Confession about raising children

Before I had Jack I knew it all.

The following women were crazy: those that didn't want a natural delivery, those that used formula, those that worked demanding full time jobs (irregular or long hours), those that only wanted one child, those that used store bought baby food.... I think you get the point.  I was going to be the best mom and everyone else was inferior.

Then I met my "November mommies."  We were all due in November.  Our babies arrived between September and December.  We supported each other through 6 months of pregnancy, the newborn stage, and we are getting through that infant stage together.  We laugh, cry, and pray together.  We support each other 100%.

And not one of them is raising their child the way we're raising Jack.  (I should also point out that I did some things I swore I would never do.)  Some of them had scheduled c- sections, love the convenience of formula or store bought baby food, some are doing it on their own, some never want to deal with pregnancy again, some have very demanding jobs (we have some lawyers and our resident doctor)... but they are all superior mothers.

My "November mommies" have taught me that there are at least 120 ways to raise a child, and all of them are correct.

A small group of our November family.



Confession about us

We almost never happened.  We became friends shortly after we started working together.  We were a part of a group of work friends that hung out often and we happened to have a mutual friend from outside of work.   I knew that Andrew had feelings for me before he asked me out (he made the mistake of emailing my friend about me and of course she forwarded the emails to me.) 

The day he asked me out.

I had many conversations with my mom and grandma about dating him. I was worried that he was "too good" for me.  He was so much more reserved than I was.  I was worried about breaking his heart.  He had never had a girlfriend.  I was worried about how differently we were raised.  I was a child of poverty and abuse and he was a child of two loving middle class parents.  We were so incredibly different.  My mom and grandma finally convinced me to just give him a chance... that I may be surprised.

The day he proposed.

I'm glad I took that advice.

The day he became my husband.

I remember realizing I had fallen in love.  I thought I couldn't be more in love.  But then Andrew proposed to me.  Then we vowed our love to one another in front of our friends and family.  Then we found out I was pregnant. Then we miscarried.   Then we were pregnant again.  Then we had Jack.  every day I love him so much more than the day before.  Every day I love him for something new... for being my friend, my confidant, my love, the provider for our family, the father of my son.

The day he became a dad.



   I am so thankful to have found my soulmate.  I'm so glad I have him to go through the ups and downs of life with.  And I'm pretty grateful that I listened to my mom and grandma.

Confession about teething

It sucks.  Jack agrees.

Confession on dressing a baby boy

I love dressing Jack.  Most of the time he looks like a little old man wearing plaid and sweater vests.  I was really excited for summer because of rompers.  Since it was so warm out I put Jack in a romper yesterday.

See how cute his looks in a romper?

What they don't tell you about rompers is that there is no stretch. At all.  This might be fine if your child does not have fat arms like mine does.  Since there is no stretch in said rompers they are not easy to remove.

Long story short, I got his romper stuck trying to take it off.  Or, I got Jack stuck.  Either way it wasn't fun.  I was freaking out, he was crying.  Andrew had to get a pair of scissors to start a tear in the fabric.  Then he turned into The Incredible Hulk and ripped the romper off. 

It was scary.  Then it was funny.  We were laughing about it.  Jack even laughed so hard that he started to cry again (maybe it was a flashback.)

We are saving the romper and writing the story of getting it stuck on some scrapbook paper so we can look back in 20 years and laugh.  And, from now on, I am only dressing Jack in stretchy cotton to fit over his fat arms and big head.

Confession about recovery

Having a baby is hard work.  I knew it wouldn't be a cake walk but I didn't expect it to be that hard.  You bleed a lot.... like 9 months worth of no bleeding all in a few weeks.  You are afraid to go to the bathroom.  And you are so unbelievably tired.  I thought it was a joke when people said babies didn't sleep.... well, it isn't a joke.

My typical night looked like this:
Pull myself up the stairs (literally since I had a c-section)
Scooch back in bed.
Wake to feed Jack (scooching to get him out of the bassinet and just sitting right there).
Feed him for an hour, scooch back.
Repeat thirty-sixty minutes later.

By around 3 AM I would hurt too much to scooch anymore and Andrew would have to wake up and hand me Jack. 

I also re- opened part of my incision about 3 weeks out.  My staples had been removed and my stitches had dissolved so I thought I was okay to wear normal underwear again (as in: not granny panties).  I was wrong.  The bow on my underwear opened my incision again.  Now that I can see my incision again its pretty clear that at some point I opened it on the left side as well since the scar is much larger there.

It was exhausting.  I was a zombie.  But now, 4 months later, I kind of miss those sleepless nights.  I love Jack's independence but I miss him needing me so much.  This is why people have second children.

Confession about child birth

I thought I was prepared for child birth.  I had read up on different birthing methods.  I talked to other women that had children.  I became good friends with Google. I told my husband that I did not want meds and if I asked for them his only job was to say "Are you sure"  and stand behind me telling me what a good strong wife I was.  I was going to have a wonderful med free delivery, hear the doctor announce the gender, have my beautiful child placed on my chest, and breastfeed for the first time.  I wanted my two hours with my child before it had to go to the nursery.

My water broke at 11:45 PM on November 15.  I was progressing pretty well for the first hour.  Then I stalled.  Pushing did nothing.  I was passing out and thought I was going to get sick.  I asked for an epidural.  Andrew asked if I was sure and if looks could kill.... well, I'd be a single woman right now.  Andrew couldn't handle the sight of child birth.  He left the room.  I couldn't handle the pain.  I got the meds.  So much for my plan...

I was still certain I was going to deliver the baby vaginally, just on my own.  But around 6 A.M. on November 16, it became pretty obvious that I would need a c-section.  Andrew still couldn't handle the delivery so my mom came to the hospital so I wouldn't be alone.  Andrew had to stand on the outside of the delivery room door and the doctor had to yell "It's a Boy" so we could find out together.  I got to see Jack briefly before he was taken to his dad and the nursery and I was stitched and stapled.   Jack and Andrew came to the recovery room and I was so tired and drugged up that Andrew had to help hold Jack on my breast so I could try to feed him. 

Absolutely nothing happened the way I thought it would.  Almost everything that could go wrong did go wrong.  But I had my son.... my beautiful precious son... the child that we had hoped and prayed for.  He was safe.  I was safe.  Our family was together and my heart was whole.