The Fundamentals of Caring

The Fundamentals of Caring

Peaches: What's it like being a parent?
Ben: Every corny thing you've heard about having a kid is completely and utterly true... It's the only reason we're here.

                It’s been awhile since I’ve blogged, and truth be told, I wanted to, but I knew I was going to wait until I made my pregnancy announcement. Now that the secret is out I have sooooooooooooo much I want to discuss, but I’ll start with a movie I watched this July called The Fundamentals of Caring. It was a random pick and I only chose it because I’m highly attracted to Paul Rudd, and he stars in the movie so I figured it couldn’t be terrible. Let me tell you, by the time it was over, and at the point I heard the above conversation, I was balling like a baby (pregnancy hormones got me crying at least once every other day).

                Paul Rudd plays Ben, and I don’t want to give away any of the plot, but when he said that line, “Every corny thing you’ve heard about having a kid is completely and utterly true….It’s the only reason we’re here.”, it struck a chord with me because it is exactly how I would describe being a parent, maybe minus the last part since I know kids aren’t for everyone. I’ve said many times before that I never thought I would have kids, I wasn’t ever 100% sure I wanted them, but life throws you curve balls and I’m so glad I knocked this one out of the park.

                Some people are lucky enough to wake up every day with a purpose. They have the job of their dreams, or the life they've always wanted. For the rest of us, it’s the rat race, waking up every day and doing things out of habit and not out of passion. You have a job that pays the bills but it doesn’t light a fire inside you. I, ladies, and maybe a few gentlemen, am one of those people. I have a great job that lots of people might take in a heartbeat, but it doesn’t “do it” for me, I don’t have a passion for it, I’m just good at it and so I do it. Prior to having a kid I was stuck in this rut, but now that I have a child I get it. I know why I want to wake up every day, I finally have a passion and a drive to do something spectacular, and that’s to be a mom and to raise a young man in this day and age. It’s terrifying and gratifying all at the same time.

                There are days I crash and burn and there are days I want to jump up on the top tier and grab that gold medal because I killed it. The crazy thing is that even on my bad days I never want to quit, I always want to keep going, try again, try harder, and experience some new facet of parenthood. The road to retirement in parenthood is LONG, and until our dying day I don’t think we every really retire at being a parent, but I don’t “long” for it to pass the way I yearn for 5:00pm Monday through Friday. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely count the minutes until nap time every now and then, but it’s different. Every time I see my son’s face I fall in love all over again.

                Being pregnant for the second time, and knowing it’s a boy has got me all worked up and overly emotional. My husband is so stoked to have another boy. I’m super happy too, but I can admit that in the moment I heard “boy” I realized how much I would have loved to have a girl, but as my niece used to say, “you get what you get and you don’t get upset”, and “every baby is a blessing” so just being able to have another baby, boy or girl, is something I am incredibly thankful for.

How do I feel about having another baby? Well, I’m excited and I am terrified. I know women have been having babies since the dawn of time, lots and lots of babies, and while the thought of having another seems so beautiful it’s also crazy scary. I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that I won’t be sleeping for several months after the baby is born, only this time I’ll have a fresh two year old running around too. How the hell am I going to do this? How the hell have billions of women before me done this? My roots are going to be out of control, my nails probably won’t see polish until 2020, my eye brows are going to bush out, and I may even skip a few showers, OR….I’ll surprise myself and somehow keep it together, wake up every day and slap on some mascara and lip gloss and change some poop diapers with some 4 inch heals on, in my pajamas of course.

                On that note, and with that image seared into your mind (you're welcome), I will close this blog by repeating the answer to the question: What’s it like being a parent? Every corny thing you’ve heard about having a kid is completely and utterly true…It’s the only reason we’re here.

Baby Number Two ???

             

              To have another baby, or not to have another baby??? Is it just me, or has the first child not even left the womb and everyone already wants to know, “Are you having another one?”. I swear this all starts when we are in high school. You’re a freshman and everyone is like, “Are you going to college?”. You’re like, hello, I’m 14, I can’t decide if I’m too old for fruit loops or too young for a protein shake. Then it’s “when are you going to settle down”, followed by “when are you going to get married”, followed by “when are you going to have a baby”, followed by “when are you going to have more babies”, followed by “what is your blood type, social security number, and yearly salary”…. I admit I am probably guilty of asking one, or all of these questions to someone at some point, and I hate it because it sometimes seems to make people feel bad for the kind of life they might be living in that moment.

