Start Dreaming Again

I've always loved Easter and the meaning of it. Easter egg hunts and baskets filled with goodies as a kid; nothing was better. The pastel rainbow color palette, spring weather, and the hope this season gives others has always been my favorite. Yesterday I got to share this favorite day of mine with my son and his beloved daddy. To share that favorite day with two of the most dearest people to my heart was an absolute treat.

Our church services are performed at 7:30 and 10:45am every Sunday. We usually get up to go to the 7:30am service because it means we get out of church earlier in the day and have more time to get other things done. But this morning daddy decided to let everyone sleep in. Which was another treat in itself. Not only did we sleep in, but we awoke to breakfast in bed. Lincoln a bottle, and I was greeted with sausage, eggs and French toast. Ryan loves to cook and he loves to surprise me so it was a win-win to start the day off.

We made it to second service where the church was jam packed. A great sight for Pastor, not so much for us. The air system was broken and it was a hot and sweaty service, which sometimes makes it hard to focus on the sermon when you're constantly fanning yourself to keep cool. Add a baby in the mix, constantly worried on their body temperature, if they are going to belt out a loud cry, and whether or not they are hungry, church gets a little hotter with all that fidgeting.

Service was great, the message was great, the choir and dance ministries were great. I love our church and everything that goes in to making each service unique and entertaining. Lincoln slept the entire time so that took away our worries of being those newbie parents during the service that struggle to calm their kid down. Pastor talked about "Dreaming Again" and I thought I'd share parts of his sermon. 

The last year and a half of my life came with many trials. There were many bumps and bruises to my ego, my heart, and my overall happiness. You know the saying that says bad things come in threes? Well, it was like bad things come in tens for me. It seemed to be one thing after the next, or at least that's how I began to look at everything.

When one bad circumstance approached in my life, I had a hard time letting it go. I'd carry it with me for a long time and before you know it, something else would come up that would set me back. Instead of looking at everything as lessons learned, I saw life as unfair. I had a horrible outlook on everything. I didn't enjoy my pregnancy until the very end. Any problems that were arising in my relationship I thought were enough to make he or I want to flee from one another. When business would get slow, I'd worry about every bill and how it was going to get paid. I worried a lot about things that weren't meant for me to worry about. I had a negative view on some of my life's most important lessons. It's easy to do what I did. What's hard is focusing on the positive, having faith and hope that everything will work out for my own good, and just trusting His future for me. 

A month ago I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. I finally decided to talk to my doctor about everything I had been feeling from negativity, to sadness, to worry. I took a simple test, talked to her and before I knew it she was giving me information on postpartum and talking to me about possible medications to begin. 

She was still talking as I was thinking to myself, "I went through all of this to find out that I was the problem all along?" I had to go on medication. I had to seek therapy. Now I was just even more furious. "Where were you God in that moment?" I thought to myself. He was right there all along though, every single moment; He never left. But He was waiting for me to see Him instead of always seeing the worst in every situation.

I went through a spiritual warfare, a financial warfare, a relationship warfare, an identity warfare. My entire life was changing for what I once thought was the worst. But in church today, I was reminded that it's okay to dream again about life being good. This Easter weekend I was reminded of the greatest gift Jesus gave to me; himself.

I have never not been able to pay a bill. We are still in business and running smoothly. Our relationship has overcome some major obstacles and we are a team now looking out for one another rather than ourselves only. I truly believe it was necessary for us to learn some lessons before we could ever think about the commitment of marriage. We are about to finish our pre marital class in the next week. We survived! Which makes us one step closer to that commitment and that blessing from God. I may not have enjoyed pregnancy, but I gave birth to a healthy baby boy who is now almost five months and has brought an unimaginable amount of joy to my life. I may have been diagnosed with some postpartum, but instead of talking about what God wasn't doing for me, I began talking about what he has done for me and what he will do for me. 

To dream again for me, means that no matter the struggle or how long the storm may last, I know that I have a God that will carry me through. My struggle seemed like it was never going to end, but instead of focusing on everything that has happened that had gone wrong, I needed to shift that perspective and focus on how far I had come and begin talking about the blessings He has in store for me. I needed to start dreaming again. 

