The Decision to Work

This year was a hard, hard year at work. It was my fourth year as a high school English teacher, so the newness has worn off. Common Core Standards were introduced at the high school level, as well as a new state standardized testing format. On top of all of that, and probably the thing that made it the hardest, was me becoming a mommy in September.

In the early weeks of the school year, I was overly pregnant and was concentrating on myself, the arrival of my baby, and preparing my classroom and lesson plans for a substitute. I had an 8 week maternity leave (which was nowhere near long enough). When I returned to school after having baby Price, I was a changed woman. I cried everyday for weeks. I missed my baby. My breastfeeding relationship with him was suffering, I was missing work (unpaid) for doctor's appointments, I couldn't get my lesson plans caught up, my students acted like I was a stranger, and it was hard. Real hard. I didn't want to be there, and I'm pretty sure the students knew that, and you best believe they took advantage of it.

On top of that, I decided that now was the time to officially kick off my photography business. I know it seems like that was a dumb thing to do in the midst of everything, but it has really given me the creative outlet and "me" time that I need. I truly enjoy it.

Every day when I got home from work I complained about my awful day, my two hour commute to and from the babysitter (who happens to be amazing and totally worth it), and at the end of the month my check was lacking because the state doesn't think about babies needing doctors appointments after they are born when they take away every single sick day for your maternity leave. It was miserable. And it was interfering with my marriage, my productivity at home and at work, and my ability to be at my best during the time I had with my baby.

So, naturally, my husband and I started to figure out a way for me to stay home for the next few years. We did figure it out. My photography was bringing in just a little extra, we wouldn't be paying for childcare and fuel, and I would be able to plan out groceries and shopping to save a little more. The decision was made. I was staying home! But then... as I neared the end of the school year I got nervous. I began to weigh the pros and cons more heavily. I finally decided (in a split second when the school handed out next year's contracts) that I would, indeed, return to work.

Here's why:

First of all, would I be staying home for me or for Price? Who would benefit more?

Price LOVES social interaction. Sure, over the summer when all of my teacher friends are off of work we have days filled with the swimming pool and play dates. But, what would we do during the school year and winter time when those weren't options. I can play with Price, but not like another baby can. He would be bored. And I would have major cabin fever. He needs a schedule, and he needs other children. He wouldn't thrive at home alone with me.

Secondly: I chose to go into teaching (and not journalism like I went to school for) because of the time off that I would have with my children. I get tons of holidays and long summer breaks. How many professions get that? I should count myself lucky that I don't work 8-5 all year around.

Thirdly: What would we, as a family, miss out on if I weren't getting the same income? Sure, money can't by happiness. But, it sure can provide you with great experiences that result in lasting memories.  Without my income, and with my husband having to add my son and I to his insurance, we would just be getting by. There would be no boat trips, no nights out for dinner, no beach vacations. We would be stuck at home more than we are used to, and we would be counting pennies. That sounds like stress central to me! What baby wants to be cooped up all day with a super stressed mama (who could really use a pedicure and a new dress to uplift her spirits!).

Lastly: I was raised in a home with a single mother who worked her butt off to take care of us, both financially and at home. She taught me to be a hard worker and a contributor. I love that I'm able to take some of the financial pressure off of my husband, and in return, he really helps me around the house and with the baby. There is no "my job, your job." We are truly in it together. I went to college and worked hard to get a job that I enjoyed. And, I got it; and now, I also own a business.

I know that I made the right decision. Yes, fall will be hard when I have to send Price to a babysitter again, but it will be hard for me way more than him. He loves playing with his friends, and I know that I'm doing what is best and right for our family. When I get pregnant again, will I do it the same? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I will decide to stay home. I know that I'll take a longer maternity leave. But, for now, I choose to be a working mom, and I'm just lucky that I actually have the choice. For the next 6 weeks, I'm going to soak up every minute of staying home with my baby, and when August comes, I hope I'll be ready to make next year much better than this one (at work).

On Mother's Day

As I sit in our office, where I've been threatened not to come out until I'm told, I am feeling so overwhelmed with different emotions. I feel so lucky, grateful, and honored for so many different reasons. 

This is my first Mother's Day (with a baby outside of my belly). I've always tried to do something special for my mom on this day, but this year I feel like I couldn't possibly do enough to thank her for everything she has done for me. My mom always told me that I would never truly understand the love she has for me until I have my own children, and I believed her, but I didn't really grasp how much she really loved me and the sacrifices that she has made for me and my sister over the last 28 years. We have had very different experiences during this early stage of motherhood, and I am in a very different situation than she was when she had me, but the amount of love and the number of sacrifices is comparable. 

Becoming a mother has been the absolute hardest thing I've ever done in my life. It has challenged my body, my mentality, my patience, and my relationships, and it has only been 8 months. I know that the challenges will continue and change, especially as my family grows, but every time I see my baby smile or feel his little fingers rub my cheek, I know that it is all worth it. 

