Dear New Mama

Dear New Mama,

Oh, where to start?  You are entering a brave new world, whether you feel brave or not.  Chances are, you don't.  You are probably nervous, scared, queasy, hungry, tired, terrified, and self-concious.  At least some part of you might be thrilled and excited, but you're also hormonal and trying to figure out if this pregnancy thing is actually real.  Sure, you have had at least one sonogram where you got to see and hear that precious little heartbeat, but that lasted all of 30 seconds.  You don't feel any different yet, there are no little fluttery kicks in your tummy and there is barely a bump to be seen (we called this the "too many burritos" tummy, possibly my least favorite stage of pregnancy).

Your job as mama has already begun.  You are not a mama-to-be, you are a MAMA.  You and your body are already doing a masterful job taking care of that little jellybean in your womb.  And I'm going to tell you what a lot of people might forget to tell in you in all the excitement:

You are doing wonderfully.

You were chosen to be the mother of this special little being, and no one else on earth could possible do for this child what you are doing now and what you will do in the future.  You are not perfect (none of us are!), and you will not always have the answer or be certain of what to do.  You are, however, the perfect vehicle for this child now, and you will be its perfect mother when he or she is born.  If you remember nothing else from the hoards of advice you will receive from the moment you announce your pregnancy, remember this: You're doing great.

Let that be your mantra for the next few months, because when your baby is born you will need that ingrained in your heart and mind.  You are about to stumble through new parenthood, which is a little like running a marathon when all you've ever done is watch the Olympics.  There will be a lot of smiles, but there will also be mistakes, guilt, panic, and moments of pure brainlessness where you absolutely do not know what to do.

It's okay.  You're still doing great.

You will buy the wrong sippy cup.  You will forget to put diapers in the diaper bag.  You will lose pacifiers. You will cry when he gets his first shot.  You will gag at spit up and poopy diapers.  Bath time will have its own category of WHAT THE HELL?! and just wait until he poops IN the bath.

It's okay.  You're in good company.  And you're still doing great.

You will know how great you're doing the first time your baby smiles.  The first time he giggles.  The first time he reaches for you, specifically, from someone else's arms.  The first time he calls you mama.  The first time you comfort him.  Every time you comfort him.

And every once in awhile you may think to yourself, "Hey, I'm not doing so bad.  I haven't royally screwed him up yet...I think...."

Just call me up and I'll remind you that, hey-

You're doing great.

Year One, Motherhood and Me

Most of my friends and family will probably tell you that they always knew I would be a mother.  I earned the nickname "Mama Nicole" in 4th grade because A) I was so bossy and B) I tried to take care of everyone, including and especially the trouble kids.  But mostly because I was bossy and liked everyone following the rules.

For a long time I thought I didn't want to have kids.  Kids did not fit very well into my Broadway dreams.  Also, to have kids you generally have to have a significant other (well, not always, but in my vision of kids I did), and that search wasn't going so well.  To top it all off, I wasn't sure I could really take care of myself, much less a kid.

Basically, kids weren't that glamorous and I wanted some serious glam in my future.

I was right about one thing.

Kids are not that glamorous.

You go into the hospital 50 pounds heavier than you were nine months ago and you leave the hospital with this tiny bundle that comes with no instruction manual and no return policy.  And, by the way, you're still almost 50 pounds heavier than you were nine months ago.  You wonder why the hell they're letting you leave the hospital without first checking that you at least know how to change a diaper or bathe the wriggly bundle.  You wonder why they don't quiz you to make sure that you know what every little sigh and cry and sound mean.  You wonder why you had to score near perfect on your SATs to get into the college of your choice but there is absolutely no requirement for taking this baby home other than at one time you knew how to have sex.

And they fail to warn you that sex as you knew it will change dramatically too.