Eventually you can talk yourself into a life of turmoil. Your words can be spoken into existence. If you focus on the lack of finances, the relationship issues, your bad health, your diagnosis, and your unfair cards that you felt were dealt to you, that's the life you're going to live. But if you talk about how you've never been without when it comes to money, that your spouse is still there with you at the end of the day, that you are still breathing upon waking everyday no matter your diagnosis, then you are going to view your life a bit more positively. 

 So no matter your situation or circumstance, I challenge you to find at least one positive thing about that situation. Lost a loved one? Just think of how they are no longer suffering and how good of hands they are in now. Late on paying a bill? Just remind yourself that you still have a home, with food to eat, a bed to lay in at night, and clothes to keep you warm. Had an argument with your significant other? Just remind yourself of how conflict can present an opportunity. Refrain from shouting in anger. You have the opportunity to listen, to grow in your relationship and better your communication when an argument, or disagreement rather, presents itself. 

However wrong things seem to be going, start dreaming again. Start thinking of how far you've come and what is in store for you. The shift in your perspective will literally shift your life. Ever gone to church and heard a message or read something in a book and told yourself you needed to hear that right at that time? That's how yesterday was for me. And it was the perfect message for the day. 

Not even death could hold Jesus down. He rose from death and shared with others that nothing was going to hold him down. And if we believed in that and in him, then we'd also realize that nothing can hold us down either. He gave his life for me, for us, and because He did that, I don't have to worry about all the things that could go wrong. All I have to do is remind myself that everything is going to be okay. I have to believe in the good.

 Whatever you are going through, don't let it hold you down. Speak life into your words and start dreaming again. And if you want to hear the awesome message for yourself, just go to www.newsalemcares.com and click on the sermon tab where you'll find all Pastor Troy's good ole motivation. 

Hoping your week is filled with dreams again! 

To The Mom Who Doesn't or Can't Breastfeed

​I couldn’t help but find myself envious of my friend Lauren, whom you see blogging on here as well, and her journey of breastfeeding her little Maverick for his first year of life. Where Lauren was skeptical and terrified of the concept of breastfeeding, I was all too excited to breastfeed Lincoln in the beginning. I always thought it was so cool how a mom could literally feed another human being from her breasts. Like, the baby literally grows and grows and grows from eating off your breasts! How freaking cool is that?! I was pumped to get started, and I received wind that when you breastfeed, your boobs get a whole cup size bigger. Winner, winner! ​

​Moments after Lincoln entered this world, they laid him on my bare chest for me to fully grasp the gift of life that was granted to me. The little miracle, whom I had the pleasure of being a vessel of life for him, was now in my arms and laying ever so peacefully on my chest. It was absolutely amazing, and a moment I will NEVER forget. He naturally wiggled his way over to my nipple. And yes, as Lauren said, your nipple becomes the size of a helicopter landing pad. It was quite unappealing and disturbing to look at myself at first. I called my nipples the AK-47’s of nipples. They were huge, and frightening to stare at in the beginning. But my breasts eventually filled out very nicely and I quickly forgot about the dark big and gross looking areolas. Linc found those suckers within moments after birth. Apparently he has some sort of sensory telling him where his milk supply is. He latched on like a pro; no problems. 

​Day two in the hospital was a different story, the breastfeeding became super painful and he was needing to eat frequently and every single time he latched on, though he was latching on correctly, it felt like someone was taking a sharp knife and slowly scraping off one layer of skin at a time on my breasts. The lactation consultants did all they could to help me with the pain. They were grabbing my breasts for me and sticking the nipple in Lincoln’s mouth to make sure that sucker was put right where it was supposed to be, but still no relief came. 

​I was about three weeks into breastfeeding and I wanted to give up. I cried nearly every time I had to feed my son. The sucking for milk hurt so bad that I had to put a towel in my mouth and hold Ryan’s hand every time I fed Lincoln and with each suck I bit down hard onto the towel and squeezed his hand so hard I nearly broke my hand every single feeding from squeezing so hard to take my mind off the pain. I'd let out a big ole F*#$!!!kkk! to make myself feel better. It wasn’t until about week six that I finally found out that I had a yeast infection on my nipples the entire time, and apparently that makes it hurt like hell when you are breastfeeding. I got that cleared up and breastfeeding became a breeze. I was so stressed out about it in the beginning that my supply was dwindling down, but when I was free from the stress of pain, my supply began to increase.   

