Mommy Needs A Hug

First off, welcome everyone to December and we are almost to the end of 2020. I hope that everyone’s healthy physically, mentally, and emotionally. If you’re having a hard time I’m always here to help and make sure you’re practicing proper self care. For those moms out there, just a reminder that you need time without your children sometimes and self care is more than just taking a shower or practicing basic hygiene. And I hope that everyone’s enjoying the holiday prep as much as you can. Now to the main course.

Gender disappointment. It’s real. It’s OK. And I’m going to talk about it.

Now I know what some of you are thinking “children are a blessing how could you possibly be disappointed by their gender?” And that’s completely true. Children are an incredible blessing and at the end of the day we’re all just happy to have healthy babies. However, sometimes that initial shock of finding out the gender and the baby not being what you expected or maybe were hoping for, can kind of be disappointing. It’s not that you love your child any less because they were a boy or a girl, but if you have three boys and were hoping to finally get a girl it can be a little sad to see that not happen.

I’ll speak on my personal experience. When I first got pregnant for the first time I had this gut feeling that we were having a boy, and we did. Now I always thought that I would only have boys so when I got pregnant for the second time and I got that gut feeling that I was having a girl it honestly got me really hopeful because I didn’t think that I would ever have that. I am by no means a girly girl, but it’s really fun to dress up little girls. And Rose just so happened to be way easier to this point (knock on wood) than Mark was up to her age, and he just gets harder. So when I got pregnant for the third time, I’ll be honest with myself and all of you, I was hoping for another little girl. I kept thinking how easy Rose was and how much fun it is to put cute dresses and bows on her and just play dress up with her.

My gut feelings hadn’t been wrong yet, and a feeling I couldn’t shake was that baby #3 would be a bouncing little boy. And I went to that ultrasound while she searched around for all his limbs being accounted for, still hoping deep down that there was a chance it was a girl. When the ultrasound tech told me that my gut was right and I was indeed having another little boy, my stomach dropped a little. I felt bad even thinking it for a second, but I was a little disappointed. Still, I pulled myself together inside and walked out to my mom’s car and we drove back home to reveal it to the kids, Joe, and my mom.

I secretly grabbed that golf ball with that little blue mark on it and we picked our “team boy” and “team girl” stickers and headed to the backyard. I hyped everyone up and Joe hit the golf ball revealing the blue powder inside that confirmed to him and the family that we were having a baby boy, a little baby Joey.

See we had discussed the previous night that both Joseph and I were still holding out hope that baby would be another little girl. So I could see on his face the slight disappointment that I had also seen reflected back in the mirror. Still, we put on a smile and hugged each other, hugged the kids, and shared the news with family (many of whom didn’t even know I was pregnant until that day).

While we were disappointed and it’s OK to be disappointed, within a matter of hours we were both over the moon excited. At the end of the day we were happy to be welcoming a healthy baby. A healthy baby BOY to our growing family. What a blessing a healthy baby is and at the end of the day I wouldn’t change having a baby boy for the world. Joey is exactly what we needed and I’m so glad that I have his tiny little face to see everyday. Babies are blessings, and while gender disappointment is real and it’s fine to have, as long as you love that baby when it arrives none of that matters.

I’m also aware that some people may be more disappointed than others. We went into baby #3 with a boy and a girl, so no matter what the gender we would have a “tie breaker”. I had a boss that had two girls and after his wife getting pregnant with a third girl, he was a little disappointed. Obviously still excited, but after two girls he was hoping for a son. I also have a friend who had two boys and after getting pregnant with her third, was hoping for a little girl. If you’re still reading this and thinking I’m a terrible human for feeling disappointed for a slight moment just think for second. Take this for example: you have 8 kids, all girls. Your wife, or you, gets pregnant with your ninth child and you find out it’s baby girl #9. You’d probably be a little upset for a second. This situation happens a lot (not usually on that size scale, but you get my point) and we all feel a little bad being disappointed, but it’s fine to feel that way as long as you get past it. It’s normal.

I wanted to write this post to let you all know that you’re normal. There is nothing wrong with feeling a little down for a moment about what you’re having. Some of you may disagree with me. Some of you may think I’m terrible for thinking this way. Some of you may have never experienced this. But for those of you who have, or who will experience this one day, this one’s for you. You. Are. Normal. You don’t have to feel guilty about it. You don’t have to feel like a terrible human. You don’t have to look back at your genuine feelings and feel bad about it. It’s how you felt. At the end of the day as long as you love your child with all your heart no matter what, then that moment of disappointment that disappeared doesn’t matter.

Boy am I glad that you guys aren’t waiting for me to write this in real time or I’m not on some kind of live platform. I just had to take a 15 minute “break”. I say it like that because when I say “break” I mean that my potty training daughter just pooped in her Pull Up and then went into the bathroom and tried to go potty while Joe was rocking Joey to sleep. Needless to say she was covered in poop, the bathroom was covered in poop, the floor was then covered in poop because I had to clean her up. The bath had to be filled and baths given. A shit storm if you will. I may have just jinxed myself previously in this post in saying that Rose was easier than Mark.

Anyway, gender disappointment is real. It’s OK. If you’ve ever experienced or will experience it, don’t feel bad or guilty as long as you love your kid. If you ever want to talk about it, know that a lot of people experience it, myself included, and I’m more than willing to chat with you about it if you’d like.

Stay safe. Stay healthy. Remain calm. If you need to talk about anything or would like me to talk about anything, let me know. Happy holiday season!

I just wanted to take the time to write a quick post today. With it being Thanksgiving today I want to give some special thanks and talk about what I’m thankful for.

First of all, I am thankful for each and every one of you that reads my blog. It means the world to me to get to go on the journey of motherhood with you all. I love giving any advice I can give, and I’m so grateful to that I get to share so much with you. It’s amazing to know that all these thoughts I have that I thought I was alone in, a lot of you share the same sentiments. I am really just so grateful for the support I’ve been given from the beginning of this blog journey. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday and you enjoy a yummy meal. You deserve it!

Second, I want to thank my husband. We have had a rough year. We have had many a broken appliance. We have had attitude issues from our toddlers. We had to deal with a pandemic and me being pregnant on top of it. We had a lot of relationship growth that we had to go through this year as well as a lot of personal growth. Through all the struggles we have had this year, I am so thankful that you were here walking by my side. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, and I wouldn’t have wanted to do any of it without you by my side. You annoy the crap out of me sometimes and sometimes make me feel under appreciated, but even on our bad days I choose you over anyone else. Thank you for being my best friend, my rock, and the best daddy to our kids. I’m so incredibly thankful for you and the support you gave me this year (especially in the delivery room). I love you.

I am thankful for my three beautiful children. You guys make me want to pull my hair out, I’ll admit it. You have an attitude that is unmatched (Rose), emotions that are so strong (Mark), and a strong set of lungs (Joey), but even for all the bad you three bring so much good. So much happy. You have made one of the worst years I have ever had into such an amazing one. You kept me smiling, you kept me playful, you kept me on my toes and always gave me a reason to get up and do something. I love the three of you so very much and am so grateful for how you care for Daddy, me, and each other. I am so very blessed with the three of you, and so very blessed to have welcomed Joseph into our fun filled family dynamic. You three are most perfect three things that I’ve ever done. I’ve gotten a lot wrong in life, but never the three of you and I am so thankful to have been blessed with you, and that you chose me to be your mommy.

This one specifically to my mom. I am beyond thankful for you, this year as well as every year before it. You are kind. You are caring. You are compassionate. You are so helpful. You love me when I can’t love myself. You are always there for me to talk to. I said it before. This was an incredibly hard year for my family, but you made it a little bit easier for us. You always drop everything to come help us and you always have. You dropped your entire week to come here and watch our kids so Joseph could do his homework. You dropped everything to watch the kids while I was getting induced. You cook for me. You have cleaned my entire house. You help me no matter what it is I need. You have been my shoulder to cry on. You have been the arms that hold me when I need it. There is nothing like a mother’s love and I’m glad that you are mine. We have had our fair share of arguments this year but at the end of it you still show up for me and I can’t thank you enough for that. I am so thankful for you and all you do. You are the single best human being that I have ever met and I love that you treat Joseph and our kids like they are your own. You have always, and will always, be my best friend forever. I love you mommy.

