Little Miss Matched

Buttercup has got this thing for these "Hello Kitty" socks. They were a gift and came in a bunch of bright colors. 

It's a rare occurrence in this household to actually have two matching kitty socks on hand. And I decided a long time ago that matching socks are overrated. 

But even when I have a matching pair and get all excited and proud of myself for running such a tight ship (yeah right) when I try to put them on her she goes all ballistic on me. Apparently, she doesn't like matching kitty socks.

Not a problem. Go on with your bad self. Wear mismatched socks.

But wait, it's not enough that SHE wears mismatched socks she now INSISTS that I wear mismatched kitty socks too.

This is my life people. 

 I'll tell you what else is my life.

Waking up at 4am. BC is still in her crib and still falls asleep on her own at bedtime without a fuss but we've definitely hit some road bumps. I'll be honest it's wearing me down. Four am is one thing but we've had a few 2am wake-ups in a row. I'm struggling. She's been sick. First it was a high temperature now a cold. Before that she was teething. I struggle with wanting to comfort my baby and slipping into old habits. Them damn experts weren't kidding when they say consistency is key. And unfortunately, when we aren't consistent and bend routine even just a little bit-it all goes downhill pretty fast. Mommy guilt is on full force around here. 

But for now, let's just focus on happy socks.

Just put her down already!

If you told me six months ago that I'd be sitting on the couch next to my husband on the first floor while Buttercup slept upstairs in her crib-I would've laughed...or maybe cried.  You see, six months ago I thought this moment would never happen. Six months ago, my sweet little girl was completely and utterly dependent on yours truly to sleep and I was frustrated and tired. Tired of my baby's poor sleeping habits and frustrated with myself because I knew I was a major part of the problem.

Six months ago, Buttercup was 11 months and she napped in my arms. And this was definitely a problem. Just ask my back and my neck and the level of my productivity.

"Why not just put BC down in her crib," you ask? Sounds so reasonable and logical doesn't it?  So seriously, why didn't I just DO IT? It's a question I kept asking myself. I guess to try to make anyone understand I'd have to start at the beginning.

When I first started out on this journey of motherhood, BC would fall asleep rather easily (in arms, of course, while nursing) and when she was a newborn I just held her because who are we kidding is there anything better than holding your sweet, sleeping newborn? But as she got older and my maternity leave was coming to an end I knew I had to start putting her down. So after BC would fall asleep I would proceed to transfer her to the crib.  Usually the transfer was a success and she'd continue sleeping....for TWENTY minutes! Twenty minutes people, that's it! It would be like clockwork. You can't get much done in twenty minutes. Trust me, I know. I've tried and so I just said screw it and made myself comfortable and turned on Lifetime. (Heck, might as well catch up on 'Grey's Anatomy.' And can we just say season six finale was crazy good)

When we moved down to Maryland, my mom would scold "our bad habits" and told me I had to put her down in crib. And being the obedient daughter that I am, I listened and would put BC down in the crib and she would wake up after...you guessed it-20 minutes! This went on for a few weeks/months? It's all so cloudy now.

THEN I started reading sleep training books and holy hell it was quite the wake up call.

There's a lot of different philosophies out there when it comes to sleep and sleep training--crying, no cry..but if there's one thing all these sleep experts agree on is that 20 minute naps is NOT enough sleep. Some of these experts drop scary words like ADHD, low attention spans, unadaptable personalities, obesity --all associated with your kid not getting enough sleep. And BC wasn't getting enough sleep that I knew for sure. Starting around four months (same time as moving down to MD) BC stopped sleeping through the night and would wake up several times a night.)

When Elizabeth Pantley said do whatever it takes to get your baby to nap; well, I took it to heart and then some. The theory is that a well rested baby will sleep better at night.  And so began my obsession with nap and sleep times.

  

I made it my mission in life to figure out her sleepy windows and do whatever it took to get her to sleep and I did.  And for us, that translated to rocking her to sleep and letting her sleep in my arms because as soon as I'd try to put her down nap time would be over. My kid went from 20 minute naps to sleeping for TWO hours at a time!! Great, right? Wrong. She's sleeping in my arms. Which means, I'm not working while she sleeps, I'm not cleaning or showering or cooking, I'm sitting on my arse for two hours.  I know what some of you might be thinking. "How terrible for you!" (insert sarcasm) And I admit, at times it was a nice break in the day to hold my sweet girl and watch her make funny faces and noises while she slept and it was the only time in the day when I could surf the web, read blogs, send emails and sometimes even catch up on a cat nap myself.  I knew that I was truly blessed to even have the luxury of this option.  But I also knew that this couldn't go on. There was a time in my life where I felt like a productive human being, back then I just felt like a human pillow.

Two hours is a long time. And I still had to make up for those two hours somewhere right? Which meant I would still be up and working hours after BC went to bed for the night and it sucked. Maybe I could've kept up this façade if BC slept well at night but that was definitely not the case. BC would wake up several times a night and my husband and I would rock, sing, pace the room--all to get her to fall back asleep. After nursing was completely over, I will say that BC did start sleeping better. We even had several nights where she slept through the night. But it certainly wasn't consistent and BC started waking up super early. Five, sometimes even earlier. I could have maybe managed her early wake up if I hadn't stayed up until 11:30 finishing my work. 

The whole routine left me cranky and seriously feeling like I absolutely had no "me-time." I would dream of nap times where I could roam through the house prepping dinner, work or even heaven forbid exercise or do my hair. I missed alone time with my husband. I missed alone time with me.

When Buttercup turned one, I took her birth date as a time to really reflect on the past year and take an honest assessment on how things were going . I questioned my parenting decisions and thought long and hard about the kind of parent I wanted to be. I could probably write a book if I had the time on my thoughts and reflections from our first year but one thing was for sure--the whole sleeping thing wasn't working. And that was a hard thing for me to accept and even harder for me to take action.

But something had to give. I knew she needed sleep. I BELIEVE in sleep. I knew she needed it which is why I found myself in the whole sleeping in arms situation but Buttercup was one and one thing was sure, she couldn't sleep in my arms forever.

