I wondered when I would feel as though I have truly beocome a Mom. If it would be once I gave birth, after I changed my first diaper, or not until later on when I teach my son something of value and importance. I always laughed when people would call me Mom or Momma when I was pregnant. I thought "I haven't done anything yet" as though the title were too big to wear or I hadn't earned it. From the minute I found out I was pregnant my only concern in life was making absolutely certain our baby was getting everything he needed to grow and be healthy, so I guess it did start before I thought but I didn't feel as though I had really earned the status until the night I knowingly slept in vomit.
This might sound like your worst drunken night out ever but trust me, the only one drinking was the baby at 3am. We were co-sleeping at this point so once I finished his feed, I placed him back in bed beside me. We got comfortable, or as comfortable as one gets when trying to sleep with a small baby snuggled up next to you and I closed my eyes. That's when it hit! Out of nowhere, a sudden gush of warm, wet slime seeped down my neck and shoulder. "EEEW he just barfed!" I announced. Holden didn't seem to mind nearly as much as me. He was completely undistburbed as we changed his onesie and wipped vomit off his face and mine. There was a large wet area on the bed and almost as though Tony and I read eachothers minds, he handed me a clean receiving blanket and I placed it over the wet spot. Good enough for me at 3am! What an ordeal changing the bedding would be at that time. Around 5:30 I was up again feeding the little exorcist. I could feel crusty residue along the back of my neck and my hair was crunchy in spots. Sexy, I know. I knew right then I was showering that morning no matter what, so when Tony's alarm went off at 6 I handed him the baby and flatly told him "you'll be late for work this morning, I slept in vomit" and headed to the shower. As I showered I couldn't help but think about how unbothered I was to simply place a blanket over the spew and go back to sleep. I slept well too! It could be that sleep deprivation played a role in this but I realized this is something I would have never done before becoming a mom. I reminisced of the time I was the victim of a drunken high school party where a boy I had a crush on threw up on my head! Big chunks of God knows what mixed with whatever alcohol he was drinking in my hair. I remember screaming and racing to the bathroom where I washed my hair then walked home alone, cold, wet and no longer crushing on that boy. I guess it's not so much the nonchalant approach to sleeping in vomit that made me feel like I've entered motherhood as much as the willingness to do so. The understanding and non reactive approach to things that in the past would have rendered me immobile or triggered the fight or flight response. It's feeling the instict take over and putting my own comfort aside without realizing that's what's happening. We are very lucky and have a baby who very rarely cries for no reason. He lets us know what's up when he needs something but is otherwise fairly relaxed. In the very beginning there were far more frequent outburst of screaming and fussing then we have now and I sometimes found myself at a loss for ways to sooth him and often found myself crying along with him. "Co-crying" if you will. I discovered early on that dancing and singing is something he responds well too and is also a way I can get a bit of movement in for myself. Most days I would find myself swaing or dancing with Holden in my arms or in his carrier. He would start off fussy and upset and then would fall asleep. This was and still is my go to method anytime he is upset. However, one day my go to trick was not working. Nothing was working. Nothing at all. I was starting to think there is something serisouly wrong. He'd been crying off and on for most of the afternoon then started wailing for close to an hour straight! Ahhhhh!! I'd exhausted all my favorite songs and my feet were getting sore. It seemed the more upset he got, the harder I needed to bounce him to sooth him. I was dancing like that wedding guest who drank too much, kinda all over the place, large, dramatic movements and a bit clumsy. Eventually I lost any and all rhythm and was jogging on the spot. After several 30 minutes rounds of jogging in place he was finally calming down! I guess I got my cardio in. Some days you sleep in vomit and others you jog in place but it's all done willingly, lovingly and with gratitude. This is when I realized I've become a mom, along with other bazaar happenings.
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Unless you've been inseminated, you had sex to get pregnant. You probably enjoyed it too. Had spontaneous sex after a night out, or on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Maybe you planned it, who knows but chances are you looked forward to it, prettied yourself up for your partner and fully enjoyed the experience. Then you found out you're pregnant and the hormones made you want sex more then a herd of bunny rabbits. Your partner probably loved this phase, maybe was even overwhelmed by it. Sex in the second trimester was rampant due to hormones and sex in the third trimester was basically used as a tool to "get things moving" so to speak. I remember my husband saying to me "You're just using me!" Sorry, not sorry.