I want to thank all of the great mothers in my life today for all of the hard work that you are doing to ensure that your babies have everything they need to be happy and successful in this life. It isn't easy, but it is so worth it. God chose each one of us to mother our children for a reason, and even though we doubt that we are doing a good enough job on many days, I assure you that if you are worried that you aren't good enough, then you most definitely are. Our babies are the reasons we wake each morning to fight through every day of this life, and one day, when they are parents, they will appreciate every bit of that fight. So, keep on, mama! You are doing a great job. 

Happy Mother's Day. 

In Response to the viral "Dad Bod" Article

If you haven't seen the article, here's the link. 

Read Dad Bod Article 

First of all, this article must have been written by a dude who is completely insecure about his not-so-sculpted abs. Secondly, I am not writing this post to in any way cast judgement on any specific body type. If you rock the "dad bod" that is just dandy with me, but I don't feel the need to glorify it. 

Now, to make my point. 

Moms around the world go through each day sporting push up bras, spanks, girdles, and other bodily torture devices in order to camouflage the "damage" caused by physically growing a human being inside of their bodies and giving birth to that beautiful miracle. Never are our stretch marks, our extra 10 lbs, or our dark under eye circles complimented, much less glorified virally on the internet. We fight hard to live up to today's commercial standards of "beauty," yet never quite make the cut. We are up against movie stars who appear on screen merely days after giving birth as if nothing had happened, royals who make their post postpartum debuts only hours later (once their glam squads have had time to work their magic), and magazine covers who use Photoshop to perfect Kourtney Kardashian's waistline post third pregnancy (even though I do love me some Kourtney K). 

The truth is, that most of us moms are just happy with ourselves when our hair air dried straight enough to only have to fix the front, our concealer actually hides our sleepless eye circles, and we find a pair of pants that fit, and a shirt that doesn't have a spit up stain on it. We are happy when we find a swim suit that our body parts don't fall out of so that we can play with our children at the beach, and we love when one of those accidentally healthy eating days happens (bonus if you got a little sleep the night before). We don't walk around boasting about our "mom bods," and there have never been any articles go viral (that I am aware of) about how men just love the postpartum body. We moms earn these bodies, but those "dad bods," which, by the way, belong to many men who aren't dads at all, are just regular old bodies. They aren't earned or even desired. If a woman happens to go for that type, then fine. I, personally, love my husband's muscular build. He works hard for that. It shows how much pride he has for himself, and how he wants to keep his body strong and healthy so that he can be with us for years to come. This "dad bod" trend is just an excuse for laziness. And, in all reality, when reading this article I noticed that the author is really referring to college aged men. They should call this the "frat boy bod" and take away the indication that all dads are lazy, or that you completely lose your vanity once you become a parent. 

There are so many things wrong with the "dad bod" article, so, funny as it may be, it is completely untrue. 

Let's glorify men who work hard, support their families, and love and care for their wives, regardless of belly size. 

Terry would KILL ME if he knew I posted this, but I'm pretty proud of his "Dad Bod!"

What it felt like to sleep last night.

I'm sure you other moms know this feeling all too well, but I like to think that I'm suffering a worse case of lack-of-sleep than you because it makes me feel better about myself and the poor manner in which I'm handling this no sleep situation. 

I haven't slept more than three or four hours consecutively since September 14th, 2014. Yep, the day Price was born. He's not a sleeper, never has been. At 7.5 months old, one would think that we would be rounding the corner of a full night's sleep, but nope. We see no end in sight. I'm not asking for advice about how to get him to sleep, just sympathy. 

As you know, my husband is a fireman who works over night every couple of nights, therefore I'm left alone to do the night duty. On the nights he's home, he is a HUGE help, but I'm still the one who puts Price to sleep. Price likes it that way. I love the snuggles, and I am grateful for that quiet time with him, however, the serious, serious lack of sleep has really been affecting my mood, my attitude, my enthusiasm, and everything about me. 

Well, yesterday my husband gave me the kindest gift; he took ALL of the night duty himself! He slept in the spare bedroom, across from Price's room, left me to our king size bed with a closed door, and my favorite bedtime television show, and didn't wake me until my alarm went off! Today, after one night of decent sleep, I feel like a brand new person. I wore a dress to work, I was nice to my students, and I was productive. It's AMAZING how one single night can change so much. 

Also, my husband has sworn to make this a weekly routine (I'm sure he has his own motives for doing so), but he knows for sure that a happy wife makes for a happy life, and a tired wife is pure torture! 

We should have tried this sooner. 

Playing Catch Up!

It's been almost a month since I've had a chance to write a new blog post, and that's a good thing! While I haven't had much spare time, I am counting my blessings because (other than work) I've been spending lots of time doing the things I love. I have been blessed with lots of photography sessions, and it has been so fun to watch my business grow (now that Delaina Marie Photography is an OFFICIAL business!) and getting to know so many new people. I have also been super busy trying to keep up with baby Price who has suddenly decided that he doesn't want to be a little baby anymore.