Dad. Oh daddy. I know you probably won’t read this but I’ll say it anyway. Thank you for all you do for us too. I know you have a lot on your plate, yet you still make time for us, and I will never forget that. You make me smile when you compliment my food. I love to see you play with the kids and it made me so happy when you sat a read a book to them. I appreciate you cutting our lawn more than you’ll ever know. And I am thankful for the times you tell mommy to come see us when she’s questioning it for whatever thing she has to do that day. You never miss a big event and that is something I will never forget. I am so thankful for you, even if I don’t tell you enough.

To the rest of my family and friends, I hope you have an absolutely wonderfully holiday, you truly deserve it. I have the best family a girl could hope for and I am so incredibly thankful for that.

Thank you to everyone who has supported my family and I in this incredibly tough year. My heart is so full today. No matter how insignificant you think the support was just know it doesn’t go unnoticed. And I will remember it forever. I know I don’t tell people nearly enough. Even every single day is not enough so thank you. Thank you all again for reading and continuing to support my blog. Happy Thanksgiving and big hugs from me to you.

What are you thankful for today?

Your thankful motherhood introvert

Please excuse my delay in writing. It was a rough couple of weeks, as you can probably tell from my previous blog posts. And it just kept getting rougher. I found myself crying on the floor over a baby sock because I was overwhelmed so we have been away and then when we got back the heater broke, I had laundry to catch up on (I still haven’t caught up), no sleep and not enough coffee because 5 people in one tiny room, a mouse and setting up Terminix coming out, an ER visit for Rose eating toothpaste, and a case of thrush for me and Joey. Busy week. It still hasn’t started looking up but I won’t get into that, just yet at least.

AAAAAAAnywho.

The holidays are difficult. They’re financially, mentally, and emotionally straining. This isn’t a mom specific difficulty. It’s hard for single folks, newlyweds, and families. It’s just hard in different ways and I’m finding it hard to believe that the holidays ever get easier, honestly.

First off, the holidays bring with it daylight savings time. It’s hard to stay motivated and cheery when it gets dark before dinner. Then, there’s the financial burden that the holidays place on a lot of us. You have presents for God knows how many people, then as a military family or even just someone not living at home you have plane tickets or gas to drive where you need to be. Not to mention the actual stress of traveling during the holidays. The traffic, driving or airport. This year in particular is going to be hard for the holidays. A lot of people are already struggling financially with the shut downs at the beginning of the year and more shut downs looming. Traveling this year, if it even happens, is going to miserable. Then worrying about the potential of getting COVID after the holidays and the inevitable boom in cases post holiday.

When you’re single the holidays for a lot of single folks means getting bombarded with “when are you going to get a *significant other*” and other questions regarding your life and life choices. That in and of itself gives people anxiety. No one wants to field all those questions while they’re trying to enjoy the holidays. (cue single folks getting extremely drunk so they don’t have to) I can’t personally relate, but I’m sure that just gets worse the older you get.

Then you finally found your special someone and you take them home for the holidays. Now you have to field the “when are you getting married” “is it serious” questions. (Cue you and your significant other getting drunk to deal with questions) Again, I’m sure this gets worse the older you get.

Finally, you get married and you go to both of your families houses for the holidays because, honestly, you don’t have any reason not to and it’s nice to see everyone. Depending on your family and how long you’ve been married you field another string of questioning. You know where this is going. “When are you two going to have babies?” Wildly inappropriate honestly, with the possibility of infertility or baby loss. (You don’t know what people are going through)

If you do welcome a little blessing into the world the holidays really step it up a notch. As a mother and a wife, a military member to boot, I can really understand how stressful this gets. When you have kids the holidays get a little bit harder to manage. It gets harder to do it all and at some point you have to make your own traditions. With small children it’s not always realistic to go to everyones family, or even anyone’s family, for the holidays. And it’s more important that the holidays are special for those kids.

It is so much work to make the holidays magical. Once you become a parent you realize very quickly that the holidays were magical because you had a mom who loved you very much and did everything she could to make it special and see your eyes light up with the holiday magic. I bend over backwards to make the holidays special for my kids, and honestly Joseph too. I buy all the presents for everyone, Joe’s family and my own. I put a lot of thought into it and I really like to get people things I know they’ll love which is stressful for me because I want the presents to be perfect. Then I set up all the decorations so I can watch the kids eyes light up when they see the Christmas tree and all the ornaments. Then I wrap all the presents and I slip them under the tree and set up the stockings. I plan out what is for the stockings and what is from Santa and what is from us, in addition to wrapping the presents from family we won’t see.

It usually falls on me to make the plan of where we will be going and seeing during the holidays. This is so mentally draining for me because I don’t want anyone to feel left out or get mad, but we just can’t do it all. Especially with three small kids now. It’s stressful trying to make a plan for the holidays knowing in the back of my mind that someone is going to be unhappy with us no matter what, and if they’re not and we do get it all in then it’s physically exhausting for all of us and I don’t get to enjoy the holidays at all. Still, I make the plan for the actual holiday and the days leading up to it. I try and get in looking at Christmas lights, hot cocoa and Christmas movies, and doing something special just our family before the craziness starts.

Making holiday magic is incredibly draining. Making plans, thinking of personalized gift ideas, buying the gifts, wrapping them, decorating, and making everyones family happy, which for me seems like an impossible feat these days. It’s stressful and the days leading up to Christmas I am overwhelmed and panicking and the days following I just collapse into myself. This isn’t even including Thanksgiving, which for the past few years we have done at home alone, with my parents coming at some point, and me cooking a full Thanksgiving dinner. Which I’m sure is upsetting for a lot of people that we do it alone, but I just do not have the mental, physical, or emotional capacity to do it and I hope they can understand that.

My favorite Christmas this far has been the one where we stayed at home. I’m sorry if that seems selfish, but it was my favorite. We made cookies on Christmas Eve and decorated them then watched movies and drank cocoa. Then on Christmas Day we woke up and opened presents, made pizzas for lunch, and I made a special Christmas dinner. My favorite by far.

We are desperately trying to create our own traditions these days. Which in itself is kind of difficult because I want to build traditions that we can sustain forever. What we have landed on thus far is getting the kids hot cocoa and pajamas that they get to open on Christmas Eve morning. Joseph and I also get pajamas, they don’t have to be matching but we have done matching family pajamas. We put cookie and milk in the fridge and leave Santa a note that it’s in there. Then we go to my families house and partake in all those family traditions. When we return home I sneak into the house and drink the milk and eat the cookie and leave the plate on the table for the kids to see and then put out Santa presents. It’s important to me that our kids only get one small present from Santa because I don’t ever want other children to feel like they weren’t important enough to get a lot of a big present from Santa. Then the kids come into the house and we open presents and then we get to relax the rest of the day and play with presents they got. And that’s it for our own concrete traditions. I sometimes make cookies though. I really like cookies. And hot cocoa. I like to slip hot cocoa in there if I can. I deserve it.

What are some of your traditions? What plans work for you? Am I crazy in thinking that the holidays are stressful? Do you go to more than one place for the holidays or stay home? How do you handle being military during the holidays if you’re a military family? Let me know.

With love,

Your stressed out motherhood introvert

P.S. The attached gingerbread house was made several weeks after Christmas, it didn’t get eaten, and the icing wouldn’t stick at all. I also don’t remember ever making a gingerbread house before that one.

• 

I’m going to take another blog post, another day, to be really real with you guys. I had another hard, shitty week. Not for the same reasons, but crappy just the same. I’m felt less alone this week, but another hard week, and when I started writing this it was Thursday if that gives you any indication of where this week is at.

I haven’t been getting much sleep. And I know a lot of people are going to think “well you have a newborn so that’s to be expected no reason to complain”. The thing about that though is, he’s been sleeping. He’s been sleeping really well actually (knock on wood). I however have not been sleeping well. The past week or so the baby has been having 4-6 hour stretches of sleep with me, more often than not, having to wake him up to eat so that he doesn’t get dehydrated or overly hungry and hurt my nipples. I mean, good for that guy that he gets to sleep though am I right?