Then the baby comes and thing are out of commission for 2 months. They say 6 weeks, but thats BS if you ask me. You're sore, tired, not sure what it looks like down there and your last memory of your vagina was when a small screaming baby human emerged from it, tearing it's way to your arms. You may have stitches, you may not but the pain, discomfort and new relationship you now have with your vagina is still healing. The last thing on your mind is penetration. If your breastfeeding, your body is using the hormones normally reserved for pleasure to produce milk. It's left you dry down there (not like when you were pregnant) and the thought of anything other then your baby touching your breasts is, well, unthinkable. My considerate, loving and ever patient husband understands all this and after having witnessed me give birth was a bit shy about the idea of sex at first too. But after 6 weeks he was sniffing around wondering if we could "try" sex again. UGH! It was like trying to swat a fly away, it just keeps coming back, buzzing around you! I managed to keep him at bay for just over 2 months then I gave in. Can you blame me though? My husband looks like a cross between Clint Eastwood and David Beckham, complete with tattoos! He's also the sweetest and funniest man I've met so we got to kissing... Nope, I was not ready for that! No matter how much coconut oil we used, for play we played, I was not ready. What surprised me the most was it felt as though my vagina had been replaced with a much smaller, tighter one! How? I mean, I know it's a muscle and goes back to it's shape but this felt way smaller? Like, THAT is not fitting in here, small. Now I was wondering how the hell a 7lb baby came out of there? We got through it. Not unlike two teenagers navigating sex for the first time, it didn't last long (thank god) it was totally awkward and I was crying. I was crying not only because it hurt but because I so desperately wanted to connect with my husband again. He's so wonderful to me, attentive and hot so of course I wanted to be intimate with him and enjoy ourselves. The baby was asleep so we had a window of time for ourselves and when it wasn't what we thought it would be, it was upsetting. What I found even more interesting was how vulnerable I felt after. I had quite the experience giving birth to our son and needed a few weeks to recover mentally from it. I thought that was behind me but as I discovered after our first attempt at sex, it wasn't. I felt shy, scared, insecure not only about my new body but emotionally too. Things weren't the same anymore. Anatomically, for the most part they were but I wasn't fully present. There was a disconnect. My mind was thinking about the baby while I held one hand over my belly to hide it's new shape. Between thoughts of the baby were thoughts of whether my husband would still find me sexy. I was worried by breasts would leak milk everywhere and that I would re-tear! I didn't feel like I was in my body anymore. Truthfully, I didn't feel like I had a body anymore. Not one that is mine anyway. It spent 9 months harbouring a baby and now it's main purpose it to feed that baby. I think the harder I tried to mask that I was completely and totally uncomfortable made it even worse for both of us. Like anything, these things take time. My hormones are fully concentrated on and are being consumed by the production of breastmilk and that leaves things dry downtown. I am getting more comfortable with my new body, slowly accepting that it will take time to be tight and fit again but within a new shape. My husband is totally in love with my wider hips and ass and loves that my body gave him a son! This helps me become more comfortable in my skin although it is a bit tiresome constantly swatting his grabby hands away! It could be a year before I'm able to really get sexual again, or more realistically, not until I stop breastfeeding. I'm left seriously wondering how it is that some people have siblings so close in age? I guess it's not the same for everyone but for me it seems I have a long raod to travel before I get back to feeling like a sexual being again. This will probably generate a lot of "feedback" but so what. There is so much debate, controversy, political correctness, and change happening around the subject of gender. I'm not going to pretend I have the slightest clue what it is like to be questioning and I have deep compassion for those who are. Everyone should be free to be themselves in whatever form that means for them. Having said that, I do feel as though all this is making it harder to raise boys.
I see all sorts of posts, memes and articles about how one should raise a boy in todays world. Parents need to make sure their sons say the right things, don't make inappropriate gestures, are calm and well mannered all the time. And absolutley we need to be raising respectful young men, but at what cost? I've even seen negetive commenatry on the saying "Boy will be boys". But won't they? Rape culture has taken that phrase way out of context these days. Cambridge Advanced Learning Dictionary defines the phrase as "being said to emphasize that people should not be surprised when boys or men act in a rough or noisy way because this is part of the male character." I mean, it's been well documented and studied that men and women's brains are different. So, from our very wiring we are already different, yet the shift in society is asking us to all be the same. We use different parts of our brains to access information, we react differently when it comes to visual stimulation, we have different coordination and movement, language skills are different, pain sensory and even memory and sense of direction is different between the sexes. So with all this difference, why on earth would I not want to incourage my son to use his already wired set of skills? I'm not living in the dark ages, I strongly beleive in equality but that is not what I'm talking about here. We can be equal and should have equal pay for equal work and respected equally, of course! But we can achieve that while honouring our fundamental differences. What I find bothersome is this new way of thinking and identifying with the sexes has generated a challenege in the most basic of things, like buying clothes for young boys. Go into any store and you are overwhelmed with adorable outfits for little girls. Shoes, hats, you name it, the options for little girls are endless while the section for boys is limited. I have zero intentions of dressing my son in girls clothes. If he wants to explore that later on in life, power to him, but for now I want dinosaurs and tractors, fire engines, cars and sports themes and I want options within them. When it comes to social development I feel scared, anxious and pressured. I of course want to raise a young man who is well received, respectful and open minded but I also want him to have a sense of humour and lightheartedness. I want him to feel free to laugh at something that is funny even though the masses may consider it to be politically incorrect. Aren't those the funniest jokes anyway? I will do my best to raise him to know in what context or situation he should or shouldn't laugh or crack a joke, but really, isn't laughing when you shouldn't kinda great! I will raise him never to laugh at anyones expense and to always help where help is needed. Never to be a passive bystandered, or worse, someone with loud opinions and no gumption. I will raise him as best I can to be well rounded but I will never restrict his natural male tendencies. Ultimately, my goal is to raise a boy who understands the value of a woman while simultaneously instilling in him the value of a strong man. By nature he may be more aggresssive, so he will play sports and run in the forest and build forts. His clothes will be dirty and grass stained and he'll probably loose a shoe. Good! I encourage it all! I want him to come home from playing with his buddies proud to show me his newest scrape and most colourful bruise. I want him to get excited about playing in the dirt and breaking stuff. Break away! I strongly feel that restricking this natual behaviour in boys causes them to hold it inside and release it when they shouldn't. Similar to how yoga was originally intended to prepare young boys for meditation and study, I want my son to play, roughhouse and get all his excitement out so when it is time to be calm and collected he is able to do so without being agitated or frustrated. Society is so quick to diagnose our children, especially boys with ADHD and I think that is absolute shit. Let them roughhouse, boys will be boys and they should. Isn't it our fundamental differences that allow us to create and bring so much diversity into the world? As I explained earlier, I am pro equality, but there has been a strong feminist shift that is taking things to the extreme. We are still in a heavily male dominated world but the negative and "in your face" approach to feminism is missing the point. We shouldn't be punishing men for being men. It's gone beyond equality, almost saying women are better. No, we aren't better. We are different and offer a different set of skills to the world. We are better at some things, while men are better at others but we are not the better sex. Shaming has to stop, this heavy pro femisim has to be reigned in. Instead our differences should be celebrated and we should allow our boys to be just that, boys. I've always been a passionate person, someone who speaks her minds and is considered quite outspoken in both a good and bad way. I can be opinionated and quick to react to any given situation, hence why my meditation practice is very important to me. Althought I am all of these things, I am also the first person to admit wrong doing, or to apologize when I've crossed the line. I am very aware of my ability to go from 0-100 in the blink of an eye and how hurtfull that can be to the ones I loves. My biggest personal and inner struggle has always been trying to slow down my reaction time and not let myself get carried away trying to right every wrong. Who am I to determin what is right and wrong anyway.