And so I finally began to just "put her down already."  She would still fall asleep in my arms but then I would take her to our bedroom and put her in our bed. We set up the computer in our room so I could work while she slept. You may be asking, "why your bed? Why not just the crib?" Well, it came down to this. I needed this girl to sleep and she was used to sleeping in our bed already at night and she knew the difference between our bed and her crib, trust me.  It wasn't an ideal solution. I knew that. But I made it work. She didn't sleep as well or as long as she would have if I just let her sleep in my arms and she would ALWAYS wake up when she hit a sleep cycle at roughly 40 minutes or an hour into her nap and it would be hit or miss, sometimes she would roll over and fall back asleep other times I knew it's not gonna happen and I would quickly jump from my computer chair and lie down next to her and pat her back to sleep or pick her up and rock her back to sleep.

I thought this was working for us. I was getting work done. I was actually able to go to the bathroom while she slept. I know that sounds ridiculous but when she slept in my arms I literally would have to hold my pee till she woke up so being able to go to the bathroom even just once a day ALONE was like this new found freedom.  This was huge...or so I thought.

 

Starting at around 14 months, it got increasingly harder to get Buttercup to fall asleep. Since analyzing my daughter's sleep patterns was my mission in life, I had been able to figure out her sleepy times and would for the most part be able to put her to sleep rather easily. But it started to not be so easy; more like pulling teeth.  I would rock, sway, sing, hum for sometimes up to an hour and she wouldn't fall asleep. She was tired, I was sure of it. Her eyes would be half closed but she just wouldn't fall asleep. And I was slowly, but surely, starting to lose it.  I felt angry and frustrated and then would just feel a huge amount of guilt because I felt angry and frustrated and I could not ignore the growing resentment I felt growing in the pit of my stomach. I feel terrible, just awful really, even writing that line out but it's the truth.

Enter two dirty words. "Sleep training." Everyone and I mean everyone told me I had to do it--the pediatrician, the lady in line at the grocery store, my family, my friends.  Basically the theory is that your kid has to learn to fall asleep on their own by self-soothing themselves. And Buttercup definitely did not know how to put herself to sleep on her own. Every book I read, every real life mom told me I needed to do it but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I just couldn't. I knew that "sleep training" would mean a fair amount of tears no matter how hard I tried to avoid it. Believe me when I tell you I tried my hardest to go the route of "no tears." I probably read and reread that "No-Cry Sleep Solution" book a zillion times and while I may have had some success with some of the recommendations in the book, Buttercup was pretty darn conditioned at this point to fall asleep in my arms. And it was going to be a straight up bitch to break this cycle.

Here's why I used to think "sleep training" was this awful, awful thing. Somewhere in those early months as a mom, I got it in my head that sleep training = making your kid cry =setting your kid up to become damaged goods. And what mom wants that? Definitely not this one.

Looking back, I can see myself, a rookie mom tired and exhausted turning to my IPhone and typing "baby won't sleep" or some variation into Google looking for answers, looking for HELP. Instead, I just found myself a complex. Let's just say I really wish I hadn't turned to Google.  Who knows which mommy board I stumbled upon or which response to a thread it was but the damage was done. The message was loud and clear. Only selfish mother's sleep train. A mother's job is to respond to their child's needs and if your kid is getting up a zillion times at night then suck it up. Your kid will learn to sleep through the night when he's ready. Anti sleep-training moms (and let's be clear I've never met one of these moms in real life only on the Internet will argue that letting your kid cry will cause him to feel abandoned and insecure and he will only wind up falling asleep because he'll basically have learned to give up on humanity i.e. you, his mother. And the truly effed up thing, people, is that I knew better. I really did. I read all the sleep books backed up by research and  years of experience by experts. Real life moms supported sleep training and their kids seemed fine and the real life moms that didn't sleep train-well at least the ones in my small circle of friends and family were the ones screaming, no, more like shouting at me to do it. But this mommy guilt I felt had a hold on me and I just couldn't break free. And again, looking back and writing about it I feel kind of pathetic. Here I am, a woman in my 30's, now a mother and I'm so easily influenced by people I've never met. What does that say about me? The thing is, philosophically speaking "responding to your kid's needs" and building a secure, trusting relationship with my kid is totally the kind of parent I want to be and letting your kid cry-even if it's for their own good feels like wrong. Nothing about it feels right. Nothing. It feels wrong, absolutely and utterly wrong. And so I kept praying that BC would hurry up and decide she's ready to sleep through the night like those Internet moms said but that never happened. Instead of getting better it seemed to be getting worse and worse.

It got so out of control. I was so miserable and yet I suffered in silence. I couldn't complain or vent or cry on any one's shoulder because the first thing they'd ask is, "well have you tried letting her cry in the crib?" So I avoided the topic at all costs.  My jaw would tense up whenever it was brought up by well-meaning friends and loved ones. After time they learned to not bring it up.

So there I was, a mom that "loved her kid so much she didn't want to make her baby cry" now having feelings of resentment towards her kid.  Where's the sense in that? Because feeling resentment and frustration is soo much healthier for me and my kid. It was a really hard time for me.  As a mom I didn't want to feel this way.  I couldn't help but feel like the writing was on the wall-something had to give. I'm the parent, I'm the one that's supposed to fix what's not working and this wasn't working. Not for anyone. Not for me and not for BC, who definitely wasn't getting enough sleep. 

And so we did it. There's no way to sugarcoat it. It was hard. There were tears. From me, from Buttercup. We tried our hardest to make it as gentle as possible. But there were still tears.  It took a really.long.time but it WORKED. BC sleeps! For like double digit hours people! She falls asleep on her own, without me, in her crib and she is OK. She is more than OK, she is fucking fabulous. She is not damaged or emotionally scarred. She is a happier baby and I am a better mother, no, scratch that I am a better HUMAN BEING now that we are all sleeping better.