You will get home and realize that babies are poopy and hungry and poopy and sleepy and poopy...and the words "poopy" "poop" "turd" and when it's really messy "shit" will enter your vocabulary way more than is acceptable in normal, or at least non-baby society.  You will try to breast feed because that's what's best for the baby...but they don't tell you that maybe you won't be able to for whatever reason and you will struggle with overwhelming guilt for weeks before realizing that it doesn't matter where your baby's food is coming from as long as you are nourishing him.

And suddenly you will really be a mother.

As hard as the first year has been-and I've had my moments, believe me-I know that my friends and family were right.  I was born to be a mom.  I'm not claiming to be a perfect mother, but I am the perfect mother for Aidan.  Life as Blake and I know it has changed dramatically.  Gone are the Saturday morning sleep-ins and the spontaneous casino trips.  I'm not gonna lie-I MISS THOSE THINGS.  And no, it's not always worth it.  At least in the short run.  Like when your kid projectile vomits all over you in the parking lot of a Chick-fil-A after two of the biggest meals of his life.  But when he curls up to sleep on your chest gripping your little finger, his lips curled in a little smile as he dreams, you will hear music swelling in your head as though you were in your own movie montage and all thoughts of vomit will (almost) be erased.

So, in short, this last year has been the hardest and best year of my life.  I wish I had recorded more of the memories and thoughts I had as we went along, because it truly was happily that we went.  This year I won't let that happen.  After all, who doesn't love a good vomit story?

Stay tuned.  I may even talk about poop.

Aidan's Arrival, Part 2

I am not one of those moms who planned every moment of their baby's arrival.  I didn't read "What to Expect When You're Expecting", I didn't write a birth plan, I didn't go to Lamaze class, and I didn't even watch a video on labor and delivery.  My entire birthing philosophy was, basically:, if cave people, teenagers, and women who end up on "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" can do this, so can I.  I've always found that experience is the best teacher anyway.

I did, however, have some expectations.  Or maybe they were just assumptions.  I figured I would go into labor, do the heavy breathing thing, a nurse would eventually tell me to push, I would grunt and pray for hormones and drugs to block out the blinding pain, and then there would be a baby.  There are a lot of details missing from this scenario, I know, but come on.  That's generally how it goes, right?!

Wrong.

All those assumptions went flying out the window as the doctors wheeled me into an operating room-ALONE-for my not-emergency-c-section.  Blake had to stay out of the room while they prepped.  I was paralyzed from the neck down thanks to the drugs, and my brain was pretty addled from the whole day.  That didn't stop me from being slightly terrified as they transferred me onto the surgery table.  All I could see was a very white room with very sterile stainless steel instruments everywhere.  Somewhere to my right was a woman counting-Blake told me later she was counting the instruments they were using.  You know, so none of them ended up somewhere they shouldn't, like-oh, say IN MY UTERUS.  My overriding thought was, "Oh my God, I'm in an episode of The X-Files.  This looks just like an alien autopsy room.  OMG I HOPE THEY DON'T THINK I'M AN ALIEN!!!"  It didn't help that when they strap you down you are on a very small table in the shape of a cross.  And when I say they strap you down, I'm not kidding.  And while the strapping in, counting, and sterilizing is going on, the nurses were having a casual conversation about the next Twilight movie and my anesthesiologist was playing Angry Birds on his iPhone.

So apparently the arrival of a new life on this planet isn't as momentous for some of us as it is for others.

When Blake was finally allowed in, I calmed a bit, although the meds were starting to really kick in and the room was spinning in that I'm-gonna-hurl-any-moment kind of way.  The doctor asked, "Can you feel this?"  My response was, "Um...."  He said, "Good answer" and suddenly everyone was rushing towards me.  I had my eyes closed trying to stop the room from spinning, and all I could hear was the anesthesiologist saying, "Oh.  My.  God."  And the doctor saying, "I thought he'd be about 9 pounds but I'll bet he's bigger than that!"  And I opened my eyes long enough to say to Blake, "Please get pictures!!!  I'm gonna close my eyes for awhile..."  And then I threw up.

