My Darling Daughter

You are already 7 months and time has flown by. You are grabbing things out of my hand as they pass you. You are able to stay sitting by yourself and very rarely face-planting. You do a lot of new things, you ever-growing being. But you are still that same child that I brought home from the hospital; small, wide-eyed, observant and content. You are amazing and hilarious, laughing at the walls almost every chance you get.
I grieve for you, though, happy child, for things you have to clue of.
A good friend of mine has recently given birth and in a devastating turn of events that precious baby has passed. I grieve for her parents, her family, her siblings. I grieve for myself. And I grieve for you, Sugarbaby, for that Blessedbaby that you would’ve grown up with; neither of you will get to know each other, and that is heartbreaking in and of itself. Your cliched, built-in friend is no longer bound to the Earth and I am sorry for your loss.
This Sunday is Father’s Day and I am devastated, but I can not tell for what. It is not that you do not have a definite male-role model in your life, nor that your Father, that precious Yellowman, is no longer a part of our life, but maybe because that is another huge part, another person who should’ve been a big part of your life, and is gone, regardless of the reason. I am scared of the resentment that may fall on me for that in later years. And I hope that you will (instead) always realize that all families look different and that is ok; you are not loved any less. We are constantly changing people in our lives, switching the bad for good until we find the best people of all. I am sorry that ..I am not sure. Sorry that you may one day question why someone who is supposed to love you unconditionally had to step away. But I hope that one day you will understand and never let it impact your self esteem, that some people just need to grow more themselves and away from others, to give them the freedom and the type and amount of love they deserve. I hope you always realize that it had nothing to do with you, but personal conflicts with oneself.
I love you, and I am here for you and I will be strong enough for you when others falter, child. For that is what I was made to do. I will comfort you when you are sad. I will smile at the smallest things. I will yell at the ceiling fan right along with you. I will help you imagine those who we have lost. I will work with you to leap over any constricting boundaries you may run in to. I will be here. And when I can’t assist you and help you how you need, I will support those who can. Mostly, though, I will just laugh with you as much as possible.

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Babywearing Tidbit

I came across a post today titled “Why don’t Mexican women wear Rebozos in America??”. And let me just say that the response was unexpected because I apparently forgot to turn my brain on. Babywearers in some cultures are seen as low-class people. The ones who have to wear their babies out of necessity. And of course, a wealthier woman would have much better help (ie, nanny/stroller) than to carry the child herself.

But looking at my reaction, why /would/ I know that? When I first learnt of babywearing, every carrier and device was over $100, and as much as that may not seem like a large amount of money (especially if you’re already in the babywearing community here, the sticker-shock seems to go away with time), for someone who has no income, it is! Of course I would look at the gorgeous wraps that these “low-class” women had and feel jealous. They were carrying their newborn babes in seemingly luxury while they still did what they needed to and here I am, the start of my babywearing career crying at the price of one wrap. So needless to say, starting out, to me, babywearing was not perceived to be of low or poor class citizens. I now know of the massive amount of options and price ranges out there, thankfully, but its always amusing to see the different perceptions from one person or culture to another.

End of the 4th trimester.

My dearest Sugarbaby,

You are 3 months old today. We have fought with a fussy digestive system where I have personally had to take out gluten, dairy and tomatoes from my diet so you do not scream from pain most nights. But thats ok because you are happier. You smile when you notice Im awake in the morning. The funniest thing to you is when I help you eat your own toes and when Grandma sticks her tongue out at you. You get very frustrated that when you try and sit up (and/or just do baby crunches) it never seems to give you the result you want. But fear not, dear child, you will be there soon enough. Your motor skills will become refined, and you will soon move to anywhere you want to go.

You are both only and already 3 months. You are 1/4th of a year old. You have spent 1/3rd amount of the time that  you were inside me, growing, out here, in “my” world. You are growing like crazy and learning and doing new things that I may not even notice, every single day. New things. When did you start drooling so much? When did you decide it was time to start crunches? How long has it been that you are so restless from growing, that you barely sleep because there is just too much for you to do?

You are asleep on my bed, with white noise playing beside you to drown out my insistent typing. You whimper or blatantly tell stories in your sleep every once in awhile and I sit here to listen, to make sure if you are awake that I respond to whatever need you have. To let you know that I am here.

Everyday starts a new journey with you. Even though we have a general schedule, you are different every day. Will you nap for most of the day tomorrow, or will you be the lightest sleeper in the world? You are ever changing. Ever growing. Hell, I’m quite sure you only spent a week in size 3-6 month clothing. Me and your father, dear child, have already had to put away your 3-6 months clothing, and because of your cloth diapers, I will be bringing out the 9-12 month pants. You are my first child, maybe my only, but my own flesh and blood. Aren’t you supposed to stay smaller, longer? Its as if before I get a chance to take it all in, I am two steps behind all the new things that have been going on. Its ok, sugar, I will live in the moment with you. I will also try to remember to keep my camera and video recorder charged.