There's a zillion different' "sleep training methods" out there. And you really do need to find the right one for you and your family. We ended up loosely following the "Sleep Lady Shuffle." I would describe it as a more gradual approach to helping your child learn to fall asleep. The first three nights, you sit next to the crib, the next three nights after that you sit in the middle of the room, then the doorway, etc until your child is able to fall asleep with you out of sight.  And if you're like us,  you add a week of sitting in your bedroom doorway reading "Where's Spot" because you have a hard time cutting the cord...  Like I said, we followed this method loosely. You really gotta do what's right for you. But in all seriousness, it wasn't until we "cut the cord," so to speak, that BC finally started sleeping better.

This post is for the momma's out there that find their way to the Internet in the middle of the night, desperate for sleep-for themselves and for their babies. I'm pretty sure that you love your kid, much like I do, with every single cell in your body. You fell in love with this little person and you probably thank God, or the universe or whatever you believe in for giving you this bundle of joy and you are so, so thankful that you make a vow to do absolutely everything in your power to raise a healthy, happy person. Don't get sucked in. Don't think that loving your kid and being a good mother is measured up in scoops of self sacrifice. It doesn't work that way. Sometimes the best thing you can do for your baby and for yourself is to put him down already.

P.S. These are all the books I read and I'd highly recommend them all. And if you are expecting a little one, here's my unsolicited advice. Spend less time worrying about how many onsies to buy or which stroller to register for and spend some time reading about babies and sleep. Before I had my own kid, I just thought kids sleep. Little did I know....

The Sleep Lady's Good Night, Sleep Tight: Gentle Proven Solutions to Help Your Child Sleep Well and Wake Up Happy

Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child 

The No-Cry Sleep Solution: Gentle Ways to Help Your Baby Sleep Through the Night

Solve Your Child's Sleep Problems 

 

Five Years

Five years married to this scruffiness. 

And how did we mark this monumental occasion, you ask? 

Arguing in furniture stores and eating ice cream on the couch, of course...

Yup, we're an old married couple all right! 

The story of you

I meant to do this a while ago...oh like 11 months ago and here we are weeks/days away from celebrating your first year of life and I'm trying to piece together all the details and emotions from that Friday in March that changed our lives forever.

It has been an impossible task. First of all, so much time has passed and there's a reason why people tell you to write things down immediately. We're a bit foggy on the details like, "did water break at midnight?" "No it was sooner-no later". "So what time did we leave the house?" "How long did I push?"   In my defense, I was too busy to focus on such details because I was, you know, pushing out a baby and all! But even more so than the details, I can't for the life of me figure out how to describe and put into words such a profound and forever life changing event.

After a lot of back and forth, I decided to write your birth story as I imagine telling it to you as you get older mainly because I feel silly trying to write in scientific terms. Pregnancy lingo has always been lost on me. The whole 40 weeks doesn't really add up to 9 months has always seemed suspect to me so clearly I am no expert. Even though I don't remember all the details like how far apart contractions were or how long I pushed it doesn't really, REALLY matter; especially, when we retell the story to you. What you'll want to hear is how I managed to walk to the hospital in the middle of the night, how your dad swears we almost had you in the streets of New York City and how I pushed so hard I broke every capillary in my face.

But still ...I'm not sure where to begin and even though this is your "birth story" I'd be remiss to not mention those nine months prior.

Even though you were "planned" as in we made a conscious decision to leave the "goal unattended"-you were still a surprise. It happened pretty darn fast like "first time fast" and I think we were both kinda shocked when the stick came back positive. At the time, I don't think I truly appreciated how blessed we were to get pregnant with a "sticky" baby so quickly.

Your pregnancy came at a very busy time in my life. After not working in the TV industry for awhile I landed a freelance job on top of that I still continued my proofreading job. Needless to say I had a lot going on and your Dad was simply amazing. He was there for me.. or technically there for us. He helped out so so much..simply put he simplified life. I never had to think about food it was just there. When doc said I wasn't eating enough protein he whipped up eggs every morning. He packed my lunch. Every day I'd head into Soho carrying my "not-so-cool" Babies R Us purple, reusable bag that we got when we registered full of apple slices, yogurt and nuts. He's a bit skimpy on the dessert  portion of bagged lunches consider yourself warned. My hope for you baby girl is that you find a partner in life as thoughtful as your father. He is not perfect, he is flawed, we all are.  More often than not he is wrong and stubborn to a fault and he drives me crazy but he is caring and supportive and that is important. You remember that when you fall in love

Those nine months went by fast oh so fast. And I know this sounds corny but it truly is a magical experience for a couple to go through.  Nothing so far in our lives can compare. It's full of wonder and excited, nervous anticipation.  I remember walking hand in hand in the streets of New York noticing every baby and not believing that soon we'd have our own.  I have the fondest memories of your father and me preparing for your arrival. Trying to decorate your "corner" in our one-bedroom.  Having your dad talk to you in my belly.  Just thinking about those moments warms my heart.

registering for diapers

trying out the carrier

I had an easy pregnancy with you-it was pretty much a walk in the park. I had one small bout of sickness that looking back was so minuscule I don't think it should even count. It took forever for me to start showing and I could fit in most of my tops for most of my pregnancy. I felt relatively comfortable even those last few weeks. I credit our walking lifestyle and the prenatal yoga, I'm sure helped. But don't worry you didn't let me off the hook so easily. It seems you decided to wait to make your appearance into this world before you started making me run for my money.

The only problem I had during my pregnancy and looking back it wasn't really a problem but docs said I wasn't gaining enough weight and you were measuring small. And so it began---my stress and worry that I wasn't eating enough-that I was doing something wrong. We had to go in for several sonograms to monitor your growth. When you are expecting a child there is nothing that you want more than to have a healthy child. It is what you wish, pray and hope for with every breath you take.  This "fear" planted in my head that you were too small reared its ugly head and I think it did play a role in how your labor went down. It did also give me a free pass to eat with abandon. Carvel Ice Cream Cake and Haagen Dazs Mint Chip were daily fixtures in my diet.

