Nine Months

Nov 18, 2014 by


Oh my sweet baby boy, you are nine months old now. You have officially been in this world longer than you have been in my belly. I have so many mixed emotions. I love seeing you grow and watch your personality develop. I love the proud look you get on your face when you discover a new trick, like pulling yourself up to a standing position or picking up a Puff all by yourself. On the other hand, my days of cradling a tiny newborn are over and I find myself longing for a time so recent, yet already so far away. Granted, we didn’t get off to a great start. When I first found out about you, I was surprised to say the least. You made me feel really sick for the first few weeks of our relationship. Then I started to feel you move inside of me. I felt little elbows, knees and fists. You moved all the time. Then the day came – your birthday – and we met face to face.

The Fear of Having Post-Partum Depression…AGAIN.

Sep 24, 2014 by

With my first son, I had post-partum depression. But that’s not what this post is about. To be honest, I’m not quite ready to write about that. This is about what happened the second time around.


First of all, I did not want to have another baby. Sure, I liked the idea of my son having a sibling (being one of four, I knew the significance of that experience). My husband wanted another child. But I did not. Why would I ever take the chance of going through that horrible nightmare again? Nothing is worth feeling like that. No, not even a child.  


Well, the conversation inevitably came up and I gave my husband the same reply every time “I’m just not ready yet.” I used that excuse for about a year. Then in a weak moment (or maybe subconsciously I thought I was ready, I don’t know) I said “Ok, let’s do it”. So I went off the pill and started timing things. About two days later I freaked out: There is NO way I’m doing this again! 

The Value of Time

Sep 16, 2014 by

I met a woman at a dinner party this summer and the topic of our children inevitably came up. She has two sons in college. I have two sons not yet in pre-school. As the wine flowed more freely, our trivial small talk took on a more somber tone. She admitted to me she just experienced one of the saddest moments of her life: dropping her son off at college.   That drive home – alone – symbolized the end of a phase in her life.   She wasn’t ready. Eighteen years wasn’t long enough. I am in a very different phase of Motherhood: The Beginning.  However, even the thought of my son getting on a school bus in a couple years brings an overpowering feeling of sadness and emptiness. Because even that symbolizes the end of a chapter.

Reading to My Infant

Jun 30, 2014 by

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The American Academy of Pediatrics recently released a highly publicized policy statement: pediatricians should be encouraging parents to read to their children daily, starting at birth.  Not to be a downer, but my thoughts on this are a little mixed.  On the one hand, great!  We know that reading to our kids to facilitates early literacy and language acquisition, provides bonding time, and promotes a love of reading.  I am so glad that pediatricians will be informing all families about these benefits.

On the other hand… Well, there is no other hand.  Reading is great.  I just fear that this is one more thing for new moms to feel like they’re failing at.  I also think it’s kind of sad that pediatricians need to be explicitly told to do this and that anyone thinks this will make parents more willing/able to read to their kids.  I know that there are people out there who are not aware of the benefits of reading during infancy, but I think what most people really need is a good stash of board books and more hours in the day… I digress.

Praying for Poop

Jun 16, 2014 by

Nothing is more indicative of the fundamental lifestyle difference between parents and non-parents than poop.  For the child-free, poop is something that happens behind closed doors and talked about with a doctor in hushed tones.  Any knowledge you have about anything poop related stays lodged firmly in the “TMI” part of your brain.  For us parents, poop is all in a day’s work.  Colors, textures, smells, we’ve experienced it all, and these attributes are suddenly legitimate and not at all embarrassing (and actually sometimes fun?  who said that?) topics of conversation.  I am pretty much on daily poop watch.  It’s not like I’m keeping a log or anything (poop pun!), but when my parents and I do handoff on their days, I always ask two questions: “How was she?” and, “Did she poop?”  I guess I just like to know.

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