And the Purple Heart Goes to....Charlie

The nugget is now 8 1/2 months old.  Her "peers" are starting to crawl...even some of the younger ones.  I intellectually know that she is well within the time for normal crawling, but she is such a mover that sometimes I get a little "what if-y" and am lead to entertaining lame-ass ideas like this one. Really? They even make toys to try to make your baby crawl.  I would get the look of death from my very attitudinally - if not physiologically- mature daughter.  She can give a WTF face that would rival any bushy browed pre-teen any day of the week.  Debbie Gibson save our souls in 12 years or so....
So she's not crawling...but she does move, and pretty fast - if you consider having to look for her if I've left her long enough to attend to bathroom matters "FAST."  I do.  She can also make it to the end of the bed in seconds flat...and really so can I, but she goes for it.  Over. And Over. And Over again.  Obviously she's never experienced a fall.  And with all her noisy, colorful, plush, genius-inducing, chewable, shakable, smackable, toys - she only wants 3 things.  A phone. A remote. A wire connected to the wall.  Oh and occasionally she'll go for a shoe if that's the only really gross thing around.  She can make it around a couch, under a table, and behind a toilet before you can say Hepatitis C three times fast.  "But how does she do this?" you ask.  "Is she already walking? Running? Pirouetting?" I can see how one would assume this from a ball of pure genius such as mine, but no.  She does what I like to refer to as the "wounded soldier."  She drags herself around like she's starring in the first 10 minutes of Saving Private Ryan.  You would think she's avoiding a grenade instead of pursuing her doll (yes, she has a doll now, I didn't buy it, but I did feel compelled to name it Baby Gloria - as in Steinem.  The next doll, because I know there will be one, will be deemed Baby Betty unless Charlotte names it one of her favorite words.  "Nng, Dadada, or Pbbttthhh")
So the wounded soldier is now dramatically dragging herself through her own roving battle, but I know she'll either start doing it conventionally soon or skip right to walking so I documented the body-dragging that I will one day look upon fondly.  Unless I remember every stray hair I had to pick off the front of her clothes...cruel trick of nature that babies start moving all over the ground roughly around the time that your thick pregnancy hair is falling out in clumps that make you feel like you were targeted by those teen biotches from The Craft.
Anywho, here's the video.

Best Advice

This advice was given to me for having a baby and HAVING a baby.

1.  Buy SUPERSIZED versions of your favorite shampoo and conditioner.  You will feel gross to say the least. Your daily shower (and yes, if you want to take one you will find a way) may be the quickest, yet the most relaxing time of your day - and your only alone time.  Getting to the store is hard.  If you don't want to end up using an old bottle of Suave that you picked up at the 7-11, then have these things ready to break open like a good bottle of champagne when you get home from the hospital.
2.  Get new sweats, panties, and t-shirts.  Yes, you will very likely come home much closer to the size you left than you were expecting, and you CAN wear your maternity clothes.  But by this time you will despise every last article of maternity gear, not to mention they may have gone through any combination of pee-pee accidents, throw-up, excessive sweating, taco bell craving spills, or amniotic fluid (in my case all of the above) in the last few weeks. These won't exactly get the royal treatment, so don't go all Lululemon, because this will make blow outs less funny and more infuriating.  But make them cute, comfortable, and clean.  These will be in pictures F-O-R E-V-E-R!

3.  Be in pictures.  You will want to take a million pictures of your baby - put someone in charge of snapping a few that have you in them.  Even if you feel like Jabba the Hut (and you will) because one day your child will challenge you to prove that they are yours and the wrecked body somehow won't convince them (I believe you now Mom and Dad).
4.  Have an 8th grade flashback.  Get something to treat breakouts fast.  This is a good option, but know what works for you.  Recall the breakouts you got when you first found out you were pregnant.  Multiply by a gazillion.  And remember, the pictures.






Ok, now that your ready to come home, it's time to go have the baby.