I love you, tiny human, and am glad that you seem fond of me as well.

Sugarbabys Arrival, Part II

So Tuesday came and went. Then Wednesday it seemed like my leaking problem ceased to exist for a few hours. By Thursday my water had broke a second time and so I was sure this was going to be it. So far I still had not had any contractions. On Friday, my midwife calls me but being half asleep I answer thinking it’s a telemarketer and tell her that I am not here, that I am in the hospital in labor and go back to sleep. Finally, Friday night I am so done; my water broke twice and I’m still not having any contractions? Come on, child, I am so anxious to meet you! I can’t go out of the house without a towel between my legs and this is getting old, fast. Fine, what type of induction methods do we have? Lets try some red raspberry leaf tea, some castor oil in hot cocoa (seriously, why do people put oil in cold drinks to let it stay together?) Anything I can think of! But, again, nothing for a few hours so, fine, dear child, I will wait a little longer and if I do not feel like I am progressing by Monday, I will call the hospital midwife, because so far we are  not running a fever, your heartbeat is perfect and we are healthy. So no reason other than impatience to rush you, I’m sure you are stubborn like your mother. 5:49am, I wake up on Saturday morning to a contraction. Oh my god, finally, this is it, this contraction is the first feelable contraction to my labor, to your arrival! Since I sent your father home a few days ago, I have him come back over. Contractions up until that point were about 10-20 minutes apart. Around 10am contractions get closer and start lowering down from 7 minutes to 5 minutes to 2 minutes. And all the while I just walk around our kitchen table until finally I’ve had enough and me and Yellowman go upstairs to the bedroom.  Starting from around noon, it seems like contractions are almost back to back. Around 5pm, I get worried, I’m not feeling like Im progressing that much but I am in barely bearable pain with contractions stacking one on top of the other. I am trying to walk, I am trying to use the big ball for support, I am using Yellowman as an anchor almost bringing him to the floor. We get into a groove where as soon as I start to contract, he is right there behind me, applying pressure because I can not handle this without him. What an amazing man he is. Calm throughout the whole thing; completely responsive to my needs. Not always knowing what he needs to be doing, but with my grunt and frantic pointing he is there, every time. Never a complaint. I try and use Swedish fish as a distraction for the contractions; to chew through them. Yellowman thanks me as I feed them to him as a thank you for helping me through this. I start thinking about the hospital and the need to go there. This is going on too long, I feel small amounts of needing to push, but barely any at all. We go down to the bathtub and I run warm water. I don’t stay there long, we come back upstairs. Another hour goes by and the contractions are seemingly more back-to-back; so close, one on top of the other. I need to go to the hospital, for the amount of time this has been happening, something isn’t right. But by this time, I can’t fathom how to get through the contractions and the pain to get down the steps. We wait it out for another two hours hoping that I feel some change. Around 8pm, I have to go regardless if I think I can make it down the steps or not; the past few hours have been a magic mix of knowing I need to leave, but feeling unable to tackle those stairs through these contractions being right on each other. Finally, I make it downstairs into my mother’s car. Yellowman follows behind her, and my sister and niece follow behind them. I can barely stand it, I can barely get out of the car, I can barely walk up to labor and delivery. But we make it. The  nurse greets us, “Hi how can..” – “I’m in labor, contractions are back to back, my water broke Tuesday, contractions started this morning. I’m going to need an epidural, I’ve stopped progressing”  as I try and talk through the contractions, as I try and drag Yellowman to the floor with me. She asks if I need a wheelchair; I tell her I can’t sit. I need to be up. I need to bear down. I need Yellowmans support. We make it to a room. She tells me I have to lay down; I explain again that I cant. I manage to lay down so someone can check me. 8 centimeters, you can’t get an epidural. My eyes roll, ok, I get back up, we move to another room to get ready for delivery, a step or two in-between each contraction. We get into the room I’m staying in and I take off the robe “You guys are used to naked, right? I can’t stand this, its choking me” – “Yes, but I need you to lay down, the midwife will be in here to check you” I can’t. I can’t. I’m bearing down. Every contraction brings me almost to the floor, and by association I almost bring Yellowman to the floor with me, my arms wrapped around his neck, his shoulders holding me, his hands keeping me standing. “You need to try.” The midwife comes in. I manage to get on the bed. She checks me – “9 centimeters. Your uterus is swollen, the baby can’t come down, you need to stop pushing for about 30 minutes” ..I look at her in-between contractions, “Of course I can’t stop.” –“You need an epidural so you can calm down and let your uterus rest for a bit, then.” I know. I only came in because something was wrong. I listened to my body. I know at this point I need an epidural, c-section is on the table. She tells me if after an hour there is no progression, she has to call the OBGYN.