​But at about month two and a half, I started seeing some changes in my supply again. Pumping for milk WAS a fulltime job. It was the most stressful thing I ever had to do. I felt like I couldn’t leave the house because I was constantly pumping for milk before I could leave Linc with his daddy. Then I’d come home, only to latch him right back on my boob because he had gone through my pump supply already. Lincoln would fuss and fuss as if he were still hungry and I quickly realized at that point that he wasn’t getting enough milk in his feedings. He was cranky because he was still hungry. I had to start thinking about supplementing with some formula for his own good so he would be satisfied. I researched the heck out of every formula that was worth the read. I finally came across one made by Nature’s Own called, Baby’s Only Organic Formula. Aside from goats milk, which is the next best supplement to mother’s milk, this formula seemed to be the golden ticket.  

​

          Once I began feeding Lincoln with formula, my supply dwindled even more. Now I am only able to feed him with what I consider a snack to hold him over until his bottle gets warmed up. I went from absolute pain, to pain free and doing well with my supply, to pain free and no supply. It’s been quite the roller coaster ride, breastfeeding has. I was determined to feed Lincoln from myself for his entire first year of his life, but God had a different plan for me. It was also a pride thing for me. I wanted to feed him from my breasts knowing it was the best thing for him and when that couldn’t happen anymore, I felt like an insufficient mom. My body was able to carry him for nine months and I gave birth to a healthy baby boy, but come time to feed him and nourish him, my body couldn’t do it. I felt like a failure. 

​It still bothers me to this day that I don’t get to just latch him on my boob anywhere I go, any time I need to. It would be so nice and convenient at times. And the bond that I had with him when he was getting all his nourishment through me was also one I’ll cherish forever. I was only able to give him a good three months of breast milk, but I guess that is better than nothing. According to my doctor, it’s actually the best thing for me right now because breast feeding causes your estrogen levels to jump all over the place and I’m also dealing with some postpartum, which is due to my hormonal imbalance, and the breastfeeding for me would only make my road to recovery from postpartum, that much longer. 

​I’m sad and mad about the fact that I can’t feed my son directly from me, but I am forever grateful for the formula that does give him the nutrients to grow and survive. As Lauren put it, there’s no right or wrong way to feed your baby. You’re going to do what is best for both you and your baby. And what may be the best for your baby may not always be the best for you. Weighing out the pros and cons is important. And for those that have struggled like I have with being able to breastfeed, carry on, warrior. You are already fighting enough battles day to day as a mother, a wife, a friend, an employee, and a daughter. Don’t put any more stress on yourself than you have to. You are doing an amazing job and your baby will love you regardless of what you can and can’t do for him/her. All they need is some real good lovin', which you have an endless supply of! 

Boob and Bottle on....

    
    

