Thursday, September 19, 2013

"Long Poops"


In the past 6 months of living with a newborn, my husband and I seem to take longer poops.

Yep. I said it. Poop.

I’m not saying the actual turd is longer; I’m saying the duration of the time spent on the porcelain throne has significantly increased. Like all of a sudden there’s a constipation problem in the house?

I can’t help but to reference the recent movie with Paul Rudd in This is 40 where his movie wife, Leslie Mann, actually catches him taking a “fake dump” while sitting there playing on an ipad.


I ask myself, “Why? Why is all this time dedicated to probably the foulest thing we will do all day?”

Two words. Alone time. And not just any alone time—undisturbed alone time.

“Honey, can you grab the baby?” Nope. I’m pooping.

“Babe, can you take out the trash?” Nope. Pooping.

“Will you help get dinner started?” Pooping.

You really can’t get mad at someone who has to go. I mean, when ya gotta go, ya gotta go. Don’t get me wrong. My husband and I are not sitting on the pot all day. But, when we finally get to shut the door to the sweet oasis that awaits, we are void of any responsibility that could potentially come our way.

Welp. I guess I should flush and get on with my day. Till next time…

Friday, September 13, 2013

Having the Baby Blues is not the same as having Postpartum Depression




The Baby Blues are REAL.  If you are preparing to have a child anytime soon, grab a tissue, you’re going to need it. 


“Did I say something wrong?” as my father in law passed me on the couch. 

“Did I upset you?” whispered my sister-in-law in my ear.

It was Easter weekend at my in-laws. After dinner, we all were relaxing and enjoying each other’s company.  And I, two months after birthing my child, was sitting on the couch with my mother-in-law bawling my eyes out. 

No one understood what was going on.  Heck, I didn’t know what was going on. Everyone thought something must have happened. But no, I just simply wanted to cry.

 I remember laughing as tears welled up in my eyes telling each family member how nothing was wrong, and I just tend to do this lately. I remember my husband confirming to everyone that all was okay. (He had seen his fair share of crying in the past days.)
I cried a lot the first 1-2 months after birthing my first child.  And, as I have learned and read, it’s totally normal.  I just had no idea how true it really was.

Before having children, I thought the, “baby blues” were just for women who were depressed after pregnancy – postpartum depression.  But, I quickly learned that MANY women go through some depression as hormones start to level back out.  Also, I was trying to do it all: learn how to breastfeed, change a diaper, take pictures of every new moment—all on very little sleep! So crying just seemed natural with all the new and overwhelming things going on!
My poor husband.  I’m sure he thought I was looney.  I would cry for all sorts of reasons and also for no reason at all.  He still tried to comfort me.  Being the good man he is, he would try to ask me questions to try to figure out what was “wrong”.  My answer many times was, “I am the happiest I’ve ever been, but I just feel like crying.”  I went through so many emotions those first days of having a newborn that I couldn’t always express what I was feeling, and crying was just easier.

 My favorite was to cry in the shower.  My sister taught me this trick (if you can call it that).  She’s actually the one who made me feel quite normal during the blues since she also just had a baby two months prior to me. In the shower I could cry as loud and obnoxiously as possible without any crazy looks from my husband.  It just felt goooooood. 

So how did I know I had the baby blues and not actual post-partum depression?

Pretty easy to tell the difference: I stopped crying. 

I also have a close friend who went through post-partum depression and she, thankfully, was open about her experience.  She told me (a bit reluctantly but truthfully) how she didn’t feel a close bond to her child.  Before she got help, she described her experience as a mother as more burdensome than joyful.  Once she was prescribed depression medication, she felt all the things a mother wants to feel and should feel—happiness, love and joy for her son.   
 She advocated getting help if you need it.  Although I never felt distant from my son, because of her, I was very aware of my feelings.  I knew if I didn’t start to feel better, I would speak up – and it was okay to do so.

I am so thankful for other mothers in my life, specifically my sister and friend in this scenario.  I need them.  I need them to understand myself.  I need to talk, to understand, to listen. 

Now, being 6 months out, I really was a bit crazy.  I have to laugh at myself thinking back at all those RANDOM cry sessions that just left my husband speechless.


Baby blues are real, and thank God my cute little boy will not remember those early days where I cried more than him.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

"You birth the...WHAAAT?!"

Placenta. That’s what.

I took an anatomy class in high school, read PLENTY of baby books while pregnant, and yet no one STINKIN’ told me that once my precious little gem pops out… I’m not done pushing. HOW DID I MISS THIS?

I had preparation for just about all the stages of my pregnancy. My mom, mother-in-law, sister, fertility doctor, OBGYN, nurse practitioner—they were all so great at telling me what to expect—and possible pain I would be in. And, I’d like to think I dealt with the pain pretty good.



Invitro Fertilization Shots? Check.

4 months of vomiting? Check.

Swollen ankles? Check.

Back Pain? Check.

Braxton-Hicks Contractions? Check.

Real Contractions? Check.

Pushing out my child? Check.

All these things I was told about beforehand and I was mentally and physically ready to endure this pain (to some degree).

Honestly, the part I feared the most was actually the easiest: the contractions and pushing (of the baby). Of course with the help of a little friend that goes by the name of, Epidural, I pushed that ‘lil guy out in less than 20 minutes. Although the whole birthing process lasted 12 hours, I only needed about 17 minutes of pushing to get that sweet 8.4 pounds of joy out of me. And, what a feeling! To hear his sweet cry and see his little squirmy body was nothing short of amazing. People aren’t lying when they say it’s the best moment of your life. It truly was the best moment of mine.

I could finally relax. I thought all my pain, anxiety, and fears were over. My baby boy was in my arms.


And the flash photography commenced. I had my mom and mother-in-law there snapping photo after photo. My husband was also by my side flashing his biggest grin by our newborn child.

Then, the doctor told me to keep pushing.
“PUSH? Push what?” I know I’m a bit drugged up but I could have SWORN I just popped out a baby!? What am I pushing for?”

I still had to birth the placenta.

I was in NO WAY prepared for this. The hardest part was everyone who was my support system throughout the delivery now had their attention on the baby. They were celebrating, and rightfully so. But, I also wanted to see my child and go through the joy with them. So, amidst taking the pictures I’ve been dreaming about for over 9 months straight, I still had a job to do. A downright painful, horrible job! A half hour later, with lots of painful pushing on my abdomen and more blood loss than expected, I birthed the placenta.

No one can be fully ready for what is to come—with birthing a child, or anything else for that matter. Yes. I would have liked to have known that tidbit of information about birthing the placenta, but I truly shouldn’t complain. My delivery went great with only a few hiccups. I also have a healthy bundle of joy for the outcome.
So, without further adieu, our first family photos:



(taken right after the delivery of my son and right smack-dab during the birthing of the placenta)

“Say Cheeeese!.... and PUUUUUUSH!”