Lawn Dreams

Three years ago when the garden was just finished the grass was lush, green, and a joy to play on. It was like a thick outdoor carpet just begging to be touched, preferably with a back.

That lasted about a month.

Our pathetic excuse for a watering system was no match for the hot California Spring sun and long before school was fully out for the summer the back yard was once again a wasteland of patchy green grass surrounded by brown stretches of burnt grass and weeds.

We're not even going to discuss the front yard beyond mentioning the fact that mowed weeds look realistically like a mowed lawn... until you set foot on them and feel the prickles.

The past two weeks I've been standing in the middle of my pathetic excuse for a lawn, hose in hand, aiming water at the brown patches and sad looking edges. It feels fruitless. I know the yard needs more water, but realistically I also know it needs other things. Like fertilizer. And grass seed. And... stuff.

Of course, I don't have the faintest idea where to start.

I have visions of Home Depot carts loaded with Scott's Turf Builder and other products. I have visions of kneeling on the grass to plant pretty flowers. But I need a little nudge to make reality connect with my visions.

Like always, I'm going to turn to the computer for help. I'm starting by signing up for some Scotts tips and lawn care reminders.

Then I'm going to actually make that trip to Home Depot to arm myself with a couple tools like the Turf Builder and the grass seed. I want to be able to snap pictures of my kids rolling around on the grass again. It's a little embarrassing that they were babies in the last ones we snapped. I'd show you what the lawn looks like now... but they don't want to set foot on it.

The lovely people from One2One Network and Scotts are sending me some Turf Builder to try to make my lawn dreams come true. Stay tuned. With luck in a few weeks you'll be seeing some more updated back yard action shots!

Stretched to the max

I was so excited back when I was pregnant. So excited because even though I was gaining weight every which way (toes anyone?) even at 39 weeks my belly was smooth, shiny, and brilliantly stretch mark free.

It's ok. You can hate me.

The morning of my 40th week I got one. But it was a doozie. Like all the stretchmarks got lazy and decided to pop out in one place.

I caught myself fingering the deep ravine leading down from my belly to the top of my thigh often that week. I was fascinated by it. I'd had my fair share of stretch marks before being pregnant. A road map covering my hips, testament to heredity and maybe a slight penchant for candy. This one felt different, earned, more like a badge of honor than a badge of shame.

The stretch mark faded after C was born and came back as my belly swelled to allow Little L to grow. I never did get more, though it's possibly because I was obsessed with rubbing all sorts of oils and lotion on my bump. Now it's faded and I'm once again left with just the silvery lines crisscrossing my hips. Nothing on my belly to show for the two pregnancies I experienced other than a certain pouchiness that definitely wasn't there before C.

I'm learning to live with the pouch, just like I'm learning to live with my other pregnancy left overs. Instead of hating how my body has chosen to remember this time of our lives, I'm choosing to think of all these issues as battle scars to show off with pride.

Pregnancy isn't for the faint of heart. Neither is having a post-partum body.

This is a Bump Month post inspired by one of our wonderful sponsors Apothederm. I'm not sure I'd use the cream on my belly if I had pregnancy stretch marks there, but I'm seriously thinking about getting rid of the ones on my hip once and for all! About time I stopped feeling shameful about them!

Crumbling in my hands

One day, a few years ago, I finally got tired of how slowly the bathroom sink was draining and decided to explore the issue. I gathered my supplies - a bucket and a wrench - cleared out the underside of the cabinet, and prepared to take apart the pipes.

Quick twist of the wrench and the U section came out easily. At first glance, the whole thing was clear, meaning that the clog was further along the pipe.

Completely undaunted I went to grab a wire hanger to see what I could fish out of the wall. And that's where things went a bit south.

Straightened wire hanger in my right hand and flashlight clenched in my teeth I leaned into the cabinet and grabbed the pipe in my left hand.

The thing... crumbled. Instead of firm cold metal, I had flakes of rusted metal in my hand.

I opened my hand and more of the pipe crumbled and just kept crumbling. It felt like I was trying to hold on to a cloud.

These days that's what my life feels like.

Three months ago I was in total control. After years of floating on the uncertain waters of parenting young children I finally felt like we were back on a track where things not only made sense, they were predictable and manageable.

It was so nice to have days that went the way I expected.

Do you know how much you accomplish when you don't constantly have surprises jumping out at you every five minutes? It's amazing. And inspiring.

The last three months have felt like that moment with the crumbling pipe.

Every day brings unexpected and undesired surprises.

Nothing is the way it looks at first.

Nothing turns out the way I'd hoped.

On top of various family health issues, the car's transmission is dying, Little L had to have a tooth pulled because of a fall, and I just can't find the time or the energy to get my work done.

