FnzaR71vyeV9eoSGvyiaLzTb03WQ8xZzwjojwhA0ibnxQm7APW7E2_0jr50_XZGM4v-2S32hQo30z4ng6faly_00v6A/s320/2064335798_5cdd360202_z.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/shardsofblue/2064335798/in/photolist-49qg7w-67d229-8ZM8Ww-93MNxB-aN5Ai2-4b8aZj-4baRDC-aRcPjt-4b8deL-4b4box-aRpQc6-i6Uig7-ieHkCq-bMXSND-i7XLAL-8ZM8p3-ieHA7K-5QgwvD-ieHm5N-i6Ujzm-iPQBJf-dVmCxZ-dLi56L-fhH9vZ-4cLG9d-aNRYLa-7e3ZtC-9jdoA1-fm8528-q8trf8-fmneJb-aSc4NZ-fowiAx-7e3ZEw-aNXabR-fmneNU-aNXWUK-aSc4LD-djkdtN-aNRy9z-feUkZm-dq3NMC-92EPo1-dDRAjz-pUT6Yy-7k8cBd-9sNDiV-92EPmd-qmA9vH-djkxsg" target="_blank">All Done!</a> by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/shardsofblue/" target="_blank">Roxanne Ready</a> licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/" target="_blank">CC by 2.0</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now it's a year later and I am seeing things completely differently. Yes, it used to be pagan and they literally worshiped another god during this time. But that was nearly 2000 years ago. What does it look like now? I don't see any gods being worshiped except Yeshua, who deserves to be worshiped anyways. I see a whole bunch of people thinking, at least for this one time a year, of those less fortunate. I see people volunteering at homeless shelters and sending gifts to children in other countries who lack the most basic of necessities. I see smiles EVERYWHERE. People are actually nice to strangers on the street during this time. Families come together and look forward to spending time together. Differences are set aside. There is so much joy. So I have to ask myself....does Christmas today even remotely resemble its pagan past? I have to answer no. There are no public orgies. People aren't running off to temple prostitutes. Messianics during this time constantly hold up Jeremiah 10:2-4 for all to see. It fits so perfectly with the Christmas trees seen going up during this time...until you look at the second half of verse 3: "A tree from the forest is cut down </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">and worked with an axe by the hands of a craftsman</b><span style="font-family: inherit;">". We Messianics conveniently forget that part. It is quite obvious from this that what they are talking about is literally fashioning an idol out of this wood from the tree. They are not talking about putting up a whole tree in one's house. Additionally, I have never seen anyone who celebrates Christmas bowing down and worshiping their trees. Not once. People can have idols in their hearts, yes. But it is between them and God whether or not they are taking the Christmas season further than just enjoying it into worshiping it. </span><br />
<br />
Still I waver on what to teach our little girl. What does God think of this season? Does He look down at all the joy, all the charity...pure and wholesome...and abhor it because of its past? Does he hate it because it was once a completely different celebration to a completely different god? And, what if we didn't have internet? Would we even know about this? More than likely not, unless we were historians. Are we now obligated to hate this holiday simply because of the advancement of technology? Perhaps. Perhaps not.<br />
<br />
No matter what I end up teaching my daughter, it's important that I teach it with a clear conscience before my Creator. I may not get it perfect, but I can at least do my best. Perhaps that's what parenthood is...doing your best and being willing to apologize when you fail. What are some things you have struggled with about being a parent?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983243146731657175.post-86942812716032294142014-10-28T17:48:00.001-05:002015-06-22T17:14:04.896-05:00It's A Whole New WorldSometime after one of my many trips to the inner sanctum of porcelain where I go to present my previously-nearly-daily sacrifices of food, I had a weak moment. I dissolved against the yellow diamond checker patterned bathroom wall and proceeded to weep tears of hopelessness. After seven full weeks of losing my lunch, I felt pretty down. I was losing hope that it would all magically end in a mere week with the onset of my twelfth week of pregnancy as if someone flipped a switch in my body that lets the baby know that they can now begin the process of actually receiving nutrients from me.<br />
<br />