I was doing wonderfully with this self improvement until our baby was born. Once he came into our physical world, momma bear came out in full force, dug her heels in and took control. And I mean took control over everthing. The days of letting things come and go and taking everything in stride suddenly came to a halt. It's such a stupid way to be too. Let's be real for a moment. I have no clue what the right way is either. I'm new at parenting and never so much as babysat before Holden was born, the only thing I have going for me is instict. Yet, I seem to act as though I know what is best and any other way is not even worth listening to. To really break it down, I'm basically confused, tired, insecure and over worked but feel guilty about feeling this way so put up a steal armour front where I am in control and am all knowing. Such fucking shit right! No one can read my mind so punishing my husband, for example, for not knowing exaclty how I would go about dealing with a certain situation is a complete waste of time and energy. The only thing I manage to accomplish is disturbing the peace, making myself and the kindest man I know feel like horseshit and am then left apologizing yet again. Like, who is even taking me seriously at this point? It's a vicious cycle and one I will break. Being a total brat is not justifiable but I will justify it anyway. I think a lot of new moms can relate to this. Once you become pregnant everything changes. Your body takes the brunt of the changes but it doesn't stop there. Your hormones change, your friends change, your home changes and its all happening so quickly. Once your baby arrives even more changing and adjusting takes place and this continues forever. Don't get me wrong, I love our son more then I ever thought was possible but these changes take some getting used to and trial and error before falling into a daily flow that works for everyone. Let me tell you, trial and error when you're sleep deprived, sore and not sure what the fuck you're doing, is really annoying! "Ain't nobody got time for that" There is this protective instict that kicks in as soon as your baby pops into the world that is really a saving grace. Everything you've heard about instict is ture. Trust your gut, even the farts. Having said that, there is a societal expectation and pressure that says mothers must perform a certain way, or have a handle on everything. This is not true. Like I said earlier, first time moms are new at this. We are human after all and then there is that whole trial and error thing. But what I think is a leading source for not only my tendency to "bitch out" but that of a lot of new moms, is the pressure and expectation to be "on" all the time and to know exactly the right thing to do all the time. I know that for me, this pressure and essentially fear of not getting it right, is a huge reason I am anxious to go out. Fear of being labled a "bad mom" puts unnescessary preasure on us. So what if my baby starts crying in the grocery store, so what if my hair looks like it hasn't washed in 4 days, It hasn't! So what if things aren't picture perfect like I thought they'd be while still pregnant. So what if my lululemons serve as not only yoga pants, but pants for every other function. My other pants don't fit anymore! The pressure we feel from the outside world often translates into self impossed pressure at home. Feeling as though we aren't fulfilling our duty as wife and mother while still trying to include yourself in there somewhere. Add all that on top of dealing with your own emotional nightmare. Sleep deprivation plus hormonal changes plus crying baby and your own personal body odor equal bitch! I mean, is that really a shock to anyone? It's a strange feeling coming home to a place that is your sanctuary, place of comfort, family and familiarity, where everything is the same and in it's place yet everything has changed. It all looks the same but the feeling and energy, the atmosphere is in transition.
We came home that mornig buzzing on a natural high with our new baby boy, exhausted, thrilled, euphoric and without the slightest idea what to do next. I had never changed a diaper before, I'd never even held an infant before. It was just me, Tony and a brand new baby about to wing it. We were both so raw, me a little more literally then Tony. We brought him into his nursery, stood there cluless, changed him and stared at each other. I needed to lie down and rest desperately so we made a mini home for ourselves in our bedroom. Me with Holden sleeping on my chest, Tony beside me, and snacks in between. Sleep was not happening, for either of us. We would zone out momentarily then be in awe again of the little boy we'd just created. There had never been more love in that room before. We tried to sort out how we would navigate the next few days with me not being able to move very far or very quickly and both of us feeling as though we are navigating unchartered territory wearing boots two sizes to big. Like we seem to do in most situations, we talked about a plan and then just let things happen as they happen. Frankly, how else are you suposed to do these things. Tony was attentive and catered to my every need. He brought me food in bed, helped me up when things were too sore and took care of the dogs. He cleaned, prepared meals, made phone calls, learned how to make me a perfect cup of tea, did the laundry and groceries. He did everything execpt wipe my ass that first week, although he did change the majority of diapers too! For someone who loves to do things for herself, this was a really nice change of pace. Ladies, if you have a husband who does this for you, savour every minute of it! It's pure joy at a time when everything seems so new, chaotic and raw. As the first week came to it's end I was starting to get really anxious about Tony going back to work. How was I going to take care of our baby all day long alone? I had a million people say they would come over and help and I knew they would have but I was emotional and needed to rest so didn't ask. I must have cried for an hour the first morning he left for work. I was exausted from not sleeping, scared to be left alone, sore, and having a hellish time breastfeeding. The only two people I wanted around me at that time were my husband or my mom. It didn't take long to develop what I call an "evolving routine". We have basic outline of how each day is going to unfold but it's not strict. Babies change constantly. They are growing, developing new skills, becoming more alert, obsorbing their surroundings and are getting used to things just like we are. I decided very early on that I wasn't going to torture myself with routine. Mornings are usually the same and so are evenings but the day is Holdens time to do what he needs to do. If he is going through a growth spurt he usually naps a lot and I am able to take that time for myself. (I love growth spurts!) If he is having a tummy ache he wants to be held all the time, which I love equally as much as time for myself. Some days he is wide awake and wants to interact with me. So I read to him and he mimicks the sounds of the words I'm reading while he wiggles on the floor or bounces in his jolly jumper. On days we have errends to run we have freedom to do that without feeling like we need to wait for nap time to be over or rush back for it. Of course every baby is different and sometimes a solid routine is best. I've