Just like that day when I had to find another sink to wash my hands, write a "Please Don't Use!" sign for the sink, and call a plumber to fix my bathroom catastrophe, I feel like my control has been stripped from me.

I pride myself on being able to handle light plumbing issues. It makes me feel powerful and capable.

I hate not being able to cope on my own. It makes me feel hopeless.

And unlike the plumber who came the next day with a brand new PVC pipe that fixed both the crumbled pipe issue and the slow drain, there isn't anyone I can call who can fly in and just fix everything. I just have to keep getting up every morning and try to cope as best as I can while new surprises keep right on jumping out.

It's somewhat exhausting.

Milestone Photos: First Tooth

I discovered Little L's first tooth in a rather unfortunate event that involved a very sensitive part of my anatomy. She found my reaction hilarious and after that repeated her new trick at every feeding.

Go figure, I was in no hurry to run to get my camera to capture the sharp little thing on film.

It's possible that I also wasn't exactly motivated because I remembered from my time with the first kid just how hard it is to actually get a picture of that first tooth. Maybe I thought it would be easier to let her gnaw on me and then get a plaster cast of the dents...

When C's first tooth had broken through I tried endlessly to get a photo of the little incisor. I tried to make her laugh, to make her open wide. I tried to sneak the camera near her mouth. I even tried to get her to lie upside down on the living room ottoman. But that tooth, the one she was so happy to show anyone who asked, was never in sight of my camera's view finder.

I've always thought that I'd failed at getting that precious shot, then, tonight while looking through some old pictures on my computer, I found this:

If you blow up the picture and squint a little you can barely see it there, nestled in the middle of her lower gum, my first baby's first tooth... the one that, 6 years later, is so wiggly and about to fall out.

Tide Baby Milestones Sweepstakes
In honor of milestone photos Tide is hosting a series of four contest sweepstakes featuring Baby Milestones. This month is all about first teeth!
Have a photo of your baby's first tooth? Want to win a year of Tide Free and Gentle detergent? Enter here: http://community.babycenter.com/photoclubs/a6724151/baby_milestones 
Deadline to enter this sweepstakes is June 6. Winner will be chosen at random on or around June 13th.

Please note: This post is a sponsored post in conjunction with the BabyCenter Blog Network. The photos and thoughts contained here are all mine.

Things they never told you: Another BumpMonth Tale

There are millions of baby books out there. Half of them are gathering dust on my bookshelf. They cover all the basics - how to diaper, what to feed, how to burp... They miss an awful lot though.

I already wrote a bunch about the dirty truths no one tells new moms. But there are so many other things no one tells you before you go and get knocked up...

No one tells you that some kids are bad sleepers. End of story. And that you might still not be sleeping consistently through the night when they're almost four.

No one tells you that your kid might have a radically different personality from yours and that you'll have to learn to speak her language instead of yelling in yours.

No one really tells you that your kids are going to have radically different personalities from each other, and that one will be easier for you to comprehend than the other. Not that you love anyone less, just that one is... easier, even if she's the one who tortures you with no sleep.

No one tells you how hard it is to find the right school (preschool or elementary!) for these children who are so very different.

No one tells you how much your priorities will change. A weekend playing High Ho Cherry-o becomes a joy instead of a chore.Who would have thought that playing board games around a slightly sticky kitchen table would be the best part of a weekend? Especially when they laugh with you.

No one tells you that you're one day going to drain pus from your kid's mouth, or that after you're going to have to call the dentist because you just know a tooth affected by an abscess that big and that gross is going to have to be pulled.

No one tells you that knowing that your baby's tooth is going to be pulled will hurt you more than it will her.

No one tells you about the million little things you're going to want to shield your children from and not knowing which ones will make them stronger and which ones will really hurt them.

No one tells you how hard it is to "coach" from the guidelines instead of marching in and dealing with stuff yourself.

No one tells you how your heart swells when your coaching pays off and your child works through her issues herself. The pride written on her face is worth all the anguish in your heart.

I've often heard that when you become a parent your heart starts walking around outside of you. I never realized how true this was.

This parenting gig is both the hardest thing I've ever done and the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced. I learn and grow alongside them. But that, they did tell me. I just had to experience it for myself.

Bump Month is almost over! In case you hadn't noticed yet, 8 bloggers and I have teamed up to spend a whole month talking about moms and babies. We're sharing stories and wonderful companies who help us make it all look easy and fun. Be sure to enter the killer giveaway where you can earn a basket worth $1200! Read the things the other Bump Bloggers didn't know here.

Always Assume Positive Intent

When people do something, anything, directed at you, do you assume they mean you harm or assume they mean you good?

A snippy email, text, or tweet? Do you jump to the conclusion that they're mad at you, or assume they're having an off moment?

A curt waiter or salesclerk? Are they mean or having a bad day?