So I haven’t been getting sleep and then on top of that, I had my service wide exam on Wednesday. For those who don’t know what that is, (I’m expecting that’s most of you), it’s a test you have to take that ultimately determines if I get promoted (advance) to make more money. So I had this test on Wednesday that I had to study for. I had studied a lot before maternity leave, but obviously hadn’t really had much time to after the baby arrived. Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday I kept trying to study to no avail. I really tried, but it is incredibly difficult to do when your husband has homework, your two toddlers decide to alternate between screaming and sitting next to you asking endless questions, and you have a hungry and sometimes grumpy baby that doesn’t like to be put down. On top of that one of those days, an incident with a woman in the CG getting masted came to light that really tore me for reasons that I probably shouldn’t get into and probably shouldn’t even bring it up at all but, it really upset me and made my week worse. Anyway, the less I got to study for my test the more stressed I became about how I would do on Wednesday when the test day rolled around. Then Tuesday Joe managed to distract the kids for a little while in the guest room/playroom so I could study. That made me feel really guilty though so I couldn’t focus as much I wanted to, but I tried. Baby Joey was also cluster feeding on Tuesday topping the day off with over 3 hours of feeding when he usually averages a little less than 2.5 hours of feeding. I also had my postpartum appointment that day which I guess was good because my doctor is awesome and I got cleared and then went on my merry little way. I tried to study again Tuesday night and early Wednesday morning but didn’t really get much done. The good news I guess is that I feel like I did ok on my test, especially considering the handfuls I was juggling.

We also decided this week to completely cut out TV for the kids, so they’ve been decidedly more rambunctious and rebellious. It has made life harder to not be able to just toss them in front of the TV for a break sometimes, and we aren’t those parents that are completely against screen time, but it needed to be done. Let me explain. Mark is OBSESSED with TV. He wasn’t playing with toys anymore, wasn’t doing his learning activities, didn’t want to play outside, and didn’t want to sleep. He just wanted TV. It was at a point where he would wake up at 4 AM just to sneak out to the living room and watch TV and he wouldn’t stop watching all day despite us turning it off he would just turn it back on. He’s a very intelligent child so it was time to knock that off and we have to do things with him full swing one way or the other or he doesn’t get it. So we decided it was best to just take a break so maybe he can get out of this phase and back into what he used to enjoy doing. It also opened up a door for us to spend more actual quality time together, sit and talk to each other, really enjoy each other’s company, have fun, and have some family time. I’ll also admit that Mark’s Netflix usage is really annoying because he feels the need to pick a new show every 20 minutes so my “continue watching” list is like 12 pages long.

Anyway, while I was relieved my test was over on Wednesday night, we had a couple of incidents that really put a damper on that night. First off, I was exhausted and have been getting terrible headaches for weeks with no medical explanation, though I think it’s probably due to the lack of sleep. So I’m at home, tired and relaxing with the kids while Joe is shooting golf balls in the garage. Marks starts acting all crazy, not listening, and pulling dangerous stunts off the couch so I yelled at him, which made the baby start screaming bloody murder because his poor little ears couldn’t take the sound. So now I’m feeling bad for losing my cool when Rose accidentally smacks the baby in his soft spot while flailing her arms around. Now he’s crying harder, obviously, and I’m feeling like the worst mom in the world. I call Joe back into the house and start going through my mental checklist of steps to makes sure the baby is ok. His eyes are dilating fine, he stopped crying, he seemed completely normal and fell back asleep within like 5 minutes unfazed, but then I touched his soft spot to check it. It felt really caved in to me so I immediately called the doctor who pretty much told me he should be fine, babies are resilient and to just feed him and keep an eye on him. I tried to feed him and he wouldn’t eat and his soft spot really just didn’t feel right to me. Now I’m panicking, I’m crying, I’m the absolute worst mom alive. I set alarms for every hour and a half all night to make sure he was ok and not getting dehydrated. He was fine, but I was absolutely exhausted come Thursday morning.

Thursday morning rolls around and I got like maybe an hour of sleep after everyone woke up before Mark decided to stomp around outside my bedroom door to wake me up and then I got greeted with a child wanting a boob. I went through all day exhausted despite having three large coffees. By Thursday night around 8 or 9 PM, I really was just not feeling well. I was feeling really weak and ended up having a slight fever of 99.7 before bed. Really just not doing great but waking up every few hours to feed the baby anyway, obviously because he still needs to eat and breastmilk shares antibodies so I hear so it was important for me to know he was getting my antibodies while I was sick. The next day I felt really sick and was in bed until about 8 or 9 PM again and Joe was on his own for the most part, at least with the older two, the majority of the day. Luckily by bedtime, my fever was gone and I was feeling pretty great, aside from being tired, again. But a special thank you to whoever got me sick ( I don’t this person or their name) in the one time that I left my house and didn’t wear a mask so that I could take my test without having fogged up glasses (we were like 4 feet apart and were allowed to take off our masks for the test so don’t yell at me I’m literally so cautious all the time except this one occasion so that I could see). What a great time. Great people.

Friday wasn’t a great day to start off with so I guess being sick was just the icing on the cake. See, we lost my grandpa on that day 15 years ago and I always take it really hard. It’s a sad day for me. A day I still mourn on. A day I think too much and cry too hard. So being sick really just topped it off for me. Friday just really sucked. I knew going into the week it was going to suck, but it was obviously worse than anticipated.

When Saturday rolled around I was hopeful that I would have one good day. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out that way. I don’t want to discuss but it just wasn’t a good day for me. I ended the week tired and just completely ready for the week to be over. I’m glad that I had Joe to hold my hand through this one because thankfully that’s all I needed this time. Here’s to this week to come being better I guess. Here’s to no incidents, more sleep, and just an all together better week. And if you too had a bad week last week, I hope this one is better for you too. Whether a good or bad week last week, I think we all deserve a good one this week. A relaxing one.

Much love and much luck,

Your exhausted motherhood introvert

Let’s talk about being pregnant during a pandemic. Because it kind of sucked. Like honestly, it really blew and no one should have to do what so many women had, and still have, to do. It’s not cool to have to go through such a happy moment in life alone. It’s not cool to ever have to go through it alone, pandemic or not, so it sucks that we all had to go through what should be one of the happiest events of our lives with virtually no one there. Appointments-alone. Ultrasounds-alone. For some, labor-alone.

We found out in January that I was pregnant. I couldn’t get a referral to an OB until I got my pregnancy confirmed by the clinic and then again by a gynecologist. So at about 6 weeks, the beginning of February, I had a gynecologist appointment and an ultrasound shortly following for dating. I went to both alone, because it didn’t seem like that big of a deal when I knew I had a bunch of other appointments and a gender ultrasound for him to be at. And luckily, everything looked ok and I wasn’t finding out bad news at the dating scan like so many women have been forced to find out alone since the onset of COVID. Had I known how the rest of my pregnancy was going to go I would have made sure that Joe was at these appointments though.

You see, Joe missed out on the majority of appointments with both of my previous two pregnancies. He was underway or on duty for most of them. He went to 1 ultrasound and maybe a total of 5 OB appointments between my first two pregnancies. That being said, I was so excited that he was going to be here to experience all my appointments and this awesome life transition with me this time. I was beyond ecstatic. Over the moon even, that my life partner, my best friend, would finally get to experience this with me. And then the whole pregnancy, the plan, got flipped upside down (cue Fresh Prince theme song).

I was scheduled for my first OB appointment around 12 weeks. That’s pretty typical of my usual experience, maybe a little later but not too bad so it didn’t bother me at all. Now I got to 12 weeks at April 3, so you can just imagine the turn this going to take. By the time my first appointment rolled around lockdowns had started and we were full on, in the shit. The game completely changed.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was transferred off of the boat that I was on and to my current unit. A land unit that could, and was willing (thankfully) to accommodate for me and my pregnancy. I reported there on March 17. By the end of my first day at my new unit we got the news that we were shifting the schedule and it was determined that for the safety of myself and my unborn child, I would not be coming into work until further notice. (At this point as many of you know there was little to no research on the effects of COVID on pregnant women and unborn baby, still really isn’t too much research.) I was very cautious, some would say overly, (still am) due to being pregnant. I did not leave the house at all until my first appointment. Joe even only left the house one time to go out for groceries and when he got back I practically made him hose himself off. I turned on the shower and sink before he even walked into the house so it was ready. He walked in and immediately stripped and put his clothes in the washer, washed his hands, and showered. Followed by me sanitizing all the doorknobs, light switches, garage door button, his car, his shoes, and anything else he could have possibly touched before I would even look at him. I was VERY cautious.

Like seriously I was very careful. I can’t stress this enough. Despite that, appointment day showed up and I took my temperature when I woke up. Then I took my temperature again before I left the house just to make sure. I used three different thermometers that all read the same thing and I made a note that my temperature was 97.8, normal. I was very paranoid despite my caution so I wanted to be safe, and then I was on my way. It was a cold day that day so I had a hoodie on with the hood up and my heat in the car on full blast because I’m a pansy and don’t deal with cold well. I got there and confidently stood there as they took my temperature, because I knew it was fine since I had just gone through all that before leaving the house. They then told me I had a 100.1 temperature and proceeded to kick me out of the office, my first OB appointment.

