More than Just Spit-Up and Poopy Diapers

Let's face it, motherhood is not always a piece of cake; and anyone who says otherwise is a complete loon.

I once heard Dorothy Zbornak say on an episode of the "Golden Girls" that, if motherhood were easy, fathers would do it. OK, so maybe Dorothy exaggerated a little, but you get the idea. Motherhood really is hard.

Learning these truths comes by pure immersion. After you deliver your baby, the nurses take care of it in every way except when it comes to feeding. And then once your two days are up, they let you waltz right out the door (well, they let you roll out in a wheelchair) with a tiny, helpless creature. You then take your baby home, and your new lives as Mommy and Daddy begin. One moment, those wonderful nurses are taking such good care of you and your little one; the next, they're feeding you to the wolves.

Those first few nights (and weeks, and well, OK, those first couple of months) are tough. In my case, I was unaware how low my milk supply was at first, and so my poor little baby was practically starving. Needless to say, he cried incessantly those first few nights at home; so much, that King and I felt we had no other choice but to call my mom in the middle of the night so she could try her hand at consoling him. I was incredibly sore and tired, so I tried to nap whenever I could grab a chance. Over time, my nursing issues continued to worsen (which I will cover in another blog post in the near future) and so things around our house didn't settle down until only recently.

Since motherhood can throw lots of curve balls your way, you learn to adjust accordingly. You learn what works and what doesn't. You learn your baby; he learns you. You learn how to do things one-handed, and you learn how to get through the day without your husband there for support. You learn how to time visits, and how to pack a diaper bag. One thing that I have learned very quickly in the short 5 months in which I've been a mom, is that along with spit-up and poopy diapers, motherhood can also present you with a dump-truck load full of guilt. Thoughts of "Am I a bad mother because I ______?" will run through your mind at least a dozen times a day, if not more. I'm proud to say that I am now coming into my own as a new mom. No, I'm not perfect. In fact, that's the whole point of this post. I'm nowhere near perfect when it comes to being a mom, and I'm learning to live with my shortcomings. There are times when I still feel guilty about my mothering decisions; and then there are other times when I shrug my shoulders and move on. Motherhood is about striving to be the best mom you can possibly be, but also realizing that you'll never hit that mark. For me, a sign of good mothering is learning to be comfortable with your best effort.

Last night, I was lying awake in bed after indulging in a little caffeine binge, and I kept thinking about myself as a mother. I had just read an article about Kelly Ripa in an issue of "Good Housekeeping," where she was asked a question about one of her guilty pleasures. She answered the question, but honestly admitted that her "guilty" pleasure really didn't make her feel all that guilty. Inspired by her candidness, I've come up with two lists for myself as a mother: My Guilty Pleasures List and My Not-So-Guilty Pleasures List. This is where the "learning to be comfortable with your best effort" comes into play, and where I'm brutally honest about my own mothering.

My Guilty Pleasures

--I watch a small amount of TV during the day. I know the research about babies and their exposure to television, but I can't help myself. I mainly use it as a substitute for adult interaction. I'm currently watching "The Office" on Netflix. It's background noise that just happens to be ridiculously hilarious!

--I still eat awful-for-you Bethel Dipper cheeseburgers even though I'm not pregnant anymore.

--I sleep in because Ian sleeps in. Most days, we don't get up until at least after 10:00 a.m.

--I have a "Baby on Board" decal on the back windshield of my car. I have become that mom.

--I sometimes find myself feeling relieved that I was unable to breastfeed. It's so nice for others to help out with his feedings, plus it's a joy for me to wear regular bras, tops, camisoles, and dresses again. I absolutely hate these feelings because I desperately wanted to breastfeed and tried every possible measure for 3 months before finally weaning him.

--Since having Ian, I have bought way too many Nook books.

--I kind of enjoy the fact that Ian needs to be rocked and cuddled for his naps. I know he should probably learn to fall asleep on his own (he does this perfectly at night), and I often feel like I should be using that opportunity to get more things done around the house. But sitting with him gives me the chance to relax; plus, it allows me to read all those books I buy for my Nook.

--I still spend way too much time on Facebook, even though most of what I see and read gets on my nerves.

--I let Ian watch me some on the computer and the Nook. It's probably not the best thing for his little eyes, but he's just so captivated by it.

--After Ian was born, I relinquished my duties as cook and gave the job to King, although he usually ends up bringing something home or we eat with family. Most days, neither of us feel like cooking. I feel extremely guilty about this, knowing that Ian will be eating off our plates soon. I don't want the majority of his diet coming from fast food.(But I thoroughly enjoy not cooking.)

