A Baby Story

Jan 29, 2016 by

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I was not one of those “glowing” pregnant women.  Not even close.  The only potential for glowing would have had to come from the millions of highly combustible particles orbiting my miserable, furious, fat head.

My pregnancy gave rise to the greatest joy of my life, but the months up to the arrival of my son were the most stressful I have yet to experience.  Little man is now turning 2, which I hear means I’m in for a world of hurt in the very near future.  As of this moment, however, pregnancy was the hardest thing I’ve been through, both physically and emotionally.

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Transition equals tranquility… well not exactly!

Jan 28, 2016 by

Transitions are hard, difficult, and tricky… now add a ‘just turned’ two year old and a 7 month old into the mix. Oh my, will our lives ever feel normal and back into a routine? I’ve never been one for a routine.  In the past I’ve gotten bored easily, felt trapped, and life would feel tedious. I now realize with two young boys how much we rely on the need of routine.

We moved into our first home over the past Martin Luther King holiday weekend.  All of us are still getting used to the house, new noises, new shadows, and now the toilet paper is in an awkward spot in the new bathroom. We also transitioned our oldest boy into a ‘big boy’ bed and our youngest into the ‘bigger’ crib and out of our bedroom.  Nights have not been the same. Mornings are all in an uproar trying to function to get out of the door on time. Yet, this past week was much better than the last. I can only see the mornings and evenings becoming easier, because our routine will improve even in the midst of the city of boxes. I have every confidence we will reach that summit of tranquility… ok ok semi-workable flowing mornings!

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The Last Time

Jan 11, 2016 by

My baby will be two years old in a few weeks.  He is in full-blown toddler mode.  No more babies in my house.

No more babies.

Ever since I read a poem called “The Last Time” I’ve been very aware of all the “last times” I’m beginning to experience.  I’ve already fed my last bottle.  I’ve already spoon-fed my last scoop of baby food and scraped the last bit off his chin.  I’ve already swaddled my last blanket into a tight little baby burrito.  And I don’t remember those last times.  However, last week, my baby allowed me one last experience that I will remember forever.

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Parenting Personalities: Type A vs. Type B

Jul 23, 2015 by

When I became a mother in late 2013, my husband already had ten years of being a dad behind him. On top of this experience are our vastly different personalities. I am a pretty classic Type-A person: anxious, impatient, achievement-oriented, perfectionist, and a tendency towards “worst-case scenario” thoughts. My husband is very Type-B: low stress, relaxed, patient, and a bit of a procrastinator. One of his favorite sayings is “I don’t worry about something until there is something to worry about.” Not only do I not understand this mentality, it drives me crazy that he can fully embrace it while I have devoted hours, weeks, months, of my life to worrying. I have it down to an art.

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My Postpartum Depression Story – Emerging on the Other Side

Jan 28, 2015 by

It’s been almost four years since that June morning and I am no longer depressed.  I have a second son now and didn’t have postpartum depression with him.  I have since bonded with and love both of my boys more than anything in my life.  My bond is strong and secure with my sons. 

I am happy.

My sons are happy.

So when did my PPD go away?  I’m not exactly sure.  I suppose it gradually got better with time and antidepressants.  By my son’s first birthday I guess I felt “better” or at least better adjusted.  By this, I mean I looked forward to spending time with him, I felt a connection with him, and that “mother/son” bond had been formed.  I was able to sleep again, and I wasn’t constantly obsessed with thoughts and worries.  I (somewhat) came to terms with the fact that I will never again feel the kind of “normal” I did pre-children and this was my new normal.

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