37 Weeks

I thoroughly enjoyed preparing for your arrival. But only parts of it. I hated putting together the baby registry, No surprise there, anything that involves shopping and making decisions doesn't bode well with me. Looking back, it seems so silly fretting over how many socks and onsies you had.

 What I truly did enjoy and looked forward to every week was the birthing class your Dad and I signed up for at the hospital. Harriet was the instructor. Oh Harriet. I will never forget Harriet. She looked like our Tia Haydee-short with a round belly on top of skinny legs and small frizz for hair. Her round belly came in handy as she would demonstrate breathing techniques. God, I loved that woman. Nothing ruffled Harriet's feathers more than unnecessary medical intervention. Week after week she would stand on her soap box and tell us that our bodies were made to give birth to babies and it was her job to help us get through it. She showed us breathing and relaxation techniques. Your Dad and I felt like straight up fools practicing them. Her mantra,"labor at home as long as possible." Living a mere few blocks from the hospital I intended to do so. I wanted to try to have a natural and drug free birth and I knew I had a better chance to make it if  I stayed at home as long as possible. I also wanted to keep you inside me for as long as I could. In my mind the longer you 'baked' the stronger and bigger you would be. 

So when I went to the doctors a week before your due date and the doctor wiped my membranes without me really knowing that's what she was doing and she called it a cervical massage-I cried and got mad and tried to deny/ignore that labor was starting. I know I said this wasn't going to be a technical post but I can't really tell the story without it. Basically, the doctor jumped started labor by moving things down there without me really wanting it or knowing that's what she was doing. To be fair I'm sure you were close, everyone that examined me would comment how low you were. And if you weren't ready to come out the procedure would've done nothing to jump start labor just ask any woman past her due date desperate to have her baby come out that gets the procedure done to no avail! But I was still a week away from my due date with no signs that I would go past my due date so there was no reason in my mind to push things along. Afterwards I learned its a common procedure in some practices to perform a cervical massage close to due date. I felt cheated and robbed of knowing how it would have gone down if the doc had kept her damn hands to herself.

But at the time I didn't really know all this. The doc did tell me that contractions could start up but I didn't really pay any mind because I was sure that you weren't coming yet. It wasn't even April yet. Famous last words.

For the rest of the day I took it relatively easy. I worked from home. I had already ended my freelance job. I do remember taking a short cat nap which I never ever do. Thank god for that little nap because there wouldn't be much sleeping happening soon enough. I definitely remember feeling pressure and what I now know were contractions. I started feeling them regularly enough that about an hour before I expected your father to get home (around 4) I figured I should start writing down the times...just in case...but still I was very firm that it was just Braxton Hicks or something. How was I supposed to know they were definite contractions? I've never been in labor before and I had been feeling "stuff" down there for a while now. I thought maybe it was just pressure from you being so low. Your dad came home around 5. We kept jotting times down but they were pretty inconsistent.

It was sometime around 6:30 because the evening news was on when I figured I better finish packing the hospital bag. OK that's a lie it was more like start packing the hospital bag. I know some girls have their bags ready to go halfway through their pregnancy.  And I'm sure for some the idea that I didn't have it packed is just crazy but I really hate packing. I don't do well with having to make absolute decisions like what do I plan to wear home from hospital. How can I make such decisions when I don't know what the weather is gonna be like? Besides I've learned the more I plan the more things get shot to hell and back. And I particularly dreaded putting together a hospital bag. And I was so tired of people asking me if my bags were packed. I never ever got annoyed from people asking me how I'm feeling or when I'm due or the sex of the baby but asking me if my bag is packed became such a pet peeve of mine!! Why is there so much emphasis on a hospital bag?? I'm sure it has to do with family sitcoms. Sure baby needs something to come home in but that's usually a day away...whatever I digress.. there was no more putting it off any longer. Bag needed to be packed. Things were happening down there. So I grudgingly whipped out the baby books to the chapter on what to bring to hospital and proceeded to over pack. I didn't use half the stuff I brought. Magazines for reading, baby books. There was no time for reading let me assure you.

For the next couple of hours I proceeded to drive your father nuts. See, even though I was a week from my due date and its not like I could ignore you were coming I still thought I had more time. I wanted relaxing music to be played during your birth-- the book I read said it would help. But I hadn't downloaded any music to my iPhone. Your Dad with a grin and bear it attitude willingly obliged and proceeded to download music in between contractions. Music was never played.

My toes were a mess and I could not conceive heading to the hospital without painting my toenails. Your father must have been having convulsions inside but he put on his best face and insisted he would paint them for me. This is very unlike your father. He never puts on a good face for the sake of politeness or to please others. Your birth is proof he is capable of such things but unfortunately, I don't see this side of him that often. "People-pleaser" your dad is not. So your Dad painted my toenails. He actually did a terrible job and I think I could have done a better job even with my belly in the way but he insisted and I figured a botched pedicure would be better than no pedicure. Somehow he spilled nail polish all over his jeans and I felt really bad. They were one of his favorite pair of jeans. Your dad went to go get the stain remover hoping the polish might come out. The bottle had in huge letters MAX.

We were convinced it was a sign. Max was the name we both kinda agreed on for a boy and since we were convinced it was a boy (or more so I was convinced and therefore convinced your father it was a boy) we thought it was a sign to go with this name and that Max would be arriving shortly. Man, we had it all wrong.