At this point, I’m devastated. I’m here at the doctor alone, after not being seen for 6 weeks, not knowing if the baby was ok, and I get kicked out. I called my mom, I called Joe, I’m panicking that something could be wrong with the baby and now I won’t know for another two weeks (unless they kick me out again). Through tears I drive 30 minutes home without my heat or hood on, get out of the car and go inside to wash my hands. I proceeded to take my temperature again with the 3 thermometers, which came up at 97.8 again, normal, and my temperature just magically went up 3 degrees and back down in a matter of 45 minutes? Not likely. (I took my temperature every morning and night for 3 days, all normal.) So now I’m pissed! I understand precautions but it really didn’t seem like rocket science to me that I was wearing a hoodie with the hood up and the heat on full blast could have been the reason my temp was so high when I got there. So I’m pissed that now I’m going to go 8 weeks with no medical care for no reason other than being cold on the way there and doing what I needed to to be warm in the car. That in itself turned what was supposed to be a happy check up and pregnancy with little bean into a sad and panicked venture alone.

So 14 weeks rolls around and the entire time leading up to this I’m reluctant to even go again because I don’t want that experience again. But I truck myself the 30 minutes there for the safety of the baby, with a tank top on and the windows open the whole way, because I’m *petty*. I go in, mask donned, by myself. The nurses keep their distance like everyone has the plague, which I understand why but it still is strange. They mumble their instructions under their mask before hand sanitizing and slumping away, very impersonal. When the doctor came in she kept her distance too. She came in and stood across the room from me, only coming closer to hear the heartbeat and hand me genetic testing paperwork, careful not to touch my hands at all. A very sad, lonely, cold exchange in comparison to how these appointments usually go. I feel for moms having their first ever OB appointments and this is what their normal is. Going a whole pregnancy so distant from everyone, not getting to build that normal doctor patient relationship.

If you’ve ever been pregnant you likely know that your appointments are typically spaced 4 weeks apart and then sometime around 28-30 weeks you got to 2-3 weeks apart until 35-36 weeks when you start going every week. Well being pregnant during COVID that is no longer the standard for a lot of people. In my experience, I had my appointment at 14 weeks then not again until 22 weeks with an anatomy scan at 20 weeks. Then my next appointments were 29 weeks, 33 weeks, 35,36, etc. This spacing made me, personally, very uncomfortable. I was worried constantly that something would be wrong and I wouldn’t know for a long time, and then when I did fine out I would be alone. I honestly can not imagine being pregnant with a rainbow baby and barely getting medical care in the first and second trimesters. I can’t imagine the amount of panic that one who has had trouble conceiving or suffered from pregnancy loss must have felt/feel during this. Not knowing if this miracle rainbow baby was ok or not for 6+ weeks at a time. It was miserable for me, uncomfortable for me, not ideal for me, so I honestly can not imagine and I truly sympathize for all the women that are going/have gone through this during the pandemic.

Giving birth this time around was also a little different in my opinion. I didn’t by any means have a terrible birthing experience but it definitely wasn’t my typical experience either. First off, the mask while in labor is kind of a bummer. I know a lot of people are lenient about it because you’re pushing out a human, like my medical team was lenient after I got my test results, but I have also heard a lot of people having to labor/deliver with a mask on which totally sucks. I completely understand wearing a mask until your COVID test comes back, but beyond that, eh. Pushing a baby out with a mask on kind of dampens the experience. Speaking of COVID tests, it’s definitely not great to get a giant Q-tip shoved up your nose during labor. There’s enough pain that that is really just the cherry on top of a shit storm. Again, luckily I was not in labor when I got mine due to being induced, but that is not typically the case for women in the delivery room. It did really blow for me having to get my second COVID test after really hoping that I would never need another one ever again.

So your in this room, wearing your mask, people coming in and out so you don’t really get much chance to take your mask off for God knows how many hours for some people, get a Q-tip shoved up your nose and now you’re waiting for results (mine took like 3.5 hours to get). Then, again, everyone is a little more distant (my opinion). It’s weird not getting to see people’s faces that will be looking at your vagina and watching a literal human being come out of your body, but I digress. And for me, it was weird to only get to have one support person. My parents have been in the room for delivery both previous times, with my mom being my biggest help during my labors, so that was definitely an adjustment for me. Last, but not least, in the long list of reasons COVID ruins a pregnancy, no visitors. It was kind of nice for the first few hours to not have visitors, I won’t lie, but also really strange and really lonely. I would have liked nothing. more than to see Mark and Rose walk into that room to meet their baby brother. They have a way of making me feel better when I’m hurting too that would have been really nice at that time. It was such a special moment that I was looking forward to that I felt like we, as a family, got robbed of. It is obviously still great, and special, for them to meet their baby brother at home, but not quite the same. I missed my kids too, and it was kind of sad to have been a family of 5 for that hospital time without them there with us.

I could have never anticipated being pregnant and delivering during a pandemic. A lot of us, who got pregnant prior to the pandemic, could not have guessed this would happen. There was no way to know. It took so many magical moments and turned it into lonely doctor appointments, no baby showers, no special sibling meetings, and very strange delivery and recovery experiences. I feel for all the moms out there who experienced and continue to experience this. This is something that a lot of people won’t understand when moms say that this wasn’t their ideal pregnancy. I feel for first time moms who think this is normal. For moms having their last baby who don’t get to end it on a high note, with a normal pregnancy. I feel for those having rainbow babies who don’t get to share these special moments with their partners. I feel for those who have to suffer infant loss, alone, without their support system and have to find out that unfortunate news without someone by their side to hold them and help them. Sitting alone in an ultrasound room, or an exam room, by themselves finding out the most devastating news of their lives.

I wish that Joe could have experienced this all with me for the first time like he should have been able to, like we were so excited to, after missing the first two. Pregnancy during pandemic kind of sucked, and I’m just glad that it’s over and I get this beautiful child after such an unfortunately lame experience. What a beautiful outcome to such a horrible OB and pregnancy experience, alone and isolated from the world. The best thing to come out of a pregnancy during this pandemic are all these beautiful children. Thankful for baby Joey through it all, but fuck off 2020.

• 

I feel alone.

When I first became a mother I completely lost myself in motherhood. I threw myself into 110% from the beginning. I enjoy being a mom. I truly enjoy being a mom and I absolutely believe that I was put on this Earth to be a mother. But I jumped in head first into the ocean of motherhood and I just got crushed by a wave some time on the way in and never came back up for air. From the moment I became a mother all I have been is a devoted wife and mother. I became a crappy friend to a lot of people and I have no idea what I like to do for myself because I just gave up on it. I got so focused on being a mom that I think I gave away a piece of myself. I feel like a lot of mothers do the same thing. We get caught up in this cycle of being everything for everyone else that we just never catch up enough to be something for ourselves. And like I said I love being a mom, I just feel a little lost right now.

I have watched my husband consistently pursue some hobby that he is interested in for himself. I guess it’s just easier being a dad in that way. You can put in a lot less effort as a father and get absolutely praised, but being a mother you constantly give your all and manage a home, a job, kids, and a husband and you get told to try harder. (In our household it’s not that off balanced anymore with Joe staying home, but that’s a year out of the 4.5 years we have been parents.) It’s a lot easier to take time for yourself and have a hobby when you get praised and worshipped by everyone for doing the bare minimum of parenting.

It’s great for Joe that he gets to do something for himself because I acknowledge that he needs time away too. It’s important for him to get out of the house and enjoy himself, kid-free. But we became parents and he was completely centered on himself and his own free time. He constantly had a hobby he was doing. Or more than one hobby. I watched him do hockey, golf, read, go drinking with friends, go to hockey games, and smoke cigars. He always has something or is talking to me about how he wants to go do something. He even gets time to do things to better himself. He got to go to therapy, he had an internship, and he has college classes. And all of those things take a lot of alone time for him to succeed in too. I have sat back and watched him through all his hobbies, constantly encouraged him when he took time for himself, and just generally been supportive for all these years. I have helped him through some really hard times to help him into a better headspace. I have done everything I could possibly do to support him and be the best wife and mother I could be. But in turn, I never got afforded those same opportunities. I never got the same support to do things for myself. I never got the time to do anything for myself. My “free” time has consisted of laundry, dishes, keeping a clean home, and being a mother and wife for years. I lost myself and never got the time to figure out what I like to do for me, as an adult. I’m not the same person I was 5 years ago and I have no idea what I like to do for me anymore.