let myself wonder in a differnt direction then originally intended here. I wanted to touch on what it's like returning home after everything's changed. Basically everything looks the same. The pictures are all hung in the same spots, the furniture hasn't moved, the walls are the same colour, the lawn still hasn't been mowed but the feeling you get when you enter your home is changed. The aura or atmosphere of the home is different. It's in transition that first day and week. It takes time to settle and take on it's new energy. There is another person to accomodate for now, what his energy is and how we are as a family all effect how the feeling of the home will be. We each have different rolls in the home now and settling into them takes adjusting. Now that I have fully accepted and fallen into my roll as Mom our home feels like our lair, or kingdom. It's the place I am most comfortable, safe and relaxed and because I am so calm and settled at home my boy picks up that energy and is calm and settled too. Allowing this transition to happen organically is important. At a time when everything is new and uncertain, forcing something will only create unrest and chaos. I had to allow myself to let go of the idea of perfection that first week. The house was in disoray which for me is choas as I like things to be in their place and "pretty". I was topless basically all the time, there were pillows all over the house as I experimented with different breastfeeding positions. We stopped eating in the dining room and camped out on the couch or the bedroom. I noticed onced I found what worked for me and how I was comfortable the rest of the house felt it and settled too. Tony's colour returned and his shoulders slid down from his ears. The dogs were less restless and most importantly Holden was more easily soothed. Not only did this help me realize how my energy effects our son, it helped me see how much I effect the house as a whole. I can't have a bad day without it changing the "feeling" of our home. I have a big, often loud personality, I wear my heart on my sleeve and am very outspoken. Since realizing how much my comfort or lack there of changes the comfort of the home, developing a meditation practice became more important then ever. Finding out you're pregnant is an exciting time. It's a flurry of emotions mostly centered around happiness, joy and new begginings and for the most part that is exactly what it is. In my experience, once the shock of discovering I was in fact with child wore off the above emotions set in and I was too enthraeled to eat, sleep, form proper sentences, the works. It wasn't unitl I got into the swing of things, so to speak, that the happy go lucky thoughts about pregnacny started to fade and reality set in. Don't get me wrong, the entire experience is incredible and is truly a miracle, no doubt, but there are things that poeple don't share with you that you're often left to discover on your own and shock the shit out of Google along the way. The little things that seem huge at the time, that if you stop to really think about make perfect sense. But when you're pregnant you have enough thoughts racing through your mind, so being prepared with all the info upfront can be comforting if not informative. 1. Too Tired to Even... The first trimester is the worst for exaution. This one isn't really a surprise but the full impact this exaution has might be. This is more then being a bit sleepy or unrested. This is the kind of tired where if you could pee in your pants and get away with it you would because the bathroom is too far and you feel faint getting there. I've never been a good sleeper and only on the rarest occastions take naps, but throughout this period of my pregnancy I slept the entire night through and even remember sleeping through my husbands alarm on several occasions. On my days off, instead of going to the gym or running errands I would nap. Netflix would be on and I would be in a comatose state on the couch often waking up to the obnoxious Netflix message "Are you still watching?" I even fell asleep at work!! Thankfully I work with understanding women and we weren't busy at the time. On top of feeling tired all the time, you're dizzy too. Try standing up after sitting too long compounded with feeling nausiated and dizzy. It's basically the same feeling you get when you've drank too much and are about to throw up. That feeling for the first 3 months, every day, all day long. Some days are worse then others, and if you're anything like me, you'll see the "ok" days as opportunities to get shit done. Run the errands that you put off, hit the gym hard to make up for your absense, meet up with friends to catch up etc. Let me tell you, it is not worth it! You'll spend the next day or two paying for it. You may as well have gone out on a week long bender and be going through withdrawl, cuz thats how it feels. So take this time to get your lazy on. Seriously. 2. BOOBS One of the first indicators that you might be pregnant may be your breast are swollen and extremly tender. I usually experience this as part of my regular cycle but this time they were seriously sore. Again, something totally normal but what noone tells you is how they continue to grow as your pregnancy progesses. Be prepared to experiment a lot with bras. Infact start saving now for all the money you'll throw away on stupid bras that you'll grow out of by the time you get them home. In my case I went from a modest 34A to an obnoxious, in your face, 34DD!! How is that even possible? I thought I'd flop forward with the added weight! And try finding a bra that size, they dont exsist! If you're lucky enough to find one, you'll soon discover that your spilling tit out the sides of the bra. Fun fact: during pregnany your breast grow out to the sides more then they do any other way. This is so strange. Imagine your inner arms brushing against your breast. And this growth starts right away. You'll probobly spend good money on pretty bras from Victorias Secret and La Senza before giving in and asking for help in a materiny store where you'll be buying a "mom bra". Large, boring, full coverage, full support bras. But wait, the fun isn't over, you're breast haven't reached their full monstrosity yet! In the last few weeks as you approach your due date they'll get bigger still and once you have your baby and your milk comes in, they'll become so huge and hard you'll regret having ever wished for bigger boobs. Back to the maternity store you'll go to get their biggest nursing bra only to leak milk all over it. Since we're on the topic let me be the first to tell you that when your milk comes in, and it will weather your nursing or not, is not a pleasant experience. You'll miss the out of control side boob spilling of your pregnancy. Now they'll become hard and lumpy and extremely tender. One breast will often be bigger then the other, think really bad boob job. Couple that with sore, cracked and often bloody nipples and you will start to wonder how we made it as a species. Basically your breasts will grow exponentially in an awkard way and you'll spend too much money experimenting with bras. 3.Swollen and Juicy Readers discression is advised! This one is something that I had to discover completely on my own. No one told me my labia would become swollen! EW! I was going about my morning routine feeling rather uncomfortable down there. By this point in my pregnancy