I can't for the life of me remember what time everything took place. I remember calling Harriet later in the evening maybe around 11. I really was still hanging on that you weren't coming yet. When I told Harriet what I was feeling and what went down at the doctors she got mad, mad. She told me that was no massage but that she had wiped my membranes. I felt stupid. I should have known better but I thought it was routine to do an internal exam and I was so eager to hear if I was dilated that I didn't stop to question things. I got really upset and mad. Mad at the doctor, mad at myself. Harriet tried her best to tell me what I wanted to hear that the baby may not come yet since my water hadn't broken but I could tell from her voice and choice of words that she was convinced baby was on the way. I was so so upset because I wanted so badly to have a natural birth with as little medical intervention as possible and I felt this was definite intervention sure it wasn't drugs but still I felt it was messing with things and it's not what I wanted and I felt cheated. It immediately made me feel distrust in my doctors and weary of going to the hospital especially since I really wanted you to make it to your due date because of your size. I let myself get upset, I knew I couldn't get passed it without a good cry and and trust me I did. I cried my eyes out but then I told myself  I had to get over it. I prayed that all the negative feelings I was feeling would go away. I was upset but there was no going back now and the last thing I wanted was to bring you into the world with feelings of anger and disappointment. I had to focus and it was getting harder to do so I did my best to push aside  any negative thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Bringing you into this world.

I had accepted that yes, I indeed was in labor and I was definitely starting to feel it.  But when to leave for the hospital? This is where things start to get confusing. Seriously your father and I were kinda a big fail on the whole contractions thing. If there's one thing I took away from the prep classes was the whole 3-1-1 rule: leave for the hospital once contractions are three minutes apart, a minute long for an hour.

Yea my body never did that.  And because of everything that went down I was less than eager to run to the hospital. I was weary before when I sat in their office listening to the doctors tell me that just because I planned on delivering in a hospital versus a birthing center that I could still  have the experience I wanted. Their word that they would honor my desire to go natural seemed like baloney to me after jump starting my labor that didn't need it in my mind. And so now, more than ever I  was determined  to stay home as long as possible. And I really took the 3-1-1 rule seriously. Much to your fathers dismay.

Still thinking we could get some sleep  I decided to take a shower and hopefully go to bed. No sooner was I out of the shower and all nice and clean when my water broke. I'm thinking it was around between 11:30 and midnight.  It's not like this gush or anything but its definite wetness. Your dad insisted we call the doctor I was all like, "I can still stay home for another six hours! We don't need the doctor!!" I ended up calling the doctor.  I was relieved that the doctor that I felt had the coldest bedside manner was not on call. She said I should come in. I resisted. "Isn't it possible to stay home for six hours after water breaks," I asked weakly but determined. She said I could hold out awhile longer if I wanted to but didn't sound convinced about my six hour argument. She said wait 30 minutes or so and reassess. Later on, she told us that after hearing my voice she knew she would be delivering our baby that night. They had told us in class that most experienced doctors and midwives can tell how far you are in labor by the sound of your voice and I guess it's true.

By now your Dad was ready to go to hospital ASAP. And while I still resisted contractions were coming a lot more frequently and a lot stronger. But they still didn't follow a real pattern which threw us off. Sometimes contractions were strong but lasted only 30 or 40 seconds. We naively thought they had to last a full minute. But I knew we needed to go. I was feeling shaky and I was desperately trying to hold on to the breathing techniques I learned in class and in yoga but was struggling. I really, really wanted to take another shower again because a) I felt icky after my water broke and 2)  I hoped it would help with the contractions.  You dad was not thrilled with this idea at all. Your dad says I was stalling on going but at this point I wasn't stalling I was just trying to get if together to leave. I thought, "let me whip out my yoga mat and get on all fours maybe that'll help. Your dad's look-the look of "I-am-losing patience" started to sneak through and after trying a few things again in hopes to feel enough relief to make it to hospital I figured relief ain't coming let's just get to hospital.

And so began what felt like the LONGEST walk of my life. The walk to the hospital would normally take maybe about 10 minutes. Third trimester pregnant I'd say 15 close to 18 but still it's a walk we did everyday of our lives to get to work, the grocery store, etc.  Your dad wanted to take a cab. I think in his mind making his pregnant  and in labor wife walk to the hospital counted as a fail on his part but I could not for the life of me imagine sitting in the back of a cab for even 5 minutes. I needed to move. Sway, rock, lean but sit no frigging way. Besides it was maybe 2:30 in the morning now and even though we lived in the city that never sleeps cabs were few and far in between.

I remember the cold air felt so, so good against my skin. A nice change from being inside the apartment but the cool air was not enough of a distraction to handle these contractions. I can see now why they describe it as waves but I felt like I was getting slammed one right after another. There didn't even seem time to recover from last one and take a few more steps before the next one came. I can't even tell you how many times we had to stop. We inched and waddled our way to hospital I don't even know how we got there.

I'm pretty sure it was during the walk up the hill (Did I forget to mention the walk to the hospital is uphill!?) that I didn't think I could do this without help. I wanted that epidural and I wanted it bad but I knew there was a window that I could get it. I've heard stories of women being told it was too late and I decided that I did not want to be that woman but I was worried because this walk was taking forever!  We finally make it up the hill and to the hospital. We had to go through the emergency room (which by the way insurance charged us some ridiculous fee just for walking through the ER!!) A man at the front desk says "11th floor" and I'm all like, "how come he just assumed I was in labor?" I guess my waddle combined with the whole leaning against my husband and my swelling belly was a giveaway. I remember there was another woman that took the elevator with us. Her daughter was in labor and it made me yearn for my momma. I kept asking your dad, "did you call my mom, are they coming?" While I have no regrets that it was just me and your Dad in the delivery room how I wish your grandparents and tias weren't four hours away. The woman on the elevator also told me that her daughter had just gotten an epidural and I was all like yea that's the first thing I want too.

When we got to triage the woman at the desk looked bored out of her mind and not in any kind of hurry AT ALL. Clearly, she wasn't feeling what I was feeling. Your dad got to work filling out paperwork while I tried to hold it together. I remember getting a contraction and leaning over the chairs breathing for dear life. FINALLY the woman "got it" and I heard her paging "active mommy, active mommy" and then a nurse came out to get me and I was led to the back to change. Looking back this must have been transition because I remember being in so much pain I couldn't focus,  I couldn't do anything. She asked me to give her a urine sample and change into a gown. I have no idea how I managed to get undressed and into that gown but told the nurse that urine sample wasn't happening. I was definitely starting to panic especially since everyone seemed to be moving soooo slow! They tried to hook me up to a monitor but they couldn't get a reading because I kept sitting up during contractions. Yea, ask a woman in labor to lie down on her back during a contraction, yea sure. After what seemed forever the intern came in to check me. I was so anxious to get this party i.e. drugs started. Your dad and I will never forget this part. Intern was a tiny petite Asian woman and looked super young. As she was checking me she got very quiet and had this look of surprise on her face and finally said "umm  you're completely dilated this is happening NOW."