     Breastfeeding. Sigh....Will I? Won't I? Is it going to be great, or is it going to be torture? How do I really feel about it? What's going to happen to my boobs when I'm finished? Am I a hippy mom? Can't I just do formula? These are all questions I asked myself prior to my first son being born. My mother had breastfed all 4 of her kids, and she swore by it's many benefits, including the weight loss and it's potential to lower the risk of breast cancer (which runs heavily on her side of the family). So I decided I would try it and if I hated it I would stop, and if not, I would do my best to make it a full year.
     I remember how the thought of breastfeeding honestly creeped me out. I couldn't really explain why, but there was something about it that was completely unappealing. Truthfully, I was uneducated on the subject. I didn't care either way if a woman breastfed or formula fed, it makes no difference to me, and since I never planned on having babies I just didn't put the effort into thinking about whether or not I would breastfeed. I also didn't mind at all to see other women doing it, I just didn't think I would want to.
     After telling people we were having a baby it was a question that was frequently asked, "well, are you going to breastfeed?" I felt like I was under a microscope and I thought, gosh, I've really got to think about this and make a decision because it seems so important, one way or the other, to so many people. Women who formula fed were big proponents of doing that, women who breastfed were also big proponents of their decision, and the two rarely supported one another.
     I knew regardless of what I decided, I didn't want to be like that. I didn't want to judge another woman for her decision because these days I desperately try to live and let live. While I might have my feelings and opinions, I realize now that things are sooooooo much easier said than done and what works for some doesn't always work for others. I made the decision that I was going to breastfeed and if I hated it, or didn't have success with it, then I would simply switch to formula and call it a day.
     So the time came, I mentioned it in my last blog, and baby Maverick was born and he was ready to chow down. They brought him to me and like a moth to a flame, the kid honed in on the nipple (how could he miss it, the thing appeared to be the size of a helicopter landing pad-another benefit to pregnancy, your areolas get huge and dark-yay), latched no problem, and the process started. I was terrified about the chapped nipple stories I had heard so from the start I was diligent about applying the nipple cream, ALL THE NIPPLE CREAM. After coming home from the hospital and realizing how often babies actually eat, all the nipple cream in the world didn't prevent the soreness, but luckily my sister in law had trusted me with the great responsibility of watching her baby and I had learned all about nipple shields so I was armed and ready. The nipple shields helped A LOT! They soothed the cracks and discomfort, and Maverick seemed to have an easier time eating as well, win, win. I also believe it made his transition to the bottle that much easier too.
     Things were going well, baby was eating, I was producing, and after about a week I decided I should start pumping to build a supply and prepare myself for when it was time to go back to work. I invited another one of my sister in law's over and she literally taught me how to pump. She had just had her second baby 3 months earlier so she pretty much knew what she was doing. She also produced more breast milk than I have ever freaking seen so I thought if anyone could show me how to use this crazy looking breast pump machine, she could, and she did. I used the lowest possible setting, while she jacked hers up to full bore (I thought good God, how can she handle that), but now I know you just build a tolerance and get used to it. I remember feeling stoked that I had pumped just below two ounces, while she was over there pumping 8...from each boob...hello lady! And P.S. there is nothing cute about a breastpump, it makes your boobs look crazy, the entire process is comical.
     I kept up with it and started building my mini moo fridge of frozen breast milk. I thought, I got this, I'll have plenty of milk stored up, hell I could even go out on the town, have a few cocktails, and be fine to pump and dump...well....not so much. You see, I struggle with chronic migraines, an issue I have had since I was twelve, and bonus, they are hormone related, awesome, so you can imagine post baby, and insanely hormonal, my body was like wwhhhaattt....migraine time! I was lucky enough not to have a migraine the last two trimesters of my pregnancy, and a neurologist had once told me that many women who experience migraines pre baby often no longer get them post baby...he was wrong, and I despise him for putting that thought into my head. My migraines came back with a vengeance. I started getting them several times a week, smells triggered them, the lack of sleep triggered them, my crazy hormones were triggering them...I'm surprised breathing didn't trigger them. At first I did my best to avoid my medication since taking the medication meant 12 hours of no breastfeeding and 12 hours of pumping and dumping. When my mother came to visit it worked out for me not to take my medication because she took care of Maverick while I would lie down for as long as it took the migraine to go away (this sometimes wouldn't be until the next day). As a new mom, this was an absolute nightmare. The supply I had so proudly began building was gone in an instant.
     After my mom left, and with daddy back to work, it was just me and baby so when a migraine would come I had no choice but to take my medication so that I could take care of the baby, the house, myself....It broke my heart to take that medication, to pump and dump countless ounces of breast milk down the drain...anyone who has accidentally spilled their breast milk can almost understand what this is like. With my freezer supply just about gone, all the pumping and dumping, I had to start supplementing with formula. For this reason I am so thankful for formula because hello, the baby needs to eat, and if mommy can't give him the milk for 12 hours, and there's no more in the freezer, then this was how it had to be. Thank God my son to this day will pretty much eat anything, so whether it was breast milk or formula he could care less.
     I continued this crazy process for almost the entire first year of my son's life. In an effort to lessen the frequency of my migraines, I began acupuncture treatments. Unfortunately it did nothing for me, and the day after a treatment I would always get a migraine. It wasn't until a friend of mine introduced me to essential oils that I finally found some relief. I ordered Young Living Deep Relief and M-Grain essential oil, along with their premium starter kit complete with diffuser, and it changed my life. I still get migraines, but I started using the oils in place of the medication and my migraines were going away! No more pumping and dumping for 12 hours! All I had to do was use a combination of essential oils at the start of my migraine and I could safely breastfeed no problem! It was THRILLING! I was able to build up my freezer supply again and all was right with my world!
     So now here I am, at the end of my breastfeeding road. I stuck it out for the full year, through the trials and tribulations, I supplemented when necessary, I breastfed on an airplane (a highlight of travel), and I met my goal. I am so fortunate to have a healthy one year old, and good health doesn't have to come from breast milk, it comes from good mothering and LOVE. The girl who was kind of skeeved by breastfeeding, the girl who didn't think she would be into it, or do it, fell in love with it.
     I breastfed my baby for the last time on the morning of March 14, 2016, and in usual mommy Lauren fashion, I cried. I cried because I was going to miss it, tremendously miss it. I miss it now as I am sitting here with cabbage leaves and peppermint oil on my totally engorged boobies that will lose this amazing perkiness by the end of the weekend. I recalled that morning, about how tiny he was when he was born, and I laughed to think of how my boob was bigger than his newborn head, and then I looked down at his toddler body, long and stretched across my lap, and I cried some more, littered him with kisses, and got him dressed and ready for daycare.
     I was lucky to be able to breastfeed my son, and I realize that. Many women have a truly difficult time with breastfeeding because let's face it, we are not all created the same and breastfeeding can bring about several issues, or even be impossible for some women, and IT IS HARD ladies, it is a full time job to the full time job's full time job. You are no better or worse of a mom no matter what you chose to do, or what your body, lifestyle, and time will allow, and this is simply my story, and what worked for me. Now go and boob and bottle on....