5.  Don't take many clothes, and don't take ANY that you don't want to put in the trash swiftly upon your return home.  Even if you think you would rather be in your own clothes, wear their gown.  Socks and slippers will at best be all over a hospital floor and at worst (read: likely) get soaked by a combination of 3-5 bodily fluids.  Ask me if you really want to know what is going to happen the first time you stand up, or just trust me that you want to be in their gowns.   They will be checking or manipulating you every few hours at least - you want them to have very easy access.
6.  Find a nurse that you like.  If you don't like yours, it is ok to ask for a different one...THIS will be your angel or your worst nightmare for the next few hours.  Then tell them if you are scared.  It really helps to say it out loud and they will make you feel better (if they are the angel variety).
7. Be flexible.  You can have all the plans you want, but this is going to go how it's going to go. Definitely know what you want, but be ready to throw what you want out the window if it means healthy baby and healthy mama.
8.  It's ok if you don't love the baby right away, it's NOT ok if you want to flush the baby down the toilet - and if you do, call someone(this was the most well put AND useful advice I received).  By the time my nugget was born I had been through a couple of days of labor, had been given meds to numb me, meds to calm me, and meds to stop me from hurling.  I was dizzy and shaking and overwhelmed and scared.  I couldn't look at her and skin to skin was likened to setting a boulder on my chest at that moment.  Within four hours, my heart was bursting every time I looked at her.  I never had a problem after that, but I had a plan in place in case I started feeling depressed.  That alone may have been what helped me.
9.  Take the medicine.  They may give you Vicodin or suggest Advil - whatever it is, take it.  A negligible amount will get into your breast milk if you're breastfeeding.  The baby will be fine, and will be better the more comfortable you are. In fact, not being in pain and awake in the few moments that you COULD sleep may do much more good for your milk supply.

And this final one is c-section specific.

10. Move as soon as you can.  Bicycle kick your feet as soon as you can (I could  move my feet throughout). Get up and stand STRAIGHT up.  Not hunched or you will think you can never stand without tearing open. Take walks to the bathroom, up and down the hall, around your room.  It will be good for your circulation, help you heal, and show you that you will not split open with the slightest movement.


So for all my detesting of advice- this was actually some good stuff.  Special thanks to involuntary contributors to this blog, including My Ma, Auntie G, Liz, Susie, and Courtney.

The Good, The Bad, and The Epidural

For those of you ready to grab a garbage can and lose your lunch, this is not my birth story - per say.  It is sort of a run down of what has worked (for me...everyone is different, no advice, blah, blah, blah) thus far and what has not, even with the best of intentions and worst of my stubborn attitude on my side. Also, I'm not beating myself up for anything that didn't work out how I expected it to...

What Did NOT Work:

Natural Child Birth
I started studying Hypnobabies birthing method very early in my pregnancy.  It was honestly, the best thing I did even if I didn't use it so much in the delivery room.  Practicing was some forced relaxation on a daily basis, and there were a lot of positive affirmations that I really needed.  I planned to use it to control pain through labor that I hoped to do a lot of at home, then go in to the hospital towards the end...yadda, yadda.  Instead I was induced to avoid preclampsia.  By the time I went in to Labor and Delivery to have the baby I had been there 6 times before- using my Hypnobabies every time to relax, bring my blood pressure back down, and stay positive while waiting for something, ANYTHING, to happen.  I used it during my Braxton Hicks and I used it for all the contractions that I had (or as I like to call it, the imaginary baseball bat being rammed up my hiney - sorry, maybe you do need that garbage can).  I actually ended up getting the epidural, not for contractions, but for this evil procedure called a "Foley Bulb."  And then I ended up with a c-section- lots more medication, very un-natural, but resulted in a healthy baby and healthy mama. Although this story isn't over...I can still try next time.




Sleep Training

Cute Can't be Learned

That's not completely true, but the crying it out that I had always told people was so important to do...couldn't and still can't.  Every once in a while I do let her fuss to go back to sleep, but I have never let her wail for a couple hours to get her to sooth herself.  She goes to bed at the same time daily, gets up once to eat (although she probably COULD sleep through the night), and probably gets up a little early...but I'm just not ready to introduce her to more disappointment than the shots, and not being allowed to Gnaw on my Gnipples.

Baby Led Weaning

Happy with mush

This is a method where you basically just hand your baby what you're eating (within reason) and let them feed themselves whole food with very little interference, maintaining breastfeeding or formula as the main source of nutrition from 6-12 months.  This is great in theory.  However, 1) The doctor suggested (strongly, amid suggestions of possible malabsorption issues) that I start feeding before 6 months with the intent of getting as much as possible INTO her, 2) we still deal with the possibilities of allergies, and 3) I am a control freak.  I feed C food that doesn't leak from me twice a day during the week (SuperSitter feeds her lunch).  Once I am getting ready to leave for work with a bit of a time crunch, once I am tired and have roughly 2 hours with the baby before she goes to bed.  Neither time do I have it in me to put all my energy toward relaxing about choking and moving at her pace instead of mine.  C has proven herself in the "taking bites" with bread, a roll, a gardening book, and a birthday card for Auntie G but I can't bring myself to let her try to navigate it all in the self destruct button chasm that is the back of her mouth.