Baby Price turned 7 months on April 14th and is on the move! He is crawling, using one knee and one foot, and kind of looks like that scary thing from "The Grudge." It's so funny to watch and he is super proud of himself! He is also pulling up on EVERYTHING, grabbing at anything within reach, and is obsessed with RUNNING any and everywhere in his walker. He is also officially a food lover, like real food, not baby food. I still home make his baby food purees, but he would much rather eat off of mom and dad's plate. He still isn't much into trying to talk, but loves saying, "hey, dada!" any time his dad is around. He's a complete mess, but definitely the cutest mess I've ever seen! We are going to have our hands full for sure!

In the last month, with all of the craziness that is our lives, we also decided that we really needed some uninterrupted family time so we decided to take a little camping trip to Orange Beach, one of our favorite not-too-far-from-home get aways! We had THE best time and have decided to try to do it once a month if we are able. It was so nice to spend time with my husband and baby with no place to be and nothing we had to do.  Price loves being outside, which we were the whole time, and I think he is also going to be a beach bum like his mom and dad. Getting back to reality this week has been tough, and Price was super sad to see daddy go back to work this week.

My Typical "Mama Morning"

This morning was just great. Fantastic. A pleasure. 

Actually, I think my morning started out last night. 

Price got his 6 month shots yesterday. To say that he didn't have a good reaction would be an understatement. He fell asleep for a couple of hours, and once he woke up, he was feverish and miserable. Except for an hour of him speed demoning around the house in his walker, he was not a very happy boy. My sweet baby slept from about 9:30- 3:00am, and then was so miserable he couldn't fall back to sleep for over an hour. Did I mention that my alarm goes off at 6:00 for work? 

So, of course my husband and I overslept this morning. We woke up around 6:30 when Price gave us a nice wailing 2nd alarm. In order for everyone to be at their designated destinations on time, we should be leaving the house around 6:45. At 7:15, when we were ALMOST out of the door, Price pooped. I go to change him, take his diaper off, and he continues to poop... all over the changing table. Then, he pees...all over his face, clothes, and the wall. We stripped down everything, and into the tub he goes! Good news: Price thinks that all of this is hilarious, and he is now a happy baby! 

Once everything was finally straightened out, Daddy decides that he will help me out by taking Price to the babysitter. I run around to get ready for work, feed the dogs, and get out of the house in time for my morning hallway duty (had to happen on a duty day!) and.... the truck (because Terry had my car because of the car seat)...has. a. flat. tire. 

Happy Thursday! Thank goodness it is my Friday! 

The Burden of Too Much Love

Ever since becoming a mom, I find myself crying... all.the.time.

I cry because I'm SO overly in love with my baby boy. I cry because time is running away so much faster than it ever has before. I cry because I've lived my life so completely unaware of the love that my mother has for me. I cry because I want every single day to last forever, and at the same time, I wish, in the moment, that each day was over because sometimes being a mommy is really hard.

I cry for the moms who have lost their children way too soon, and I cry for the women who wish to be moms more than anything, and it's just not yet their time. And for some, it will never be their time. I cry because they will never know the deepest form of love. I cry for those moms who have babies with disabilities, and who probably cry more than me. And I cry when I hear a story of those special babies overcoming their disability.

My sense of empathy and compassion has exploded since I've had my baby boy. I feel everything so much stronger, and see everything so much more clearly.

The days of being carefree and caring only about myself are long gone. Spending my days wasting away the minutes with meaningless things are over, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I love being a mom, but carrying so much love in my heart sure is hard on some days.

Skeptical Mama: Trying to find a REAL natural solution for teething pain.

So, baby Price is just starting to show the fussy signs that his gummy smile may be a thing of the past before too long. His poops have been weird (sorry... tmi), he wants to chew on everything from his own hands and feet to my face, any toy or piece of furniture that he comes into contact with, and everything else EXCEPT his teething rings/ toys! He has been waking in the night upset and just seems uncomfortable more than usual. 

I am the kind of crunchy mom who likes to use as little medication as possible (for myself and my family). I cloth diaper, babywear, bed share, use essential oils, and a few other things that people would consider hippyish, except I'm not a hippy at all. So, naturally, I have begun the search for a REAL, as natural as can be solution to help my little man out. 

I've gone to the internet, facebook, and family, and I'm getting a lot of the same information, however, I find myself not wanting to do most of the things mentioned. There has to be something else that works. 

These are my thoughts on some of the solutions I've read/ been told about:

1. Amber teething necklaces: I get it. They have succinic acid, which has been used for years to help with pain management in other cultures. However, even if you do find somebody who is selling the real thing and not trying to rip you off with a necklace made from resin or fake stones, they only contain as much as 8% of the acid. And I'm supposed to believe that is enough to absorb through my baby's skin and find its way to the source of the pain and be powerful enough to soothe a screaming baby? I'm just unsure. 