Now, for an epidural, you have to sit, leaning forward on the bed, not moving at all. I am 9 centimeters, in full-blown labor with contractions every god-knows how often and I can barely even stand the thought of sitting on the bed. Somehow, I do this. I still don’t know how.  And finally I lay down on the bed, epidural starts to kick in. I did not expect to be able to feel things, I must’ve got a spinal block and an epidural mixed up in my mind. It was just numbing, like when your leg falls asleep but you can still move it. I’m laughing because I got it wrong. I’m actively trying to move my legs and feet just to see how far I can move them. Not very. I can still feel the contractions, though. Not a lot, but enough to make me not relaxed enough. I ask and they up the dosage. An hour goes by and I am progressing. Another hour goes by (its midnight now) and she can feel Sugarbaby! Finally! They turn off the epidural so  I can feel my contractions and push effectively but my contractions are staggered from the epidural, they give me pitocin. I am too tired, too exhausted from feeling as if contractions were back-to back for the past, almost, 12 hours. It takes 3 hours of pushing. Her head is right here, and it still takes me three hours of pushing. Because I am trying to not be in a mind-state of “I can’t do this.” Of course I can do this, I have to do this, there is no other choice, but I do not know how. Every time you tell me I am doing fine and good, midwife, you come back and yell at me to do more. Through the last bit, I can’t fathom how I’m going to do this, you yell at me tell me I need to push harder. I am pushing as hard as I can! Finally, I tell my midwife to shut up inbetween a contraction because I cannot take the yelling. Of course she isn’t yelling at me, but she is not helping me be productive, I think to myself “You need to find a different way to talk to me”. I tell her to shut up and I focus on this nurse who tells me that I am in control of my body. I repeat the nurse. “I am in control of my body” ..I am in control of my body. Thank you. I needed the reminder. I repeat it and I push. Eventually Sugrbabys head is out. My midwife tells me to reach down, or to open my eyes and look in the mirror. And I think to myself, why. Why would I look down or reach her when I can push one more time and have her in my arms. I say no, go with the flow of the next contraction and within moments my child is in my arms. I open my eyes, I see her. I do not know at that time if Yellowman was able to catch her like he wanted. I only know she is here. She barely makes a noise, just looks at me, looks around wide-eyed and calm. This is my child, this is what I worked for.

 

Related Links:
Sugarbabys Arrival, Part I

Sugarbabys Arrival, Part I

My birth story is not the most amazing or awe-inspiring story, it is not the most heartbreaking. Mine and Sugarbabys story is simply our own. Not everything went perfect and theres always a billion things where things could go better, but I followed what I felt we needed to do, and we persevered.

I had found out I was pregnant a few weeks after I moved out of my ex’s home back to my mothers so I could get back on my feet and make a life for myself. Pregnancy for me was not hard. It was not easy, either, it simply was what it was. For a month or two I stayed on a mattress on the floor downstairs because everytime I would move I would throw-up. Eventually I was forced out of the house to pay my last respects to a darling aunt and slowly but surely, in the following months, my daily nausea went away. In the last months, there would be random spells where I found it hard to breathe, like my chest was tightening  and it would not stop unless I slept. My midwives did not know what that was about, but were more concerned that if I couldn’t handle that from apparently being out of shape, that I wouldnt be able to push through labor and delivery. First off, my midwives had their bought of awesomeness, second off, what the hell type of logic is that? Regardless.

In the first couple of months I had decided that because I knew how I dealt with pain, that a waterbirth would be the best for me. No hospital around me provided nor would let me bring my own tub in for that, and a birthcenter was too far away for me to go. So I had decided that I would most likely, if I could afford it and it was plausible, have a homebirth early on. But nothing was ever set it stone simply because I was 23 and still living in my mothers home. Everything felt unsure. Most people I told were dead against it; I had a friend beg me to go to the hospital when it was time. Other people supported me simply because they knew what I decided was my own choice and I am stubborn. very few people were 100% supportive.

As the time got nearer, I could feel fear and anxiety bubble up in myself when I thought about automatically going to the hospital for a birth. It simply was not meant for me. I did not have the money for a midwife at home nor did I want one, I simply could not see having an intimate birthing experience in my home with more people than me and Sugarbabys father. I researched everything I could think of. I pestered the most supportive friend I had with every question I could where she may have the answer. But even then, I knew I could not know even half of everything. I could not know how to look out for ALL the complications at home. But I resolved to trust myself, my instincts, my child. About a week before my water broke, my mother had reminded me to pack a hospital bag. “If I need to go to the hospital, I will grab what I need before we go in.” No, she insisted, you ARE going to the hospital, so you need to pack a bag now. my mother was not convinced until after that 15 minutes of going back and forth, that a homebrith was a serious option for me. Afterwards, though, she helped me set everything up that I needed for when the time came.