--I enjoy the convenience of disposable diapers, even though I know how much better cloth is for my baby's bottom. This is on my things-to-try list.

--I keep a bowl of candy next to my recliner. I've pretty much gotten control of myself, but making it through Halloween, Christmas, and recently Valentine's Day, has been tough.


Now, for my Not-So-Guilty List. These are things that I have struggled with, but have generally stopped giving myself a guilt trip over. I accept these things for what they are, and just let them be.


My Not-So-Guilty Pleasures

--Usually once a week, after my husband gets home from work, I go to Wal-Mart for some grocery shopping. This is part of my "me" time, and I don't rush the trip. I savor the time by myself, and spend more time than I probably should looking at the cosmetics and hair products.

--I let Ian stay in the nursery for 2 hours during church on Sunday mornings. It gives King and me the opportunity to attend our Sunday School class and worship service. Plus, it gives Ian the opportunity to experience new faces.

--I stay up late at night after King and Ian go to sleep so I can veg out. I lay in bed while reading, writing in my new one-sentence journal, or browsing online.

--I love hearing compliments on how Ian is such a sweet, contented baby. It makes me so proud.

--Having a baby now gives me an excuse to read kids' books.

--I want to buy my 5 month-old-son beaucoup books. Toys? Not so much. Just books.

--Sunday mornings are usually the only time I have to really fix myself up and dress nicely. I let King feed, dress, and get Ian's things ready so I can "primp." Sometimes, a girl just needs to primp.

--Even though it feels good to "primp" sometimes, I still have the "new mom" excuse for looking shabby.

--I pestered my husband about buying a subscription to our local newspaper even though he opposed paying the $36 for it. I don't get out much, but I still want to know what's going on!

--I have dressed my son in an outfit that had the teeniest bit of camo on it. And he made it look darn good.

So yes, motherhood is hard. But I feel like I'm now learning that I don't have to make it any harder than it already is. Sometimes, you just have to let things go for the sake of your own sanity, and raise your baby the best way you know how, dealing with the spit-up, poopy diapers, guilt, and all.

During My 5-Month Hiatus...

As you might have guessed from my previous blog posts, I had my baby. Almost 5 months ago. And yes, I'm just now getting around to blogging about it. As it turns out, motherhood is hard and kind of time-consuming. But incredibly fulfulling, nonetheless.

Unfortunately, my desire to have my baby naturally was just not meant to be. Somewhere around my 37th week, my baby decided to flip himself out of the head-down position and turn breech. My obstetrician (who was wonderful, by the way) advised against trying to turn the baby, since I was a first-time mom with my abdominal muscles still good and strong. He had never been successful at turning a first time mom's breech baby, so he wasn't hopeful in my case either. King and I trusted him wholeheartedly, and decided that the safest thing for our baby, as well as for myself, was to deliver via c-section.

Throughout my entire pregnancy, having a c-section had not been an option. I wanted to experience childbirth as millions of women had experienced it through the ages. All natural. No painkillers. No epidurals. No surgical interventions. And when the topic of c-sections came up into conversation or was covered in our childbirth classes, I admit, I tuned out. It was NOT going to happen to me. But, of course, things don't always go the way we plan for them to go. My cousin, who had had 3 c-sections of her own, gave me a piece of advice for handling the disappointment: when it comes to kids, you sometimes have to just go with the flow. We don't always get to choose our birth stories, and that's ok, just as long as Mom and Baby make it through alive and well. This is what I kept telling myself.

Even so, I was still disappointed. My husband King, although very sympathetic and understanding, didn't seem to grasp the situation entirely. As a man, I think it was kind of hard for him to see why it was so important for me to deliver naturally. Don't get me wrong, King was WONDERFUL throughout the entire experience--the pregnancy and delivery, alike; however, I believe that his sympathy and understanding could only go so far. He couldn't see inside my head, just like I can't see inside his. No matter how open we are with one another (and believe me, we're very candid with one another about our emotions), there are just some feelings that we can't fully experience alongside each other.

For me, experiencing childbirth meant being inducted into a sacred community of women. It signified a rite of passage into womanhood, so to speak. Now I realize that delivering my baby by c-section doesn't make me any less of a woman or mother, nor does it make my baby any less special. But to be honest, every once in a while, I still find myself feeling gypped that I couldn't fully experience the thrill of going into labor, rushing to the hospital with my husband bags in tow, feeling the contractions push my dear baby out through my body and his skin against mine during kangaroo care. For the most part, I've gotten over these kinds of feelings and have embraced my birth story. No, it didn't happen quite the way I originally wanted it to. But my sweet, little baby made it into this world just as he would have had I delivered naturally. No matter which way he came, all that really matters, is that he came.