Secondly, these are necklaces (or bracelets) made out of BEADS that I am supposed to hang around my baby's NECK and leave on him for 24 hours a day? Didn't I mention that my baby wants to chew on EVERYTHING?! Can we say choking hazard? I just don't know. 

2. Hyland's Teething Tablets: Maybe they do work. Maybe they aren't THAT bad. But, weren't they just recalled not long ago for risk of harm to children? Doesn't that raise a red flag? I know people swear by them, but I just can't imagine why they are still on the store shelves. Just hearing that they may pose a possible POISONING risk is enough to make me super nervous. 

3. Good old Tylenol or Motrin: My baby isn't 6 months old yet, so he can't have Motrin, and Tylenol we do use occasionally. We use it after his shots because he always gets a fever. However, I don't like to take too much Tylenol myself, and I just don't want to rely on it so often for something that may have another solution, especially for my little 13 pound bundle of slobber. 

4. Cold/ Frozen Wash Cloths: My mom said she used to do this for me, and I've also heard from others that this works. It was actually one of the first things I tried. Price just didn't like it. I hoped he would. It was a fail. However, he does like to suck on his washcloth full of nasty soap in the bathtub :)

5. Chew toys: We've gotten every kind imaginable. He doesn't like them. Fail #2.

6. Orajel: I have read recently, and heard from a friend, that even baby orajel can be a potential hazard. Because of the numbing effect, there is a chance that the baby's throat may also become numb. Because babies do not have complete control of their reflexes, this could become a major choking hazard if saliva were to build up. No thank you. 

7. Essential Oils (specifically thieves and peppermint): I have definitely been known to use essential oils. I use them on myself, my baby's bottom, my husband, my dog, and I diffuse them regularly. I have ingested them (Young Living only) and so has my husband, but, even diluted, it makes me nervous to put two "hot" oils directly in my baby's mouth. If I dilute them enough to not have any effects from the "hotness" will it even be enough to help the teething pain? I just don't know. I'll sure try it out though. 

8. Frozen Foods: I can actually see this working. Specifically the idea about frozen waffles, however, Price isn't old enough to have food yet. Bummer. 

I usually have a conclusion, but today I don't. I'm going to keep trying some of these remedies, and if I ever find one that actually works, I'll be sure to post it so you can all try it out! 

If you were one of the lovely ladies who passed on what worked for you, I TRULY appreciate it! I am going to keep trying them and maybe my particular little man will find something he likes. If you have another possible solution, let me hear it! 

Sleepy Mama

Baby Price was sleeping a solid 5-7 hours and then waking for a feeding and going back to sleep for 2 or three hours for at least 2 months. And then, out of nowhere, he just stopped sleeping, sometimes waking up EVERY HOUR for no reason.

The dreaded "4 month sleep regression" has brought so much more to my little family than just sleep deprivation. As a working mom who sometimes has night duty all alone because my husband works over night, this crazy lack of a sleep schedule has made me desperate to find a solution, and with my search came some deep conversations between my husband and I about just what kind of parents we want to be and the type of parenting style we think fits our family best.

But first, the things that I read/ was told about helping my baby (and me) get more sleep:

1. Let him cry.
2. Give him cereal in his bottle.
3. Put him in his own room.
4. Give it time.
5. Don't feed him when he wakes up.
6. Feed him when he wakes up.
7. Lay him down awake, but drowsy.
8. Change his diaper.
9. Don't change his diaper.
10.  Just nap when he naps during the day. (Ha! Yeah, right. My boss would love that.)
11. Don't create any "sleep associations" (bottle, paci, rocking, bouncing, holding)
12. Don't let him see you.
13. Never put him in your bed.
... And a gazillion more.

Every child is different. I get it. But there has to be a solution that works for my baby, and none of these seem to be it. I could go through mine and my baby's reactions when some of these proposed "solutions" were tested, but let me just sum it up with the simple fact that none of this worked.

So, back to the conversation that all of this brought up between my husband and I. It went a little something like this:

Husband: "I don't want my baby to cry if he doesn't have to."
Me: "Me either."

Husband: "I love when Price sleeps in the bed with us."
Me: "Me too."

Husband: "Why would we not feed our baby if he is hungry or change him if he is wet?"
Me: "We will."

Husband: "Why would we not rock and hold him to get him to sleep if he feels safe and comfortable and likes it? And it works?"
Me: " I don't know. That's dumb."

Husband: "How did tribes back in the day do it?"
Me: "What?!?"
Husband: "I think they had the right idea. Let's do it the old way."

Anyway... It continued, and I learned that my husband is a big fan of attachment style parenting. And we learned that we are on the same page with this parenting thing, even if it seems to be a different page than the rest of the world.

