Sunday, January 22, 2012

Raising a Daughter

Guy Delcambre's blog post, Saving a Little Girl, got me thinking tonight.

I have a little girl now; I think I'm still surprised about it.  I was so sure my life would be full of a herd of little boys, and then she came along:

Oh my,  how I adore this little sweet pea.  When I hold her and think about this special mother-daughter relationship that I get to have with her, I am often reduced to tears.  I want to tell her everyday how wonderful, lovely and amazing she is.  I want her to know how much her Jesus loves her.  I want her to be strong, confident and exactly who she was put on this earth to be.  I want to shield her from all of the ugly this world hurls on females.

I know the wolves will come.  They will lie to her, they will try to rob her confidence and steal her joy.  I got a small glimpse of it when a well meaning friend hoped my healthy daughter would be "thin and beautiful" when she outgrew her fat rolls.   I tried very hard not to kick my friend in the shins for such a ridiculous remark.

So I started making a plan:

I will not call myself fat.  (Idea mooched from Sarah at Emerging Mummy)
I will not refer to the little dudes in her life as "boyfriends."  (Seriously, why start that crap?)
I will encourage health; not skinny and airbrushed.
I will build her up.
Lastly, and most importantly, her father and I will stand between her and that pressure with our big Can o' Whoop Ass.  

Because she's our girl.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Mooched Mommy Idea #15: The Mommy Hat

As much as it pains me to admit it, my mommy-style is somewhat.....lacking.  Yes, my friends, sometimes the effort and  the glam is simply not there.

I recently discovered a way to jazz it up a bit when I ran into a college buddy and fellow domestic goddess at the park.  She looked adorable as I was slumming it in my ponytail and Velveeta-on-my-sweatpants look.  Her look was simple, really.  She took a super-cute hat and paired it with the classic jeans and t-shirt.  That's it- and she looked fab.

I immediately went to Ross and bought 3 hats. 

It works!  No matter what I'm wearing, a stylish hat and some red lipstick rocks the mom look even if my outfit is blah.  Or splattered with baby goo.

My idea is so popular, even Angelina Jolie had to copy me:

This is what I look like now.

Of course.
Some ideas:

Tah-dah! (I apologize to my male readers for completely wasting your time with this post.)

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Lilah Joy's Birth Story

“Honey, take your time, cause I don’t mind, waitin’ on a woman.”
-Brad Paisley

We had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity for our little lady to arrive. My friends and family were afraid to text or call me anymore. My husband didn’t know which woman he was coming home to at night. I had tried every natural method to go into labor, and at the end gave up on it all, sat on the couch, cried and ate nachos.

I went to the point that my doctor and I weren’t comfortable waiting anymore, so an induction was scheduled. I cried for 3 days about it since I wanted an all-natural experience, but I wanted a safe arrival more so we arrived at the hospital, excited and scared, at 5:30 in the morning to start the induction. I curled my hair and everything.

I heard that Pitocin contractions were more intense, but I was convinced that I could power through it and, hopefully, deliver my daughter in a short amount of time. Seriously, I was already dilated to a 3 and my body had been labor-ready for almost 3 weeks, (my doctor had been telling me, “any second now!”) I was convinced that my body just needed a little push to get the party started.

The contractions started around 8:00. My wise and fabulous doula was there, coaching me through the pains. My husband, sister and mother took turns massaging me and encouraging me. At this point, I was still laughing and telling stories in between contractions. Natural birth? Bring it!

Then something started changing fast. I had less time in between contractions and they were at maximum intensity for way too long. I braced myself; I just knew I was in transition and I would get to push and finally meet our daughter. My doctor came in to check my progress, and I assumed she would tell me that I was dilated to a 10. I prided myself and my brave 3 hours of natural labor.  Iwas ready for the great dilation news!

“You’re still a 3.” My doctor quietly said.

And I lost it. I mean, really lost it. Like, no emotional control. I had been in horrible pain that I thought was progressing my labor, but it turns out I was just in maximum pain and still at a 3. I now hated the number 3. And I gave up, right then and there.


My husband and doula reminded me of my well-thought out natural birth plan while my loyal sister shot out of the room and yelled up and down the hall for the epidural fairy. My Mom and my doula coached me through the contractions from hell and my husband consulted with my OB. I tried to focus, but I was really trying to figure out how to rip out my IV’s and run for the door.

I continued to fall apart. I was biting the bed and yelling “MAMA!!”. (Cause when you hurt like that, only yo momma can make it better). My doula and my Mom got bossy, (I needed it), and I tried not to vomit as the contractions ripped through my body.

Anyone who came between me and an epidural at that point was my enemy.

30 agonizing minutes later- the elixir of life was coursing through my body. Apparently, it was just what I needed because I dilated from a 3 to a 10 in 2 short hours. My doctor walked in and said it was time. I remember saying, “I get to meet her now…I finally get to meet my daughter!”

My husband held my hand, my mother cried, my sister took pictures and my doula faithfully kept to the remainder of my tattered birth plan. 2 pushes later, Miss Lilah Joy finally, and I do mean finally, graced us with her arrival. When my son was born, I wept. When she was born, I laughed…and I couldn’t stop laughing. There was this perfect little lady in my arms. And yes, she was very much worth the wait.