I briefly had a time in Boston where I went out once a month (probably closer to every 2 months) after work if we got done early on a Friday, and had 2 or 3 beers with one of my closest work friends. I have on and off for several years had running, but it hasn’t really been that enjoyable anymore. Those were the only times I got even remotely close to doing something for me. Unfortunately, our marriage was not in a great spot at that time so it was always an issue when I did something for me and turned into a fight. It sucked having that double standard pushed at me, constantly pointing out the double standard and fighting about it, and then nothing changing. It was always him going out but that one hour every few months for me always started a fight. Without fail. And then I would say I needed time for me and he would say “well you can go out, you never go out, I don’t know why you don’t go out”.

The past 7 months of our marriage since he started therapy have been the absolute best months of our marriage thus far. Things have definitely gotten way better as a whole and before anyone gets it twisted, we have both always loved and love each other very much despite our issues. Marriage is work and we were and are willing to work for it and evolve to get ourselves into the best spot we can which is why our marriage is doing so much better now. However, I still feel alone sometimes. There is still this double standard that we are constantly trying to even up the score. I still watch him go about his activities, having this abundance of time to himself, while I am still surrounded constantly by nothing other than being a mom and wife. I don’t get any option to be anything else, and at this point I truly don’t even know what I’d do.

The past week and a half for me has been *rough*. I have been in my thoughts and feelings a lot these past couple weeks and trying to communicate my needs with Joe. It’s been tough seeing Joe go out to the backyard or the garage to shoot golf balls for hours and do other stuff alone while I sit in the house alone with three kids. I’ve been spending a lot of time just me and the kids, which these days just looks like baby Joey on my chest while I yell at the other two to be quiet so he doesn’t wake up. It makes me feel really alone when I’m going on three hours in the house by myself trying to juggle getting things for Mark and Rose with a baby that doesn’t want to be put down but doesn’t want me to move either. It has gotten to the point a few times in the past week that I’ve spent so much time alone that even with him right next to me I still feel alone. And the more alone I feel, the more alone I feel, and the more I want to be alone. If that makes sense. I haven’t gotten a chance to practice self care or do some kind of hobby, and I need to. I need a hobby to do just for me. I need something that I enjoy doing.

Please don’t get me wrong I love that Joe gets time for himself, because he needs it too. I just sometimes feel like my concerns and thoughts go unlistened to. And he is a lot more understanding than before and he’s working on it and trying to understand that I need time. Like right now. He took the baby and put the kids for a nap and told me to take some time for me. But in the back of my head I know before I finish writing this someone in this house is going to need me and then this time is over and I won’t get another chance. And he definitely still gets swept up in himself sometimes. It’s also really hard when I don’t know what I like to do.

Those times when the lonely feeling washes over me and I’m feeling overwhelmed in it, I start thinking about how there aren’t a lot of people who help us. I watch so many people with kids who are constantly surrounded by help. Even military families they have friends around that offer help even when they’re 5+ hours away from their families. All these people around me that have a village. They have friends, family, in-laws, and coworkers always willing to help, doing things with them, and it hurts me. Where is my village? Why does no one want to help? Why can’t I make friends when we move? What’s wrong with me that no one wants to be in my village?

I find myself having to remind myself that I might not have a village but I have Joe, my mom, and my dad now. I haven’t always, but I do now. Joe hasn’t always been around, and my dad can’t always be here, but I always have my mom. She always offers her help and in the past 4.5 years that I’ve been a parent she is the one constant in my life, even when Joe wasn’t around to be. She has helped me so much and even drove the two hours to get here and watch the kids so that Joe could do his homework during a rough patch in classes while I had to go to work. She drives two hours damn near every weekend to see us and the kids to the point they think she lives here. I may not have a village, but I’m grateful to have anyone at all. I’m grateful for my mom and I’m grateful for my tiny little tribe.

Still, I feel alone, and it’s not all the time, but recently it’s been a lot more. I feel unwanted by anyone outside of that tiny little tribe I mentioned.

I desperately desire a break. I desperately desire a village who readily offers their help. They say it takes a village to raise a child, so why don’t we get one? Why do we feel like we have to beg people to be involved in our and our children’s lives? I’m jealous. It comes down to that. I’m jealous of people who know what they like to do, they have help that gives them the chance to do it, and they get to take those breaks that I desperately desire.

I love my kids. I love being a mom more than anything I’ve ever done in my life, but I want that. I want to stop being alone, or feeling alone. I want more help. I don’t want to cry on the couch, or in the bathroom to Joe so the kids don’t hear, because of my lack of support. My lack of a village.

And it’s a huge slap in the face to see so many people take their village for granted. I see all these people who have this huge support system. They have all this help, and then they still complain about how they don’t have any. How they don’t get any breaks when I see them all the time, or what feels like all the time to me, taking time for themselves. And I know some people have even less support than me so I don’t take it for granted, (and I hope one day those people with less support than me find their village too.) Any help I receive I am beyond grateful for, which is why I’m so thankful for my parents and Joe because they do offer a lot of help in the grand scheme.

Maybe I’ll never have that village though, that huge support system. Maybe it’s the nature of being in the military for us and people see traveling to us no matter where we are as a burden. I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to feel alone anymore. I guess I’ll just have to keep working on it, trying to find hobbies, and trying to find my village if I’m meant to have one.

• 

While having low iron was one of my more serious issues during pregnancy, it was definitely not the only one. Hormones from pregnancy commonly bring women a whole slew of some unfortunate and uncomfortable issues. Some definitely less comfortable than others.

With Mark, aside from iron issues, I dealt with severe nausea and vomiting. Not to the point that I was diagnosed with hyperemesis, but it wasn’t great. Not the best situation, but I say this so nonchalantly because it turned into one of the least of my issues amongst my three pregnancies. I have definitely fried bigger fish than the constant nausea that accompanied my pregnancies with both of my boys.

See, like a lot of things about pregnancy and childbirth, no one informed me that pregnancy hormones commonly cause yeast infections despite proper hygiene and a healthy lifestyle. They also forgot to tell me about the unfortunate consequence of not peeing enough, UTI’s. Which seems like a no brainer, but like, when you feel like you have to pee every 2 seconds you don’t always go the second nature calls. At least not me, but I’m not always the brightest light bulb.

Prior to my pregnancy with Rose I hadn’t ever had a yeast infection and had only had one UTI in my entire life. I never realized how blessed I was to not have encountered these very unfavorable circumstances. I quickly realized, while talking to other moms in Facebook groups, that these were really common issues for a lot of women. Even more prevalent amongst pregnant women.

When I got pregnant with Rose, on top of anemia, I got surprised with a fun (*eyeroll*) new adventure. Shortly into my second trimester I got my first ever yeast infection. Yikes! If you’ve ever had a yeast infection you can imagine how unhappy I was to be heavily pregnant and dealing with this for the first time. And for those of you who have been ailed with this your whole life, bless you because it really sucks. Let me tell you, I have never been more uncomfortable in my life than during the first 3 days of that infection. And I sat there trying to figure out how this even happened. I wear full coverage underwear, I wear loose fitting clothing, I have good hygiene, I don’t use any of the Summer’s Eve crap that messes up your PH, and I use detergent for sensitive skin. I was like DaVinci over here trying to crack the code. (I’ve never read that book so don’t get mad at me.) Then my doctor informed me that it’s not abnormal during pregnancy because of all the hormonal changes.

I got past my first yeast infection and carried on with my pregnancy like a happy little clam. (Pun not intended.) Much to my disgust and dismay, I was welcomed with another yeast infection about a month later. Yay, lucky me. Again, wracking my brain trying to figure it out, only to remind myself it’s normal. I can not express to you how frustrating this was to deal with this in an otherwise pretty easy breezy pregnancy. Again, bless the women who deal with this their whole lives because I can not. I am a little sissy when it comes to that.

Fast forward, Rose is born and not another yeast infection to speak of. To this day not another one, thankfully. But, lucky me, pregnant with Joseph I got greeted by another unwelcome visitor. Throughout my pregnancy with Joseph I got 3, yes you read that right, 3, UTI’s. The crappy thing about UTI’s is that the more you get, the more you get. This one’s probably, definitely, absolutely my own fault though.