We will cuddle our baby to sleep, rock him, bounce him, wear him, or whatever he is needing that night. We will lay him in his bed that is in our room, and when he wakes up hungry, we will feed him. Then we will change him if he is wet. And then, we will snuggle him back to sleep in our bed where he will sleep with us, safe, and surrounded by love, for the rest of the night.

Everybody has an opinion, and I am slowly, but surely, learning not to solicit for parenting advice. We will figure out what works for us and our baby, and that is what we will do. Even if it means that we will get absolutely no sleep in the mean time.

After all, I don't know many 15 year olds who still sleep with their parents or college kids to wet their pants or drink from bottles. I don't know a high school student who still takes a pacifier. It will all work itself out, and in the long run, our baby will never feel alone, abandoned, or sad when bed time rolls around. To me, my lack of sleep is so worth his comfort. That's what being a parent is all about; sacrifice.

Thank You

I just wanted to tell you all THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart for all of the sweet comments on my last post.

Something in my heart told me to write my story, and I was super hesitant to post it. However, I know that a lot of women have suffered in silence through miscarriage, and I didn't want them to feel alone the way I did. I truly believe that each baby is a blessing from God, no matter how long we get to nurture and care for it. Whether we hold them in our arms, or only in our hearts, they will always be our babies.

Thank you all so much for giving me the confidence to not only write about the funny, happy times, but also about how much being a mommy can hurt. I know now that I can be open and honest and trust that my words will not bring judgement.

Thank You.

Nobody Wants to Talk About It

Miscarriage. 

It is such a scary word, and one that is linked to so much grief, sorrow, and sadness. 

After trying for 6 months, calculating every twinge in my ovaries, we finally got the double lines on the pregnancy test. Everyone knows that 6 months is about the average amount of time it takes for an average couple to get pregnant, but it seemed like years. Every month I would pee on a million sticks to check if I was ovulating, and then I would pee on a million more to see if this would be the month that we would finally get a positive test. FINALLY, it happened. We found out in April, the due date was January 21st (which was also my due date= fate), and although I knew that not all pregnancies develop normally, I didn't personally know many people who had suffered a miscarriage ( until after I had one), so I quietly and carefully told my closest friends and family. I chose to keep it off of social media until after our first ultrasound at 9 weeks, but the news spread quickly. 

Those 9 weeks crept by even slower than the previous 6 months. 

I immediately began ordering baby clothes, picking out strollers, buying maternity clothes, and planning our nursery. Every conversation between my husband and I revolved around baby names and plans for the next year when we would finally be parents. I began taking my weekly belly photographs, and even preparing for our announcement photo shoot. Saying that we were excited is an understatement. 

Oddly (or maybe not so oddly), I continued to take pregnancy tests throughout those weeks that lead up to the appointment. With none of the normal signs of pregnancy (headaches, nausea, heightened sense of smell, cravings) I needed reassurance that I really was pregnant. It was still new and exciting each time I saw the positive. 

I woke up the morning of our doctor visit and felt sick to my stomach with nerves. I even cried on the way there. It's like I knew deep down that we would be getting bad news and I refused to let myself get too excited. 

As we entered the ultrasound room for the first time, I remember feeling like all of the air was being sucked out of me. I got up on the table, and lifted my shirt and prepared to see nothing in my belly. But, there it was. That little white blob up on the screen. The one I just knew that I wouldn't get to see. I WAS pregnant, and instantly relieved. My husband and I shot wide smiles of pride at each other as I asked the ultrasound tech, "is that our baby?" She responded with a bland "yes" and left it at that. We were dying to get the inside scoop, to finally learn something about our baby, and before we knew it, the nurse had left the room and our doctor entered without a trace of a smile. He sat down quietly, and began to measure the blob on the screen, not saying anything. 

I could feel the room getting warmer, as our hearts began to melt. We knew that something was wrong. The silence told us everything we needed to know. There was no laughter, no talking, no heartbeat coming from the speakers. 

The doctor simply said, "I'm so sorry." And then he left the room for us to gather our thoughts and have a moment to ourselves. 

As soon as that door closed behind him, I melted into my husband's arms, and they weren't the strong, sturdy arms that I was used to falling into. He was melting too. We sank into a nearby chair, and cried together...for the first time ever. For the first time, we felt the same pain. It brought us closer than we had ever been. We didn't even know how much we loved that baby whom we had never met, who had no name, who had no gender, but we loved him or her so much. 

Once we picked our hearts up off the floor and dried each other's tears, we met with the doctor in a regular room. He talked to us about the choices we had and the different options for "getting rid" of the baby. Even though it could be days, or weeks, I chose to allow my body to recognize that the pregnancy had been lost, and to let everything happen naturally. I couldn't stand the idea of electing to have my baby forcefully removed from my womb. 