https://similac.com/end-mommy-wars#video

OMG Labor & Delivery Day.....

    

     We left for the hospital at 5am, I told the dog we would be back with his new brother and he looked at me like I was nuts...I am, and I was. We arrived at the hospital and went through the lengthy check in procedures and I remember thinking I was glad my water didn't break because there is no way I would be filling out all that paperwork and having contractions.
     They checked us into our room and the party started...I got all hooked up to my IV and an hour later they started the Pitocin; the medication that strengthens labor contractions…sounds like fun right? I started progressing quickly and to be honest, the contractions weren’t that bad. I was walking around, bouncing on the birthing ball and feeling relieved that I could “handle” the pain…Little did I know that not long after the midwife was going to come in and break my water…ummmmm excuse me…I realize now that I was completely clueless to the fact that contractions are worse, MUCH MUCH WORSE, after your water breaks.

They started coming on stronger and faster and I was breathing like a person who was under water for far too long and thankful to have reached the surface. I had dilated to 5cm and was about ready to administer the epidural myself when suddenly the angel from heaven, AKA the epidural guy, came into the room and I completely forgot how terrified I was to have a needle put into my spine and welcomed him like we were friends since kindergarten. The epidural was a breeze compared to the labor pains and shortly after it was administered the pain subsided and I was able to relax…it was like a freaking miracle, epidurals are fantastic.

                My husband, Ryan, hates needles and had to leave the room when they gave me the epidural…so there I was laying on my side watching the screen and seeing these crazy contractions and not feeling a thing when suddenly I started shaking like someone left me in the North Pole with no clothes on in January. Just then, Ryan walks back in the room and is totally freaked out since I’m laying there hanging on to the bars on the side of the bed shaking and chattering my teeth together…he thought they paralyzed me…I crack up about this now, but I can imagine how freaky that scene must have been to him. Apparently this was a side effect of the epidural that I was also clueless about and it’s my fault for not taking birthing classes.