There was a lot of cleaning up, stitching up, and sadly some more throwing up, but within moments of weighing my 10 pound 3 ounce pride and joy, Aidan was in my arms.  We were quickly moved to recovery, where Blake ended up taking the baby because my blood pressure was super low and I couldn't get rid of the shivers.  It was almost an hour before someone thought to say, Hey-isn't the family waiting?!  Our poor families were in the waiting room, waiting to find out if Aidan and I were okay.  Blake went down and gave them the good news, and soon after I was well enough to go to our room.

My recovery was a nightmare-I was sick all night from the drugs, I couldn't move on my own for 2 days, I couldn't even pick up Aidan on my own while the scar from the c-section healed.  It took about 2 weeks for the burning to subside enough to stop calling it "pain".  C-sections may be common these days, but it is still a pretty major surgery.  I still occasionally get pains in the region of my scar, although I think it's because I'm getting more feeling back in that area.  Oh yeah, my lower abdomen went numb after the surgery from having the nerves cut through.  Just another one of those lovely side effects of surgery.

In the end, though, what I mostly remember is this:

And that is how, on March 19, 2012, Aidan Patrick Miller entered this world.  The end.

Which is really just the beginning of everything else...

Aidan's Arrival, Part 1

I'll admit up front, I don't remember a lot of the details of Aidan's arrival.  I had an epidural and eventually a C-section, so I was pretty drugged up.  Not to mention the several hours of labor pain that I went through before the epidural.  And the really long recovery period from the C-section. You get the picture.  So a lot of what I remember comes back in waves, and some of it is just what other people have told me since.  But I digress.

My third trimester was pretty uneventful.  I was getting pretty big, but I felt great so I didn't think much of it.  I was happy...until about week 32 and then I was ready to have that baby already.  So fast forward to week 40 and the doctor is telling me that I'm about 20% effaced (meaning the plug that's holding the kid in has only 20% disintegrated, which means I'm nowhere near going into labor)...well, you can imagine my slight disappointment.

Going into week 41 the doc scheduled an inducement date.  For some reason this scared me-I had no good reason to be against an inducement, I have no problem with drugs and pregnancy (I was ALL FOR the epidural), but something in me just did not want to have the Pitocin (which is what they use to start labor).  Fortunately, the night before my last doc appointment, I went into labor.

Everyone told me that when I went into labor, I would know.  Including my doctor.  "Trust me," he said, "you'll KNOW."  So for the last 8 weeks of my pregnancy I was walking around feeling every twinge in my abdomen going, "Wait, was that it?  Am I in labor?!"  Trust me.  When you go into labor, YOU KNOW.

Mr. Wonderful packed our bags into the car and off we went to the OB/GYN, who confirmed that I was in the very early stages of labor (again, NOT WHAT I WANT TO HEAR) and that unfortunately Labor & Delivery was all booked up at the moment, but if I came back in about 2 hours they would have a room ready for me.  What does a pregnant mama with no L&D room do with 2 hours to kill?  Go to Target, obviously.  Blake and I trotted off to the Target across the street and roamed the aisles while I stopped every 10 feet to breathe through a contraction.

After 90 minutes of waddling through DVDs, home decor, and baby clothes, we headed back to the hospital where we were immediately sent to our room.  I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the labor room was HUGE, with a nice big bathroom, seating, a tv, and huge windows overlooking all of Grapevine (I delivered at Grapevine Baylor).  Once the epidural kicked in (God bless modern medicine) things were pretty uneventful, and there was a whole lot of hurry up and wait.  It was evident early on that this baby was going to take after his dramatic mama-first he kept kicking the monitor off my belly, then his heart rate dropped to next to nothing when they gave me Pitocin to help things along (I knew I didn't want that drug!).  As the afternoon wore on, a huge storm rolled in.  We had a great view thanks to those giant windows...and the view was even more impressive when all the electricity (including the hospital's) went out over the entire city.  Twice.