I managed to compose myself, however, and did what any sane person does these days: ran to Google. I typed in "Why didn't anyone tell me pregnancy would be so hard?" and gained a treasure trove of information. The one that stands out to me the most was a blog that had me laughing so hard at how relatable it was and bursting out "Yes! Exactly!! Somebody gets it!" at random intervals that I was inspired. The idea of writing a blog so that somebody, somewhere would know that they were not alone appealed to me.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYbCEabWyK0J_mVoiHElVq_zSX1pWSc_FrOPxM4__THE1QALgwJ8xUqqu5prVWPUagw5dmC2ZONygyVSReTHJHm199HoN6Ljsg0yFhTncC6LT9AsT6g0LkAJ2FjNvoYcDOwhh_53ICj4/s1600/17211246022_a2fa89d29d_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYbCEabWyK0J_mVoiHElVq_zSX1pWSc_FrOPxM4__THE1QALgwJ8xUqqu5prVWPUagw5dmC2ZONygyVSReTHJHm199HoN6Ljsg0yFhTncC6LT9AsT6g0LkAJ2FjNvoYcDOwhh_53ICj4/s400/17211246022_a2fa89d29d_m.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pictoquotes/17211246022/in/photolist-sdU8P5-rnkqJa-s3vDu8-opLXt8-nX9PBT-q9qSoD-rXtN9s-racJQr-rEYxP9-q4Cg6Q-s3sVod-qQi8GA-rYwrnM-rfNraC-qYWGoJ-s1VeAD-oXrfDu-pDiUr6-pej9As-rmFNnC-rARddV-rSacY3-rhram7-rihQoP-r5QcPL-qZhRYp-ramztB-rN9FKw-s6EicY-qRATGg-s3RtDk-rpgYQJ-rd3VHj-rGyjPa-qHbWgS-qcykA9-rnWwNN-qJodz4-rP9chd-rovoZW-rLvwLu-qw1hks-oNLXgX-rYUcmu-pSVwFv-saTMvN-rk33eZ-pBRBaE-rot51Q-rL5XEH" target="_blank">Desmond Tutu</a> by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pictoquotes/" target="_blank">BK</a> licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/" target="_blank">CC by 2.0</a></td></tr>
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When my husband got home, I said to him, "I think pregnancy may force me to write a blog". His face lit up as if he was a child and I had just told him we were leaving for Disney World in five days. "You should! Do it! Do it! You should totally do it!" he responded as he barely refrained from jumping up and down.<br />
<br />
But I was reluctant. What would I say? What did I possibly have to offer the world except boring anecdotes from my wonderful life? What kind of impact could I possibly make on anyone's life? Then I started comparing. He happens to have a blog. It's all religious and beautiful and perfect. I am not that kind of person. I am real and raw and excruciatingly honest. I shared this with him and he tells me that this is a good thing, that people like that.<br />
<br />
I'm still hesitating. Do I really want to do this? Tell the whole world my thoughts and hope that they can take something from it that just possibly helps them? That's a scary thought. I am so so so way too honest. Something is going to one day flow out of my fingers and everyone is going to see it and I am going to regret it and then it's going to go viral and then....<br />
<br />
See? This is my issue. I worry too much. So I continued to procrastinate until one day as I do schoolwork, my husband walks up to me and asks for my email password. I'm currently quite focused on the paper that I'm writing for my business class and give it to him. I wonder momentarily what he's up to before I quickly get distracted as is often the case (I'm like the dogs off of "Up") and refocus on my intense paper.<br />
<br />
Soon, I'm done with school and he's pulling me over to his computer. "Look!!" he says with that same look of delight on his face.<br />
<br />
The boy has started a blog for me. I don't know how to react. I am secretly happy and excited but there is no way I can let him get off the hook so easily.<br />
<br />
"Oh no...you didn't. Please tell me you didn't. You....you MADE me a blog?"<br />
<br />
"Yes! Isn't it great?!" he lifts himself onto his toes and quickly sets himself back down again to emphasize the last word.<br />
<br />
Now I'm obligated. I'm happy, excited, nervous, and worried all at once, but here I go. I took it on, changing the name to what I wanted, playing around until I found the right colors and font to fit my personality. I got excited, adding my description and really making it my own. I dabbled until I found my way around the place, and in just a few short moments, I became a blogger. I may stumble and storytell my way through, but at least I can be an encouragement to other moms the same way that blog was for me. This will be an adventure unlike any other. Won't you join me?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00483149244410777618noreply@blogger.com3