It took three weeks for the miscarriage process to begin. I was 12 weeks along, almost to the end of what should have been a glorious first trimester. I was off of work for the summer, and I spent those weeks in quiet hopes that the doctors had been wrong. I appreciate every minute of those three weeks that I got to spend being a mommy to this baby. On July 4th, I decided that I was tired of sitting around waiting for "it" to happen, so we jumped on our boat and headed to "the islands," our happy place, to spend the holiday. When we returned to the marina that night to watch the fireworks with our family, the process had begun. I didn't mention a word about it to anyone, and allowed our parents to unknowingly spend the last night with the grandchild they would never really know. I told husband what was happening once we got home on that stormy night, and we spent the whole night curled up in bed together. He was by my side through the whole thing. Labor didn't really start until the early hours of the morning, and by that time I was so deliriously sick and in pain that the hours seemed to pass like the lightening outside. By the time the sun decided to shine, it was all over, and my 12 weeks of being a mommy had gone as fast as they had come. 

It's amazing that a time in your life when you hurt so bad, and need so much, people seem to distance themselves the most. Nobody wanted to talk about it. I understand. It is awkward, it is sad, and nobody really knows what to say. But, it was so lonely. I still look at those weeks directly before and after I lost my baby as some of the loneliest days of my life. People are still weird when I bring up my angel baby in heaven, my sweet Price's older brother or sister, the baby that made me a mommy. 

Now that a couple of years have passed, and I have a healthy, beautiful baby boy, people seem to have forgotten that this ever even happened. But I will never forget the love that I felt during those 12 weeks. And my connection with Price is so much stronger, and he is so much more appreciated because I know that those two lines on a pregnancy test do not mean that you will welcome a baby in 9 months. He is a beautiful blessing that my first baby taught me how to be thankful for. 

I will never take for granted how blessed I am to be a mom, and how easily that dream can be lost. 

Photo by: Delaina Marie Photography

And Then It Ended

My breastfeeding journey has had ups and downs, but way more downs than ups. 

When Price was born, it took a little over an hour for him to finally latch on. But, he did, and he did a great job. He ate constantly, and seemed to fall asleep satisfied. He was having the right amount of poops and pees, and I was just positive that things were going well. But then  we had our first doctor's appointment for a weight check the day after we left the hospital. Price had lost another 3 oz. on top of the 8 oz he had already lost during our hospital stay (which is normal). We continued to have weight checks every other day for 2 weeks, and his weight was just not budging. He wasn't losing, but he wasn't gaining. He was eating what seemed like all the time. I was getting advice from every direction and trying to take it all into consideration, but nothing seemed to help him gain weight. I had seen lactation consultants, talked to my mom, my breastfeeding friends, and everyone just said to keep trying. So I did. 

At Price's 1 month appointment, he was still 3 oz below his birth weight of 6lb, 7oz, and that was even after I had began supplementing with my best friend's breast milk. The doctor said the words I had been scared to hear...

"He is a failure to thrive."

The doctor pointed out his sagging skin and wrinkled head where there should be small baby fat rolls forming. I finally saw that he was not doing well. He slept too much for a new breastfed baby, and his newborn clothes still swallowed him. 

The guilt was too much to handle. I felt like I had been starving my baby for my selfish need to breastfeed. I wanted nothing more than to do what was best for him, but in that process I had harmed him. I knew that breast milk was best for him, but I just wasn't able to produce enough for him. Then I felt guilty for having to give him formula. It was a no win situation for me, but I knew that I had to do it for him.

I continued to breastfeed for every feeding, and then I would give him formula after. I tried EVERYTHING to get my supply up so that we could go back to just breastfeeding, but it just never happened. I pumped and nursed constantly, around the clock. I took herbal supplements and drank special tea. I drank my weight in water and made sure I was getting enough calories. Nothing worked. 

Then came the unbelievable gas, constipation, and screaming. Price has an intolerance to cow's milk protein. I had to go three days without nursing to let the dairy get out of my system. I pumped as often as I could, but I knew my supply was dropping even more. Finally when we could nurse again, he went right back to it with no problems, but my milk supply had suffered and showed no signs of returning. 

I continued to tell myself that any breast milk is better than none. 

When I returned to work after 8 weeks off, it was so hard to continue to work on building up my milk supply and I just knew that after a month of supplementing with formula, Price would never be exclusively breastfed again. I still pump as many times a day as possible to give him whatever I can. And up until last week (4 months old), I continued to nurse any time he would agree. 

And then he quit. He just stopped. I went to nurse him one night, which is how he was always fed if he woke up, and he just refused it. And he hasn't nursed since. 

I am so heartbroken that I didn't know that his last time was his last time. I would have savored it more, and rubbed his little cheek, and admired his little noises against the quiet night. I wouldn't have wished it away so that I could get back to sleep. 

