Brooklyn

She was different than the other ones. Not only was her coat completely unique compared to all the other puppies in her cage, but she was the first one to figure out she could jump over the others and stand in the food bowl when no one would let her squeeze in. She was smart, she was sassy, and her birthday was the same day as the day Jonny and I started dating. She was the one.

I had gotten the job of Nature Center Director at my summer camp that year and I decided that it would be cool to get a puppy and have the kids help me raise it and train it over the summer. Jonny had come to California with me (even though we had only been dating a few months) and he was there at the shelter to help me pick up my puppy. I told everyone that I would find her a home at the end of the summer but from that first car ride home when she cuddled into my neck, I knew she was mine. We named her Brooklyn.

From the start she knew how to get me. At night, she would whine in her kennel unless I stuck my fingers through the gaps so she could lick them and rest her face on them. I spent every night of those first few weeks with a crick in my arm from the weird angle it was in to keep her calm. We woul bring her out to the grass to go potty and she would roll around and run to us on her short little legs. We got her a red collar that perfectly complimented her black and grey splotches and a shiny tag with her name on it in case she escaped up at camp. Soon it was time for Jonny to go home and time for me to head up to camp. Another counselor had brought some puppies up to camp as well, so Brooklyn spent the summer playing with her friends, licking campers, and unfortunately eating a chicken that strayed into the dog area. By summers end, she was bigger and rowdier, but still completely adorable and absolutely going home with me.

Over the next few months I started going to the local community college and trying to maintain a long distance relationship with the still Texas dwelling Jonny. I don't remember a lot during this time for one reason or another, but I do remember that Brooklyn was a great cuddler when I was sad. She licked my tears during my and Jonny's breakup that lasted a whole 20 hours, and she sat with me with her head in my lap while I talked to him endlessly on the phone.

I moved to Texas in October of that year. My dad brought Brooklyn out to me along with the majority of my belongings and I started my new life as an independent  "adult". Brooklyn got a playmate (Madison) and the dogs and I lived together in my tiny apartment in the bad part of Denton while I tried to figure out what I was going to do with myself.

This was all in 2005. In the last 10 years Brooklyn has been a constant in my life. Just like with a human child, there have been bumps along the way. There was plenty of destroying of property, massive diarrhea explosions, and a hole in an apartment wall (the cost of which is still on my credit report). I wasn't always the best pet mom I could be either. I know that and it rips me apart inside when I think about it. She's also had her fair share of medical issues and 2 major surgeries but like the tough girl she is, she always pulled through.

Brooklyn is an awesomely entertaining dog. We have to put peanut butter on the wall to get her to stay in the tub for a bath otherwise she will streak out of the bathroom and shake water and soap all over the house. She loves to lay on her back in the grass and wiggle back and forth with her tongue hanging out. Her ears stick up at all times and her tail is a deadly weapon. She makes hysterical noises when she yawns and talks on her sleep. She eats her food before the bowl has hit the ground and she polishes off the birthday cake we get her every year in 25 seconds flat. She is goofy, loving, loyal, sassy, stubborn, and one of a kind.

On Wednesday, Brooklyn is going to sleep for the last time. I will hold her as the pain she has been fighting for the last 3 months finally eases. We have spent the last week filling her with tasty treats and feeding her table food for the first time in her life. We got her birthday cake early and celebrated her life this evening. I also took some pictures today while we chilled outside in the beautiful weather.

We will spend the weekend cuddling and kissing her, scratching her favorite spot, and telling her how special she is. Then it will be time to say goodbye. I am utterly heartbroken.

Brooklyn, you will always be my first child, my company when I was lonely, my comforter when I was sad, my goofball that could always bring a smile to my face. You will always be my mine and I will never forget that tiny puppy at the shelter who stood out from the rest.

Too Many Tabs Open

So I find myself in a strange predicament. Instead of having no ideas for blog posts, I have too many. I have 5 drafts sitting in here waiting to be finished because I can't seem to focus my mind on just one. I will prevail though, and while you wait, here is something that I think is super awesome.

I love Jade's photography and the message that it sends to all woman who have brought babies into the world. She recently was pretty hot in the press after Facebook took down a picture she posted of numerous woman breastfeeding in the nude together (nipples were censored in accordance with guidelines to protect people from the evils of boobs) and then banned her for a day. Whether you support breastfeeding in public, breastfeeding in the nude (which I totally did because I was too lazy to get dressed for the first 2 weeks I was home), or if you are a cover it up or rock the bottle kind of person, you hopefully can still appreciate the fact that this is a form of art expression as well as a depiction of real woman being proud of themselves. I support the mindset of if celebrities can walk the red carpet with their nipples showing, why can't a mother breastfeed in public so these don't bother me one bit. I think it rocks that this woman is raising the self-esteem of not only her subjects, but of other woman who are having trouble adjusting to their new outside self. Below is a link to a Buzzfeed article that was just done on her, check it out if you'd like and let me know what you think.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/rossalynwarren/this-is-what-post-pregnancy-bodies-actually-look-like?s=mobile

Sisterhood of Mothers

This. This video makes my life. If you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and watch it and then continue to this blog post.

When I was about 3 months pregnant I started researching how to be a good mom. It's not like I put that exact phrase into the Google search bar, but I wanted to get easy answers on how certain things should be done. Should I use cloth diapers? If I do, does it mean I have to use cloth wipes too because that sounds gross. Also will the people at the cloth diaper store be able to smell if my kid is wearing a disposable diaper and kick me out? What about feeding? Well of course I will breastfeed! My boobs are good sized so I'm sure it will work perfectly. Also my mom was successful with it so it runs in my blood. I will breastfeed, but with a cover in public or maybe not because I'm a woman hear me roar and boobs are food and I don't see you covering up your cheeseburger buddy. And then there is what toys to get and where to buy clothes. Should they be organic? She will only have organic clothes touch her skin obviously and none of it will be pink because this website says that pink is sexist. 