The driver who cut you off today? A jerk or someone rushing to someone's hospital bedside?

I like playing the "what could be happening in their life to make them act this way today?" game. It radically changes my perception of people's intent. I've always done it to an extent, but reading Noah Blumenthal's Be The Hero pushed me to do it more consistently. I like feeling compassion rather than frustration or hurt when people are snippy and unpleasant towards me. At the very least it makes my life better.

Last week I ordered Patti Digh's book Four Word Self Help. I stashed it in a high traffic area and pick it up whenever I pass by. Amazingly I seem to always open it to the perfect page for that moment. M has taken to doing the same and I'm really loving discussing our different interpretations of the short four word advice. (For instance we had radically different takes on "Be A Surge Protector." But that's a whole other blog post.)

One page I keep coming back to is this one:

What changes for you if you assume the person interacting with you means well?

I get to meet Patti Digh at Type A Parent next month. I can't wait. It's going to be one of the highlights of my trip to North Carolina. 

Introvert? Extrovert? Who are you?

It doesn't come as a huge shock to anyone who knows me that I am an extrovert. I'm outgoing and gregarious, I thrive on being in public and on being a part of work groups.

Until this year I always assumed that extrovert was synonymous with outgoing and since that defined me to a T, I was fine with people assuming that's what I was.

Introvert is usually synonymous with shy, and that's just how I assumed my more withdrawn friends were. Shy, needing to be jostled out of it with extra heaps of boisterousness and fun. 

Then, last month, we did a Meyers Briggs seminar at my mother's group and I gained a little more insight into the differences between the two.

I could not have been more wrong. 

Did you know that extroverts recharge their energy by being around other people? It's like we feed off the energy being put out. Most extroverts come home from parties buzzing and high on the collective energy they bathed in all night. Introverts on the other hand, are drained by being in public and recharge by being alone.

Did you also know that extroverts process information by verbalizing what they are thinking. We think best in a group setting, bantering around ideas, bouncing thoughts off other people. Introverts on the other hand, internalize the information, process it, then come back with their response.

At parties, extroverts assume that introverts are bored, which is clearly not the case. In meetings or during group discussions extroverts often take center stage and introverts get annoyed that they hog the conversation, often to say inane, stupid, un-thoughtout things. Some extroverts might perceive that the fact that introverts don't jump into the conversation means they are dumb, when really, they're just deeper and process the information differently.

It's fascinating to know all these things. To be aware of the differences.

But knowing them doesn't make anything easier.

Here are a few secrets you might not know about extroverts.

Sure, we're loud and boisterous, but we're still shy and insecure. We just hide behind our bravado.

Sure, we're outgoing and first to jump in, but we're also really, really sensitive. Introverts protect themselves at every turn, only showing their cards when they are good and ready. Extroverts have no protective shell, we jump in, feet first, and take it all in the face.

So when you tell us that we're too loud, even at times inconsiderate of others in the room, it kills us.

You see, we just want to be loved. We just want to please. We want nothing more than to win over every person in the room, because that's when we'll finally feel secure. To hear that our insecurity coping mechanism causes your insecurities puts us in a painful quandary. It makes us even more insecure, which in turn makes us louder.

There's no winning with that. Ever.

And really, it begs the following questions:

If my volume and personality cause such anxiety in others, why are the majority of my friends Introverts? And, how do I parent my introvert child when clearly, my very personality causes her nothing but angst?

And then she was 6: Wordless Wednesday

6 years ago today:

Not thrilled to be born.

Today:

Breakfast muffins straight from the oven!

The rest of breakfast wrapped up. Silly mommy.

Presents! YAY!

And a little sister with an infection ravaging her face. Booo.

C told us yesterday that what she was most looking forward to was being celebrated and made to feel special. I think we succeeded. It's hard not to really, she's just that awesome.

I remember breastfeeding

I remember the recovery room nurse trying to mash C's face into my very unresponsive breast moments after being wheeled out of the OR where they'd just cut my baby out of me.

I remember the same nurse witch sending the baby to the nursery three seconds later and overhearing her tell the staff to give her formula because I'd never be able to nurse.

I remember crying.

I remember trying to nurse my baby again the next morning with a lactation consultant who reenacted the same scene as in the recovery room before handing me a nipple shield and telling me it was the only solution.

I remember a nurse wheeling the pump out of my room at bedtime. No one thought to tell me that I'd have to pump every two hours  - through the night, not just in the daytime.

I remember getting yelled at by another lactation consultant later that week because I was taking time to burp my baby instead of jumping on the pump the instant the baby was done trying to nurse through the shield. In her words burping the baby is "what daddies are for."

I remember pumping endlessly while rocking the bouncer with my foot after M went back to work.

I remember, four weeks into our pumping madness, realizing that I could turn the pressure up on the pump. For the first time milk started coming out in spurts instead of dribbles.