Everyone was shocked and there was a second of stunned silence and then finally everyone started getting their butt in gear. Out of nowhere my doctor appeared or technically the on-call doctor from my practice. Where did she come from? She  must have already been at the hospital. Your dad swears she came in after she talked to me on the phone but I don't know if I believe that.  Maybe on call docs hang out in the hospital I don't know but she just appeared out of nowhere. Her name was Dr. Simonson. She had fun short curly hair (I felt the curls were a good sign maybe it's because your tias have curly hair but I always appreciate women that embrace their curls)  and she looked totally casual. I remember her wearing a  zipped up hoodie and thinking it was nice she didn't look "medical" if that makes sense.  Before this moment I had spent maybe seven to ten minutes total with her during a routine check up appointment. She confirmed that, yup it's showtime. I asked if I could still get the epidural. She very rationally explained that I've done all the hard work. She said they could give me the epidural to push but it will slow things down. She estimated you would arrive within the next half an hour. Thirty more minutes surely I could do this right? I've come so far and last thing I want to do is prolong meeting you. I remember looking at your dad and him nodding and assuring me I can do this that I'm ALREADY doing this.

Once in the delivery room I gotta say things were pretty zen. Well as zen as a non-medicated labor can be. The only non zen moment was when I snapped at the nurse for asking me for the zillionth time what medications I'm taking. I never once yelled or cursed or even shed tears during labor. But seriously, I answered this question already five times isn't this NY hospital on a computerized system?? Here I am trying to focus on labor and I've had nurses ask me five different times what medications I take. In retrospect, maybe if I had packed my bag earlier I could've had a cheat sheet with a list of medications and allergies.

I wish I could recall exactly how many times I pushed or how long we were in the delivery room but I cannot. And neither can your dad. But I have to say it was less than 30 minutes and only a handful of pushes. The thing that baffles me is that I never felt the urge to push. I thought it would be weird to not feel anything down there and have to have the doctor tell me when to push which was a big part of me wanting to go med free. Every woman that I talked to describes this natural urge to push but I didn't feel that.  It makes me wonder if maybe I wasn't as far into my labor as everyone thought.

The doc told me to push through the contractions and this is where I broke every capillary in my face. I kinda wish I could get a do over on this part. I pride myself in being a good student. Your mother may have been known as a bit of a teacher's pet back in her day. So I took it to heart when Harriet (our Lamaze instructor), the prenatal yoga instructor AND the natural birthing book by that famous mid wife all told me to NOT hold my breath when pushing-to keep my mouth soft.  But when a contraction came and the doctor told me to push through it I couldn't quite figure how to push and keep my mouth soft and not hold my breath. (Harriet would be so disappointed) I tried not holding my breath but my doctor kept correcting me and I wish I had trusted my instincts and ignored her but I didn't and I held my breath. Your dad said he didn't think a human face could turn such bright red.

I don't really remember physical pain or discomfort during this part. All I remember is being very focused and determined that I needed to get you out. If it meant pushing until I ruptured every vein in my body so be it all I cared about is that you were almost here. 

At 3:59 on March 30, 2012 you arrived. After months of waiting for this moment you were here and it was truly everything I wanted it to be.  It was surreal. You were most importantly, healthy! Ten fingers, ten toes! 

And you were a girl! I really, really wanted your dad to be the one to announce whether you were a boy or a girl and when you came into this world your dad called you... Olivia. Yea, we didn't end up going with that one. Sure hope you don't hate us for the name we chose. 

You were placed in my arms immediately and you were perfect.  I swear you looked right at me like you just knew I was your momma and this is where you belonged. 

I may not have had time to put on contacts or do my hair but at least my toes were painted!

Fifteen months and one day later as I finish writing this, I glance over to watch you sleep. 

Fifteen Months

I wish I could describe to you what the past 15 months have been like. We've been through so much. I remember my first night at the hospital alone with you. What a nervous momma I was. How I sucked at swaddling you.  

Our first night together. Picture I sent to your father after he left hospital since he couldn't stay with us overnight. 

Your grandmother has this saying, "todo se aprende." Everything is learned. It is so true. From the moment you were placed in my arms, you and I have been on this road together. Slowly trying to figure  things out. Me, learning how to be the best momma to you-learning when to let go and learning how truly deep the depths of my love for another human being can be.

And my God, I do love you. More than I thought possible. 

So that's the story of the day you came into this world and the day I stopped sleeping! :)

Things I've been working on....

I knew hosting Buttercup's first birthday in our new home was a bad idea. But I refused to listen to reason and stressed myself out trying to get our house in some kind of order. We have no furniture, no car, no blinds and a daughter that doesn't sleep through the night.

On the bright side, this pressure to have our house look somewhat presentable to the masses forced me to make quick decor decisions-which is very unlike me.

Here are some of my purchases.

These towels and bathroom rug for the guest powder room.

And this rug for our living room which I've had my eye on for a while.

I couldn't believe it when I showed it to my husband and he said he liked it, "lets get it." We never agree so easily on home furnishings. I'm pretty sure the rug is too small for the space but I do love the color against our dark hardwood floors.

And I bought this shower curtain for the upstairs bathroom.

Since this is Buttercups bathroom I wanted it to be "fun" but not too childish if that makes sense. I think the bright colors are perfect.

And I lied about not having any green inside our home. I decided to go with green towels and a green rug to go with the curtain.

I'm desperately trying to add some color to our home since its a sea of neutral right now. And I accepted that our house wouldn't be "done" by BC's party.