Everywhere I looked, there was someone else telling me that their way was the best way and that all the other ways were complete foolishness. It was like if you didn't do it their way, you were essentially being okay with putting your baby in complete and utter anger and possibly killing them slowly with some sort of strange poison that was inside of a disposable diaper or hiding inside of that namebrand baby food jar. And then there was the birthing process to consider is well. If I had an epidural didn't really count is labor? If I didn't do it in a bath was Ireally a good mom? What if I ended up, gasp, having a c-section and not even pushing at all?what I be able to sit around with the girls and complain about the woes of womanhood and having to have a baby and push them out of parts unknown?

I hadn't even had the baby yet, or even hit the halfway point, and I was already feeling judged for decisions that I was going to make or had already made. Why do we do this to each other? Are he decisions other mothers are making about how to feed their babies or what to dress them in life threatening enough that we feel we must rescue them from their horrible situation by guilt slapping their mothers? 

Here's the truth people. Every mother, and father for that matter, worries they aren't doing it right. What if I'm not doing enough? What if my baby is not getting all they deserve? What if I'm a bad mom? It's the hardest part of the job, never really being confident that you are succeeding in this epicly important task. 

Can you imagine if you were a child drawing a picture with crayons and wondering if you did a good job and everyone you asked told you how they would have done it differently? You should have used colored pencils. You should have tried harder to stay in the lines. You used dollar store paper so you obviously don't care about your picture. It would crush the child, make them feel inadequate and worthless. Here's the thing, moms are the exact same way a lot of the time. Especially new moms. We want to feel like we are maybe not totally screwing up our job. That we are good, worthy of praise, and that our baby loves us no matter what. 

You, right there, breastfeeding your baby, you are awesome. You, with the bottle full of formula, you rock. Cloth diapers, disposables, puréed food, baby led weaning, strollers, carriers, stay at home moms, working mamas, however you do it, whoever you are, just know that you are doing an amazing job and that your sweet baby is lucky to have you worrying about them. 

Whose Body is That?

This morning I was laying on my side on the bed with Mira. She has started this non-crawl crawl where she will rotate herself all the way around while on her belly so she can see what mischief she can get into in 360 degrees around her. So there I am, checking Facebook like the awesome morning person I am, when I feel a jab to my stomach. I look down and Mira has started attacking my gut. She seems to be enjoying the fact that she can grab the skin there and pull on it and is giggling to herself while trying to pull it to her mouth.

This is one of many situations I could never have gotten into pre-baby, because when I gave birth I was gifted this new and improved mommy body. It has extra tummy skin for grabbing and stretch marks to help Mira learn how to count...to 100....it is larger so you can't lose me in a crowd and its achy so I remember to take life slowly. My new bladder is so excited about peeing that it can hardly wait for me to sprint to the bathroom and just goes completely crazy if I sneeze or jump up and down. Don't even get me started on my breasts, I don't know who these puppies belong to, but they are definitely not what I'm used to. This is my new me, and some days it isn't an easy pill to swallow.

I actually really enjoyed pregnancy. 

 

It was suddenly completely socially acceptable to be a round whale and no one could make fun of me for having  kankles (I have included a picture of my kankles to the right. It is small so it doesn't scare small children that might walk by while you are reading this). I spent 39.5 glorious weeks being totally ok with my slowly expanding waistline and knowing that every pound I put on was keeping that baby cushioned and safe.
After Mira was born, I lost 25 lbs in like a week. I was certain it was because I was breastfeeding (never mind the 15+ lbs of baby and amniotic fluid) and that the rest of the 43 lbs I gained during the pregnancy were just going to fall right off over the next few months. Unfortunately I was wrong, and I slowly started to realize that my 20lb friend wasn't planning on
going anywhere anytime soon.

So what do you do when your body is not your own and yet, really it is? There is a grieving process. It took me a while to accept that my c-section scar was a very permenant part of me and that my feet would forever be a half size larger than they used to be. But then there is an acceptance process. I'm not saying that I am chill with my current poundage, but we are working on that (lots of baby wearing squats and a lot less chocolate cupcakes). What I'm talking about is when you look in the mirror and instead of seeing scars, stretch marks, and wider hips, you see your baby in your arms and somehow it makes it all ok. I still have moments, and I probably always will, but I think it's ok to mourn the loss of our previous selves as we continue our journey to full acceptance.

So stretch marks, though you make me embarrassed when my shirt rides up in public, thank you for being there so my skin didn't explode while I was growing my tiny human. Breasts, you worked hard friends, you deserve some time to relax (just don't hit the waistline, that's too relaxed). And hips, though your wider girth makes my old pants cry, you are pretty useful for holding Mira on when I am carrying things. Hello new me, let's be friends.

Baby Cheese and 9 Other Things

People give you a lot of info and advice before you have kids. They tell you what to buy and what to not buy, how to deal with practical situations and what will happen during each month of their life. They give you advice when you want and, and seem to never shut up when you don't want it. So it's amazing there are always things that people forget to mention. Lucky for you, I'm here to fill in the gaps. I present to you 10 shocking things about babies you should know:

1. When they come out they don't look like you or your spouse, they look like a slimy potato. Everyone pretends that bran new babies are adorable, that when they are squeezed out or pulled out, that there is some bubble around them that protects them from the process. But the truth is, birth is not just hard on mom, but also on the tiny human. They have been living in fluid for the last 40 weeks and their skin has never been touched by air. They either were pushed out of a very small canal over a number of hours or were suddenly pulled from their home into a blindingly bright room with a bunch of masked people staring at them. Not really a luxury first class seat on their trip into the world. So when they come out swollen, looking like a boxer in the 7th round, and a new mom is under the false impression that babies come out looking like movie stars, it's quite a shock and may even stress a lady out. So let's be honest people, it's not pretty at first, and that's ok! The swelling will go down and you will start to actually recognize your features in their face, but let's all accept the potato phase and embrace it.