                For me, the question of are you having another baby was a question I dreaded because I know deeeeep down that I want another baby, but mentally wrapping my head around it is a whole other story. So….when people ask me it brings on this flood of feelings and thoughts that would likely crush them if I could somehow manifest the thoughts into an object and answer them honestly. I realize it isn’t so much the question, but the intention behind the question that really gets to me. For instance, some people ask if you’re going to college like it’s a bad thing if you say no. The same applies to the “are you having a second baby question”, as if deciding to have only one child is the be all end all most terrible thing you could do.

                Here is the out loud answer for me: Do I want to have a second baby? Yes. Can I have a second baby? I hope so. Are you going to have a second baby? I would like to.

                Aaaannnd here is the reality: Do you want to have a second baby? Yes, BUT…..Can you have a second baby? I hope so, BUT…..Are you going to have a second baby? I would like to, BUT…..and the Buts are the uncomfortable part of the conversation because in the but (if you will) is the lengthy list of concerns, worries, and anxiety that the thought of having a second child brings about in my crazy mind. Would it be great to have a second baby? Of course it would, but this Moming thing ain’t easy and it’s terrifying and gratifying all at the same time to even think about it. Can we afford another baby, will I ever sleep again, can I handle it, can my husband handle it, can the dam dog handle it, is our house big enough, is our car safe enough, what the hell is going to happen to my body this time, is my pregnancy going to suck again, is my delivery going to be a nightmare again, who is going to be the next president, did I eat breakfast today, when did I wash my hair last….and the list goes on, and On and ONNNNNNN…but at the end of the day….drum roll please, Ryan and I have decided to try for another baby….yikes.

                With all my worries, doubts, anxiety, demanding job, bits of insomnia, migraines (shout out to Young Living Essential Oils for saving my life and helping me sleep better and reduce my migraines), blab la blablaaaa, we are going to try to have another baby…I realize that if I can’t make up my mind, then I know for sure I must want another baby because if I was dead against it then it wouldn’t be a topic of conversation, and I would be on birth control STAT. I also realize I get upset with people for asking because of my own internal struggle with it. I am a worry wart and I can’t stand the enormous amount of worry that comes with my answers. Truth be told, I’m probably never going to “be ready” to have another baby, but I know this much, for me and Ryan we want our children to be close in age. There is ABSOLUTELY nothing wrong with spacing out your children, but I am talking about me right now and what I feel will work best for me and my family, and with that being said, I’m already probably a few months behind…but hey, it’s our schedule after all.

                Again, I will never be ready, I will never have enough money (what’s enough money anyway?), my house will never be big enough, and my car will probably not be safe enough, but here’s what I do know…I will continue to be a kick ass mom. I will make mistakes along the way and I will learn from them. I will love my babies with every bit of myself. I will go through periods of embarrassment when my future children throw horrible tantrums in public. I will sacrifice and do what ever I have to do to make it because that’s just what you do, and that is what finally gave me the courage (yes, courage) to decide to go for baby number two. It’s going to be really hard, I will probably cry on a daily basis, I will probably beg for 5 minutes alone, or 30 more minutes of sleep, but I will get by because I will have even more reasons to continue to do so.

                Flash back to when I was single, making great money, partying, traveling, living above the Hudson River in Weehawken, NJ (gotta plug Jersey), eating out all the time, shopping relentlessly (who needs a retirement fund when there’s shoes to be bought), going to yoga, chatting on the phone, hitting up happy hours, doing what ever the hell I wanted, I didn’t see babies and marriage in my future, marriage, maybe, but babies, no. I was having a great time and loving life, but who am I kidding, just over two years ago I was still dancing on speakers…yikes, it’s true. That life seems soooo far away right now as I’m picking up oversized blocks, washing bottle parts, singing Sophia the First, and Mickey Mouse Club House, and covering up the dark circles under my eyes, and it really is all good. I don’t regret a single thing because it’s all part of what makes me who I am, and I still surprise myself sometimes. I remember telling my grandmother I was getting married, I thought she was going to have a heart attack. My little old Italian Nonna, even with her dementia she remembered believing I would never get married. Forget it when I told her I was pregnant, that announcement landed her in a nursing home, probably a coincidence, but I like to believe it was the shock of me having a child that put her over the edge and some days I want to admit myself as her roommate (her cooking is killer).

Wrapping it up…One day when my kid(s) are grown, I am going to tell them all (or just some) of my crazy stories… like that time I drank champagne with P Diddy, and I’ll feel super cool and they’ll look at me like who’s P Diddy? Then I’ll tell them that for me, the greatest, craziest, most emotional, most rewarding journey of all is parenthood. The memories will be endless, the laughs will be plenty, the tears, trials, tribulations, bumps, bruises, weight gain, weight loss, weight gain again, yelling, timeouts, tantrums, diapers, hugs, kisses, holidays, all of it, will be great, and I’m only in the beginning stages…the best is yet to come…it’s baby making time!

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

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…