See I have a tiny bladder normally. I go pee every like 30 minutes even not pregnant, ask Joe. With that said, you can imagine how often I pee with a baby bouncing on my bladder like a trampoline. Because of this, I habitually hold it a lot. Terrible idea, terrible habit, but it gets extremely annoying to have to pee again before you even stand fully up from the toilet. So anyway, I brought it upon myself, but it’s unpleasant all the same. I spent several Sundays of my pregnancy at urgent care for antibiotics because it always happens when the doctor isn’t open right? The only good thing is that I’m very in tune with what’s normal with my body so I always caught it before it even escalated past just trace amounts. Because of this, my symptoms never got too terrible so I was able to get rid of the symptoms completely with the antibiotics before it escalated at all.

The moral of the story is, pregnancy brings some unwelcome ailments. Nausea, yeast infections, and UTI’s just to name a few. So don’t hold your pee no matter how annoying it is, and for the love of God don’t use those products that screw with your PH. Pregnancy is hard enough without adding in infections if you can do anything to prevent it. Keep those clams happy. I’m sorry that was a terrible attempt at a joke. Ok, I’m done. May the odds with on your side.

• 

In all of my pregnancies I have had issues with iron deficient anemia. I haven’t particularly shared it with a whole lot of people so a lot of people don’t know this about me. I’ve been taking iron supplements since my pregnancy with Mark as a result of my slacking in iron. I have continued my usage of iron supplements in between pregnancies as a corrective/preventative measure, which honestly kind of sucks because they taste weird, but I’m picky so ignore me. With two of my three pregnancies I have had to receive iron infusions because my levels have gotten to a dangerously low level. Low iron is fairly common during pregnancy as I’ve learned, to an extent, but my levels as I said get dangerously low. I’m going to share this experience because low iron is way more common during pregnancy than people account for and it takes a lot of women by surprise.

Full disclosure, I don’t eat a lot of iron rich foods. I never really have. I don’t like red meats, have no desire to eat them, and can very rarely even force myself to eat it. It’s a texture thing for me, I’m very texture perceptive and can’t eat something if I don’t like the texture because it makes me puke. (Side note: I once had a piece of brisket and I threw it up almost immediately.) I don’t eat a lot of nuts or spinach, just because I don’t. My point is, I probably should have seen this coming, and I’ve probably had low levels for quite some time and just never realized it until a little parasite was sucking what little I had away from me. (Don’t judge me for saying parasite, by definition babies are parasites and I love them for it.)

When I got pregnant with Mark I couldn’t stomach my prenatal. I’m terrible with pills and prenatals are gigantic, because after all this time we haven’t found a better alternative for pregnant women. What’s better to help nausea than having to swallow a horse pill? I threw up my prenatals every single time I tried to take them, and eventually just stopped trying. Now I’m well aware that nausea and fatigue are normal pregnancy symptoms, but I couldn’t keep anything down, couldn’t keep my eyes open, and kept getting these God awful headaches. I thought this was normal so I wasn’t too concerned, but my doctor gave me a talking to about how not taking my vitamins wasn’t good and that it would affect my iron and other key vitamin levels. So I started trying to take the gummy Flintstones vitamins like the child I am, but they don’t have iron in them so I just sucked it up for a while until I was ultimately prescribed an iron pill. Of course, I had trouble keeping them down because I’m bad with pills (I literally needed liquid Motrin after Mark was born because I couldn’t take adult Motrin), and they taste weird. I continued to try to take them and it wasn’t brought up again for the rest of my pregnancy.

This were things get a little more interesting. Ooo drama.

Shortly after confirming my pregnancy with Rose I began taking iron supplements once a day, when I remembered as a lazy attempt at trying to prevent issues again, because I was, as the kids say (am I old?) “back on my bullshit” and taking Flintstones gummies. I was still having terrible headaches and just getting so incredibly tired. The nurse hotline suggested drinking a cup of coffee a day to deal with the headaches, as she thought maybe it was just caffeine withdrawals. Honestly, made sense though.

When the coffee didn’t help any, I talked to the doctor who decided to do a blood test and ultimately decided I needed to consult a hematologist. This was scary for me having to walk into a cancer center, and I felt very out of place and kind of selfish for being there. I got my blood taken again and then met with the doctor. She asked me if I felt that if I went into labor that day if I thought I’d have the energy to do it. I told her “absolutely not” and she agreed. She set me up for iron infusions and suggested I take my iron three times a day if I could stomach it because my levels were so low I would have bled out or needed an immediate blood transfusion if I had gone into labor at that point.

So I went to the cancer center two times before I hit 36 weeks, to get infusions. Definitely the better option when faced with possible blood transfusion. For those who don’t know, iron infusions are an IV of iron. You get a higher dose of iron and it goes directly into your blood stream so it’s ultimately more effective than the iron pills. The iron I received when pregnant with Rose was a strong dose given in hour and a half intervals not given past 36 weeks because one of the main side effects is cramping that could cause labor. The up side is that when the iron starts it tastes like maple syrup in your mouth, and an hour and a half gave me some time to catch up on some reading. Luckily, after those two infusions and my three pills a day, my levels had risen to a more normal level and my headaches had gone away. An unfortunate side effect however is the cramping and constipation, but at least I wouldn’t need a blood transfusion. After Rose was born I continued my daily usage of my iron pills and upon a postpartum visit with my hematologist she said my levels looked wonderful and I went on my merry way.

By this point I would have been a fool to think I wasn’t going to have low iron when I got pregnant with Joseph. So when I got that positive pregnancy test, I mentally prepared myself and immediately informed my doctor that I did have problems with low iron. They said they would keep an eye on, despite my levels being normal at my 8 week blood work, and then they didn’t continue to monitor it, cool. I had continued to take my iron pills after Rose so I anticipated it being normal at my first blood work, but I didn’t get blood work again until 28 weeks when they performed my glucose test.

When I got into my third trimester the headaches and fatigue had come back with a vengeance so I told the doctor and was referred back to a hematologist. (Insert image of me lazily skipping, because I was happy to have a solution again, but also too tired to be excited.) So I went to the hematologist who told me that I would be getting infusions for the next 4 weeks with the 5th week being a check on my levels (I’d be 38 weeks at that point).

After week 4 of 45 minute long infusions (yay for maple syrup mouth!), I got another blood test. First I want to clarify that the iron I was getting this time was not as strong as last time which is why I had 4 infusions as opposed to 2, and got to continue past 36 weeks. Also, less side effects with this treatment, and safer.

Let me just say how annoyed I was at getting stabbed at this point after the amount of blood tests and IV’s I had gotten. My arms were riddled with tiny little scabs and bruises from all the sticks.

Well the blood test showed that my levels had barely risen at all in the 4 weeks I’d had infusions, despite 2 iron pills daily on top of it. The doctor pulled me aside and explained to me that she was very concerned with the very little progress we had made and wanted me to not only get another infusion that day, but also infusions until my due date (2 weeks) to total 7 infusions. Joseph had other plans and I didn’t make it to either of my last two appointments, but I made it through labor and delivery without needing a blood transfusion. I go back in a few weeks for a check up and possible infusion and thank God for that because my head is killing me and I’m tired, on top of the tired from having a newborn, even though I’m still on iron pills.

Having to get iron infusions is definitely not ideal. It’s also definitely not how I had expected my pregnancies to go, but I am so grateful for the medical opportunities I have been given. I’m grateful that I haven’t had to get a blood transfusion. And I’m grateful that, if only for a few weeks, I got the opportunity to be given some relief. I know a lot of women are scared of hearing they need infusions, or confused on what that means, but it is so worth it and absolutely nothing to be afraid of.

• 

Let’s talk about postpartum. Not the most thrilling topic. Kind of a gross process, but you have to do it if you are birthing children. I’m going to touch on my postpartum journey, a little from all three. I also really want to touch on my postpartum essentials for the first-time moms, or otherwise, because my list has greatly evolved with each birth and no one ever really knows what you need at home to recover. Mind you I’ve had some fairly easy recoveries, and all vaginal, so I obviously do not speak for every mother.

The bulk of this is going to be about my postpartum body image. It’s really important for moms to start talking about this. It is okay to not like how you look after having a baby. I’ll say it again for those who are feeling pressured to “bounce back” and get back into those pre-baby jeans. It is okay to not like how you look after having a baby. Your body has drastically changed, it is not the same body you are used to seeing and it is okay to not be okay with it.