2. They make cheese. Babies, even skinny babies, have crevices. The chubbier they get, the more crevices they possess. Babies are also the sloppiest eaters of all time. They dribble, they spit, they drool, and because of the magical forces of gravity, all that extra milk ends up pooled in those precious little crevices. And then, because science, this milk turns into something amazing. By amazing, I mean the most foul smelling paste you've ever encountered. The craziest part is that you don't smell it or notice it until you lift the adorable folds of fat in your baby's sweet neck and then it's like releasing the kracken. Don't ever underestimate the cheese, and never skip bath time.

3. Boys aren't the only ones that can pee long distances. My daughter has soaked me on numerous occasions. My husband tells me to use the changing mat, but REALLY, who has time to pull that thing out. Our trade off is, I don't have to use it every time, and in return he gets to say "I told you so" whenever he comes home to a 3 foot wide pee spot on the couch. That's another thing, don't let the size of their tiny little bladders fool you. They are capable of storing at least 10 gallons of urine in their bodies. They also will not always release it all at once but will wait until you have a bran new clean diaper under their butts or, even better, until you are digging in the diaper bag for a new one and have foolishly left them naked for 1 millisecond too long. If you are one of those people that will gross out if pee gets on you, parenthood will smack that right out of you. As for me, if she pees on my pants I usually shrug and go about my day because frankly, I will probably pee my pants a little at some point from sneezing or jumping too high so there's that. 

4. Just because their eyes are open, doesn't mean they are awake. Mira has popped her eyes open during a nap and looked straight at me, all the while continuing her rhythmic breathing of deep sleep. It is the creepiest thing of all time, but you get used to it. I know a lot of babies sleep with one eye open (....Metallica song stuck in my head for the rest of the day....) so at least she usually has them both shut for the majority of her resting hours because I am too anal to allow such shenanigans. 

5. Toys are nice, but NOT toys are way better. We have a ridiculous amount of baby toys that we were gifted or specially picked out for Mira. They are adorable and make cute noises. They are designed for her exact age and have specific colors that stimulate her brain. But if given the choice between her age appropriate name brand baby toy and an empty water bottle, the bottle wins every time. Her bin of current favorite toys includes a gift certificate tin, a baby shoe, bottle lids, small tupperware, and of course many empty water bottles. She spent 5 minutes at a sushi place last night attacking the menu and when I put a colorful toy on top of it to distract her, she looked me straight in the eye and flung the toy out of her way so she could continue her menu endeavor. So if you are shopping for a baby shower, go no further than your recycling bin.  

6. Sometimes, you bump your baby's head on things. You obviously try your best not to. You certainly don't do it on purpose. But inevitably that tiny cranium will find it's way into a door frame at some point. Mira doesn't even react anymore when I bump the top of her head on the ceiling of the car when I'm putting her in her car seat, and I don't know how I feel about that.  Luckily she won't remember any of it....unless she reads this blog someday....dang it.

7. Poop. No matter what you think you know, you don't know the half of it. I'd go into detail, but some things are indescribable.

8. Babies have perfect timing. You woke up on time and actually took a shower. By some miracle, you were able to do both your hair and make-up and are dressed in a moderately cute outfit. You dress your baby in their most awesome outfit and make it out of the house before lunch. You are feeling awesome. While you are out you bump into an old friend who hasn't met the baby yet. Awesome! Your friend picks up your baby and cuddles them close. And then your precious bundle farts the loudest adult man fart you have ever heard. This happens to us often. Most often while the dermatologist is about 2 inches away from Mira's face. It simultaneously fills me with embarrassment and a strange sense of pride.

9. You will wear a bag if it means getting a cute outfit for your baby. This might just be me. I've never really enjoyed shopping and have clothes in my closet that I purchased in 2004. But I still occasionally like to go out and grab a few pretty things for myself. Not anymore. If I have any extra money lying about that could potentially score me a cute skirt or top, instead I scurry off to Carter's to browse their newest items. It's like a drug habit. I can't walk through a department store without accidentally walking straight to the baby section and seeing if anything looks good. In my defense, I usually wait for sales and often shop at the consignment stores, but the addiction remains. Most of the time I go out, I look like a homeless person or like I just got out of bed, but Mira looks like a fashion model with matching headband, socks, and useless baby shoes.

10. BFFs forever. I don't know how it happened, considering my child has no vocabulary and doesn't have any clothes I can borrow, but somehow she is my best friend. I wake up in the morning and all I want to do is lay in bed with her and talk about what we are going to do that day. I spend almost every waking moment with this child and when I leave her, I start to miss her right after I kiss her goodbye. She's actually on a walk with my husband right now and I don't really know what to do with myself. I'm not saying that I don't enjoy hanging with friends or going out with my husband on a date, but I'm never sad to head home to that adorable little pea head. This was certainly something I didn't expect to happen. I knew I would love this child, but no one told me that I would 100% like her and her incredible personality. It's pretty cool.

Today the family took advantage of the beautiful weather and we had a dinner picnic in the backyard. I suddenly had the urge to grab my big camera and snap some of the fun. Below are a few of my favorites (yes I had a lot of favorites).

SuperBaby

This is her new thing. She lifts her chest up really high and then gets about an inch off the ground up on her knees.