I remember fighting with C one last time, weeks later, trying so hard to get her to take the breast while she pounded her little firsts against my boob and screamed with her head turned as far away from me as possible.

I remember giving up and researching "pumping exclusively" on the Internet.

I remember reading somewhere that all the baby needed was 4oz of my breast milk every day to get all the essential antibodies. I clung to that fact (never verified or even found again) on the days I didn't even get close to my 11oz max output. (That's daily, not per pumping session. And there were four, sometimes five hour long sessions every day.)

I remember feeling hope when I saw the sheer number of people also looking for the same information.

I remember the permanent bruises on my breasts from the massaging I had to do to get the milk out.

I remember pumping for the last time, shortly before C turned 10 months old, just in time for our trip to Paris.

I remember feeding her that last bottle and hearing a nosy wannabe help telling me that I really should keep pumping because it was so good for the baby.

I remember refusing to go down the same road with my second child.

I remember researching every way possible to have a better nursing relationship with Little L.

I remember sitting up in the recovery room, post repeat c-section, and gently moving her into position.

I remember crying when she latched on perfectly and started nursing.

I remember crying when the nurses told me she had jaundice and they needed to supplement her feedings with formula.

I remember smiling through my tears when the nurse shrugged as the formula dribbled down Little L's cheeks. "I guess she's already full. You're doing a great job nursing after all."

I remember going home, not realizing that I'd spend the next four months, sitting on the couch, my little titleach attached to me, only letting go when she was full to bursting, milk pearling at the corners of her mouth, bliss written all over her face.

I remember getting good at making her cozy in the breastfeeding pillow, pulling her close, getting her latched, and pulling up the flip top for our coffee table so I could reach the computer.

I remember the sweet satisfaction of knowing that I could feed her wherever and never run out of food, not needing the emergency supply of ready-to-serve formula I always kept in the car for C.

I remember getting ready to go back to work. Renting the pump I'd used for C, washing the pump parts I'd stored carefully, arranging for a space to pump at work. (Endless thanks to my best friend for loaning me her office for all those months even though it must have killed her to see me pump when she herself wasn't able to nurse.)

I remember pumping for the first time and getting the same amount of milk in one sitting as I'd gotten in total on my best day of pumping for C.

I remember crying.

I remember Little L only being soothed by "the magic boob of happiness" and C hollering at the mall one day "MAMA! Da baby is cwyyying! She needs your booooobie!"

I remember smiling.

Nursing Little L wasn't all peaches and cream. There was pain, there was blood, there was crying. But it was such a far cry from my experience with C that the two are incomparable. I nursed her in the early morning until she was 14 months-old, only putting an end to our ritual because she discovered how much fun it was to wait until mommy was asleep again before testing out her new teeth on me. She thought that the way I jumped was hilarious.

I miss that bond that we shared and in my heart I refuse to give up hope that I'll get to share it with another baby one day.

It's the third week of Bump Month! 8 bloggers and I have teamed up to spend a whole month talking about moms and babies. We're going to share stories and wonderful companies who help us make it all look easy and fun. Stay tuned for more trips down memory lane to my long past pregnancies and infancies! Be sure to enter the killer giveaway! Read the other Bump Bloggers stories about their nursing experience here.

Goals, Charts, and Hopes

When Little L was little she was adorable and cute and tough. There was one place the kid was ever happy. One. On me. When she was separated she'd wail until I came back into her line of sight and then just whimper until I took her into my arms.

We said "it's a phase! She'll mellow out!"

And four years later we've finally accepted that our beautiful girl is just tough.

She doesn't listen. She dances to the beat of her own drum. She's willful. She's mischievous. She's adorable and when she smiles and bats her eyelashes she gets away with murder.

The hardest part of it all is that she means well. She really truly does, but she's just off in her own world. So "talks" and "conversations" and all other sorts of communication goes in one ear and bounces right back out.

And then she smiles and says something funny or cute and we instantly forgive her for losing her shoes one more time, for not putting on her pajamas because she found a tiny toy that instantly needed attention, for not eating because a leaf caught her eye outside the window.

The only challenges that we have trouble turning a blind eye on are the night time hassles.

It's no secret that Little L isn't the best sleeper in the world. Her nights (and mine!) are often interrupted and bedtime is rarely a breeze. She'll pop up out of bed for a million reasons, often only falling asleep after one of us breaks down and yells.

And really? I hate the yelling. I hate that she falls asleep with tear tracks on her face. I hate that that's how she was ending her days.

So I took matters into consideration. Took my daughter into consideration. Remembered that she and I are cut from an identical cloth and asked myself what would have motivated me at her age.

I bribed her with chocolate.

Oh, yes I did.

One chocolate treat if she went to bed without getting up and didn't wake up mommy and daddy during the night. My only regret is that I didn't think of it sooner.