What Did Work:

Breastfeeding

'Cause that's how big they felt

My boobs, in their sad shape, might disagree.  The future income of a local plastic surgeon might emphatically agree.  This was my one brag-worthy moment from C's birthday...she latched on within 1/2 an hour. She briefly gave up the next day when her efforts were still fruitless, but picked it back up with no trouble.  I've had to drink teas, and pump, and fully eliminate everything that I couldn't pick out of the ground myself...after about 2 months essentially everyone around me encouraged me to quit to maintain my own sanity. 7 months later, some days I want to punch my pump in the face for making that noise that can only be translated to "Wack-o, Wack-o."  Some days I want to eat whatever processed, dairy filled, cheesy shit mess that I please.  But I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I am getting a little sad about getting there.  At 3 am, or during shots, or during the stranded-on-a-desert-island catastrophes that my mind can create...I am easily able console AND nourish my sweet little bugger.  And it's cheaper.

Cloth Diapering

that's some crunchy shiz

On this one, I must respectfully say suck it biotch to all the haterators that laughed at me for this one.  Comments (to my face, so who knows what was said otherwise) like, "oh, can't wait to see what you do the first time you see a huge poop" (like I hadn't considered that my baby would produce a deuce) or making bets about how long it would last.  It works great for us...doesn't work well for everyone, but we like it.  Even Mr. P is a fan.  My washing machine is NOT covered in shit, C's room doesn't NOT stink to holy hell, and my baby's booty is NOT a mess.  In fact, since we started at 7 weeks, we have had one mild diaper rash.

And ultimately what has worked is taking things as they come and being flexible...not easy for an anal-retentive, closet routine-freak.  Who me? What?! No! Ok. Yes.  But add good mom to that. Great some days, fair on others...not too shabby on most.  Mr. P is pretty awesome too.

Working (Out) Mother's Guilt

Ok, so I'm now the working mother that doesn't see her baby 8 hours out of 4 days every week - like the normal kind of working mother (but still a little privileged in my opinion).  And I have to say - I've adjusted almost too well.  As Mr. P said,  I was working 80 hours in 40 hours time and it was wearing me (and in return him) ragged.  I was a mess and full of tension all the time. Yes, I was incredibly lucky to have the opportunity and I will always treasure it.  And yes, I loved seeing her face all the time - but DAYAM it was hard. I ALMOST feel guilty feeling so relaxed, except I know she is getting the utmost spoiling and naps in her own bed and she doesn't bat a long, beautiful eyelash (they used to be mine - she stole them when I was pregnant and they never grew back on me) when I leave.
So I can feel as guilty as I want, but I don't really have a choice...at this point, without some major lifestyle changes, we wouldn't be able to do it any other way.  However, here is where a real balancing act comes in...
The time that I am not at work...I want to be with her every second.  I have already decided to forego my desire to play with her until I'M tired so that she could have a nice early bedtime. I try to get as ready in the evening and wee hours of the morning so that I can sit and enjoy her before I head off to work.

First pic texted from the sitter

Sooo....I've recently signed back up for my secret healthy indulgence...Jazzercise.  I know I will not be back at 6 days a week anytime in the near decades...but even just going back for a couple of sessions of shaking my completely reshaped-by-baby-growing ass a week is worth it to me.  I get a workout that clears my mind, works my heart, builds some bone density, strengthens my muscles, and gets some silly suburban lady chat in before and after.  Going on the weekends is a no-brainer as the grandmas are chomping at the bit to spend an hour or so changing poopy diapers and wiping up drool for the chance at an eight second smile or the hint of a giggle.  But I would like to go one day during the week to make 3 workouts a week...and it's so hard to decide to do it.  The self-help book reading, Womyn's Studies major in me tells me that I need to put on my own oxygen mask first...to take care of myself so that I can best take care of my family.  The guilty working mother tells me to get my ass home as fast I can before my daughter forgets who I am, feels completely abandoned and finds her way 3 blocks down at the strip club bearing her low self-esteem for any man who chooses to bring her dollar bills instead of going to Jazzercise.   June Cleaver would say I was selfish...so I stay up late peeling the smallest EVER organic apples to make her fresh food as penance.  Oh god, am I going to teach my baby to eat her emotions?! Mr. P wants the time alone with her - and that's good for her.  So ultimately, as it stands the Pros outweigh the Cons.   I'll be shaking my money maker and hoping that this is the good example that I hope it is - and that ultimately I will be a better mom as a healthy mom.  SHIT, why didn't someone mention that getting up at night would by far be the LEAST of my worries....

Separation Anxiety

...mine, not hers - to be specific.  I went back to work at 8 weeks...and from day 1, I had the nugget in tow.  It has been wonderful...and hard as shit.  I love my little girl, but doing a job and taking care of her at the same time has left me feeling like I'm constantly falling short at both.  From what I hear, that won't go away anytime soon.  At this point, C is a real human who wants interaction and attention...and I want her to have it.

