First Day Solo

Baby boy came early. Two weeks early and I promise this time, I won't wait until a year after baby is born to write down his birth story. 

Two weeks and one day. First time just me and my two loves. No baby daddy, no grandparents or friends. Just us three for ten hours. 

My mom called last night and asked if I wanted her to change her plans. I told her, I got this and honestly I was curious to see how it goes. 

It's not even 2 o'clock in the afternoon but I think we're doing ok. By some  miracle, I manged to bake muffins with Buttercup and baby boy slept. 

Not in arms and flat on his back! 

But the biggest miracle is this combo nap that is happening right now as we speak!

 

Only thing missing is me-napping. Which I intend to try to do. So if you'll excuse me. 

I'm fully aware that the rest of this day may go to hell so let me enjoy this while I can. 

Finding your voice

My kid talks a lot.

I imagine most almost-three-year-olds talk a lot but I don't have a real reference point. All I know, is that we have another talking human being in our family full of questions, ideas and opinions. And some of the stuff she says blows my mind. 

So far, miss chatter box really only graces us with her talkative, inquisitive ways. Buttercup has always been a reserved child. Slow to warm up to people, or in a lot of cases, never warms up to people. 

I think she's barely spoken a word to anyone that isn't us (her parents) or her grandparents or aunts. When asked a direct question she usually kinda just stares back at the person. It can be awkward. I've read I'm not supposed to answer for her but I admit, sometimes the silence kills me! 

But she's starting to talk! To strangers! People she's never met before. In my mind, this is a huge. 

I've been dragging Buttercup to a lot of doctor appointments lately. And she does remarkably well. She's such a little grown up sometimes, asking questions, making observations. At a recent eye appointment, the technician asked her if she was having a baby brother or baby sister. Usual pause followed with BC just staring back and then she said, "A BABY BROTHER!" I almost fell over myself. 

We've had a few other moments. A lady asked her her name. Pause...long pause and then BC answered with great authority, "I AM SOPHIA." 

I know this might be "no big deal" but BC has always been so reserved. It's always been a concern of mine.

Am I enabling her shyness? Squashing her ability to be a self sufficient, independent adult? Am I coddling her? Doing more harm keeping her at home with me instead of sending her to school? These are questions I've over-analyzed about myself and things I've been criticized for. 

Lately, I've seen BC make huge social strides. We've been taking music classes since Buttercup was about 18 months. In the beginning, BC sat on my lap and barely participated. I admit, I fretted and  compared. Children younger than her would actively participate, go and grab instruments. Not my kid. This past week in music class, when I saw her singing at the top of her lungs and laughing out loud during some of the activities my.heart.soared.

Not only does it bring me joy but there's a certain validation I feel. Do you remember the "How do you like them apples?" scene from 'Good Will Hunting?' That's how I feel. 

I've been a mother for almost three years now. It's been an amazing journey but it's also been at times a lonely journey sometimes full of self doubt and anxiety. You see, it turns out, EVERYBODY'S A CRITIC. And when it comes to parenting, holy shit. People are frigging analyzing the crap out of you. And I'm sick of it. 

I'm sick of my relatives and friends WHO DON'T HAVE KIDS being so quick to offer parenting solutions or criticisms. 

I'm sick of friends WITH KIDS that think it's ok to make unsupportive comments or tell you how you should handle your kid. 

But mostly I'm sick of MYSELF for doubting myself and not squashing the critics right from the bat and letting them get into my head. 

As I wait for baby boy to arrive and for Buttercup to lose her status as an only child, I'm feeling nervous. I'm pretty sure this new chapter of parenthood will rock all our worlds and I fully expect a new wave of challenges and obstacles. But I'm hoping that if I've learned anything so far being a mom is that, my kid is all right. We are going to be just fine. 

Bury the lede

So I totally snuck that snippet of news that we are expecting at the end of my last post.

…you know, my last post that was a zillion years ago.

What can I say? Sometimes it's hard to keep up and get to this little space of the internet to document and reflect. I had so many plans for this little diary of mine and hopes of documenting this pregnancy but alas, here we are at 28 weeks   THIRTY THREE WEEKS and I have yet to take one weekly bump shot. 

It makes me a bit sad because I truly think this second time around warrants so much more. Going into this knowing what I know now is such a different experience. There is relief, because no matter what, I will never be that first time mom ever again. Between you and me being a first time mom kinda sucked. All the worrying I did. Not that I won't worry or still don't constantly worry. Worry and doubt run through my veins and I'm not naive enough to think that this second time will be a breeze or assume this second experience will be just like my first experience with Buttercup but there is some comfort knowing that I've gone through this before.

Already, this little baby has been such a different experience from Buttercup in so many ways.

It took us waaay longer to get pregnant this time. And once I got pregnant it just felt different. First of all, I was hungry ALL THE TIME!!!  It seemed out of control. I'd wake up hungry, I'd get up in the middle of the night to eat, just hungry all the time! I definitely don't remember feeling this way with BC. I also feel more tired and just more blah this time around. Other differences? Wild and crazy dreams. Oh good lord. Thank God they finally subsided because those dreams weirded me out!