And then one morning (after rereading the chapter on rewarding the process rather than the result in Raising Happiness) I praised Little L for working hard to stay in bed while her sister did her own jack-in-the-box routine.

She writhed with pride. Literally writhed. And I realized that, just like for the rest of us, recognition for efforts is worth even more to her than chocolate.

Since that day we've had few bad bedtimes and she's gone to bed with kisses on her cheeks rather than tears. My nights have been more restful and our mornings less crabby. Most of all it's been amazing to see how she puffs up with pride when we notice her achievements.

To give her a concrete visual and keep the progress moving in the right direction, I took advantage of the behavior charts offered by Goalforit.com to set something up that would give her a good snapshot of her week.

This morning we sat down and went over all the goals outlined in the chart and I had her tell me if she had earned a reward for each.

My little girl, the one who always seems to have her head in the clouds and to have no idea about what's going on around her, the one who doesn't seem to remember anything three seconds after it happened, took complete ownership of her actions. She's the one who said she hadn't been good about not waking mommy up. Without my prompting.

I could have wept. But instead I hugged her and told her how proud I was that she was working so hard.

And the best part of it all? For the rest of the morning I didn't have to repeat anything I asked her. In her mind she was already working towards picking her reward icon for good listening.

This post was sponsored by Goalforit.com and BSM Media. As always the thoughts and stories are all mine. I'm really impressed with the site and have even set up my own goals chart! And yes, I do feel all puffed up with pride too when it tells me that I had a perfect day. Go figure. Even I think it tastes better than chocolate.

Making Healthy Choices

Until our world imploded a month ago I was doing really well with my eating. I had stopped eating candy like it was one of the recommended food groups, had really gotten into the habit of eating more fruits and vegetables, and I'd even managed to lose almost ten pounds.

Then I fell off the healthy eating bandwagon hard. One hospital cafeteria meal here, one vending machine snack there, and suddenly I was back to the candy popping, veggie ignoring habits I'd worked so hard to shake.

And the scale was none too pleased with me either.

This past week, after scarfing down a donut, I realized that while I was turning to food as a comfort mechanism it wasn't really comforting me. Well, at least not beyond two or three delectable seconds.

Actually, watching the scale creep up again was depressing me even more. And to make matters worse, my atrocious diet was written all over my face in nasty little pimples women my age should never get.

"But I'm miserable. I should get to eat whatever I want," my mind (or maybe Egmos) argued, and for weeks I listened.  

I think I'm done.

This morning I ordered my regular coffee and resisted the urge to get a treat to go with it. Instead I ate a banana. For lunch, I skipped the food truck and microwaved a Healthy Choice Steamer. And this afternoon, I steered clear of the free vending machines at work and snacked on carrots and snap peas.

I'm not going to lie to you, my lunch didn't quite have the same punch as my favorite take out Thai, but the Sweet Sesame Chicken was actually quite tasty and was cheaper than my usual meal. Plus, it was surprisingly filling!

I'm not quite ready to jump back fully on the Weight Watcher bandwagon, but I'm hoping that with a few tweaks here and there I can reverse the trend once again. Between conference season starting in a month for me, and bathing suit season starting long before even then, there's no shortage of motivation. Plus, Little L keeps patting my belly and wistfully sighing "baaaabeeee." Not quite ideal and even quite motivating.

Healthy choices here I come. You with me?

This post was sponsored by Healthy Choice, whose meals, with their nearly 70 varieties for fewer than 400 calories, are definitely going to play a huge part on my journey to healthier eating. A study they just conducted shows that incorporating a ready-to-eat, pre-portioned healthy option, such as Healthy Choice, is a simple way to be more health conscious, lose weight and improve quality of life. It's definitely a better choice than heading to the drive-thru or the food truck! Aside from those last facts, pulled from a study conducted by Healthy Choice and ConAgra Foods, the thoughts and stories contained in this post are mine and mine alone. Except for that bit about the baby in the belly. That's all Little L's wishful thinking.

Becoming a Mom: A Bump Month Tale

Do you remember a time when any decision you ever made only affected you? What to have for dinner? What to do next weekend? Where to go on vacation? Even what to buy at the store?

I can remember if I close my eyes really, really hard.

It's a fleeting memory at best. Something hazy, like a dream that I might be remembering. Then again, it could just be someone else's life that I once heard about.

Even before I got pregnant with C I was already thinking of myself as more than just an individual whose actions only impacted herself. I watched what I ate to make sure I built up my folic acid reserves and on the day I learned that licorice could be bad for fertility I walked away from that favorite treat without a glance back.

It made me feel like a mom to already be making those decisions.

But nothing compared to the day that I got the results of C's Nuchal Translucency test.