Blake spent most of the day amusing himself by watching the monitor showing my contractions and saying, "That was a REALLY BIG ONE!  And you felt NOTHING?!  WOW!"  Lucky for him I did, actually, feel nothing.  Early in the evening he was showing a couple of family members (my L&D room was party central) where Aidan's heartbeat was and what my contractions were doing when he suddenly said, "Uh oh, that doesn't look good."  Aidan's heartbeat had dropped dramatically again, and this time the nurse actually looked concerned.  I knew things were serious when the doctor came in, nicely but firmly broke up the party, and said to me, "I think it's time we get this baby out of there.  We're going to do a C-section and IT'S NOT AN EMERGENCY."

Which immediately made me think, "This is an emergency."

Within minutes I was being introduced to a new anesthesiologist, a new nurse, and a host of people I can't remember.  Blake was changed into scrubs and a new medication was pumped into my spine and my bed was wheeled down the hall to an operating room.  And a whole new adventure started.

Our New Normal

You'll forgive me for failing to write up any of our little adventures for the last...well, almost year.  The arrival of Aidan has thrown our world into a whirlwind of diaper changes, bottle feedings, grandparent visits, and general happy chaos.  It's only taken six months for us to get into somewhat of a routine, and I'm now finding myself with a few free spare moments...at least until the next phase of whatever.

It's not that I'm at a loss for things to write about.  There's Aidan's birth, for starters.  My 10 pound bowling ball took after his mama and made a dramatic entrance...which you will be able to read about soon.  Then there's motherhood itself...all it's cracked up to be and then some.  There's my marriage, my in-laws, and my crazy awesome supportive parents who just happen to live on what I lovingly refer to as the funny farm.  My life is a plethora of stories just waiting to be told.

And here it is, a Thursday night at 9:00 and I have a glass of wine in hand, the baby in bed, and the dog sleeping on the couch (my wonderful husband is at work, which is a story in itself...).  And I have some free time.  So let's get started...

The Family That Snores Together

I am a very light sleeper, and one of the things I was grateful for when Blake and I first got together was that he didn't snore.  Not only do I wake easily, I happen to find snoring one of the top 5 most annoying sounds ever (right up there with alarm clocks and nails on a chalkboard).

Fast forward 3 years, and like all good relationships ours has gone through many changes.  For instance, snoring.  It began as the occasional snore when Mr. Perfect was congested from allergies, and a little rub on his arm or back was all it took to stop the snore in its tracks.  Now it's a nightly occurance, usually starting right about the time I turn off my Kindle to fall asleep.  Blake (who falls asleep before I do) has some kind of internal alarm that lets him know, "Hey!  She's putting that thing away!  Quick, start snoring NOW!"  The arm/back trick still works...for about 5 seconds.  The moment I turn over and get comfy the snoring starts again.  Luckily Blake also has this wonderful trait of being able to fall back asleep immediately (Baby Aidan, are you listening?!), so when I wake him up and ask him to turn over, he usually falls back asleep in the middle of his apology.

Then along came Callie.

You would not believe the snoring power encapsulated in this little furry bundle.  There have been nights where I actually woke up Blake, mistaking her snores for his!  And it doesn't stop at snoring.  She barks, whines, and growls in her dreams, sometimes in between snores so it sounds something like this:  "rrrrrRUFF!  Zzzzzzzzsnore.  rrrrrrRUFF!  Zzzzzzzsnore.  whinewhinewhinewhinewhineSNORE!"  This comical midnight show usually ends with Callie waking herself up and looking at us like, "Who was making all that noise?  You woke me up!"

Up to now I have remained the silent sleeper, patiently sacrificing my sleep as long as possible so my hard working husband and wee baby pup can get their much needed zzz's.  (Insert Blake rolling eyes). Then there was the third trimester.  A few nights ago I was falling gently asleep when a loud "snorrrrrrre" jerked me out of my relaxed state.  I opened my eyes and rolled over to check on my husband and puppy...and found myself alone in the bedroom.  Must have been a dream, I thought rolling back over.  Until it happened again...and this time I felt the rumble in the back of my throat and nose.  Great.  I now officially have the pregnancy snores.