The only room I wanted to be picture perfect was Buttercup's room. Before this girl was conceived I've been itching to decorate her room but it hasn't come together as planned. I was talked out of trying to paint her room before the party. Let's just say there was a family intervention and I was told that I was trying to do too much. I saw everyone's point and agreed but still wanted to get some wall art or SOMETHING up in her room. Inspired by Pinterest, of course, I thought fabric hoops with pretty fabric would be a quick way to get color in her room. This was my inspiration:

I absolutely love everything about this. But just like everything that I've found on Pinterest that I've tried to duplicate, my version never looks quite as nice. The hardest part is choosing fabric. I wish I could just CTRL C this nursery and paste it to BC's room. If only it was that easy.

My first trip to the fabric store did not go so well. I crumbled in the face of too many options. I lost focus, forgot what color palette I was going for. It didn't help that I went to the store on a busy Saturday afternoon. I was surrounded by a bunch of DIY, sewing savvy women that knew their way around the store like they owned it. I, on the other hand, felt lost in a sea of fabric. Here's a few fabrics I pulled out but was not feeling them together. I gave up and left empty handed.

 

I have no idea why these pictures aren't displaying properly!

I went back to the fabric store a few days before the party with a do-or-die attitude. I knew I wouldn't have time to come back to store before the party so this was my only chance. I told myself,  "just pick something it's only fabric." And I gave myself 30 minutes that's it. Well it took me 40 minute but I came out with a pretty decent selection that I think works well together.

 

Here they are on the wall.

In the end I didn't get the hoop art up for the party. Womp womp. It's still an uncompleted project since the letters need to be painted. And I'm thinking I might need more hoops? Looking at these pics the hoops seem a bit spread out. I'd also like to try to find fabric with some yellow in it to tie in the yellow handles on her dresser.

By the way the dresser is inspired copied from here. I saw how great her dresser turned out and realized that my childhood dresser with a fresh coat of paint and spray painted handles could be just as beautiful. And just so we're clear, I did not do any of the painting or sanding involved in the dresser project. Buttercup's got an awesome Grandpa! ;)

So that's what I've been up to. I've been writing Buttercup's birth story in bits and pieces. I had given myself up to her birthday to finish and yea that didn't happen so maybe by 13 months? [EDIT NOTE: 13 months didn't happen either we're keeping fingers crossed for 14 months!] You really shouldn't wait a year to start writing birth story or these are the kind of conversations you'll have with your husband.

Me: Do you recall exactly what the intern said when she checked me at the hospital?

Husband: long, dramatic pause. I see the head! The baby is coming out RIGHT NOW!

Me: That is absolutely NOT what she said.

Lunch Date

Buttercup,

Sometimes in the daily grind it's easy to forget how good I got it.

Here we were having lunch together. Just us girls, no grandparents around. (We both had eggs scrambled with spinach in case you were wondering) And admiring your cute self I couldn't help but think, where will we be in twenty years?

Will you be away at school? Although I firmly believe in state school. Student loans suck. Maybe you'll study abroad! I'd love to visit you in Paris or Spain! I tried to picture you as a twenty year old meeting up with my "fifty-something-self"for lunch.

I asked you if you'd still love me as much as you do now at 20. Probably not. Ha! But right now I am your favorite person. You are friggin adorable. Lately during feedings, you've been grabbing my face with your messy hands and pull me in close. Gets me every.time.

 

God, I hope I remember this lunch date today when you're all grown up.

Not enough hours in a day

Why do I wait 11 months and three weeks to decide to organize a year full of baby pictures in an attempt to produce a monthly photo banner for BC's first birthday party?

Did I mention I am determined to also produce a photo slideshow and a video montage set to music?

It's called setting myself up to fail people!!! All the while Buttercup and DaDa are on their second or fourth REM cycle.

Green, verde, vert

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, (which technically was yesterday and by the time this thing actually gets posted probably two days ago) I present to you our very, very green house.

As if the house wasn't green enough there's even a green door.

I gotta tell you, I'm not digging the green and I didn't pick it but according to Robert De Niro in "Meet the Parents" that makes me an idiot because "geniuses pick green." See for yourself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVDtcno4uP0

We bought a home in one of those new planned communities where each house color and design is predetermined by a team of architects that in my humble opinion chose the ugliest green out there. By the time we bought there weren't many choices, in fact, this was the only house available in this particular model. So no brick or lovely stone which would have been out first choice.

In my husband's campaign to convince me this was the house for us, he would go around rapping this line, ""Green is my favorite color it's a sign I made it to the top." He'd attribute it to Chubb Rock but upon further investigation he really just made it up.

One of these days I hope to show you the inside of our green house. I can assure you there won't be any green inside.

A good day

Dear Buttercup,

Today..

I baked AND cooked (all for you of course)

You ate like a champion, including the green stuff...

And now you are asleep IN CRIB and I'm snuggled in bed with my kindle listening to you breathe and make sweet sleeping noises and I'm NOT reading a sleep training book.

It does suck that Dada is working late, and I haven't finished my work and that even before I could finish this short note you woke up and I had to shush you back to sleep but still all in all, I'd say its a good day.

Did someone say photo shoot?

I think I missed my calling. I should have been a set designer. There's something that comes over me whenever I see an opportunity for a photo shoot.

When I got it in my head that I wanted to do a vintage inspired birth announcement, I spent hours searching for a retro style stove. I scoured Craigslist, posted ads for vintage and antique stoves, I even located showrooms that featured high-end retro cooking ranges. Unfortunately, I could not convince my husband or sister to casually show up to one of these showrooms, stand in front of a oven and snap a few pictures.

It was literally my mission in life to find me a stove. This is me at Williams Sonoma in Columbus Circle eyeing their cooking ranges.

In the end, I found not one but two kitchens for my little photo idea. One had a green stove-GREEN!! My first choice would've been aqua blue but hey, beggars can't be choosers. (Ignore the fact, that I don't look pregnant here. I promise you there was a bun in the oven at the time-my oven, as in, my uterus not the actual oven with the bread)

 

 

When Buttercup turned six months I pinned a zillion pins on Pinterest for inspiration. I gave my husband very specific requests on the color balloons we would need for the photo.