                The nurse came in to check on me and said I was at 6 cm and it would probably be a bit longer, no sooner did she walk out of the room when I felt this huge shift in weight in my lower abdomen and had the urge to push (it basically felt like I had to take a shadoobie, as Chelsea Handler calls it). Ryan called the nurse to come back, I told her what I was feeling and she said it was unlikely I had dilated 4 cm in less than 10 minutes, but she checked anyway, and she was wrong…I was fully dilated and ready to go. Ryan looked at me and all of the color had washed from his face, I could tell it was hitting him, he was about to be a daddy…

                Prior to the labor we had agreed he was going to stay north of the equator and leave the business end to the professionals….That worked out well for the first hour, but then the student nurses who were helping (yes, 6 student nurses watching me try to deliver a baby which on a normal day might bother me, but on an “in labor” day I could care less), had to leave for the day so it was up to Ryan to take over…thankfully, he did fine, but low and behold little Maverick was not fine.

                My doctor was giving a teaching seminar not far from the hospital and the midwife was there monitoring me every now and then. I pushed for 3 and a half hours, and Maverick wasn’t coming out. I could see the top of his head with a mirror and they kept telling me he was stuck on my pelvic bone. My epidural wore off and they wouldn’t give me anymore because they said it would be better for me to feel what was going on so I could push better. I was exhausted, in pain, and desperate for him to come out, but he wouldn’t budge. I will never forget the midwife, who shall remain nameless, coming into the room and looking at me like she was pissed I was taking so long to deliver this baby. Everyone thought he would have been born well before 2pm, but it was after 5pm, and no baby. At the next contraction she said she was going to “check me” and see how I was pushing…I literally gave it my all and I pushed, and she looked up at me and said, “I’m just not feeling the effort”. I burst into tears, the nurse who had been with me the entire time said I assure you she has been pushing with great energy this entire time. I begged for more epidural and asked to rest. They went outside of the room to talk and try to reach my doctor. When they came back in the midwife said they called the anesthesiologist to come and give me more of the epidural medication, I could rest for 30 minutes, then I had to push again, and if I COULDN’T deliver the baby within an hour, I would have to have a C-section.

                I was devastated, I had not planned on a C-section at all…I was terrified to have an actual surgical procedure while being awake so I vowed I would get this baby out. She turned to leave the room when all of a sudden everything started beeping, the nurses came back in the room, the midwife exclaimed, “he’s going tachycardic, he’s going tachycardic”….In the blink of an eye they called my OB, the nurse came racing in and said, “your doctor is on her way, we are prepping you for a C-section, the baby’s heartbeat is too high and we need to get him out.” Well, that was it, I lost my mind, I started crying hysterically, I called my sister who answered the phone thinking she was going to be congratulating me on my delivery and I quickly shouted, I have to have an emergency C-section, I’m freaking out, just promise me it won’t hurt!” She stuttered a bit and finally said, no, it won’t hurt, OMG what’s going on and I explained in a half a second and hung up the phone…Ryan had been taken out of the room to don the surgical garb, I have to admit, he looked very Grey’s Anatomy attractive, and for a moment I thought I married a doctor…they gave me more epidural, switched me to a different bed and started wheeling me through the hospital to the surgical room, I threw up the entire way…lovely, but then again, I had thrown up several times while pushing too so I wasn’t too surprised.

                The room was like something out of a movie, huge bright lights in the ceiling, a huge team of nurses, I was hooked up to all kinds of stuff, and finally, my doctor arrived…She quickly said hello, explained to me that she felt there was something wrong since I had been pushing for so long and he should have come out, she began testing my lower abdomen to see if I could feel anything, and I still sort of could so I exclaimed, “I can feel that” as if shouting it would get the point across faster…she told them some medical terminology that I am clueless of and next thing I know I’m feeling like I’m floating on air…My hands were strapped to two poles and I was instructed to hold on tightly to try to stop the shaking from the second epidural, and I looked up at the nurse and said, “I feel like I just smoked a joint”…She giggled and said, “it’s ok sweetie, we just gave you some morphine”, well let me tell you, I heart morphine…I was TOTALLY out of it, I could feel the sensations of what they were doing, but I didn’t feel any pain and I was so gone they could have been taking my leg off and I wouldn’t have cared. I looked at Ryan and told him to start telling me a story to help me focus, and sure enough he started talking to me about the Philadelphia Eagles, and Chip Kelly, and who we would pick up in the offseason, and did I like Nick Foles as our quarterback, and then suddenly I felt this enormous weight being pulled out of me and seconds later we heard him cry, his very first cry. (Please note, I am now crying as I type this…the moment is still so real) We looked at each other and Ryan had the biggest smile on his face I had ever seen, he looked up at him and said he’s out, babe, he’s here! I felt like I passed out for a minute and woke back up to the sound of my doctor saying he’s out, and the nurses telling me they are cleaning him up and weighing him. Ryan went to him immediately and started snapping photos like a proud daddy. He came back to me and the brought little 7lb, 8oz, 20inches long baby Maverick, and they laid him on my chest…It was the best kind of love I have ever felt, it was love at first sight, truly, it does exist.