Spot on, Grey's Anatomy

It's not every day that a TV show turns into a time machine. Most of the time I only play the TV in the background while doing other things and rarely actually sit down and focus on what is on the screen. But lately, I have been strapped to the couch, tears streaming down my face, as I watch 2 characters on Grey's Anatomy go through something that throws my mind and emotions back to February of last year. If you don't watch the show, these 2 doctors have recently discovered that their unborn baby has OI (brittle bone disease) and they don't know the severity or what the future holds for their son.

Jonny watching our 20 week ultrasound.

At my 20 week ultrasound, I was giddy with anticipation over seeing my baby again. We knew by now that she was a girl but now we would get to see all her pieces and parts like her heart and her spine and everything else that makes up a human. My mom and Jonny came with me, just as excited as I was to see her. The ultrasound tech wasn't our usual lady. She was helping out and had been doing ultrasound for years on general body stuff so it was cool to have someone who was happy to be looking at babies instead of tumors. The ultrasound was so neat, we got to see her beating heart and her hands and fingers and toes. She was absolutely beautiful. I noticed towards the end that she was spending a lot of time on the baby's head. She kept telling me that the position the baby was in was making it hard to see the back of her brain. She tried for about 10 minutes and then decided to move forward and finished up. When I saw the other midwife at my office afterwards, she told me that since they couldn't really see the back of the head, that they were going to send me to a specialist that had better equipment so they could hopefully catch a glimpse just to make sure everything was ok. I didn't think anything of it at the time, which is weird now because I consider myself a pretty intuitive person. I figured the baby was just being stubborn and that we would see this specialist sometime in the next few months as a precaution and then be on our way with our perfectly healthy child.


The next day I was at the preschool I taught Spanish at part-time. I remember I was cutting out paper with the days of the week in Spanish on them and my phone rang. It was the specialists office, they wanted to see if we were available to come in the next day and have our ultrasound done. After I made the appointment, I sat for a minute in silence as the realization hit me that something may not be right. Why would they call me so soon? When I got home I looked up "problems with fetus cerebellum" to see if anything would pop up. After about 2 seconds of reading the list, I closed the window and walked away. I read 2 or 3 things and thought to myself, there is no way any of this is relevant, they just couldn't see it so they are covering their bases.

Jonny was planning on meeting me at the hospital where the specialist was. I got their earlier than he did and headed towards the office and texted him directions on how to get there from the parking structure. I got into the waiting room, checked in, and sat down. As I sat there in the quiet, I looked up and saw one of those decorative motivational plaques. I don't remember the exact wording, but the gist was to not worry about things that are out of our control and to pray about them. Holy crap. Something is wrong. They sent me to a specialist who has motivational freaking plaques on her wall. Something is wrong with my baby. Holy crap. By the time Jonny got to the waiting room I was holding in a full blown freak out. Right before they called us in, a pregnant woman and her husband walked out and her eyes were puffy. I almost lost it right then, but by some miracle I kept my cool.

Mira waving hello :)

When the doctor started the ultrasound, I had one last moment of convincing myself that maybe this wasn't what it was slowly starting to seem to be and I was just overreacting. They the she goes "oh yup, right there". She turned to me and said "So from what I can see, it looks like your baby has something called Dandy Walker". I knew that name, it was on the list of terrible things that could be wrong with a baby's cerebellum that I had dismissed the day before. I told her I had read about it. She started talking about it but I wasn't listening. The room was shrinking and all I could feel was Jonny's hand tightly grasping mine and warm tears rolling down my cheeks. It was like my ears were ringing and I couldn't hear anything. I'm assuming during this time she was telling us that Dandy Walker is a malformation of the cerebellum and the vermis between them. The side effects can be barely anything to developmental delays in motor skills and speech, to not being able to walk or talk ever. Then she told us a story about another anonymous family who found out their baby had spina bifida. They decided that their lifestyle would not be the right fit for a special needs baby, so they terminated the pregnancy. It took me a second to realize what she was doing. She was gauging where our thoughts were in reference to a special needs baby, possibly one that would need medical and physical assistance their whole life. We asked if she would be in pain or unhappy. She told us that there isn't evidence of chronic pain and the happiness depends on her environment. Then we agreed, we were 100% in this, no matter what. She talked to us about how often she wanted to see us and printed off some shots she took of the baby's hands and face, and then she left the room because she knew what was about to happen.

I have cried a lot in my life, I'm a pretty emotional person. But I have never cried like this. It's the full body, clinging to your spouse, clutching your belly, deep within your soul sorrow. It was a mourning cry. I was mourning the loss of the perfect child I had imagined. At the time it was like someone had hurt her or damaged her. It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that she was always this way, this was who she was. Jonny held me and cried with me. I will tell you what, God knew what he was going when he gave me Jonny, because at that moment, when I was in the deepest pit, Jonny knew exactly what to say. He said a lot of things about how it would be ok and how blessed we were to have her no matter what, but it was the last thing he said that started me on the path of acceptance and peace about what we had just been told. He said "it's funny, but I feel like I know her now. Like we didn't know anything about her before, but now we do and it makes her more real."

That was the beginning of a long and hard journey that we are still on. We didn't know what to expect with Mira, which was by far the hardest part. You have to let go of the need to have control over a situation and just be adaptable. Whatever comes, we work with it and make it better. So far we have been ridiculously blessed. While Mira's issues have evolved into a whole different bag of worms, all the concerns we had about the effects of her Dandy Walker have disappeared as she continues to hit all her developmental milestones on time and even a little early on a few. We have also been blessed with the lessons we have learned because our situation. I have learned that I am never really in control and sometimes you have to let go and go with the flow. I've learned that my strength can run out and that the people you choose to put around you will be the ones who either keep you floating or help you sink. I've learned that my husband is even more incredible than I originally realized and that without him I would be a hot mess. But the most important thing I've learned is that God has my back. He has Jonny's back. He most definitely has Mira's back.