Ian King Simpson arrived into the world at 7:58 a.m. on Friday, September 16th, 2011 at the Medical Center in Bowling Green, Kentucky. He was 8 pounds, 3/4 ounces and 20 1/2 inches long. He had blonde hair that mostly covered the back of his head, and had "storkbite" birthmarks on his forehead and left eyelid, beneath his nose, and on the back of his neck. Our little Ian is now almost 5 months old, and he is the happiest, most contented baby you'll ever meet. We just love our little Snoozy with all our hearts!

This Just In...A Pregnancy Update

And again I am behind in my blogging. But cut me a little slack here, I've been a little busy these past few weeks--between weekly doctors visits, shopping for Ian, preparing his room, washing clothes, and cleaning my house--there's only so many hours in the day. And pregnant women tend to move a little slower than the general populace.

So here you go. Here are some photos to catch you up to speed on the progress of my pregnancy.

Week 34.




Week 32.





Week 31.



And even so, I'm still behind in updating my photos. I'm two days away from being 39 weeks pregnant, and I only have photos posted up through my 34th week. I'll try to post some more...sometime, although I don't know when. As it turns out, little Ian is in the breech position, so I'm scheduled for a c-section this Friday, which is only 3 days away. Oh my! I'm running out of time! But we can't wait for our sweet little boy to arrive. Getting a little nervous, but still excited about all the changes coming our way! We can't wait for the journey of parenthood to begin.

That's all for today!

Couch Therapy

Have you ever just had one-of-those-days?

Well, that's what today was for me--up until about two seconds ago when I just so happened to check my Facebook inbox. There in my messages was a sweet note from my husband King, telling me that he was sorry that I'd been so frustrated today and that he hoped my day got better. Just when I was feeling at my crummiest, my valiant Galahad comes rushing in on his white horse and makes me feel all tingly and warm inside. Ahhh...much better.

I get frazzled easily--very easily. I have two basic reactions when it comes to stress. One, I work even harder at what I'm trying to accomplish and find myself taking charge in a weird, Superwoman kind of way. Or two, I completely lose my cool, cry until I have a splitting headache, and/or throw a tantrum (which may actually involve throwing real objects sometimes). Wow, I'm not sure if I've ever really admitted that (or let anyone see that part of me) to anyone else besides King. What you must think of me now. Gee, is this lady nuts? Does she suffer from depression? Is she always that violent?

Of course not. I'm simply a woman who has a tendency to let the small things get the best of her. I don't have anger issues. I don't have a bad temper. Sometimes, I just rely too much on myself to get through the rough patches.

Today was definitely one-of-those-days. One of those so called "rough patches." Here I am, almost 35 weeks pregnant and in panic mode over my "nest." My baby boy's room isn't ready yet, we have almost 2 rooms in our house that are completely filled with junk, and I still don't have my new dishwasher hooked up and ready to go (thus I have a sink full of dishes, and we all know how I feel about doing dishes). I take a look around me and don't even know where to begin. Do I just start pitching stuff in the trash? Do I wash dishes first (uggghhh!) Do I wash baby clothes even though I have no furniture to put them in yet (we're waiting on my Dad to refinish a couple pieces for us)? Gee, where to start? All I really want to do is sit on the couch and cry. But for some reason, as I'm sitting here on the couch writing all these feelings down, not one single tear comes to my eyes.

I guess King really did save the day! He reassured me by letting me know that he loves me, and that he's here for me. He even told me that he'd help do whatever he could when he gets off work tonight. What a sweet, thoughtful man! He's such a wonderful husband, and he's going to be a knock-it-out-of-park kind of Dad. I'm so blessed to have him in my life. The one and only thing that could make this couch therapy session better was if he was here with me. Sometimes, you need your husband to fix things. Sometimes, you need him to listen. And then there are times when all you need are his shoulders--simply to cry on.

A Quick Look at My 30th Week

In my last post, I included a photo of me at 26 weeks pregnant. Since that was a month ago, I thought I'd give you a more recent photo of me at 30 weeks pregnant.




Ironically enough, I've been telling my husband how small I think I look. That is, until I saw these pictures that he took of me. I'm not sure if it's the angle from which they were taken, or if I really am that big--but boy--am I getting big or what? I guess I should really say that Ian is the one who's getting big!