I have never been a fan of my postpartum body. I have always had a slim, toned figure. I have always had the figure of an athlete so I have struggled each and every time with my postpartum body. I always get trapped in wanting my pregnant belly back, but simultaneously wanting my pre-baby 20-year-old body back. After Joseph was born, despite being in a way better headspace than the previous two times, I found myself looking down at my deflating belly and breaking into tears. Part of me upset that I didn’t just instantly magically return to abs and a slim waist. Yet another, stronger, part of me crushed that this once big, beautiful belly that I adored, that protected and nourished my child, was suddenly gone. Just like that. Then another part of me still, was looking down at these stretch marks, that have expanded three times over, and was just utterly disappointed by them.

This isn’t a new feeling for me at all. After every time I’ve given birth I’ve looked at my body and felt sad, ashamed even. My once slim, stretchmark free body, ruined. And it’s okay to not like your postpartum body, as long as you don’t become consumed with that feeling. It’s okay to want your slimmer, maybe more toned, figure back. It’s great to work towards a body you’re more comfortable in, as long as you’re not shaming yourself for the parts of your body that you can’t “fix” or won’t “go back to normal”. I have let myself become consumed by my dislike of my stretch marks, and it got me nowhere. I have let myself be consumed with getting my slimmer body back, and I guess I looked “better” by other people’s standards, but at the cost of not feeding myself properly and spending way too much of my free time working out. (3-4 times a day, every single day.) I have let myself become obsessed over my postpartum body and it has helped me, time and time again, achieve peace with it.

My body has grown, nourished, and raises three children. My stretch marks are my battle scars. My stretch marks remind me of the remarkable things my body has accomplished. My body has done absolutely incredible things and it will never again be that body I had at 20 years old, and that’s fine. That’s great even. I don’t always like what I see in the mirror, but that’s ok, because I appreciate what my body has done for me. I will not pressure myself to get back to that body I once had, because if I still had that body I would not have my three amazing children, and the body I have now does have those three children. This skin has stretched to hold humans and birth them. These arms have carried infants in them and held up toddlers that had an ouch and needed mommies hugs. These legs have held me up and carried me through pregnancies, births, and motherhood. I may not always like what I see, but I appreciate it.

Besides your body, postpartum is a difficult journey to navigate. Your body is still healing and many times your relationship is strained as you both juggle this transition in parenthood and the sleeplessness it brings. Postpartum brings a slew of struggles, but also so much joy, so many snuggles and precious memories. Your body has a major wound in your uterus, and whether c-section or vaginal, there is blood and a lot of the time, stitches, to attend to. It hurts to cough, sneeze, laugh, and that first poop is terrible. Yet you still have a baby to care for. It’s difficult to try and take care of yourself and not get swept up in the day to day and let your care fall to the way side.

My experience this time has definitely been easier, between the knowledge I’ve gained previously and having a much smaller baby. I’m healing quickly and in a much better headspace with myself and with my marriage than I have been the prior two times. I have my feet planted firmly on the ground and a much more supportive and helpful Joe this time around. This time I even got to take the time for some self-care within the first 24 hours. I took a shower, did a face mask, and just took the time to let Joseph handle the baby so I could really clean myself up after birth. With Mark, I could barely sit, let alone walk for over a week my body was in so much pain. With Rose, despite feeling well enough to go home at 24 hours, I was bleeding a lot for the first two weeks, and cramping just as long. But with Rose, I kept walking, doing chores, and pushing myself way too hard. This time, aside from being tired, a constant headache that I can’t shake, and getting a little sad every few days, I feel pretty good. Moody, but good. I obviously am still healing and having bleeding and some slight cramping, but apparently having smaller babies has a few benefits.

There are two things about postpartum that I truly fear though. Like shake in my boots, middle of a horror movie, fear. The first poop and the first period. For whatever reason that first period is like a normal period times 10. And I really don’t know why, but that first poop is something no one talks about and I will never be prepared for. Absolutely terrible.

Which brings me to my evolved list of postpartum essentials. Including some things that have helped me have what I consider a successful breastfeeding journey, despite not being at two weeks yet. Since I’m already talking about every parent’s favorite subject. The one we find ourselves oddly comfortable with talking about anywhere. (You know you’ve had the “is this normal” talk about it when it comes to your kids, don’t lie.) Poop. That’s what I’ll start with. For the love of all that is holy, take the stool softeners. The second they offer them at the hospital you better suck them puppies down. I have refused them every time and every time it takes me 4 days to poop and then I regret not taking them. Trust me, you want the stool softeners in your medicine cabinet when you get home.

Some general things that I need to have when I get home to take care of my own recovery. I get extra heavy overnight pads, they’re practically a diaper but sometimes you just need that. Accompany that with some full coverage “granny panties”, because your tiny underwear just isn’t gonna cut it this time sister. They have always given me Tucks at the hospital, but when I’m at home I much prefer soaking medium sized gauze in witch hazel, it fits the body better and has more coverage than using 3 Tucks. Also it’s way cheaper to just buy gauze and witch hazel and do it yourself. I also keep some panty liners on hand for when your bleeding slows down a little or if it’s lighter at night. I’m personally not really a fan of Dermaplast, but it does do the trick, I just hate the smell. Make sure you have your squirt bottle and lots of toilet paper. Essential.

If you’re planning on breastfeeding and have struggled before or this is new, I have been using a lot of things that I truly believe have helped me this time. I am by no means an expert on this at all and I still 100% believe fed is best and honestly wouldn’t even still be breastfeeding if I wasn’t supplementing with formula (he gets 2 two ounce bottles a day to give my nips a break). I have heard time and time again about the Haaka for collecting your leakage as you feed from one breast. I got one this time, and honestly I hate it. I don’t recommend it, but apparently it works for a lot of people and it is a very inexpensive option for pumping if you want to try it out. I did however get the Elvie breast pump and it has been a life saver. It’s a wireless breast pump that you just pump in your bra and let it do it’s thing. I know there’s quite a few of them out now but I got the Elvie. It’s amazing to not be tethered to a wall and without this pump I wouldn’t be breastfeeding or pumping anymore, quite frankly. If you’re pumping also, storage bags. I have found that the Target ones work just as well. I don’t find breast pads necessary, but I did get some store brand ones, but they don’t stick very well. I have always gotten the Dapple dish soap to wash bottles and pump parts with because it is more effective for baby smells in my opinion.

Now the things that have helped me continue my journey past the first few days. Body Armor drinks. I can not say enough good things about them. Joe loves them, the kids love them, and I love them. Breastfeeding is about being hydrated and I have always struggled with drinking enough water. The Body Armor drinks really have helped me stay hydrated because they taste amazing, and they’re incredibly hydrating due to the coconut water in them. Very important for me, a nipple shield. My right nipple is very sensitive and this nipple shield has saved me to many times in the past few days. It teaches Joey how to latch better and gives my nipple a little bit of a break. After every pumping or feeding I have been using Lanolin on my nipples and have also tried out Baby Bum Calendula Cream and Natural Monoi Coconut Balm, as well as some breast milk on the nipple. They really help keep the area around the nipple as well as the nipple, hydrated and soft so that baby doesn’t have to try so hard to latch. Also, after each pump or feed I use nipple ice packs. I got ones that can be hot or cold packs which helped in the beginning as heat packs for let down and relieving some engorgement. I haven’t been out with the baby very much due to flu season in addition to COVID so I haven’t gotten to use it much and it’s not super essential, but I got several covers from Milk Snob. They are breastfeeding covers, but also carseat covers and cart covers. Very versatile and I love the prints.

I think that’s all I’ve got for you guys. Postpartum is a truly difficult time. It’s a hard adjustment no matter how strong you are or how you dice it. It’s okay to not be okay. I’ll say it one more time. It’s okay to not like your body after you have a baby. Just remember to take care of yourself, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Drink plenty of water and let yourself heal. I wish nothing but the easiest of postpartum journeys on everyone of you. And don’t forget to slow down and enjoy your baby. It goes way too fast.

-A Postpartum Mommy

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For those of you who don’t know and have been wondering where I’ve been…Surprise! I recently gave birth to our third child. We kept this baby a secret from damn near everyone and it has been so hard to not talk about it since starting this blog because I had so much I wanted to share but was not willing to share my secret before he was born. With that being said the next few posts will be probably pretty spaced out and will be probably completely revolving around our new little baby boy and the things I’ve been holding back that I’ve wanted to share with you all. But for now, I’m going to start with my birth story, which did not really come about the way we expected.