I'd walked into that ultrasound room confident that everything would be peachy. That the test was nothing more than a routine screening that would show that my baby was as perfect as I knew her to be.

And then it wasn't. In fact, it wasn't conclusive either way.

So they did some blood work to try to see if they could decipher more.

And that came back to say that there was a 1/160 chance that my baby had Down Syndrome.

I went home that day and had the hardest conversation I ever had with my husband. The whole "What if the Amnio shows that the baby does have Down Syndrome? What do we do then?" debate.

You'd think that it's a conversation that we would have had before getting pregnant. But, what can I say, we were cocky. We never thought our baby wouldn't be "perfect." I also assumed my husband would be 100% on the same page as me.

My baby, our baby... would be who he or she was. We'd love her or him as is. No questions asked.

I was thinking like a mom already. This baby in my womb was part of me already. In my mind, simply by getting pregnant I had pledged myself over to caring for her and loving her at no matter what cost to me.

M was more rational. He figured we had a set amount of resources - financial and emotional - and we could opt to give them all to one special needs child, or we could opt to save them for a larger family.

I think it was the first time we'd ever been at odds over anything. It floored me. And we never did agree on the issue. Instead we tacitly decided to wait until we had to make a decision.

We tried to do the Amnio a week early, but my uterus contracted when the needle went in and they had to pull it out again. When they tried again they couldn't get enough fluid.

I went back a week later, two days before Thanksgiving, for a third attempt. I don't remember much about the pain of the injection. I do remember driving all the way to Lake Tahoe that Wednesday, phone in hand, waiting for the call from the lab.

As the clock ticked slowly past 5pm and I realized we wouldn't get the call before Monday I cried.

I wanted so badly be able to relax and just love the baby in my belly. I wanted to let myself be excited about her arrival. I wanted to go to work and yell on every rooftop that I was pregnant and proud of it. 

That weekend, on Thanksgiving morning, I "popped." We both realized it when M tried to hug me.

"This baby is already coming between us!" I quipped, instantly regretting my choice of words. At that moment I didn't know, if it came down to it, if I'd be able to chose between my baby's life and my husband's desires.

Lucky for me, I never had to discover what I would have decided.

The genetic counselor called me at 7:30 that Monday morning. Knowing just how hard that wait must have been, she'd come in to work early to spare us any more wait. The baby was healthy. A healthy baby girl.

I put away the jacket I'd been hiding my bump under and dressed in maternity clothes that day. Then I went to work and shared my news with all my coworkers. M went to work and told his.

It's still Bump Month! 8 bloggers and I have teamed up to spend a whole month talking about moms and babies. We're going to share stories and wonderful companies who help us make it all look easy and fun. Stay tuned for more trips down memory lane to my long past pregnancies and infancies! Be sure to enter the killer giveaway! Read the other Bump Bloggers stories about when they first felt like a mom here.

A Rainforest and a Giveaway

Back in the days when I was very much a newbie mom, before C had taken her first steps or uttered her first words, before we knew she had asthma and I'd become an expert in all things cough related, I made the funniest gaff of my parenting career.

It's a little sad that I peaked so early, but when you go big, it's hard to top yourself later when you set the bar so high.

My little baby, who looked so small in her big crib, had a cough. And as we all know, you can't give cough syrup to babies. So, to avoid standing in the shower steam with her all night, I did the next best thing.

I bought her a humidifier for her room.

Well, first I went to the drugstore and stared at the humidifiers in utter consternation.

Do you know how many kinds there are? Do you know how unhelpful drugstore clerks can be?

Hot air, cold air? Fine mist? With Vapo action?

What did I know?

The hot steam one caught my eye, and, assuming that since the shower steam was good, hot steam had to be good too, I snagged it. Plus, it was all serious looking, unlike all the cute animal ones on the shelf next to it, which looked like they clearly were just for show.

I brought the thing home and low and behold, the baby slept and didn't cough.

The next day I patted myself on the back heartily and congratulated myself on navigating another tricky parenting moment expertly. (I told you I was a newb.)

That night I plugged the humidifier in again and headed to my room for another night of great sleep.

(Who laughed? Was that you in the back? Do you know this story already?)

In the wee hours of the morning the baby screamed. Not a hurt scream, an angry scream. A really, really pissed off baby scream. By the time I got to her room she was back asleep. I shrugged it off and went back to bed.

She screamed again.

I hurried back, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Once again, she was sleeping like an angel.

And then, as I watched her sleep sweetly, breathing in the healing warm steam, I felt it.

SPLAT.

A big, fat, freezing cold drop of water. On my face. That almost made me scream.

I looked up at the ceiling and saw, hundreds of sister drops of water, pearling and gently reflecting the hallway light, just waiting to rain down on my unsuspecting innocent baby.

My hot steam humidifier had turned her room into a rainforest.