And maybe it all makes sense it feels different this time around because we are having a boy! A boy! I won't lie. I might have been a little shocked when I saw those blue balloons come out of that box. (Sorry there isn't actually a good photo of said blue balloons coming out of the box)

Sure, I knew it was a 50/50 chance we'd have a boy but I'm just so used to girls! I grew up with sisters. I've got all these cute girl clothes all ready to go! Who will be Buttercup's maid-of-honor? This means one day I might have a daughter-in-law which means I will turn into a monster-in-law despite all my efforts to be a normal human being. But everyone tells me I have no idea how wonderful the mother-son relationship is. And I believe them. I do. Forget about Elsa and Ana.

So I've got seven weeks left-give or take. And I am freaking the heck out. I've been nursing a cold that has lasted 24 days. I feel pretty confident that I never fully recovered from my first cold and just got another cold circa day 21 because my symptoms started back up again. Which sucks but I'm pushing through. This baby will be here before you know it. And I've decided that in addition to getting ready for baby, I must finish several projects around the house. Which hopefully one day I will share here. One day...

But for now I'll leave you with this photo "project"to announce our pregnancy with friends and family.  Naturally, my desire for this photo project drove everyone around me crazy. I knew I wanted to do another play on the "bun in the oven" theme like we did the first time. And so help me, I was going to make it happen even if my husband wanted to kill me.

our first bun in the oven photo

Obsessed!

All I've done this week is text pictures of  kids in adorable costumes to my sisters. No lie. I just can't stand the Halloween cuteness. Every time I check my Instagram feed, there's another sweet, smiling babe in a brilliantly creative costume. 

This year our sweet, smiling babe is MinnIe Mouse. 

While not as creative as some of the ensembles I've seen this year, in my humble opinion, a true classic when it comes to cuteness. 

Halloween's not even over and I'm already looking ahead to next years costumes. In fact, I've already started pinning ideas. You see, next year they'll be TWO kids to dresss up. Double the fun! Sophia and her little brother!! 

The possibilities are endless! Cinderella and a baby pumpkin? Peter Pan and Tinkerbell? I can't wait! 

Blue chair

I present to you the ugliest glider known to man kind.

Sadly, it lives in my house.

It's technically not mine. It's my parents.  But still, it's in MY house. And I hate it. 

When we first moved to Maryland and were living with my parents it was the comfiest place to nurse and rock Buttercup to sleep.  We spent entire naps on that chair. So we decided to bring it along when we moved into our own place. And while there are sweet, loving memories associated with this chair it also has a dark side. 

Rocking BC to sleep in this chair became the bane of my existence. You can read more about our sleep and rocking journey here but to sum it up we went through A LOT to break the association of rocking to sleep. 

Somehow we were able to break the association. (Not that sleep has gotten that much easier for us, but more on that later) But I still held on to  the chair. Despite it being clunky and not going with a single thing in my house, it's really comfortable. And it became part of the bedtime routine to read books siting in that chair. Somewhere along the line, BC began to refer to it simply as the "blue chair."

I really wanted a new glider, kinda felt I DESERVED a new glider all the hours we logged in that thing. I wanted something sleek and modern but realized something pretty and modern plus comfortable  = more than we wanted to spend at the time so it was put on the back burner. 

Besides we had other things to deal with. Like BC's sleep issues. Technically, I shouldn't say BC has sleep issues. She sleeps great, sleeps like a champ really. It's just getting her to fall asleep that's the challenge.  Also, the fact that in order for her to stay asleep and sleep through the night I need to be physically next to her.  Le sigh!

I'm not sure where things went wrong. It's hard to believe at one point that we were able stick her in the crib and walk out of the room and she'd fall asleep on her own. Around here we call it the golden age but the golden age didn't last long. Despite all the set backs and struggles I was all about channeling Frozen and was all "turn away and slam the door" when it came to that blue chair. I refused to go back to rocking BC to sleep. REFUSED.

Until a few weeks ago. Lesson learned, never say never. 

I blame my husband.

 It was nap time and no surprise, I was struggling to get BC to take a nap. I was getting increasingly frustrated and she was getting increasingly crankier.

Daddy-o to the rescue. He swept in and picked her up and sat in the chair. At this point I'm too tired/frustrated to object and literally by the time he got through one "twinkle, twinkle little star" she was out like a light. 

WTF, does the chair have magical powers?!!?? I know I said I wouldn't  go back but the time it takes her to fall asleep went from 45 minutes to an hour to 20 minutes. It's been a game changer. 

And so ladies and gentleman, she's baaaackk.

Potty Diaries

It seems like every mom out there with a two-year-old is in the throes of potty training. And I'm all like, "What's the big rush?" Sure, changing diapers isn't exactly my idea of a good time and yes, I'm tired of spending money on diapers but seriously ya'll, potty training scares the bejesus out of me. 

Even the whole lingo associated with these bodily functions offends me greatly and I can't figure out what words to teach Buttercup. I cannot stand the word pee pee or pee.  Potty is ok, so is poop but what do you call number 1? Will calling it number one and number 2 confuse her when it comes to counting?