For Christmas, I had my husband dress up as Santa Claus.





It did not go so well.

My latest photo project? Valentines Day. While searching for a photographer to do Buttercup's one year portraits I came across a photographer doing a Valentine's Day mini session and I was all over it. An excuse to dress up my kid for a made-up commercial holiday? Yes, please.

The beauty of this photo shoot is that I actually have me a professional. In my past endeavors it's been me begging my sister to humor me. You don't even want to know how many times during our shoots she'd take the camera away from her face stare me down and hiss, "hire yourself a professional!" I know deep down she loved every minute of it. Maybe...

Of course there are drawbacks to having a professional, like I can't send random texts to the photographer whenever I get an idea in my head. Five minutes ago it was, "CONVERSATION HEARTS! We NEED to buy a pound of conversation hearts for props!!!!" My photographer seems nice but dont think her fee includes putting up with a crazy woman.

And I AM crazy. I'm kind of embarrassed to say I've just spent at least an hour online searching for the perfect tutu. A TUTU. Not just any old tutu will do. First of all, it has to be red. It would appear that pink seems to be the color of choice for tutu's--red not so much. And I want soft and whimsical. Not hard and pointy looking.

I'm not sure what it says about me that I get so excited and determined over red tutus. I take that back. I have a pretty good idea what it says about me and none of it is good but I can't help myself. I'm off to find me some heart-shaped sunglasses.

Buttercup

Here's the story behind Buttercup-as in why we actually call Buttercup-Buttercup. In a nutshell, you can chalk it up to commitment issues. I just couldn't commit to a name and so our daughter was nameless for a day, maybe it was two days...

I know, horrible right?  I feel kinda bad about the whole thing but I was sure we were having a boy and so when SHE came out it threw us for a loop.

I always had a particular girl's name in mind, and surprisingly my husband liked it too. I thought it was a classic name and didn't think it was trendy but suddenly it was on the top of all the baby name lists. I really didn't want my kid to be the third or fourth "Jennifer" in school.  Seriously, I can name at least five Jenn's from school.  So since we kinda had a girl's name we both liked (even though we were turned off by its surge in popularity) we decided to put all our focus on boy names because, let me tell you, we could not for the love of all that is good in this world agree on a boy's name. Thus, convincing me that we were definitely having a boy. (So much for mother's intuition)

I found choosing a name for our child to be stressful. What if our kid hates the name we select-what if after we go with a name -someone with the same name decides to go and do something stupid/tacky thus causing a distasteful association for every other poor soul that has the misfortune of sharing the same name. Perfect example--Lorena Bobbit. I rest my case.

It's a lot of pressure! So we stalled on officially naming her. Luckily, everyone was so distracted on learning the baby was a girl to give us too much of a hard time.  I learned very quickly in my pregnancy that when you opt to not find out the sex of the baby people become very invested in guessing telling you what you're having-the cleaning lady in the office, strangers on the subway, your dental hygienist.. . it even becomes competitive. At our baby shower we had a "guess the sex of the baby" photo booth.

It was a lot of fun. Overwhelmingly everyone, myself included thought boy for sure. I come from a family of all girls-surely it was time for some testosterone.

But no -what we thought was a he was a she all along and we couldn't be happier but we weren't 100% sure about her name. When the hospital pediatrician came in to examine her she of course asked us what her name was. When we told her she didn't have one she held up our nameless, wrinkly, tiny piece of perfection paused and said,  "I think I'll call you Buttercup" and we liked it-we liked it very much. And so it stuck. And that's how Buttercup or BC for short came to be.

Eventually we went with a name. Although, not our original first choice but not to fear it still tops the charts for most popular names. :/

drowsy but awake

"It is crucial to put your baby down drowsy but awake."

I remember reading this in all the parenting/baby books milling around the apartment but didn't pay much attention. And now nine months in, I realized I should have.  These words HAUNT me and sitting in a dark room at a godforsaken hour watching my husband rock our little girl in his arms I want nothing more than to DROP-KICK these words.

It's not that I chose to blatantly ignore the advice of all the parenting experts, I TRIED to put Buttercup down drowsy but awake but guess what? She didn't really dig it, she much preferred to fall asleep in my arms than actually having to learn to fall sleep on her own and I was only happy to oblige.

You see as a first time mom it would be fair to compare me to a young school girl, blinded by love wearing rose colored glasses all the while repeating over and over, "You can't spoil a baby, you can't spoil a baby! I'm teaching her security and comfort-ALL THE EXPERTS SAY SO!"

True, but those same experts that assured me I couldn't spoil my baby still said, "yo momma put your baby down drowsy but awake!" Now we're knee-deep in "poor" sleep associations as in, I need to be on your boob and in your arms to sleep and at nine months-well it makes me feel like the biggest fail of a parent.

It wasn't always this way she USED to go down rather easily in her crib but then we hit four months and we moved into my parents basement and then there was the business trip to Tampa.....and so here we are. 

Dr. Ferber calls us "reactive cosleepers" or as the Sleep Lady Shuffle likes to refer to us  "We didn't plan it this way" co-sleepers.  Oh yea-I've read them all and if you're a parent whose kid doesn't sleep well then chances are you have too because when your baby doesn't sleep it CONSUMES you.

So whats our strategy-I've got no freaking clue. Despite reading and rereading all these sleep books I'm still at a loss-pathetic I know. But something has got to give because baby girl needs to sleep-this isn't so much about me and my exhaustion it's about her neurons connecting!

But change is not easy, especially in the middle of the night when you're dog tired. I feel pretty confident this night will end where it always does, Buttercup in bed with us, snuggled up against me, her lil' head nuzzled in my neck. I try to remind myself that it'll all pass too soon and I'll miss this-I'll miss it so much but man oh man I miss me some zzzz's.