I had lost sight of my vagina. Not that I was neglecting it but that my belly had grown so much I couldn't just look down and see it. I had to stand on my tippy toes to take a peek in the mirror at what was going on. OMG is that normal! Whats happening to me! What was happening was the weight of my uterus and all the blood flowing to that area was putting pressure on my lady parts and caused them to become swollen. Totally normal and nothing to worry about and comes and goes. I found it to be more promenant the more I walked or exercised making my activities very uncomfotable and frusteratring. This is not an area I want to feel chafing with every step I take! Really though, as if we aren't experiencing enough discomfort, our vaginas swell too! Come on! Of course it doesn't just stop there, why would it. We are women and can take on anything. There seems to be no limit to the shit we can edure so lets compound our already swollen and uncomfortable nether region with even more moisture! While pregnant your body will produce more discharge, keeping everything perfectly sterile and clean for you and your baby. So invest in panty liners. You will need them not only for the added moisture but the minor leakage you'll expoerience if you laugh to hard at all the ridiculouness of this experience. 4. Not everyone cries Most people think highly emotional women when they think pregnancy. This is true for the most part. Your sense are hightened and you are flooded with an abundance of hormones. Everything is new and changing and it is overwhelming to say the least. But not everyone has the classic breakdown and cry over everything responce. I couldn't stop laughing! I felt the most hated and judged when the ladies in my pre-natal yoga class were discussing how emotional they have been. They were struggling with keeping it together throughout the day. TV adds, their husbands, a song, thier own thoughts, all seemed to trigger a reaction resulting in tears, anger and confusion. They were all relating to eachother and offering support when I pipped up and said I've been having to opposite problem. I was met with blank stares. Literally everything would make me erupt into uncontrolable laughter! I couldn't stop it. I would think about something or hear something slightly hummourous and be incompasitated with laughter. My husband, who is a goof ball already would get me laughing so hard I wouldn' be able to breathe, tears would soak my face and I would just be doubled over in silent laughter until I could inhale again. This happend all the time! My dogs would get me laughing, my own absent mindedness would get me going, and even the few times I did become emotional, I would start laughing! It was really odd but made things fun. I remember sitting on the couch completely alone and bursting into laughter at nothing more then a silly thought! 5. It's ok Finding out your expecting is overwhelming and you may think you need to completly change everything you're doing. Unless you eat fast food everyday, are a drug addict or a drunk, you can carry on with life as normal. Don't get me wrong, things will change and you won't have any control over it but for the most part your fine as you are. I was hitting the gym pretty hard before I found out I was with child and my biggest regret is not maintaining that routine throughout my pregnancy. I was practicing yoga daily and would often run for close to an hour before hand. On days where I had more time I would do weights, HIIT or kettlebell classes. I basically stopped everything! In my defense I was very tired throughout the first trimester and would take the odd class here and there, toning way down the weights I would normally lift and walking instead of running on the treadmil. I did pre-natal yoga and went for walks daily around my neibourhood. So, I stayed fairly active but the stigma that one must not work out is outdated and saved for women of high risk. I got in my head too much and let anxiety lead me. If you have a regular work out routine already established pre-pregnancy, you do not need to change it. Adjust it as you get bigger but there is no need to stop. Food and cravings are a big one. The way I see it is this may very well be the one time in a womans life where we can eat without guilt. Within reason of course, but I see no reason to limit or deny yourself as long as the bulk of your food intake is nutritionally dense. Take your prenatal and eat a well balanced diet. Of course fresh foods are always best and your body will naturally crave nutritious foods anyway, but if your craving cookies, eat a cookie, hell eat two cookies! It's ok. There is a lot of "do this, do that" when it comes to pregnancy. If your gut is telling you something listen to it, and of course the professionals, but for the most part you will know instinctively what is right and that is ok. It seems once you become pregnant you open yourself up to a world of free, unsolicited advice, often from the most unusual and unwelcome sources. Advice on anything from what to eat/drink or not to eat/drink to how to prevent stretch marks to how to induce labour. Most of this information is based on personal experience or old wives tales and bares little to no actual evidence that it's helpful. This advice is harmless and usually just gives people an easy go to topic when trying to start conversation. Some of it may actually be helpful or comforting at times. Friends, family and strangers are all going to offer up some form of advice as soon as they hear the word "pregnant". But it's the weird, try not to laugh or get offended advice that I'm talking about today.
When it comes to the after birth many cultures have customs and practices that are totally normal and part of the birth experience and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I do not live in one of those cultures and although I am a bit odd and am considered a hippie by most, I did not consider saving my placenta for a minute. Well, beyond the minutes that the midwives save it for examination after the birth that is. The most memorable bit of unsolicited advice I received was from one of the most bizare, loud and somewhat reckless customers our store sees. This woman is a regular and we all know her truck when she pulls in. We all look around at each other in a knowing way and mentally prepare ourselves for the bombardment that is about to bestow itself upon us. On this particular day I was the lucky soul who would get to serve her. At this point in my pregnancy I was what I often referred to as "obnoxiously pregnant". My belly entered a room long before I did and I had a pretty good waddle going on. My hands found themselves comfortably resting on top of my belly while chatting with customers and if I needed an out, I would simple rub my belly and excuse myself. To the majority of people I was a joy to see. They would take an extra few minutes to talk to me and kindly ask me how I'm feeling and share their experiences with me. I enjoyed countless conversations like this and made a few friends this way as well. I never had to bite the inside of my lip to prevent from laughing out loud at them. I must have gnawed the inside of my lip raw the day it was adamantly suggested to me to save and freeze my placenta. I know a lot of people do this and that is totally fine, to each their own, but what made this suggestion so laughable to me was the way it was so adamantly suggested. Of