The funny thing is that I don't feel that big. If I wasn't so out of shape from skipping out on my work-out routines, then I'd still feel able to run, jump, and do Zumba like I did before getting pregnant. I'm still able to get down in the floor and get back up. I feel like I'm the same woman that I was back a few months ago--the only difference is that I'll be having a baby in a few weeks. Yeah, I get a little more tired, and I have a few more backaches than normal but still--I feel great! I just can't get over how much these photos make me look anything but great. I'm definitely not trying to throw myself a pity party here or looking for some pity--that's just not my style. I suppose I'm merely making an observation on how skewed our perceptions can be of ourselves. I sure am glad I've been taking photos throughout this pregnancy! Now I have the proof that I'm not as tiny as I thought :)

Gee, I'm Awful At Posting Pregnancy Updates

So ten weeks have come and gone without filling you all in on the happenings of my pregnancy. That's a long time. There goes one fourth of my pregnancy that you have absolutely no documentation of. Sorry. I'm terrible at blogging (as if you hadn't already figured that one out on your own).

Where did I leave off? Ah yes, King and I were about to find out the gender of our sweet, little, precious baby. I'm excited to announce that we are having a little boy (not to mention that we'll be having this little boy in less than 10 weeks). When the ultrasound technician asked if we wanted to know the gender, I wanted her to be as sure as sure can be before telling us. When I asked if she was sure, she said, "Oh yeah. I'm sure. It's a boy." I guess boys make their presence known a little more so than little girls.

King was elated. I could tell the moment that the word "boy" escaped from the lips of our technician that he was one proud papa. I think it's inherent in all males to want a son on the first go-round. And that's fine by me. I'm glad King can pass on those charming good looks to our baby boy. All along, I knew it was going to be a boy but for some reason, I kept holding on to the idea that our baby could be a littel girl too. Just like it's natural for men to want sons, I also think it's natural for women to want daughters. It's just what we know. After months of waiting we finally knew that a little BOY was on his way. And we couldn't be any more thrilled.

Unfortunately, we didn't have a boy's name picked out for our little one. We had a girl's name picked out from day one, but that special moniker for that sweet baby boy was nowhere to be found. One day I happened upon a name that I thought I might like and saved it for King when he came home from work that evening. He walked in the door and I said, "I think I have a name, but I don't think you'll like it." He didn't say "NO!" immediately but I just knew that it was going to get thrown out just like all the other names we had discussed. Instead, we compromised and said that we'd both think about it and practice using it for a while...just to see how we liked it. After a couple of weeks, I remember driving home one evening and admitting to King that I had already started attributing that name to our little boy--and I couldn't help it. In my mind, that was HIS name even though we hadn't set anything in stone yet. Later on (I can't remember if it was later than night or another time), we were laying in bed and King said "Let's do it. Let's give our son the name." What a sweet moment. We finally had a name picked out for our baby boy, and I'll never forget the way his Daddy's face lit up when he said "Let's do it." As I sit here thinking about that moment, I can't help but almost cry. It really was a very tender moment--perhaps one of my very favorite memories concerning this pregnancy.

So the name? Ian King Simpson. Finally giving our son a name has made everything seem that much more real, that it's not just some creature growing inside me, but a little person with a name, an identity, a personality. And one day, Ian King will be a little boy sitting on the floor on his first day of kindergarten. And then one day, Ian King will be a teenage boy going to his prom and high school graduation. And then one day, Ian King will be a man with his own family--hopefully giving his Mom and Dad lots and lots of beautiful grandbabies.

I think I've given enough updates for one day. Momma's getting a little too emotional:)

Growing Mama (and Growing Baby, too!)

I'm now at 20 weeks---HALFWAY THERE! Oh my goodness. I will be having a baby in just a few short months. This pregnancy is flying by way too fast. But I'm loving every minute of it. It's been glorious. No morning sickness. No aches or pains. Nothing really to complain about. I only hope that my last few months are worry free, and that my labor and delivery go smoothly.

King and I have just started childbirth classes at the hospital where I'll be delivering. We've just been to one class, but we're already feeling at ease about some of the concerns and/or questions that we've had (i.e. cord blood banking, hospital rules and regulations, post delivery care, etc.) We even started practicing our breathing and relaxation classes. And let me tell ya, I was definitely relaxed--almost to the point of falling asleep. Let's hope that I can find that happy, relaxed place when the baby starts to come!

Oh, and in other big pregnancy news....we have another ultrasound on Monday. I can't believe it's already time to find out the gender of our sweet little baby. I think King is more ready to find out than I am. For some reason, I'm nervous. But excited all at the same time!



Here are some new pregnancy photos. First two are at 18 weeks (I believe) and last three are at 20 weeks.