Tuesday, May 19, 2015

The Working Mom Guilt

I love my daughter's daycare. I love the teachers. I love the location. I love everything about it. I know she also loves it there. Sometimes, when I pick her up, I watch her through the door just to see her walk around the classroom, playing with toys or with other kids. I love to observe her in that environment. It isn't something I get to do often.

I have every Monday at home with her. Yesterday, we woke up early, ate breakfast and after she cried in her crib for 20 minutes, we napped together in bed for over an hour. We went on a 2.5 mile run/walk before heading out to Costco for some shopping. We ate lunch together and played outside with the water table. She explored the backyard, pointing to the grass and the trees and asking "dis? dat?" She sat in the patio chair and spun around with a smile on her face. She walked the halls of the local hospital where I had my doctor appointment and kicked her legs when I saw her in the hallway with my mom afterwards. I got into the backseat to put her in the carseat and she rested her head on my chest and stayed that way for 30 seconds. I kissed her head and I said I love you.

When we got home, she made it very clear that she was hungry so I made her dinner while she verbally expressed her disappointment that I was moving too slow. The rest of the evening involved watching her walk around the house, coloring, reading books and playing with her toys. Then it was bath and bed.

When I crawled into my own bed at night, I thought about our day and how she made me laugh so many times. How she understands so much and is communicating so well, even though she doesn't have any real words to use. I thought about how she walks with one arm swinging fiercely and often stomps her feet while marching around. I pictured her cute spout standing tall on her head and her whispy blonde hair.

And I burst into tears because tomorrow won't be a repeat of today. And it is 4 long workdays until I get to be with her all day again. I am her mother. I should be with her. I should be teaching her animal sounds and doing arts and crafts with her. I should be at the park with her in the afternoon every single day and playing with her. I want to be eating lunch with her. The pain I felt was real and it hurt. I questioned myself for spending the last 10 months working while she was at daycare. I felt envy for my many friends who stay at home with their kids. I am sad that I can't do that.

I treasure my moments with her. I know she is gaining so many skills and learning so much at daycare. I know she loves it. And I love it too. I just wish she was with me. All the time.

Friday, May 8, 2015

I Won't Forget

I blogged about Mother's Day as a person who was facing a life without children here. That was in 2013, just three months before I would find myself holding a positive pregnancy test.

I was strong then. I had moved past a lot of my fears and worries and hangups about not being able to have children. It didn't happen overnight but I got there and I felt confident that Mother's Day wouldn't cause me to fall apart.

I know there are other women out there that aren't strong yet. And that is okay. You don't have to be strong. You just be you. For me, it was other occasions that sent me into an emotional rage. Visiting the Pumkpin Patch in the Fall with my nieces and seeing dozens of other families, chasing after their kids, playing with them in the corn bath and picking out pumpkins was my "fall apart" moment year after year.

But I won't forget the pain. Having a child after going through infertility doesn't erase the memories. In my case, it has made them stronger. I probably spend too much time questioning why things worked out the way they did. Why did I have to go through that in the first place? Why did I get pregnant when I was least expecting it? Why am I so lucky to get to raise this incredible human when so many friends are struggling?

I don't have the answers but I can tell you-I won't forget what it is like to be in your shoes. And I hope someday, you find yourself in mine.

Friday, April 17, 2015

One Year

 My miracle baby turned one on Monday. This entire week I have been trying to wrap my head around a year passing by. I'm still in complete shock that this time last year saw me struggling to breastfeed, learning how to move around the house a few days post c-section and deal with the range of emotions being post-partum brings. I was a mess.

But that little girl has made my life better. There aren't words to describe how much I love her. Being a parent is hard. She tests me already! Or maybe I am testing myself. Either way, I work to be a better person because of her. She makes me laugh daily and the rate at which she is learning new things is astounding. Their little brains are so open to new ideas and words and thoughts.

I miss her when she is sleeping in her room at night.
I can't get to daycare fast enough after work so I can see her.
Her zombie walk towards me when I walk in the room makes me entire day better.

To think that I had any clue what love for another person meant before she was born.
This is love.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015


6 years ago, when we first started trying to have a baby, I wanted 2 kids. I grew up with a sister and couldn't imagine not having two children. In fact, I believe I remember telling a friend that I would rather have zero kids than one.

How times change.

I don't owe anyone an explanation or a reason on what our family will look like. But I know as soon as our child turns one in April, the questions about Baby #2 will start.

We are pretty sure there won't be a Baby #2. And we are okay with that. You should be too. Because how many children I have isn't your concern. Unless you are offering to help pay for daycare and breastfeed and get up at night to deal with a crying baby, you don't get an opinion.