course my belly was the topic of conversation and the customer was curious to know weather I was having a hospital birth or home birth. I freely explained that we had chosen a midwife to guide us through a natural birth at a birthing centre. This seemed to invite the placenta advice. "Oh good, you're probably already doing this then..." Let me paint a picture for you. This woman is your classic cliche of a French Canadian woman. She is loud, opinionated, smells a bit of cigarettes, and has unforgivable hair. I swear her hair gets jostled around so much while she wildly tells her stories that it keeps wiggling an extra 5 minutes after her story is done. Her eyes seem to pop out at you from across the counter, making it nearly impossible not to make eye contact, and she is a grabby talker. As though every conversation is interactive, she often reaches out to physically involve you in her stories. And she is anything but gentle! So when I found myself involved in this conversation I knew I was in for the long haul. "You have to freeze the placenta. No question. You never know when you'll need it again. You could cut yourself and the fastest way to heal it is by tearing a piece of placenta and putting it on the cut. You'll freeze the placenta right?" WTF? Was this really being suggested to me? I politely smiled and nodded, saying I've heard about this but didn't say yes or no to saving it. My co-workers fell silent, listening to the conversation I was trapped in. Their silence was deafening. She continued saying that it's the only way to do it and that if she had ever had children it what she would have done. If the baby gets hurt, use a piece of the placenta to heal the baby, if I get hurt the same. I could even eat it and share it with my baby for even more benefits. She went on and on, not letting me get a word in edge wise, but for once I was grateful for that. What the hell does one say to this? I had heard all of this before so just kept nodding. "If you go online you can find all sorts of recipes for your placenta. Placenta muffins, placenta pancakes..." What? By now I was sure there was a hole being chewed through the side of my mouth! Who would I share these muffins with? was all I could think about. Oh I'll have my baby and bring in placenta muffins to share with everyone. Yummy! Im sure someone somewhere had made these "treats" and part of me is curious to see the recipe but Google will never forget I searched for that and that's too much for me to live with! My head was spinning with judgment of her that I don't remember how the conversation ended. All I remember was her finally walking toward to door, stopping to turn around and say "Make sure you freeze that placenta" and then leaving. I walked over to my coworkers who were speechless. We all looked at each other for a minute then burst out laughing for a good few minutes! So much so I of course had to pee! Although I have not looked up recipes for these bazaar muffins and pancakes it is common practice to save the placenta for a myriad of reasons. It is nutrient dense and can offer healing and most importantly, it is basically a medical data sheet for your babies health. I chose not to save mine and although I find eating it totally weird, it is a personal decision and warrants respect. What I do feel needs more attention is the practice of saving the umbilical cord. This can truly be a life saver to more then just your own baby. There are banks were one can save them but the fees are astronomical so I would recommend donating it to a family in need or even to research. At then end of the day, being pregnant is one of those things where everyone has an opinion. I chose to look at most of these opinions and offers of free advice as an opportunity to get a good laugh, although I did try a few of the suggestion when I was tired of being a beached whale. In my 38th week I was so over being pregnant I literally ate a jalepeno paper raw, had more sex then a rabbit, did squats followed by jumping squats, bounced on an exercise ball constantly, went for walks and made pitchers of raspberry leaf tea and drank only that. I went into labour on the first day of my 39th week. Do these things really work? I don't know, but I had a lot of fun that last week and my glutes look good. It's only now that its been almost 3 months since the birth of our son that I can look back at his birth and consider it a thing of beauty. It is possible I'm into some weird shit but in the end, after all the screaming, crying, ripping, panicking and blood bath, birth really is a thing of magic and beauty. (It's official, I'm one of those people.) I was blessed to have been guided through my pregnancy by midwives. These are angles in human costumes who are ever patient and loving at a time when new mothers are so overwhelmed, flustered, worried and over run with hormones almost no-one can stand to be around them. I knew from the moment I found out I was pregnant I wanted to go through it with the aid of a midwife and aim for a natural birth. My Husband on the other hand was not onboard. It took the better part of my first trimester to convince him. Once he did some actual research and stopped listening to the naysayers he was totally in. Really, all he did was watch a video of a woman having a water birth and he was in tears telling me lets do it! From beginning to end it was the absolute best experience. Like most first time moms, once I started to experience labour I was really nervous verging on panicked. I didn't have a typical experience of labour either and actually had to "Google" the symptoms I was having. After all the classes, reading and information overload during my pregnancy, nowhere along the way did I ever hear or learn about "hip labour". I had terrible pain in my hips throughout my pregnancy, so much so that I had to completely change how I slept, how I worked out and even limped to get around at work on several occasions. I chalked it up to expansion in my hips and that was that. While my hips did expand and will most likely stay slightly wider then they were before, I never knew such a labour was possible or that pain like that was possible to live through. And when it started it came on strong and fast! My husband and I usually go to bed around 1030-11 most nights and this night wasn't any different. We had decided that night that we should switch sides of the bed so that the bassinet would be more accessible to me when he finally arrives. This small insignificant change seemed to set off a whole series of events! Since we switched sides we also had to move our phones chargers and this meant my husband had to move the armoire out from the wall on his new side slightly. Again not a big deal but for some reason this set me off! To me, suddenly the whole room looked stupid and I got really irritated! Then being irritated over something so dumb made me even more irritated. Tony was able to fall asleep right away as usual, but I was laying there is a semi rage, fuming about nothing. Then my hips started to really hurt. The pain was definitely noticeable and I got out of bed to try to stretch and walk around a bit. The pain went away so I got back in bed and almost right away the pain started to build again. WTF! I got out of bed a second time and walked around the living room again then returned to bed once more, seriously annoyed. My head barely hit the pillow when my hips started screaming for the third