So if you hear a slightly out of tune trio at about 3 in the morning, the gentle soprano "rrrrrrrr" with the robust tenor "RRRRRR" and the occasional "rrrrrrRUFF!", don't worry.  It's just our nightly family ritual, helping to bring us closer together than ever, uniting us in our mutual lack of sleep.  



The Evolution of Aidan

Today I start the third trimester-only 12 weeks until our little man arrives!!  That's more or less the blink of an eye.  Here's a basic rundown of questions and answers that I think most of you will have in mind:

Q. Are you ready?
A. Are you kidding?
Q. What I mean is, is the nursery ready?
A. By ready, do you mean painted and furnished?  Because, no.
Q. Do you have colors picked out?
A. YES!  Finally, one I know the answer to.
Q. What are you colors?
A. Khaki and Red
Q. No blue?
A. No, got a problem with that?
Q. What is your theme?
A. I don't do themes.  There will be a rock 'n' roll motif (which my husband informs me is just a fancier word for theme), but no cutesy animals, dinosaurs, or Disney themed characters.  I have a thing against cutesy.
Q. Hmmm, and how are you handling those hormonal fluctuations?
A. Just FINE, thank you.

I find the question "Are you ready?" so humorous, because really-is anyone ever really ready?  In my humble opinion, you could have a college degree in child rearing and STILL not be ready.  Not to say that Blake and I haven't done our share of homework, we just haven't gone "What To Expect When You're Expecting" crazy.  As my wise husband says, "Cavemen and teenagers have had babies for centuries, and the human race is still around.  I'm pretty sure we'll be ok."  Check back in 12 weeks and see if that philosophy is still holding.

The real question is, is my body ready?  A week ago I would have answered with great certainty, "YES!"  Then Blake and I watched a special on TV about Life Before Birth: From Conception to Birth.  It began with a description of conception, showing us how nearly impossible it is for a sperm to reach an egg and fertilize.  We already knew we were lucky and blessed beyond belief, but now it felt like we won the Lottery-the really big inter-state Powerball that's worth millions and impossible to win.  Just as we were congratulating ourselves the screen shifted to show what happens to the female body as the baby grows larger, dominating her entire torso, crushing her lungs and forcing her heart to swell in size and rotate 45 degrees.  Umm, what?  "Finally," Courtney Cox-Arquette said with a wry smile (she was hosting the program), "the baby triples in size during the last 2 months of pregnancy."

I looked at my belly.

Blake looked at my belly.

I started to cry.

I'm gonna be HUGE!  This baby is going to TRIPLE IN SIZE!!!  I'm not so worried about what my body will look like after this is all over, after all I gave up hopes of flat abs about the same time I gave up on P90X.  I'd say I'm more worried about falling over everytime I stand up, and since the odds are generally in favor of me falling when I'm not carrying around an extra human in my stomach...you get the picture.

Speaking of pictures, let's get to the point...the evolution of Aidan so far:

Week 12

Week 16

Week 20

Week 24

Week 28

I know I'm cheating wearing all black the bigger I get, but I don't care.  Only time will tell if I will be doubling as the Good Year Blimp at the 2012 Superbowl.  In the meantime, Aidan and I will be enjoying double helpings of dessert at Christmas.  After all, I should at least try to enjoy this, right?!

Happy Halloween!

Halloween has always been for me, more than anything, the holiday that ushers in the Christmas season.  Yes, I am one of those people.  You know, the kind that listens to Christmas carols on the radio before Thanksgiving and already has her Christmas card newsletter ready to go.  Not that I don't like Halloween, I love the dressing up part.  Costumes were a big part of why I wanted to have a career in the theater.  Blake, on the other hand, LIVES for Halloween.  He loves the pumpkin carving, the costumes, the decorations...for him this is the holiday.  I have to admit, his enthusiasm is contagious, especially now that we have a little one on the way.  Trick or treating is kind of "out" for people our age (which, in my opinion, is a shame, since we're the ones buying all the candy anyway), but now we will have a child to drag along in full costume to satisfy our sweet tooths...teeth...(????).  And in case you're wondering, yes, we will be that family, in themed costumes.  Sorry folks, we do nothing halfway.