I won't lie-I do have baby fever. My baby is nearly 23 pounds and 30" tall. She wears 18 month clothes and is starting to take steps. She feels less like a tiny newborn each day and sigh.....it is sad.

But I'll be 36 this year. It took 4 years and some sort of miracle to get pregnant. If we were to have kids 3 years apart, I would be bordering on 37, in the "advanced maternal age" category and considered high risk for complications. And that is only if I got pregnant the first time trying. Tack on another 4 years and I'm 40+.

Was this my plan 6 years ago? No. As our years of trying dragged on, was I sad about the chances of having 2 kids slowly diminishing? Yes. Very. But I was facing a life with no baby at all. And THAT was sad. Terribly sad.

Our Julia is the light of our lives. She is our everything. She is perfect.

Babies are hard. They are expensive. They take over your life.

I'm happy with one. Be happy with me. Be happy for me.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015


When does one find balance in life? I thought 9 months into this motherhood thing and I would be firing on all cylinders. I would have it all figured out. I would go through the day without any major stress because "I GOT THIS!"

I don't got this.

My got this looks like my showering in the morning as fast as I can because my baby is crying in her crib at 4:45 a.m. but I NEED to wash my hair.

My got this is cooking carrots at 8:00 p.m. to include in her lunch so I'm not the weird mom that doesn't send table food with her kid to daycare. Plus, she likes eating and is good at it!

My got this is staring at a bag of trash sitting in my front seat that has already tipped over and caused left over tea to spill onto the floor of my car.

My got this means putting the baby in her stroller as soon as we get home so we can both get some fresh air and time at the park before she eats at 5:00.

My got this doesn't look organized or normal or together. Most days I feel like I'm in such a big rush that slowing down to enjoy life isn't on the menu.

But that isn't okay. I think my balance will appear if I do slow down. If I throw out the trash today because the trash can is right there. If I stay at the park just a little bit longer. If I spend 1 extra minute in the shower while telling myself "she will be fine."

The choices I make on a daily basis all seem so important when really, only a few are crucial to my survival (and J's too). My balance will come when I follow the age old saying of not sweating the small stuff (and it's all small stuff). 


Thursday, December 18, 2014

This is Motherhood

Motherhood is placing a burp rag in every room in the house because your child spits up around the clock.

Motherhood is walking in circles around your culdesac because being outside is the only thing that calms down your baby.

Motherhood is singing and humming the songs made by baby toys all day, every day.

Motherhood is changing two diapers within 10 minutes because babies poop a lot.

Motherhood is calculating how much you will spend on formula for the next ___ months but realizing that one cost is only replaced by another.

Motherhood is crying while rocking your baby after her last bottle of the day. Happy tears that you made it through another 24 hours. Happy tears that you have a child.

Motherhood is feeling your heart ache so hard when you drop your baby off at daycare for the first time. And the time after that. And some random times in between.

Motherhood is walking into your child's daycare classroom, making eye contact with her and watching her arms flap with excitement.

Motherhood is incredible and overwhelmingly beautiful and hard. Really hard.

Julia is 8 months and 5 days old.

Friday, December 5, 2014

:Wades through the dust and cobwebs:

Oh hi. How are you? Geez, this place is covered with a layer of dust. Who knew blogs got dusty!

I have been thinking a lot lately about this little blog. I miss writing. I miss sharing. I miss expressing myself through words. As I find myself with a few spare minutes at the end of each day, I think about typing up a post but I'm not sure if anyone still has this blog on their radar and I'm not exactly sure what I would write about!

I said in my farewell post that I didn't feel quite comfortable posting pictures of my baby online, in this public space. God knows I share too many on Facebook and Instagram each day. Sorry, friends. But because this is a journal that goes back almost 7 years, I wanted to post about a special event that happened last night.

The first picture with Santa. Behold......

There she is, folks. That is my baby! Baby? Big girl. She is almost 8 months. She didn't like Santa. Hmm, I wonder what it is about Santa that is so scary? The beard, I think. 

I'm the mother that hoped she would react this way because it makes for a better memory than a smiling kid picture. I get plenty of those with my girl. She is rarely the type to cry when handed to a stranger. I should worry, shouldn't I? This is the type of picture that will make future visits with Santa more fun. To think she once full on freaked out when placed on his lap. And in a few years, she will hopefully be overjoyed at the thought of telling Santa what she wants for Christmas.

It was nice "seeing" all of you. Maybe something will pop back in this space again soon.