time. That was it, I was just getting up. I walked around and got my knitting and sat down on the couch thinking Ill just knit and watch netflix all night. NOPE. I got maybe 4-5 stitches in and my hips were seriously not happy. What the hell is this? Am I in labour? The pain was definitely building in intervals and I thought I'd start timing them while I got on google. I had to stand leaning slightly hovered over my desk to do so and discovered that, yes, labouring in ones hips is totally a thing and usually a sign of a fast and intense labour. Feelings of excitement, terror, panic and survival flooded over me and I contacted my midwife. I know they're trained to speak to women in a calming voice and thank god. Once she started talking to me I could see myself getting through this. The contractions at this point were 30-40 seconds long and coming every 3.5-4 minutes. I was told to get in the bath or do something that would relax me and call her back when they are closer together. So, I got in the shower vainly thinking I want to look good for this!!! Omg I'm an idiot!! I barley made it through the shower and had to hang onto the shower curtains and faucet several times. Getting out I thought I was going to rip the towel rack of the wall. The contractions were now 1 minute apart lasting 1 minute. Fuuuuck was all I could think as I literally crawled on the floor from the bathroom to my office, gripping walls as I went to call my midwife back. "It's time, wake Tony up, I'll see you at the Birthing Centre in 45 minutes." "IT'S TIME AHHHHHHH!" is how I woke tony up at 2am then dropped to the floor and screamed bloody murder. Thank god we finally put a bag together that night incase something does happen. I stayed in my pyjamas and tony threw on whatever was close as he asked me what to do! "I don't know just get in the car. You have to drive." As if that needed clarifying. We live in the country an easy 30 minutes away from the nearest stores and close to an hour from the Birthing Centre. At this time of night there is a lot of fog and deer are imminent. Poor Tony was trying to get there as fast as he could but I kept yelling not to speed, thinking if we hit a deer, I'm still having this baby! When we got there my midwife met us in the parking lot since she could hear me screaming from inside! Apparently they have you fill out some paperwork upon arrival there, but my baby had other plans. We were taken to our room where I proceeded to strip down completely naked. I was so overheated, sweaty and starting to feel claustrophobic, I desperately needed to get out of my clothes. I was examined. 9cm dilated already!! OMG this is happening and right now. I was lead to the birthing pool which may as well have been filled with boiling water and got in. The heat was unexpected but it did feel nice. That is, until the next contraction hit. I'm surprised Tony and the midwife have full use of their hands. I grabbed a hand each and squeezed like hell almost every time a contraction hit. For most the weightlessness of being in the birthing pool is a relief, but for me there would be no relief. I tried the nitrous oxide (laughing gas) as well but that seemed to increase the panicked feeling that was taking over. I suddenly realized that I didn't want to be in the pool anymore, I needed to be on the bed. It looked to comfy and familiar and as though its appearance would offer some sort of false comfort. "Just think, 6 more contractions and your baby will be here" was the encouragement I got at one point. Fuck that! I was not under any circumstance going to endure 6 more of these contractions!! No way! I didn't feel the overwhelming need to push but knew it was the only way to make all this stop. Let me take a moment here to try to explain what hip labour feels like. Imagine a medieval torture device, the kind that pulls your arms in one direction, while pulling your legs in the opposite. This was the sensation in my hips. Extreme stretching and pulling apart while simultaneously being hammer drilled back in. This pain would radiate up my low back, but never once did I feel anything in my uterus. The feeling would start as a burning sensation in my hips then build and build into this ripping apart inferno. I now know what blinding pain feel like. At its hight, it would feel as though I could see the pain. It had colour and energy like a living force, otherwise known as Hell. I was helped out of the pool and waddled over to the bed, stopping to hit the floor along the way in agony with a contraction. Once I finally made it the short but very long distance to the bed, I lay down on my back in your typical birthing position. I felt the urge to push so did and with that my water broke, gushing out of me in a volcano like flood all over the midwife! I screamed SORRY at the top of my lungs as another contraction took over. Being on my back laying with my hips open was making things worse. Instinct told me to get on my hands and knees like a dog. His head was starting to show. I pushed and instinctively reached down to grab his head and felt what was going in. EEWWW!! I retracted my hand. There is really only so much I could take I guess. I gathered up the pillows and blankets in my hands and held on. I pushed and pushed, screaming so loud I'm sure the next province could hear me and then everything when silent. It was over. I felt him gush out of me but was in a complete state of shock. I slowly looked over at Tony who was crying and saying something that I couldn't make out. Slowly I could hear him and the midwife's voice coming in. "It's ok Ashley, pick up your baby" I could hear faint crying getting louder and louder. I finally caught my breath so to speak and was back in the room! OMG it's over! He's here! I picked him up and fell more in love then I ever thought possible. This wrinkly, bloody, screaming mess was the most beautiful creation I had ever seen. In that moment there was no more pain, just sheer amazement. I had torn slightly with the pushing and speed that everything happened with. Tony and I swooned over Holden as I birthed the placenta and was stitched up. The adrenaline was so great that I could have had a leg amputated and not notice at this point. I was back to making jokes with everyone and calling my parents and closest friends as thought I hadn't just been through hell. I am so grateful that I was able to fulfil my dream of having a natural birth, although I would have tapped out if I could have. Who am I kidding? There is a very good reason epidural exists and woman who choose to take advantage of them still have to endure incredible pain. The pain of labour and child birth doesn't stop once the baby is born though and this is true for everyone no matter how your baby arrives into the world. In my opinion the worst recovery is that of a c-section. You have to go about navigating your new life as a mom all while healing an incision in your abdomen! No one is exempt from the pain and recovery of child birth. I am just forever grateful that I was able to experience my sons birth the way I had hoped, with a few added surprises here and there. This post needs to start by saying I love my husband with the deepest most passionate kind of love. He has moved mountains for me and has the kindest soul of anyone I have ever known. This remains true even now, after the birth of our son, although I'm sure I don't make it easy to love me in return these days.