                They quickly took him away to the nursery, Ryan followed, and they stitched me up and wheeled me off to recovery. In the recovery room I was draped with tons of towels and sheets to bring my body temperature up, and finally they came back, Ryan and baby Mav. They told me I needed to try to nurse him, and they gave him to me. Thank goodness he latched right away, and I was amazed at all that had gone down in the last 24 hours. I realized women are freaking amazing, as if I didn’t already know, but we are…

                My doctor came into the recovery room and explained what had happened. She said I never should have pushed that long, that the wrong part of Maverick’s head was trying to come down the birth canal and it was unable to pass the pelvic bone since it wasn’t the part of the skull that collapses together to allow for the head to pass. She explained that the only way to get babies coming down the canal like that was with forceps or suction, which she considers inhumane and doesn’t perform those types of deliveries, or via C-section. My sister was delivered that way and she turned out ok, so I’m sure I might have been fine with that, but she preferred to do the surgery explaining in her opinion it was safer. She said he was so far down my birth canal that he was delivered in a breech position via C-section. In other words, he had to be pulled up out of my birth canal, then out of my belly.

                So there it is folks, the miracle of life….that entire time after my water broke Ryan and I stated back and forth a bunch of times, “never again”…, but I’ll tell you what…if all the stars aligned and I got pregnant, I would do it all over again, ALL OF IT, the crappy pregnancy, the crazy delivery, the vomiting, the pushing, everything, if it meant I could experience that feeling a second time. It’s the most powerful thing I have ever felt…

                So, ladies, the moral of the story is, ask questions, go to classes, read books, be afraid, but know that it’ll be ok, be excited, be thrilled and curious! Women have babies every day, every single day, around the world, in hospitals, on farms, in the outback, on boats, in taxi cabs, it’s crazy, and amazing, and nuts, but it’s literally life, and that’s my story so far, just a small, but gigantic, chapter in my book.

My Last 24 Hours Pregnant....

  

A year ago today I was living the last 24 hours of my first pregnancy...Holy S%@T...I was about to be a mom for the first time ever and I was terrified! I was terrified, but I was also excited, scared, nervous, happy, and a million other feelings I can't seem to put into words. I started dilating and experiencing contractions the Wednesday before Maverick was born, and I knew that if I didn't fully go into labor on my own, I was going to be induced on March 2nd. The entire night before going into the hospital I didn't sleep at all (BIG MISTAKE, but I couldn’t help it).My OBGYN assured me I would probably have my baby prior to being induced and she didn't think I would make it through the weekend...Well, she was wrong, there I was, on a Sunday night, wide awake, WAITING for it to happen...no dice...

            Let me just be honest, my pregnancy sucked for a long time…It wasn’t all rainbows and lollipops for me, and I was genuinely pissed about that. So many of my friends and family members loved being pregnant and never experienced the “ugly” side effects of pregnancy. I was beyond jealous.

I knew I was pregnant VERY early…I took a test well before my missed period because I just KNEW it! I bought about 50 dollar store pregnancy tests (yes, I’m insane) and I woke up on a Saturday morning and took the test. I left my husband asleep, and clueless, in bed, and I waited…At first I didn’t see anything, I was literally about to throw the test in the garbage, but then it started appearing…the faintest pink line of all time (I was so early in the pregnancy that the hormones were still too low to make that sucker appear really bold). I freaked out…I actually took out a flashlight and made sure I was seeing that faint pink line…I practically sprinted out of the bathroom with nervous excitement and woke my husband up like the house was on fire waiving the test in his face!