So as I sit and watch people going through the lowest of the low times, I am reminded how far we have come and how much we have to look forward to. Oh and also, Mira is the most awesome kid ever. Here is proof via her 6 month pictures we took today (yes, she is almost 7 months, don't judge me):

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

When I was 14, I had my first real boyfriend. Technically I had "dated" a boy at camp the summer before but it lasted 2 days and we just stood awkwardly next to each other when our horses were drinking water. When he said he was looking forward to seeing me in a dress for camp church, I decided he must be a creeper and broke it off by telling someone else to tell his friend to tell him it was over. I cried profusely for no reason at all, it was very teen angst. But when I was a freshman in high school, I started dating a junior that was in the school play with me. We dated for only a few months, but I remember a very important moment for me. Most people think about their first kiss (which was also with this boy and was actually an accident when 2 cheek kisses collided) but my most distinct memory is that first time holding hands. Yeah, it's childish, but let's face it, most of us are children the first time we experience it and at the time it's the biggest dang deal ever. Back then it was a way to show others that you were "together" and at a Seventh-Day Adventist high school, it was the highest level of PDA allowed in front of teachers.

As I grew older hand holding changed. As an older teen trying to act sexy, I would hold a boys hand and lightly tickle knuckles with my finger tips. This was a trick that Cosmo or Teen Beat or
some other magazine with 100 pictures of N'sync told me to do to show "my man" that I was into him. I die  laughing when I think about this because I am NOT a sexy person at all and I certainly wasn't having sex in high school. I was awkward, clumsy, and not exactly up on the current fashions. I was an art nerd and had horrible self esteem. Hand holding was me trying to get validation from my current boyfriend that I was attractive. Unfortunately, the one time I tried the seductive hand hold, my boyfriend called me out about it and make me feel embarrassed. Thanks dude, that's what a teen girl needs.

Oh high school, how I do not miss thee....

As a married woman, hand holding has 2 major functions. The first is for me and Jonny to show that young flirty affection for each other that we have been cultivating over the years. I want to be one of those couples that is 70 and only using one hand on our walkers because the other one is busy being held. I never want to lose that feeling and I love the fact that I still get butterflies when Jonny reaches for my hand. The second kind of hand hold is the "I got you, you're safe." This is the hold you use when you are walking through a scary part of town or when you are around relatives who make you highly uncomfortable. It's the hold Jonny used during our ultrasound with the specialist when we learned Mira had Dandy Walker. He also used it when I was in labor (though really, that may have been more of a death grip on my part). It's not always a protector and a protected situation, but most of the time it's a mutual sign of supporting each other and being equal sides to lean on.

When Mira was born, I discovered the best hand hold of all. The "I need you". It starts pretty early with the first reflexive grasps of a newborn looking for food from mom. In the animal world, apes use the grasping reflex to hold tight to their mothers so they don't fall when they are up in the trees. As Mira grew, she got more deliberate about it. It was still semi-reflexive but she would look into my eyes with those soul piercers she's got and my heart would explode into a 100 pieces. Now she reaches out to me, grabs my hand and pulls it to her face. She cuddles with it and hides her face in it. When she was in the hospital when we found out she had PHACES syndrome, I held her hand while they pulled out her IVs and took her blood pressure and pricked her toes 6 times a day. It was the only way I could be there for her during a time when we all were scared and worried about the future. Now, she will fuss in the car seat when she's tired until I reach back and give her my hand so she can wrap her tiny fingers around my thumb. My arm with cramp up and my shoulder will ache, but there is no way I am pulling away from those amazing fingers. It is the most wonderful hand holding experience I've ever had and I can't even describe the love that flows from my thumb throughout my entire body.

(Don't worry, we were in the driveway)

There will be a day when Mira will refuse my hand. Maybe she will be too old, or it won't be cool to do it in front of her friends, or (kill me now) she will hold hands with someone she loves and won't have time to hold mine anymore. But for now, I will never refuse that hand. I will hold on to it as tight as I can and bask in the amazing miracle that her tiny hand represents.

Cat, I Will Kill You

Every week when we go to Trader Joe's for groceries, we buy 21 cans of cat food. Without fail, the cashier makes some comment like "WOW must be one hungry cat" or the every popular "You must have a cat!"....nooooo, I like to schmear it on my crackers and top it with a sardine.

Yes, I have a cat. Three in fact. None of them are fancy show cats, just your garden variety. They all have names but we never use them. We usually just called them Fat Cat, Grey Kitty, and Little Kitty. Fat Cat and Grey Kitty came to us when I was living in Denton (or as I call it, the dark times). When I was moving in I had the front door open and they just waltzed in like they had been there forever. I discovered later that the previous tenants of my new abode had left the cats outside when they moved. I'm sure they walked in and didn't even notice there were different people there, as long as there was food in a bowl by the door. Fat Cat is our antisocial one. If she jumps on you to cuddle, you must not move at all and just lay there witnessing the miracle and breathing it in. She also has a history of mental problems. She had severe anxiety for a while and to cope she would clean herself incessantly. At one point it got so bad that she literally had no pants. The hair from the waist down was completely gone, it was as ridiculous looking as it sounds. She eventually had a breakthrough and her pants grew back, but we will always have the pictures. On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Grey Kitty, aka the Affection Slut. She will accept love from anyone and anything (the chair, door frames, knives) and if you don't pay attention to her, she will reach up and tap you with her paw like "um, hello. um, hi. remember me? don't I look petable?". While these two cats are "special" in their own ways, this post isn't about them....it's about him.