It would be selfish for me to keep her here, just to get to see her smiles and hear her babbles when I had the time for it...

Luckily she will be watched by someone I trust a lot...but it's still hard.  Like - burst into tears when I talk about it hard.  So here are some pictures and a video of our little office baby....

Very important business meeting

Regularly brings Gpa to his knees

Joining Gpa for volunteer award

Happy 0.5 Birthday!

My baby girl is 6 months old.  Didn't have any clue that it would be so exciting for me (and seriously, look out come July 17!) It sounds so "parent" but this six months has brought so much change. We've come to know so much in this little nugget, yet she is still so much the same as I imagined as she lounged in my belly and kicked back at Mr, P's nudges.  One good aspect of my "all-hands-on-deck, prepare-for-the-worst" outlook is that I am so often pleasantly surprised.  I was hunkered down ready to be overwhelmed with howl-filled, marriage-destructing sleep deprivation.  I was prepared to bear-and-grin-it through caring for a person I was missing the gene to love - and all this after losing all my support and being ejected from the delivery room for crazy poor behavior. I was ready to crumble at illness or injury.  And guess what? None of that happened!
So yes, C has accomplished so much - from following a moving toy with her eyes, to spinning herself around to get to a toy, babbling "dadadad," rolling over, and sitting by herself.  She giggles and babbles and wiggles and smiles.  She smiles a LOT.  But this one is a little more about me, because I'm actually pretty proud of myself and am going to toot my own horn...
I made it through a rough pregnancy (albeit with lots of rants, but that's what this forum was for), I made it through a rough labor, and a c-section, and the recovery of such.  Ok...so I didn't have a choice in any of this, but still...
Mothering has come out of me, sometimes vigorously.  Not that I haven't lost my shit - I have.  I've cried or handed her off so I could take respite in the aisles of Target.  But I have also kept at nursing her, every day now, for 6 months.  I have given up dairy, eggs, soy, and gluten in order to make her more comfortable...and these 5 ingredients are in EVERYTHING.  Birthday parties...sucks.  Holidays...sucks.  Restaurants....sucks.  Grabbing something at the last minute...impossible.  I've gotten up at night, and then STILL gotten up in the morning.
By her 6 month birthday I have lost all the baby weight (although I now need to lose the wedding weight, dating Mr. P weight, and generally disgusting lifestyle through my 20's weight...)  I fit back into my work pants (therefore regretting throwing out 75% of my clothes when they didn't fit at 6 weeks postpartum), can wear my wedding ring again, and am working out regularly.  I went back to work at 8 weeks...and I take the baby with me, which is VERY lucky, but also a major challenge.  I have handled bumped heads, Linda Blair vomiting, medical tests, vaccinations, coughs and runny noses.  I have put her in her own bed, and stopped running to her cries (although I'm not sold on the idea of ever letting her cry it out...especially at this age).  And as much as this is all run of the mill...it comes from someone who took a week to take the baby out of the house and in the car by herself!

So here's to another six months of surviving the new normal.

The God(less) Mother

On Saturday I will become the godmother to my squishy 10.5 month old nephew.  He will be baptized in the Roman Catholic Church, like so many of us before him.  I'm willing to bet it won't mean much more to him than it did us, but that will be for him to decide.
Those who know me well find it funny that I'm his godmother, as I am pretty open about being one of the roughly 2.3% of the world's atheist community.  So how do I justify this endeavor? Welcome to the inner workings of my version of logic....

If he's gonna wear my shoes, I prefer it be these

1. Look at the kid...he's adorable, we share blood, I can't get enough of him, and if something is asked of me that has to do with him, the answer is YES.
2. The promise I'm making is to ensure his spiritual growth if his parents can't.  I know plenty about Catholicism and if that's what they want...I will make sure he becomes the wizard of all Catholics if need be.  However, if he asks what I believe....
3. In the eyes of the church, I'm not really "godparent" material since I live in a marriage unrecognized by the church (thank you for not being in charge of the IRS, the Macy's registry or California's Community Property laws, church!) so if they are overlooking little stuff, so will I.
4. In godparent class, we're told that once you're baptized you can't be UN-baptized.  Meaning, I am forever a Catholic in THEIR eyes, unless I do something to get myself kicked out and internal "failings" (i.e. doubts) are not grounds for excommunication - so I'm covered there. Therefore criteria of confirmed Catholic over the age of 16 is met. Check.

So, in as much as I have no intention of disrespecting the Catholic church or believers of any faith...I am doing this:)
I will follow up with pictures of the little angel and his pagan cousin ASAGP (as soon as godly possible -ok no more jokes).