We found out we were pregnant in January of 2020, so no, this is not a quarantine baby. He was not planned, but absolutely, more than anything, he was and is very wanted. Upon finding out I was pregnant I got a confirmation ultrasound and then in May we found out that we were having a little baby boy who, despite being due October 2nd, was measuring for September 29th at the time. My experience with the OB I was going to was not great for the first several appointments, but another story for another time. I got a different doctor right at around 32 weeks who told me when I first met with him that he would order an ultrasound at 36/37 weeks to check on baby and his fluid levels.

37 weeks rolled around and I went for my ultrasound. After that ultrasound at my 38 week appointment he informed me that if I made it 39 weeks he would order another ultrasound for me because it appeared as though my amniotic fluid, while still in the normal range, was on the low side. This terrified me to think about him not having enough fluid and I had definitely anticipated making it to 39 weeks for another ultrasound since both of our kids had been late I pretty much knew that I would make it that far. So at 38 weeks and 5 days I had an OB appointment where they ordered another ultrasound for the next day at the office right next to the hospital. I immediately called my mom and told her because I couldn’t help but think in the back of my mind that getting induced after that ultrasound was a slight possibility. She came the next before my ultrasound, despite me feeling like maybe I was blowing this whole thing out of proportion.

Well I went to my ultrasound and I sat there, quietly waiting to see what they would say, as the ultrasound was performed. Then after she did the scan I nervously waited in the room texting Joe and waiting for the doctor to come in and give me the news, whether good or bad. She walked in and told me that I did in fact have low fluid and since I was 38 weeks and 6 days that he was “better out than in” and told me she was calling the hospital and sent me over there to get an induction. Like an idiot I hadn’t thought to ask Joe to come with me because I had thought I was just being paranoid.

So at about 9:15 AM, at a ripe 38 weeks and 6 days on the 24th of September, I called Joe and said “it’s go time” and he needed to get to the hospital because I was getting induced. He thought that I was joking at first, but then quickly realized I wasn’t and loaded our bags (that had been packed for a solid month) and the car seat into the car while I updated my mom and headed over to the hospital.

I went over to the hospital main entrance and told them what was happening and asked how to get to the maternity floor. They sent me over to the Emergency Room (weird but alright). This really nice ER lady put me in a wheelchair and rolled me on up to the maternity ward where everything just became a whirlwind around me for a while. I was placed in a room, changed into a gown and given a urine test in a matter of seconds. They came in and explained that I was going to get induced and the doctor would be there soon, asked me a series of questions, had me sign consent forms, and told me that I would need a COVID test (ouch). I then had my IV placed and was put on a clear liquid diet, and then Joseph showed up thank God.

When the doctor came in to check me he said I got a “1” Bishop(?) score, which made my cervix unfavorable at that time and decided on a course of action. He explained to me that they would be placing Cervidil (a string with medicine on the tip of it that’s placed against the cervix) to ripen my cervix, and it would remain there for 12 hours before they decided the next step. So at 11:15 AM I signed the rest of the consent forms and they placed the Cervidil. Within a few hours my contractions had started and were increasing in frequency and discomfort pretty quickly after that. Right around 3 or 4PM I started asking for things to help deal with the discomfort. I was given a blow up stool called a “CUB” that I highly suggest. I sat on that for about an hour and was able to bounce and move around while I was sitting on it to help wiggle little guy down.

By this point both Joe and I were getting pretty annoyed with unplugging my IV and monitors for me to go the bathroom every 20 minutes. And if I was a nurse I’d be having a panic attack at my heart rate disappearing every 20 minutes, but I’m not so here we are. The pain was progressively getting worse and more frequent to the point where only laying on my side and breathing helped the pain. The nurse gave me this awesome peanut ball, which I had read about prior, that is supposed to be a passive way to move baby down and prepare your body for labor, which was great since I was just laying down. Man that thing was pretty amazing.

By shift change at 7PM I was in a lot of pain already and just trying to breath through contractions and walk around the room a little bit to deal with the pain. The nurse suggested Joe apply some counter pressure to my lower back while experiencing contractions and it was actually super helpful. We went on like that walking around, laying with the peanut, and back and forth to the bathroom until 11:15 PM.

At 11:15 PM I got the Cervidil removed and got checked again by 2 of the nurses. They said I was dilated to 3 centimeters and my cervix was still very thick. So they called my doctor and let me know the course of action was to have a dose of Cytotec (a pill to continue ripening my cervix) at 12AM and another at 4AM. I took my 12AM dose and everything picked up even more to the point that I couldn’t talk through contractions at all anymore. At 1:25 AM I received my epidural.

I’ll tell you, I did not remember that numbing shot for the epidural. That was way more uncomfortable than any other part of the procedure. Thankfully Joe got to be in the room this time, much to his dismay. Anyway, that numbing shot. When they say it’s going to burn they are not freaking kidding. But he numbed it and then placed the epidural, which I could feel going along my spine, not great but totally worth it in the long run. It took longer this time than the last two for the epidural to totally numb me. About 30 minutes after I could still feel slight pain in my left hip during contractions, but it went away shortly after. Man the epidural really is great because after being up all day I finally got to take a nice little nap and was just all smiles.

I shut my eyes at around 2AM to get a little sleep after being up since 6AM the previous morning. But you best believe Joe and I made a deal before that he would get me Chik-fil-A breakfast if I had the baby before the hospital started serving breakfast. At 2:35 AM I was woken up from a dead sleep by the feeling of a gush of fluid and was convinced for a second that I just peed myself until I remembered I had a catheter in. I called in the nurses and they determined that it was indeed my water that had broken and wrapped me up in those hospital pad things they put on the beds. If you’ve been you probably know what I’m talking about, but they’re like doggy pee pads that they put on the bed. My water had never broken. on its own so this really threw Joe and I for a bit of a loop. The nurse called the doctor again to let him know the newest labor chronicles and he decided that I would only get my second dose of Cytotec at 4 if I wasn’t dilated past a 4 by the time I was due for the second dose. Until then, we just kept trucking on with the epidural starting to help less and less at that point.

Right around 3:20 AM I started feeling a lot of pressure so I called the nurses back in again (I’m needy). I was checked by two separate nurses again who determined I was dilated to 9.5 centimeters with a “oh yeah that’s a head”. By 3:45 there was an almost unbearable amount of pressure and I could feel my body pushing on its own. The nurses were all rushing around preparing the room for baby and I, and I was informed that the doctor was on his way. As they were preparing I heard them talking about how another woman was also about ready to deliver so they were hoping the doctor would get there soon.

The doctor arrived at around 3:55 and my body was full on pushing without me trying. He gowned up and got the bed set up and everyone got into position. He put some olive oil to help the baby slide out, which seemed weird but also genius. It was something different for me and I’m very grateful for that little bit of olive oil. After that I went off pushing with contractions. I’ll be honest my first push was super lame as I was trying to remember how to push. With two additional pushes and a little more olive oil there was a head and I felt this immense amount of relief in my belly as he made his way out. I remember them telling me not to push while his head was halfway out because I wasn’t contracting and me just yelling “I’M NOT PUSHING!”. One final push and his shoulders were out and baby Joseph entered the world as I got another huge feeling of relief in my belly and throughout my body.

They put him on my chest and my first words upon seeing him will forever be “he smells like a mushroom”. Poor kid. With him laying on my chest I felt incredibly happy and relieved to have him in my arms safe and sound. I couldn’t stop looking at him, my eyes bouncing between big Joseph and little Joseph.

The doctor stitched me up, one little stitch in what he described as “just a flesh wound”, all the while talking to Joe. Apparently Joe and him had an entire conversation about how incredible I did and how easy of a patient I was. The easiest he’s ever had. He told Joe that what I did in that delivery room just doesn’t happen and I was made for having babies. (Go me.) It was honestly really nice to hear all the nurses and the doctor say how good I was at giving brith and that I had excellent control during my labor with my contractions and during delivery.

What a wonderful feeling to hold baby boy in my arms at 39 weeks pregnant, 4:04 AM the 25th of September, weighing in at 7 pounds 1 ounce and 20 inches long. My smallest but longest baby. And I got to hold my baby, early, with the peace of mind that I had done it once again. My tiny little peanut was here, and he was safe, thankfully.

Special shout out to my husband Joseph for being by my side. Not only that but for being so incredibly supportive. You did so much better supporting me this time and I appreciate everything you did in that delivery room. You helped me get through so much and really threw yourself into being a support person this time and I will never, ever forget that. I love you very much Joseph, I’m so thankful for you and wouldn’t have wanted anyone else by my side this time. You’re amazing.

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