Little Kitty.

A few things you need to know about this guy. First of all, he is not little at all. He got the name because we adopted him when he was a very tiny adorable kitten. Second, everyone who doesn't know him immediately loves him. They think he's handsome and funny and friendly. He walks with a charming look about him, convincing everyone that he is the most wonderful cat ever. Third, and the truth, he is a total jerk. He harasses Fat Cat by slinking over to her when she's in a bad mood and then staring at her for a minute straight while she hisses at him. Inevitably, a fight will break out and a ball of hissing fur will fly through the living room being trailed by Grey Kitty trying to get a swipe in. He also enjoys jumping up on your lap at the worst times possible. When you shove him off, he will try to come back but this time he will walk SLOWLY so you can't see him, because slowly translates to invisible. But the worst offense, the reason why he may not be long for this world, is when he goes full raccoon. At random times throughout the day, he will decide that life is not exciting enough for everyone and he will transform. He will puff out all of his fur (including his striped tail which looks surprisingly like a huge fat raccoon tail) and he will proceed to GALLOP through the entire house at top speed. Obstacles are not an issue because he just runs through them. At the end of his lap, he tears from the couch to both of the arm chairs (occasionally knocking them over, throwing their contents into the air).

His favorite time to do this extremely loud and obnoxious activity is approximately 3.68 seconds after Mira finally falls asleep on my chest. This is also usually after a morning of teething freakouts like we had the other day. If by some miracle she doesn't wake up during his initial attack, I try to sit as still as possible while simultaneously slinging random objects towards him trying to either distract him or knock him unconscious. More often than not this will actually cause more noise than the cat and Mira will jerk her head up and smile at me in that "Oh that 3 second power nap was amazing, I hope you got all the stuff done you needed to do today because now it's time for MEEEEE!" way. This then causes me to stand up and walk over to the puff ball of a cat and stare down at him with the best death stare I can muster and growl at him "Cat, I will kill you......"

Somehow he is still alive. Even after knocking down my external hard drive one time and rendering it unusable (dang I had almost forgotten about that....the anger is still there but the sad memory of all of my files was beginning to fade). I suppose he is a good cuddler sometimes and he lets the baby yank his fur out without reacting at all, so I guess he can stick around...

He is so completely lazy that he can't be bothered to stand up while drinking water.

His favorite position to sleep in. Notice his eyes are partially open, staring at me like a creeper. 

This is another popular sleeping position. The first time he did this I thought he had randomly died on the couch and I rushed over to revive him. He jumped up in surprise and scratched my finger.....jerk. 

Evidence of his absurd vendetta against Fat Cat. About 3 seconds after this picture she smacked the poo out of him. 

Apparently, everything belongs to him. He also sleeps on the baby's blankets and toys and also on the remote anytime we leave it on the couch. 

Jerk......

 

Sleep is for the Weak

In my opinion, the first year of motherhood should be called "The Zombie Era". When I was in college I stayed up all night once studying for an anatomy final (yes, that's how we party at an SDA college) and I remember standing in the slightly disgusting dorm shower the next morning thinking to myself "Wow, I am so exhausted right now, there is no way I could be any more tired an I am now.".....WRONG!!!!!! You suck it up College Whitney and get back to class (also, stop wearing those cliche graphic t-shirts, you look like an idiot).

The fact is, you really don't know what being tired is until you have a baby. People try to warn you. "Make sure you sleep when the baby sleeps!" is the most common pearl thrown your way. The main problem is that the exhaustion sneaks up on you. When you are at the hospital after pushing out the tiny human (or in my case, having them extracted), you are on this high of "holy cow, I have a freaking baby!" and are too busy staring at them like a crazy person to feel the full extent of your fatigue. It also helps that the nurses keep popping in to bring you things and feed you cookies (for real, my hospital did a 4pm warm cookies and milk, it was 59% of the reason we chose that hospital) and keep you on a steady stream of happy drugs. So you leave the hospital thinking "I got this, this is going to be so easy!"

Then that first night home. If you are anything like me and Jonny, you took all the baby classes where they tell you how to keep your baby alive. In these classes, you learn everything about SIDS and positional suffocation and by the time your baby gets there you have this bizarre belief that if you close your eyes while your baby is asleep, they will immediately stop breathing. How can I sleep knowing that my selfish need for rest is probably, most like, 100% going to kill my child? So you lay there in the bed and stare at them....for hours. I watched a lot of Netflix those first few nights. Mostly Psych because it was funny and lighthearted and because the theme song kept me awake. Jonny and I took shifts so one could pretend to sleep while the other contemplated tapping their eyelids open. I kept telling myself that everything was awesome and that I would just never sleep again. Sleep was for the weak and I was a supermom. If Snookie could keep her baby alive, so could I.

This fantasy didn't last very long. After what I can only describe as a nervous breakdown after 3 days of no sleep, I realized that sleep is in fact quite important to the human existence. I was having anxiety attacks, hearing baby cries when she was asleep, and being a general pain in everyone's butt. I would have crying fits and feel like I was literally going crazy. It was a low that I hadn't felt since the day we found out Mira had Dandy Walker when I was 20 weeks pregnant. That feeling of total loss of control, of seeing the world moving around you and having no way or reaching out to stop it. It sucks man. It was decided that we should probably formulate a new plan, one that involved not being completely insane. So we started trying to sleep. We eventually got a sleep monitor (which I HIGHLY recommend to all new moms: http://mylevana.com/product/Oma_Powered_by_Snuza.eng-55.html) and began getting some solid 4 hour blocks in. It was amazing, I didn't know what to do with myself.