She slept in our bed that night and, after cleaning off the ceiling, the next day I returned the humidifier. This time I read the reviews online and got the cutest little frog Crane humidifier. Cool mist. Guaranteed to not turn the nursery into a tropical land.

And now, when I'm at Target or the drugstore and I see a young mom looking at all the options with that confused look on their face, I steer her to the Crane humidifiers. It's my way of atoning for my first blooper.

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Crane is one of the awesome All About the Bump Month sponsors and if you'd like to get one of these magic humidifiers for yourself read on!

The wonderful sponsors of Bump Month have given us a number of awesome Bump Basket to give away. This giveaway the ultimate win for any pregnant or new mom.  The collective value of Bump Basket items exceeds $1,200! 

• Books from Workman Publishing including Bring Back Beatrice ($10.95) and What to Expect the Second Year ($15.95)
• A Baby Hug Blanket ($64) from Silly Monkey Baby
• 3 sets of socks ($30) from See Kai Run
• lillebaby Yucky Stuff Bag ($10) from Scandinavian Child
• Ritmo Prenatal Sound System ($129.99)
• A set of Rhoost products including edge ($14.99) table corner protectors and sling ($9.99) cabinet closures
• Putumayo Kids CD ($14.98) of music from around the world
• A Pure Belly gift card with a value of $59
• Single set of Pump-a-Pair hands free breast pumping support ($12.95)
• Silky Liquid Powder ($22) from MD Moms
• LeapFrog’s My Pal Scout ($21.99)
• Joovy Hook ($69.99)
• Hot Mama Gown ($89)
• Apothederm Stretch Mark Cream ($89.95)
• A T-shirt or tank from For Two Fitness ($39.99)
• Focus Films’ BABIES DVD ($19.98)
• Episencial Sunblock Kit ($14.99)
• Your choice between 1 of 4 Britax products to be determined
• DiaperBuds Multipack ($5.99)
• Crane humidifier ($45.99)
• Booginhead SplatMat ($19.99) and one of the following: SippiGrip ($7.50), PaciGrip ($5), or PaciPouch ($8)
• A collection of products from BabyCenter including a diaper bag, BabyCenter Pregnancy: From Preconception to Birth ($19.95) and BabyCenter Baby: The All-Important First Year ($19.95)
• Adora Calcium chocolate calcium supplements ($7.50/bag)

….and a very special gift from our platinum sponsor, Zulily!  

TO ENTER: Leave a comment sharing a blooper or funny parenting moment that you've had or you imagine you will have. Be sure to include your email for your entry to be valid!

For extra entries you must complete the above comment and do any of the following:
CLOSED! This contest is now closed. Winner will be announced shortly on another blog post. Thank you for participating!  

• Tweet this daily and leave the link to your Tweet in your comment: Win the #BumpMonth basket with $1200+ in products perfect for new moms given away by @kikarose!  Enter here: http://bit.ly/lUCyNl

• Enter one of the other Bump Month Basket giveaways on one of the other Bumpin’ bloggers’ sites and leave a comment letting me know whose giveaway you entered!  Include your email/Twitter too!  Links below will go live as giveaways are posted!

• Alison Ray from Sassy Moms in the City @sassymomchicago

• Andrea Fellman from Savvy Sassy Moms @savvysassymoms

• Grace Duffy from Formerly Gracie @graceduffy

• Leticia Barr from Tech Savvy Mama @techsavvymama
• Jessica Rosenberg from It’s My Life @kikarose

• Julie Meyers Pron from Just Precious @justprecious

• Kelly Whalen from The Centsible Life @centsiblelife

• Laurie Cooper from Guessing all the Way @clueless_mama
• Whitney Wingerd from Mommies with Style @WhitneyMWS

Fine print: One winner will be randomly selected by Random.org on Monday, May 30 and contacted via email or Twitter.  If winner comment does not meet the aforementioned criteria by containing the necessary contact information, another winner will be selected.  Winner must provide name and US mailing address for direct shipment of products within 24 hours of being contacted or an alternate winner will be selected.  Jessica Rosenberg, Splash Creative Media, and Bump Month sponsors are not responsible for items lost or delayed in shipping. 

This post is apart of a series of posts inspired and sponsored by "All about the Bump Month.”  To visit our sponsor page please click here.

Ineffable plans and faith

"Everything happens for a reason."

"God has a plan for our family."

I hear these words from friends and family and I just wish I had their faith. These days it all feels a whole lot more like "Man plans; God laughs."

Two months ago I thought I had it all figured out. I had a plan. A great, awesome plan. I was going to work at something that filled me with passion and energy and still have the time to be the mom I want to be. I was going to work my way to being more available to my family all while earning more money.

I had visions of more relaxed commutes to school and picking up the girls at 3pm, leaving us plenty of time to go home, do homework, make real meals, and even maybe take on after-school activities.