I still try everyday just in case he decides he wants to nurse again, but it hasn't happened yet, and I doubt it will. I still pump throughout the day to bottle feed him as much breast milk as possible. And I still feel a nagging guilt for not trying harder in the beginning, for starving my baby, and for our dependence on formula. 

Why is motherhood so riddled with constant guilt that I'm not doing a good enough job? Being a mom is hard. But in the end, I know that my baby is fed, he is happy, he has fat cheeks, he still gets breast milk and all of the benefits from it, and I know that I really did try all that I could. 

Terrible Morning, Great Day

This morning, I learned about mama superpowers. I also learned where those powers come from. 

Husband has been at work for 24 hours, leaving me home alone with a teething, sick four month old and two big, spoiled, extremely demanding and needy fur babies. 

Here is how my morning went:

Baby decides to wake up (screaming/ crying) every 1.2 hours throughout the entire night. It takes mama 30 minutes to fall back asleep once the baby is settled each time. You do the math. He also will only sleep on top of me and only if I'm sitting up. Perfect position for me to get some rest, right?

Baby makes the official wake up call and is finally happy and awake for the day at 5AM. No big deal, I wasn't going to get any sleep anyway. Might as well do something productive. 

We get up, he eats breakfast and at the same time makes an explosive poop. You know, the change the whole outfit including the socks kind of poop. But, he doesn't want to take a break from his breakfast so he is angry. Can you imagine how that diaper change went?

Diaper changed, headed back to the living room to finish breakfast (wishing I had an IV of coffee, but a cup will do) and on the way we get the lovely projectile spit up... right down my shirt which is already soaked from my hormonal reaction to a screaming baby all night (ie: milk). We get cleaned up. Finish baby's breakfast. 

I let the dogs out to potty. I make more coffee. I hook up breast pump. I feed dogs. I let dogs in to eat. I start pumping. 

One minute into pumping and I hear a dog gagging at the door... that's right, more vomit. None of it my own. I ignore it. Husband can clean that junk up when he gets home. I've dealt with enough bodily fluids this morning already. 

I continue to pump. Alarm goes off in bedroom (this is when I SHOULD be waking up). Alarm scares baby, angers dogs. I detach from pump. Turn off alarm. Spill half of pumped milk while rehooking pump (and want to cry). Take deep breath and a giant gulp of coffee. Continue to pump. Get ready for the day, pack the car, make lunch, wash pump parts, grab another cup of coffee (all while holding/ entertaining baby), load up baby. 

Look in the rear view mirror. Baby smiles. 

And now, it's all worth it.

Conclusion: Baby smiles give mamas super powers. 

Today will be great because 1) After all of this, I still managed to have a smiling baby, and 2) My awesome husband brought me breakfast to work, so after this crazy morning, at least I won't be starving. 

That smile makes it all worth it.

Who will 28 be?

As I'm closing in on my 28th birthday, I can't help but look back on how much has changed in the past year. Above all, the thing that has changed the most is me.

Less than four months ago I was a carefree, newlywed, twenty something who drank lots of wine (not while pregnant, obviously), loved to shop, had plenty of time for friends and social events, and even more spare time to actually give away through volunteering. I spoiled my husband, cleaned my house, played with my dogs, visited friends, held dinner parties, got haircuts and pedicures on the regular, and actually shaved my legs more than once a week (even if I was going to wear pants!).

26 and Completely Free

 I took all of that freedom completely for granted, and wasted the last little bit of time that I would ever be able to call my own. 

I begged God for change. I was tired of living so frivolously. I wanted more. I decided that what my husband and I needed was a baby! We were ready to be parents. Little did I know, that as of January 3rd 2014, we would get that positive pregnancy test and our dream was only a short time away from being a reality.

My husband and I lived it up in 2013. 26 was a great year.We went camping in the mountains, white water rafting, took beach vacations, and went snow skiing. It's like we knew that 2014 would be different. And oh boy, was it different. At 27, reality slapped me in the face, even before the baby's arrival. We went on zero vacations in 2014. Instead, we saved every penny, rearranged the house, bought baby furniture, cancelled plans with friends because I didn't want to be the pregnant party pooper. I had to limit everything I loved, from coffee and wine to staying up late. It felt like everything had a limit. There was a limit to how much of "this" or "that" I could eat, there was a limit to how much money I could spend, there was a limit to how much weight I should gain, how much exercising I could do. I had never felt so limited. 27, although we were blessed with an amazingly easy pregnancy and the most beautiful boy in the world, was a tough year of a lot of change.

And here we are now. It's 2015, I'm a mom, and I'm about to turn 28.

What will this year bring?

I know that I will get a limited amount of sleep, I will have a limited amount of money available to spend on "me", there will be limited social engagements, and limited alone time. The limits that I hadn't known at 26, and showed up at 27, will still be a part of 28.