This is a classic case of having expectations of someone and holding them to these expectation but never telling them your expectation then getting raging mad when they don't meet your expectations. Its also a case of having no idea what you're doing but being too prideful to ask for help. Just incase you weren't aware, men do not give birth. It is for this reason they have and never will have even the slightest clue what we go through. For them the experience is undoubtably intense, but that intensity fades and they are able to go back to their life as it was for the most part. (This is not true for all men I know, excuse the generalization.) We are left with a body we do not recognize, a soreness that cannot be explained politely, are thrust into a new life weather we like it or not, and have to navigate every single detail of it whilst in pain. Sleep has now become a distant memory too painful to think about and our brains have been compromised. Thank heavens for instinct because I didn't even know my name the first week without checking my I.D. For breastfeeding mothers we are up every couple of hours, day and night with crying babies who sometimes want to make life more difficult by pulling away and screaming while feeding. There is no break, day off or rest period. "Sleeping in" a cruel phrase never to be used around a new mother and never uttered from a husbands lips. In all honesty, it's the sleep deprivation coupled with husbands ability to leave the house unhindered. I've actually started to view my husbands job as an opportunity for him to have "me time" which is outrageous as he works construction and picks up side jobs roofing on weekends! But the fact that he can sleep longer and better then me, can leave to house without having to ensure the safety of a tiny human let alone lug one around and can return home to take long hot showers everyday makes me hate him just a little. I was warned about this phase of early motherhood where I might enter into the dangerous territory of feeling resentment toward Tony but thought our love is so strong and he is so great that it won't be an issue for me. (Rolling eyes is totally appropriate!) I want to punch him in the face at night when he starts snoring as soon as he closes his eyes. Our baby can still be fussing and whining and already I can hear Tonys breath get slower and deeper and then the snoring starts! Are you for real! As mothers, our sleep is always light. Basically we sleep with one eye open and both ears on stand by. It's jealousy really, jealous that they can tune out and turn off. Jealous that at night on the couch they can fall asleep since they don't have a child sucking on their nipples. Jealous that they can sleep all night and not have to get up for midnight nipple torture. To add to this frustration I would love nothing more then to have an hour of uninterrupted time where I am not being "needed". An hour of space to breath deeply, an hour to attempt getting my pre-baby body back, an hour of time to knit or write, or even an hour of time to sit in a quite room and cry. Not because I'm sad but just to release. Release the overwhelming emotions that come with being a new mom and being so immensely in love while simultaneously feeling out of control. The need for even the smallest amount of time to oneself is another area often misunderstood by our partners. They get home from work tired too and still have to perform as it were, and often view our need to get away momentarily as either selfish or lazy, and opportunity to update Facebook, watch TV or pick our noses. Not the case at all. As an introvert this time is where I am able to regroup and reenergize. Even though our little cub is sleeping longer periods through the night, I am not energized. Another area of motherhood no-one warns you about. In short, one can love their partners more then words could ever express but as soon as a crying baby, sleep deprivation and zero personal space or time comes into play, some serious feelings of anger, jealously and resentment start to rear their heads. I am very lucky and have an amazingly patient husband who does everything he can to makes things more comfortable where he can and I need to acknowledge him a lot for that. Throughout my pregnancy I'd had many encounters with moms who were more then willing to share their experiences with breastfeeding with me. Some were honest recounts of their trials, while others gave me the "oh it's such a natural feeling, you'll be great" load of bull. Don't get me wrong, I understand everyone has their own unique experience, but damn it if I wasn't naive enough to fall for it when my close friend who had her baby just weeks before me, had no trouble at all. Her baby latched perfectly right from the beginning and everything was smooth sailing. She was at peace with next to no pain and made it look so easy breezy, I thought "Hell, I can do this, no problem." HA!
Holden came racing into this world in a hurry as you'll read in another post. In my heroic efforts to keep everything natural I scooped him up from under me; as soon as I came back from being in shock, and got him right on my breast. He knew what to do and settled in for his first feed. Looking back, it had to have been the two shots of oxytocin, hormones and adrenaline that gave me the false impression that it didn't hurt. (I did tell the midwives I wanted to stay up late a share my feelings with them after all!) I kept looking down at him in amazement that he was basically showing me what to do. "Great" I thought, if he's going to show me how to do things I'm sure we will all be just fine. We got him packed up in the car and headed home, left to our devices. Tony and I made ourselves as comfortable as possible in bed with our new baby and stared at him glassy eyed till he needed feeding again. Tony scurried around me wanting to get anything I needed and I settled in for my second round of feeding. This time it felt different. I could still feel the effects of the oxytocin but not as strong. I was very aware this time of my nipples and the building sensation and heard this voice in the back of my head mumble, maybe this isn't going to be so great after all. Way too many people came over that first night but the distraction was welcome. I was now very aware that I had a long, painful road ahead of me if I was going to stick with the breastfeeding. By the next day I was starting to get an increasing panicky feeling whenever Holden needed feeding. By the 3rd Day my shoulders were in my ears, my neck was so tense it was sending shooting pain down my right arm all the way to my wrist and I was now doing breath work to gear up for the feedings. With my toes curled under and loud inhales and exhales I would prepare for him to latch on and immediately start crying. And not a few tears either. I'm talking about the kind of crying where tears are shooting out the sides of your eyes and you can't catch your breath. This was no fucking joke anymore. I was actually panicking now. "Is it supposed to hurt this much?" After a quick look from our midwife it turned out our little boy was tongue and lip tied. A double whammy! He wasn't able to open his mouth wide enough to latch onto anything other then my nipple. I should mention, I have incredibly sensitive nipples to start with too! This is explains the pain, chapped, cracked and bleeding I was now experienced, only to be made worse by each feed which occurred every 1-3 hours. That night I threw a tantrum myself! "Whoever said this was a fucking miracle is goddamn liar! No-one told me it would hurt like this! Woman are all cursed! We are fucking cursed! I just pushed a human out of my vagina without any pain relief, I'm sore where no-one should be sore! I have stitches where no-one should have stitches and now my fucking nipples are bleeding! This is bullshit!" Sobbing continued for another 10 minutes while I fed our son and Tony looked at my wide eyed and speechless. I mean really, what do you say to that? We had to wait 5 more days until we were able to get the tongue and lip tie fixed. I tried pumping but not all my milk had come in yet so that was a bust. We even rented a hospital grade pump which turned into its own ordeal when they forgot to mention to Tony that the bottles are sold separately. Poor Tony drove all the way back to our home in the country only to discover he had to go back out and buy bottles for me to pump into. All this for it only to be used once! At last, it was recommended I try using a nipple shield. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. A shield that gets placed over my nipple. Finally, a bit of relief! I have to use the shield for every feed but it allowed my nipples to heal, has taken the pain away and ensures my little man is being properly fed, and the best part is it allows me to continue to breastfeed. I was so determined to stick with it, my mom, aunt, husband and even a lactation consultant were shocked I hadn't given up. I was in a lot of pain at first but have since heard horror stories of woman developing mastitis and continuing through. My possibly immature tantrum may have held a bit of truth in that woman are cursed. We are cursed with drive, determination and a need to provide for our children that spares no expense and sees no limit. |
Author30 years old and finally did something in life worth talking about. Candid, naked truths about life from my perspective. Archives |