I had visions of being the mom I've always dreamed of being.

All I've ever wanted to be was a mom. Some people dream of careers, of exciting futures. My dreams were filled with babies and little children.

My answer to the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" was always "I want to be happy and I want to be a mom."

I knew I'd be a great mom and I thought I'd get to have lots of kids. Four at least. I'd be home with them, caring for them myself, being their everything.

I put my first daughter in daycare exactly three months after she was born. I put the second one in daycare just under four months after she drew her first breath. I've shared all of their baby milestones with their daycare providers. And while it's been an amazing partnership from day one, it just wasn't how I envisioned my life as a mother.

I'm not a career girl. I'm not driven to succeed at anything... except mothering.

My plan is falling through.

Like it often does, life didn't go the way we anticipated. The playing field has changed and taken with it my game plan.

I'm sitting here, staring ahead and I can't see the road. I want to trust that there's a bigger plan. One that I can't see. But I'm struggling to find the faith in me.

Right now I see a future of me... working.... rushing home to parent in dribs and drabs where I can fit it in... in a home that no one has time to care for. I see no third child... no baby to love and cherish. I see no self started business that allows me to balance it all better.

I see nothing of what I had envisioned. And it just makes me sad.

A birth story 6 years later

I've always wanted to be a mom. It was my thing. Babies were my passion, one I indulged with endless nights and afternoons of babysitting.

So, when my belly got huge (and huge it was...) and the day dawned when the baby would be born, I thought I'd be in and out of that hospital in no time.

See, I felt so in control. I felt like I was going to ace the giving birth part as easily as I had aced the getting pregnant part and the carrying of the baby part. Clearly, I had been right all along; I was made for this baby thing.

To reinforce my belief that I was in total control, I went into labor the very moment I had told my doctor I would go into labor: two days past my due date, right after M left for his last final of the year.

And that is where my control of the situation ended. It was as though C wanted to send me a message from the womb. "Mom, you might think you'll always be in control. And really, you'll be able to hold the reigns most of the time. But in the end.... I'm really in charge around here."

Not drugged. Just sweetly oblivious of the ensuing chaos.

I labored for 26 hours after that first contraction hit. 26 hours with nothing to show for it. I walked and I napped and after the epidural I just lay around begging people to please move my 10 ton legs around for me. And when the OB walked in, fully dressed in green scrubs, I knew exactly what she was going to say.

"It's been 26 hours and you've made it to barely 5cm. This baby has to come out another way."

The nurses were already bustling around me, getting me ready for the surgery that they weren't really waiting for me to approve. All I heard was the Boop Boop Boop of C's heart monitor. My baby. Happy inside my womb. Completely unmotivated to come out on her own.

M pushed his way through the throngs of people that had magically materialized in my previously deserted room.

"Wait. Everyone, please just stop for a second." He took my hand gently in his and looked me in the eye. "Are you ok with this?"

I wanted to laugh at his sweet innocence. There was no stopping that tide of nurses, but I saw in his eyes that if I said I wasn't ok with it, he'd find a way. 

I didn't really hesitate. The only thing I cared about was the baby. The baby currently stuck inside me, showing us her will even before being born. If the doctors thought this was the safest way to get her out, then who was I to try to stop them. It never occurred to me to consider that I was agreeing to major, potentially life threatening surgery.

"Yes. I'm ok with this. If it's what's best for her, then it's fine." I whispered back and the nurses moved in.

Today I know the risks that come with a c-section. I've been incredibly fortunate. I recovered easily. I had no complications. And C was born healthy, if a tad peeved at her rude extraction.

Today I know that control is a mere illusion. As a parent all I can do is make the best decisions I can regarding my children's health and well being, with the knowledge I have. So far I've been pretty lucky. And really, my four inch scar was a small price to pay for this.

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Welcome to Bump Month! 8 bloggers and I have teamed up to spend a whole month talking about moms and babies. We're going to share stories and wonderful companies who help us make it all look easy and fun. Stay tuned for more trips down memory lane to my long past pregnancies and infancies and for a killer giveaway! Read the other Bump Bloggers birth stories here.
or here:

• Alison Ray from Sassy Moms in the City @sassymomchicago
• Andrea Fellman from Savvy Sassy Moms @savvysassymoms
• Grace Duffy from Formely Gracie @graceduffy
• Jessica Rosenberg from It’s My Life @kikarose < that's me!
• Julie Meyers Pron from Just Precious @justprecious
• Kelly Whalen from The Centsible Life @centsiblelife
• Laurie Cooper from Guessing all the Way @clueless_mama
• Leticia Barr from Tech Savvy Mama @TechSavvyMama
• Whitney Wingerd from Mommies with Style @WhitneyMWS