But, even with all of those limits still in place for this year, 28 and mommyhood will introduce lots of limitless joys that I've never known before. I will get more kissses, laughs, and cuddles than I could have ever imagined. I will get to watch the love of my life grow as a father, nurturer, and husband. I will witness my sweet boy's first giggles, first words, and first steps. I will connect with other moms who will become new friends. And I'm positive that my heart will grow even more than it has in these last few short months. I will learn to give more, and take less; to listen more and talk less; and to put someone else's needs before my own. 28 may just be my best year yet.

It's so hard to say goodbye to the person you've known yourself to be for so long. Becoming a mommy means saying goodbye to your own body, your own time, extra money, and so much more. But, it also means saying hello to a whole new world that just may be even better than all of that other stuff. My goal for 28 (on top of being the best mommy in the world) is to learn to truly love this new me. Change isn't always bad, even if it's hard.

Cheers to 28!

Endless Guilt of the Working Mom

It's OK to work, mama. 

Everybody says it's harder for me than it is for baby, but I can't help but think how scary it is for him to go to sleep in the car with mommy and then wake up to no mommy. It's not at all that I don't love and trust who he wakes up with once I'm gone, it's the fact that I feel like I'm tricking him everyday. I know that he will adjust eventually, and I will too, but it hasn't happened yet. 

Would you be ok leaving this every day?

I will never make peace with the fact that I have to cut our morning "talks" and play time short to get ready for work. I'll never make peace with the fact that I'm missing 50 hours a week of my baby's laughs, smiles, cuddles, and even his cries. I'm not there to soothe him, or feed him, or teach him. I missed the first time he rolled from his belly to his back, and I didn't know he could do it until I witnessed it for what I thought was the first time over a week later. I have to trust that someone else is doing a great job. 

It's hard. It's hard every day. And, despite all of those moms who swear it gets easier, I say it doesn't. I know I've only been doing this for a couple of months, but I don't see an end to this guilt and sadness anywhere in the near future. 

I tell myself every morning (in a desperate attempt to keep my tears at bay as I drive away from my sweet sleeping baby) that it is okay to be a working mom. Lots of moms do it, and the children survive (and even thrive). I am doing the best for my family and I am providing what we need. I'm a teacher, so I remind myself that summer will soon be here. I try to be thankful for having a job that comes with so much time off. 

I can't say that I haven't tried to rework our family budget weekly to see if I've missed something that would miraculously change it enough to allow me to quit working. But, of course, I've missed nothing. I knew I would be a working mom before Price was born, and I honestly thought that I would need that "escape" from mothering each day to hold on to that work driven, go getter, do-it-all woman I used to be. I was wrong. The second my baby was born, I lost that woman and became "just" a mom. I'm not sad at all to have "lost" my former self. It's the best change I've ever experienced. I am more focused, selfless, and I have more love than ever before. And this is exactly what I have to remember as I leave my baby each day to go to work. It's the most selfless and loving thing I can do for him at this time in our lives. He does have to eat after all, right? 

Merry 7th Day of Christmas!

This post may be a little rambling because I've taken the last couple of weeks to concentrate on my sweet little man, family, and holiday fun! 

Today is the 7th Day of Christmas, so technically this is not a late Christmas post. 

Price's 1st Christmas was wonderful, and he seemed to go with the flow of our normal Christmas festivities. On Christmas eve, we always attend mass and then return home to host a delicious chili dinner with our parents and siblings and exchange a few gifts. This is always my favorite night because it is low key, the food prep is easy, and we get to enjoy each other's company without being overwhelmed by a ton of people. 

This year was even better because we had a little extra entertainment, compliments of baby Boyd. 

Isn't he precious?

Even the doggies get Christmas gifts! This year Gran Gran spoiled them. 

Price couldn't hang.

Aunt Deanna loving!

Christmas morning this year was such a great experience! Price actually participated in opening his gifts, and seemed to really like what he got! It was the cutest thing ever. Sine he is only three months old, we kept his gifts to a minimum, really getting him things that he needs. He got a pretty cool mobile that has a light display, his very first life jacket (we are super pumped about island trips this summer with him!), a few cool toys, pacifiers, and some teethers. We are SO excited for next year! 

Christmas day, after we do "Santa" at home and drink tons of coffee, it is tradition to drive to Louisiana to my Grandmother's house for a super loud, super crowded (wouldn't have it any other way) traditional cajun style Christmas dinner (really lunch). We've done this since forever, and this year Price joined us. We were a little nervous that he wouldn't cooperate with all of the people and action, but with a little outside air, and the coziness of his ring sling, he made it through the day without a hitch! Daddy, however, forgot all of Price's food on the counter at home, we both almost had a melt down, and he had to find a store open on Christmas day that carried Price's particular formula before a melt down occured. It all worked out, and we had a great day. 

I hope that you all enjoy your next 5 days of Christmas! As much as I absolutely love this time of year, I am so looking forward to packing away the Christmas clutter, getting back into a semi normal routine, and kicking off 2015! 

New Year post coming soon!