I felt like these were things I needed to sort out before embarking on this journey. Except I never really had the chance. I had been talking about going potty and how she's too big for diapers. We've been reading books, watching cartoons and I guess it sunk in. One evening out on a walk, BC declared with great gusto and authority, "no more diapers!" And I felt like I couldn't really pass up on this possible momentum. 

So there I was, like all the other moms of two-year-olds, barricaded inside the house with a bare-bottomed toddler. The first day wasn't fun, that's for sure. I almost broke my back when I ran into the bathroom and slipped on a puddle of "number 1." (I ain't writing out the word pee again, sorry; except wait, I just did) It's gotten better and dare I say, it wasn't that bad and BC seems to have number 1 down. I'll spare you the details of number 2.

But even so, as a mom of a semi potty-trained toddler, I'm here to declare that I don't think being out of diapers is all it's cracked up to be. As if I don't think I nag and repeat myself enough, now I get to add, "do you need to go to the potty?" to my list of "constant things I repeat over and over all day long"

And I swear my kid can go forever without going to the potty if we are at home. The second we are in a situation that involves a foreign toilet she's got to go.right.now. 

I personally avoid public restrooms at all costs. I have visited more public restrooms these past few weeks than I'm really comfortable with. And what is up with their need to touch everything?!  It's like their brains hear you screaming, "don't touch anything!" But they interpret it as, "touch all the things, touch all the things in this public germ fest!!!!"

I know I'll get through this and it's not like I could've kept her in diapers forever but sometimes diapers don't look so bad.

Hostess with the Mostess

Have you heard? WE ARE GETTING MARRIED!!!! Ok, correction. It's not really MY wedding but my sister is getting hitched which is almost the same thing.

A few weeks ago we threw Katalina her bridal shower. In my house. Like I hosted. And this is what I learned--hostess with the mostess.... I AM NOT.  The party started at 2 o'clock and the first guest rang the doorbell (on time) and I was in my pajamas. It was pretty shameful. But I managed to recover and the party was a success despite the rocky start and I'm pretty darn proud.  After weeks of pinning ideas from Pinterest and laboring over such fine details like what cupcake toppers to use we pulled it off. "We" as in my entire family because it takes a village, literally, especially when I decide that I want to craft and DIY decorations when I've never even held a glue gun in my hand before planning this party.

Katalina will be a May bride, as in, holy cow the wedding is less two weekends away!  So our theme was "April Showers bring May Brides."

And it wouldn't be a party without some kind of photo booth set up. Which after a lot of trial and tribulation we were able to pull off! It was probably 15 minutes before the party was about to start when Chris (my other sister) and I were this close to just nixing the idea. But it turned out great and was a big hit.

 Here a few detail shots.

The adorable "I do" cake toppers were from this etsy shop.

And this adorable print came from the lovely Jessica at it's Just my Type

I didn't get a good picture of it framed but it was a sweet touch, especially since Kathy and Jessica are friends and used to work together. 

Now any ideas what I can do with 15 strings of colorful rain drops?  Because I cannot bring myself to throw them away. Not after everyone in my family spent nights cutting out rain drops and I burned myself a zillion times using that damn hot glue gun.

Mama and the Baby

I wish I was one of those blogger moms that did monthly updates on their kids--documenting every milestone and tooth. Heck, forget the whole blogging factor, I wish I had at least kept up with a baby album for the first year. The other day, I was trying to remember when Buttercup started walking and I had to dig through all my old I-phone videos to find the video of her taking her first baby steps. Thank God for digital time stamps.

Point is, everything she does is amazing and a bit mind blowing. Call it "first-time-mom" syndrome or "can-you-tell-she's-the-only-child" disease but it's true.  I wish I had done a better job of documenting all the details but sometimes Buttercup and I share a moment and it just tickles my fancy and as corny as it sounds, I'm humbled that I get to be her mom and all I can do is tell my heart to hold on to this moment for it will be gone all too soon.

Tonight I had one of those moments.

It was bedtime and I told myself I had to be better about reading to her at night and giving her a chance to really wind down  before going to sleep. I asked BC to pick out what book she wanted me to read. She pulled out "Are You My Mother?" It's not so easy to get through books these days. Every page BC asks "what's that, what's that?" And she points out the most random things from the pictures.

If you aren't familiar with the book, a baby bird goes in search for his mother. He meets a bunch of animals along the way and asks each of them if they are his mother. At the end he is reunited with his mom.

As I read the last line in the book, Buttercup pointed to the picture and repeated, "baby bird and momma bird" then she looked at me and said, "momma and the baby" and pointed to herself. The way she made the connection that just like the momma bird and baby bird were a pair, we were too just melted my heart and pulled at my heart strings. Her face was priceless. It's like she was genuinely happy at that moment to be with me and I wanted to remember it forever. So what did I do? Whipped out my I-phone and took a baby and momma selfie, of course! And then blogged about it.

This moment to be treasured when BC is 15 and can't stand me!



 

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! :)