            He was STUNNED, he actually said that the dollar store pregnancy tests aren’t accurate and they’re made in China, and blablabla (for the record, lots of good stuff is made in China ;-)…I told him there was no such thing as false positives, only false negatives…He even took a test himself, and I took two more too…Our science experiment proved me correct…His, of course, was negative, mine, faintly positive…He joined me in a bout of nervous laughter and it was on…
            Our pregnancy wasn’t planned…We were married in March and pregnant in June. I stopped birth control the day after we were married (lost my birthcontrol pills at the reception hall in my purse that was somehow spilled under my table and the only retrieved contents by my mother and sister was my lip gloss and a copy of our wedding vows)…so I decided it was a sign, and I stayed off of them. I had also heard it can take an eternity to get pregnant after being on birth control for so long…Ummmm, no, completely false.
            After finding out the news, I took one of my dollar store tests every day for almost 37 days…obsessive much? I watched that line pop up darker and faster every time…For the first few weeks I was soooooo tired, but other than that I felt pretty good. July 4^th weekend hit and so did the sickness…the all-day sickness, nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite, all of it. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I felt like I was dying. I thought to myself, this is what people on chemo must feel like, and I am not joking when I say that. The color was completely washed from my face, I had the worst dark circles under my eyes, my lips were chapped from dehydration, I had no energy, I threw up as soon as I rolled out of bed, and continued to do so throughout the day, the nausea was there constantly. I went to the doctor A LOT. I thought there was no way I would be able to have a healthy baby. I wasn’t eating, I couldn’t keep my prenatal vitamin down, I kept having instances of spotting…I was living on crackers and organic ginger ale…LITERALLY. Each visit with the doctor they assured me the heart beat was great and the little sprout was growing, but they were worried about me and so they prescribed Zofran, a highly controversial drug, and one often prescribed to chemo patients for nausea and vomiting, and they also prescribed diclegis, which did nothing. During those times, I hated being pregnant, I swore I would never, and could never, do it again, and I don’t care who thinks that is a terrible thing for me to say, it’s how I felt.
BUT…
            By week 16 I FINALLY started to feel normal. In fact, I felt great. I had that pregnancy glow everyone talks about, I was looking good, rocking my little baby belly, eating like I was going to the chair, my hair was bouncin’, and I sang “I’m Walking On Sunshine” to myself and played Christmas music all day every day! Things were looking up…
            Then came that glucose test…oh yes, the dreaded glucose test…and I didn’t pass…WTF, I never had issues with my sugar, I honestly eat healthy (doesn’t everyone say that)…even when I eat bad, I eat pretty good (hello dark chocolate antioxidants)…They told me I just barely failed and I had to go back again…so I did, and I “just barely” failed again…so now comes the pricking of the finger and getting my sugar readings 4 times a day and being put on a diabetic diet which legit takes some training to learn to eat that way. Did I mention it was Thanksgiving and Christmas time, MY FAVORITE TIME OF THE YEAR, and I had to stare at, and smell, all of the goodness of the holidays and not partake…I realize I don’t know what true torture actually is, but it sure as hell felt like torture to me…The good news is that I kept my numbers great and they told me I was free to cheat every now and then ;-) and although I hated it at the time, the strict diet did keep me from gaining the million pounds I thought for sure I would put on so I suppose that was a bonus (that’s what I told myself).
            Here I was, March 1^, 2015, FINALLY at the end of my pregnancy, no more finger pricking, no more peeing a thousand times a day & night…no more throwing up, heart burn, gas, yea I said it, GAS (groaning abdominal symptom … I just made that one up), or flatulence, if you want to be pretty about it…no more back aches, no more of the hiccups my son constantly had that kept me awake at night, no more kicks to the rib cage…you would think I would have been excited, and I was, but as much as I was stoked to get him out and meet him, for the first time, I thought I actually liked having him in there…it was the only time in my pregnancy I felt appreciation…Life on the INSIDE, is for the most part, safe…they are always with you and you are protecting them; life on the outside can be daunting because from the second they are born there will be moments and days that they might not be with you and totally out of your control, and so there you have it…I finally appreciated pregnancy, and it was about to be over…
To be continued…