At about 3 months, things started to fall into place. I'm not saying that suddenly things went back to normal and I was waking up like a Disney princess with birds fluttering around my head, but something strange did happen. My body accepted the exhaustion. I started functioning at an acceptable capacity and felt like maybe, just maybe, I could survive it all.

Now the tiredness is a regular part of life. Yeah sometimes I put the chips in the fridge and every once in a while I stand staring at a room for 5 minutes trying desperately to remember why I walked in there. This one time I walked around Home Depot for an hour, talking to people, looking around, reading signs, and still thought I was at Lowe's the whole time up until I tried to pay with my Lowe's gift card at the register and the cashier stifled a laugh (I almost punched him the face, he's lucky he's still alive). But we are making it.

I wish I could go back in time and tell "Losing it Whitney" that things are going to be ok. That she was going to make it and that the impending doom could be defeating by something as simple as a cat nap. That the feeling of utter exhaustion that she despised would soon become that annoying friend that is always hanging around but you don't mind anymore because hey, that's just crazy Jim, don't worry about him.

So to any brand new mom's our there that are feeling that scary pull of insanity creeping in, it does get better. It takes a while, it's hard, but once it clicks the euphoria of it is so sweet it that you actually start to forget the not so great parts. You look at your baby while she is sleeping not because you are afraid, but because she is just so freaking adorable you might explode. And while you may feel like a zombie walking around a lot of the time, you are more like the zombies at the end of Shaun of the Dead. Still zombies, but nice zombies that are part of society and play video games and stuff.

Epic Motherhood

207 days ago, I became a mother.

I woke up around 8am that morning. This phenomenon should have tipped me off immediately since I had been rolling out of bed around 10am for the past month of being the roundest person alive. Jonny (the husband) hadn't left for work yet so I threw on my old lady robe and waddled into the kitchen to say hello. He kindly offered me some oatmeal that I accepted only because I was planning on stuffing my face at lunch that day, so a small breakfast was probably the smart choice. Around 9am I started to feel the now familiar gut punch of contractions. This wasn't anything new as I had been experiencing Braxton Hicks (or as Jonny called them, Toni Braxton Hicks) for a few weeks. I was half joking as I yelled a warning to Jonny as he left for work: "Having some contractions, I'll call you if I randomly go into labor." I sat down on the couch to watch House MD and shovel the oatmeal into my mouth. Yes, this was my routine during those last weeks of pregnancy. I would say I was ashamed of my complete laziness, but I was too tired and cranky to be ashamed. There is a point towards the end of those 9 months (which is really 10 months FYI, we've been lied to our whole lives) that you become unable to function like a normal human being and transition into turtle mode. You are slow moving, you walk funny, and you can't get up if you lay down on your back so you just flail your limbs around until some kind soul takes pity on you and helps you out.

Anyway, back to the couch. So I'm sitting there and I realize that I have been having contractions through 2 episodes now and they are about 5 minutes apart. So I called my midwife to update her, thinking she would tell me to slow my roll and just relax and that surely this wasn't labor. To my great surprise, I was told to head to the hospital because it sounded like I was in fact in labor. After I hung up the phone I sat there for a few minutes before I shot both hands into the air and yelled "YES!". I called Jonny and told him to get his butt back home. Then I called my mother and told her to head over and help me get all of my carefully packed items together....yeah ok so I thought I had everything ready but then I spent 20 minutes grabbing random things and throwing them into the bag. Mom came and we decided to have Jonny meet us at the hospital and off we went. He met us in the parking lot and up we went to Labor and Delivery.

As I walked in with my ridiculously huge belly, everyone smiled at me because obviously I was there to have myself a baby. I checked in, got a room, and stripped down to change into my very stylish hospital gown. I was so excited. I checked out the shower and was so happy that I got Jonny a new swimsuit so he could sit with me in the shower while I labored in there, because that was a part of the EPIC BIRTH PLAN! It was 3 pages, and was very detailed. I was going to labor naturally until I got to 5cm and then I would get an epidural. I would spend that early laboring walking the halls and sitting in the fancy laboring shower. I would push slowly so I wouldn't tear and I didn't want to see the placenta (my midwife told me she was going to make me look at it). Jonny would be by my head, and my mother and mother-in-law would hold my legs. Jonny would cut the cord, but if he decided last minute that it was too gross, my mom would get to do it. I had everything planned out, it was going to be magical.

Well, it all started off nicely. They checked my cervix (FYI: ouch) and I was only at 1cm but I had only been laboring for a few hours and the contractions weren't really that strong. I walked the halls for a while and my midwife, Jeanean, came to check on us. "Sounds like you will have a baby by tomorrow!" she said. YES! This was happening! I had secretly been terrified that I was making the whole thing up and that I would get to the hospital and they would say "yeah, no, you have another 20 weeks to go" and then I would go home and eat an entire box of Poptarts and cry. After walking for a bit longer, we went back to the room and I got checked out. Still at 1cm. Um, ok, well the contractions were starting to get a little stronger so what was the deal here? By this time it was close to 3pm and it was looking like maybe it was going to take a while. They started talking about me going home to labor for the evening and coming in when things got a little more crazy. Before they would let me go though they told me I needed to drink some water and get some fluids because my blood pressure was slightly wonky. So I drank the water and we talked about going out for Thai food since I hadn't eaten since 9am and it sounded like it was going to be a long night.

Apparently, baby had different plans. They noticed that her heart rate was pretty high and then would drop when I had a contraction. They didn't know if she was just excited and then would go back to normal during contractions, or if she was dropping during contractions and was in distress. They said they wanted me to stay for a little bit longer just so they could monitor her for a bit and then I could go have my Thai food. So we waited, and my contractions got stronger. Still bearable, but definitely stronger.