So now I take this opportunity to showcase my husband and his Halloween talents.  Here is this year's pumpkin carving:

Callie helped get us started...

Aidan's pumpkin

Callie's pumpkin

How we spent Sunday after all that carving :)

Halfway

Yesterday marked the official halfway mark of my pregnancy, which is both thrilling and terrifying on so many levels.  Thrilling because I'm taking part in the miracle of life-making, something that blows my mind everyday.  It always astounds me when I see other preggos walking around and they're not just rubbing their belly in wonder.  My belly is getting a shiny spot from being rubbed so often.  I'll just sit and rub my expanding stomach for no other reason than to assure myself that yes, I really am pregnant.  I'll stare at my naked stomach in the mirror from all angles, wondering why I don't feel fat when my abdomen is so obviously protruding and getting more Santa-like by the day.  It's a surreal, out-of-body experience to watch my body change so drastically and to feel so okay with it.  In fact, I love my pregnant body.  I love the curves and the softness of it.  Mostly, though, I love not having to worry about my body (appearance wise, anyway) for what may be the first time in my life.  It's liberating, and will probably only last until I hit the third trimester and Aidan starts to kick all my organs to bits and my cute little bump turns into a blimp.  But I'm going to enjoy this stage anyway.

What terrifies me is the fact that I'm still "making room" for Aidan in his own room.  Have I painted?  Purchased a crib?  Organized a closet?  Bought a book, a piece of clothing, or anything at all for my little darling to be?  Oh, no.  I'm still UNPACKING and REORGANIZING stuff Blake and I just threw in the "nursery" which used to be Blake's "office" which was really a euphamism for "the room where we keep all the stuff we don't really want to go through and that we really don't have room for but don't really want to get rid of".  Everyone has a room like that, right?  RIGHT?!  What weirds me out the most is that not having the baby stuff doesn't bother me one little bit.  I'm totally zen about all things baby related.  After all, this baby is coming whether we're ready for him or not, whether he has a crib or not, and whether his nursery is decorated or not.  Seriously, he's not going to know if his room is perfectly appointed the day he comes home from the hospital.  As long as that mama's milk is flowing, his world will be A-OK.  Nope, what freaks me out is the thought of trying to continue taming the never ending flow of dirty dishes, laundry, and miscellaneous stuff that accumlates daily.  I can hardly do it now-what the hell am I going to do when I have baby in tow?!  I mean, even once my house is actually organized and clean, the thought of the upkeep overwhelms me from time to time.  Then I rub my tummy and remember that hell, Aidan won't care if a few (A FEW) things are out of place.  And if he does, we can always just go over to Grandma's house.  And that, folks, is called being positive.

After the Happily Ever

My last blog was sadly abandoned during the last year, due mostly to the fact that I was too busy trying to plan a wedding and not commit any major crimes during the process.  I, in my naivete and stupidity, thought that a wedding would be great fodder for my blog.  What it ended up being was a gorgeous, beautiful, memorable pain in the ass.  Then my wonderful husband and I decided to start trying for a baby right off the bat, thinking it would take at least a year to conceive.  I mean, it's not like we're right out of college and in those "whoops I didn't know I was so fertile" years.  Two months later, and exactly 3 weeks after purchasing a 3 month old Shih tzu puppy, I was peeing on my fourth pregnancy test to make sure I really was pregnant.  Now here we are, week 18 of baby incubation, month 4 of puppy training, and month 6 of marriage.  I have all new stories to tell, and I thought they deserved an all new blog.  So here we go, I hope you will happily roll along with me!