Fast-forward to election day, November 6th, 2012, when the Presidential results are pouring in. I am sitting on the edge of my bed when I just feel different. Well shit, I thought, this is it. So as I run down to the bathroom, I stark leaking, gushing, and there I sit on the toilet. First, I call Yellowman, The Sun God, The Golden Boy – Sugarbabys father — “Hey, yeah, I’m sitting here and it won’t stop, so I will see you in a little bit.” He lived about 45 minutes away and hell, I’d never been through this before so I didn’t know how long I should wait before telling him it was go time. I hadn’t had any contractions, or hell even noticeable Braxton Hicks (ever in the pregnancy) before that point, but if any of the movies would prove to be true, they wouldn’t be that far along afterwards, right? Oh god how wrong I was.

Related Links: 
Sugarbabys Arrival, Part II

Don’t beat yourself up, kid.

Ok, so, I started this blog then got lost in a billion other things. Like, the fact that I am going to be a Mom for the first time and no matter how much I read up, or how many times I’ve babysat, I really know nothing. And thats a scary thought; hell, that’d be overwhelming for anyone. Oh. One day I’m just big and huge and got cute little movements that I theoretically know and comprehend theres a little baby in my belly, but realistically, have no clue what all that is going to account for. Now, I know I’ll be fine when it comes down to it, panic attacks or not, I’ve got way too much support around me not to.

Now, the original idea was to throw all of that ..overwhelmingness and newness into this blog to grow and connect with other people while just being able to keep track of how things progress and change in my life. To have a collective, partially organized place for my thoughts. But, I have already managed to let myself get behind due to a fear of ..well, not knowing anything  How do I review products or start talking about cloth diapers that I don’t even have a chance to use yet because babygirl isn’t here? But, i have realized /everyone/ starts somewhere. I don’t need to have twelve different types of carseats to compare the one that I have; yes, eventually I would like to be CPS Certified and know about the billion different safety features, but for now, I can tell you that I adore the color and it looked super easy to install. I don’t need to know exactly how absorbent my homemade duiapers are to show you that they’re the cutest damn things ever and I can’t wait for my babygirl to have them on. I don’t need to know everything about everything. I am allowed to start somewhere and damn myself for ever thinking otherwise.

So lets start over.


Hey internet. Not Your Mothers Mom here debuting in blog form about a month before her first babygirl is expected to make an entrance into this world.
A couple things that I’ve been working on and will cover a little more in-depth as time goes on:

– Started using Soapnuts instead of laundry soap (love it)
– Received and installed Combi Coccoro (so adorable)
– Bought a serger
– Making cloth diapers (there are /so/ many different kinds!)
– Received some fluff mail (Diaper Fasteners, wetbag, Diaper Cover)

I am super excited about the diapers; there are so many patterns on-line that are free. Its amazing what a great community there is, especially with WAHMs. And everyone is so damn helpful and encouraging.
Also, does anyone else keep up with the new TV series Revolution? I’m enthralled with the idea behind it and I’m so into all the characters. I’ve had a lot of series that I’ve loved not go past the first season (Surface, anyone? Commander in Chief ), so I’m hoping they keep this one airing for awhile.

Until next time.

For the blog!

So here we are, about 35 weeks in to my first pregnancy and not many more to go. I’m as ready as I can be. Well, minus the procrastination aspect on things like writing out these baby-shower thank-yous or sewing up all these cloth diapers and waiting for a car-seat in the mail that I finally ordered. Of course there are things that I still need to get like a breast-pump and coconut oil since I just ran out. I still don’t know how many sets of clothing I have, especially by size, but I did wash most of them already. So I’m getting there and I know I’ll never be 100% ready for any of this, but I’m pretty confident that I’m where I need to be right now.

I’m so excited. The wait has seemed both short and long. I never thought that I’d get over my morning sickness and other than that, this pregnancy has been a breeze. I haven’t had to go to the hospital for any complications, although I possibly should have went in those three days a few months back where I refused to get out of bed because any movement caused my lady-bones to feel like they were breaking in two. But, honestly, I don’t think there was anything they could have done for me. Any time someone tells me they can’t wait, I correct them and let them know they definitely would rather wait because a 2 month vacation in the NICU is not the most glamorous way to enter this world, and they nod and agree and everyone continues to be excited.

But, I digress. Welcome to Not Your Mothers Mom. Another blog about parenting and life in general all so I can keep track of things and share my own experiences as well as hear others out and get opinions. A way for me to dive into this internet community of cloth-diapering, extended rear-facing, baby-wearing experts so that I remember that I am not alone in any of this and that you always have to start somewhere.