Jeanean came back and checked my cervix again. Still 1cm. But when she pulled her hand up, it was covered in blood. Ok, is that bad? Well, it wasn't good and it was decided that I definitely wasn't going home. Bye Bye Pad See Ewe, maybe next week. They were also not happy about baby's heart rate still so they decided to do an ultrasound and check her out. By this time we had called Jonny's mom and told her she probably should head on down to the hospital. She showed up right as the ultrasound techs came in. This was about 5:30-5:45pm and my contractions had reached a decent level of painfulness. The ultrasound check they did was a 30 minute long one where they check 4 different areas (like movement and amount of amniotic fluid) and give you a score. The score determines what they do next.

So began the most painful 30 minutes I've experienced so far. They told me to lay on my back and keep perfectly still. Contractions were at about 3 minutes apart at this point and my new position turned them into back contractions.....no bueno friends, super painful. So first check was the amniotic fluid. It was super low and they had a hard time finding enough to even measure. To my knowledge my water hadn't broken yet so this wasn't super awesome news. Then they checked movement. Let me tell you something, I started feeling this baby move at 18 weeks and she NEVER stopped. The last 2 months were like having a dancing watermelon in my guts with the occasional super kick that would stick out 3 inches from my belly. Surely she would pass this portion with flying colors. WRONG. Maybe she was napping? Whatever it was, that baby didn't move one bit for the whole 30 minutes.

So then there was 2 choices. I could labor for another 20 hours (that was the estimate) and hope that everything was ok in there, or I could go have a c-section and have a baby in 10 minutes and know for sure she was ok. C-section it is! My mother and mother-in-law rushed over and started hugging me and crying. I was confused because all I could think was "getting the baby out, stopping these awful contractions, everything will be awesome". But apparently surgery is scary for the people who have to wait outside. Jonny was also scared but he totally rocked the calm and cool husband role. He got a fancy blue version of the Breaking Bad jumpsuit complete with booties and a face mask. About 10 minutes later a tribe of nurses came into the room and started prepping equipment and having me sign papers. Then the anesthesiologist came in to introduce himself. While I'm chatting with this man that I just met, a nurse asks me if she can start prepping me. Sure! Whatever that means....well I'll tell you what it means, it means flipping my gown up and shaving my lady bits in front of everyone, including this dude that's standing right next to me. Also, she must have been using a 100 year old razor because it just have caught on every single hair. Not cool, but necessary.

Then it was time. The mothers gave us hugs and took pictures with us and then to the OR we went. Jonny had to wait in another room until I was numb and strapped down so I walked into the OR by myself. It was very white and very clean and they asked me to go ahead and sit on the table. Right then, HORRIFIC contraction hits me. I grabbed a pole (I'm sure it was important, but who cares?) and made a noise that I can only describe as Dory speaking whale. Luckily, it only lasted a minute or so and I was able to get up on the table and into the go position for having my spinal. Unfortunately there was just enough time to sneak in another contraction before we could get the needle in. Jeanean was there for this one and she hugged me like a mama bear and told me that this was the last contraction I would have. Thank you Lord because it was the worst one of the day.

In went the needle and within minutes everything below my ribs was completely numb. They put a curtain up between my head and my belly and Jonny was allowed to come in. He sat next to me and we joked a little as I felt the weirdest feeling ever. Imagine someone pulling all of your guts out and you can feel it sort of but it doesn't hurt at all. A few minutes later they said "You have the camera daddy?" What? A camera? We can have a camera in the OR? Um, not we don't have a camera. So a nurse ran to our room and asked for a camera. She came back with my phone (which Jonny took) and my mother-in-law's like $5000 camera. Um, yeah, please don't drop that. Ok thanks.

Jonny had just enough time to snap a few shots of my wide open body cavity and then I heard her cry. She sounded like an old lady with a gravely grumble to her scream. It was awesome. Jonny said "She's so BIG!" and I was sure that a 10lb baby had just been pulled from me. Jeanean walked her around so I could see her and there she was. She wasn't that big, she was just right. She was crying and was completely covered in blood but she was perfect. They rushed her over to the NICU team who was there just in case, and Jonny headed over to take video and pictures while they checked her and cleaned her.

Suddenly I felt super awkward. My midwife and a doctor from her office where sewing me back together and I was just chilling there behind the curtain all by myself. So I blurted out "How do my guts look?". "Beautiful" Jeanean laughed. It took longer to sew me up than it did to cut me open and it took them a while to clean up the baby so I laid there and thought about random things. Jonny came back over and said "she pooped in the nurses hand". Nice kid, you make me proud. She apparently was in distress at some point because we found out that she also had pooped inside so it was a relief to have her out and getting checked. She was great, 7lbs. 13oz. 20.5 inches long. FINALLY they brought her over to me. I had stated in my OH SO USEFUL birth plan that I wanted to do skin-to-skin immediately so they flipped my gown down (yeah well, everyone had already seen my lady parts so my boobs were no big deal at this point) and laid her on my chest. She was so awesome. I cried, Jonny cried, she just stared at me. I felt all the feels all at the same time. It was simultaneously the most incredible and the most terrifying moment of my life. There she was, the dancing watermelon, in real life.

Being a mommy has been completely different than I could have ever expected. I've felt the full spectrum of emotions and have learned oh so very much about myself, motherhood, and life in general. I hope that the stories of the epic journey of motherhood and thoughts that I share on this blog will be entertaining, helpful, and educational, but most of all I hope that they will make you smile when you need it the most, or cry when you haven't had a good one in ages.

The following posts are my account of being a mother to a very special baby named Mira Gabriela and the adventures we go on together.