So... I'm a mom now

Max is six months today and I finally feel coherent enough to write again (yey!). So much has happened since my last post. I've wanted to write about everything but simply lacked the time, sleep and sanity to do so. Being a new mom is, without question, the most challenging and rewarding experience I've ever had, and I am constantly surprised by it. With all the amazing mamas in my life, I've found myself wondering why no one told me this, that or the other until it dawned on me that they must have; I just didn't understand what they were saying because, until I became a mother, there was no way for me to fully comprehend the intricacies of being one. As someone who loves to share, I can think of no better topic to open my motherhood posts than to discuss the things that have surprised me so far.

Getting a C-Section: My pregnancy was relatively easy and I naively thought it would translate to my delivery even though I had to be induced (because I was thirty-eight at the time, my OB would not let me go past a few days after my due date). After spending an uncomfortable night at the hospital with something inside me to ripen my cervix, I was put on Pitocin for twelve hours. On average, you're supposed to dilate a centimeter every hour or two. At the end of my twelve hours on Pitocin, I'd dilated one centimeter bringing me up to three centimeter total. The goal is ten.

I wanted to wait but both Fraser and my mom asked me to reconsider. They didn't think I would dilate any quicker and I already had Epidural dripping into my system. I'm a take-Tylenol-only-if-it's-unbearable girl after all and my body was not happy being pumped full of drugs, so I agreed to have a C-section. My goal was always to go home with Fraser with peanut in tow.

If I have to have a C-section, I won't feel bad about it, I said proudly to anyone who would listen. I've done the best I can in my pregnancy and refuse to feel guilty for taking drugs to help with labor or having a C-section, I'd continue.

But I did feel guilty.

Like I'd failed somehow because I wouldn't be pushing my baby out. The guilt surprised me even more than getting a C-section. Thankfully, my sister and a dear friend both reminded me of my no-guilt mantra and the fact that a C-section was actually part of my birth plan (as a last resort but still part of it).

Exhaustion: Nevermind the four days that I stayed at the hospital after Max was born. I didn't sleep lying down for longer an hour or two at a time for a solid three months. I started getting 3-4 hours at a time around three and a half months only to have Max hit a growth spurt, which meant cluster feeding. It happened again as he approached six months.

There is no way to describe the not-sleeping-because-I'm-a-new-mom kind of tired. It's like staying up all night for finals every night for weeks at a time and taking day long exams in between all the cramming. It doesn't stop. People always say to nap when Max does, which is great in theory but not in practice. I may not clean much but someone (me) has to wash dishes (half the time), do and fold laundry, sanitize bottles and breast pump parts, pump for milk... Then he's up and needs to nurse, play, get his diaper changed, take a nap, repeat.

I remind myself several times a day that I will not always be this tired. That my exhaustion is part of the deal. That being a new mother is a gift I asked for. But, let me tell you, it is rough. There were times those first few weeks that Fraser found me inconsolably crying in bed as I held Max; I was so tired my body couldn't process anything other than my need to sleep. Fraser would take our bundle of joy, close the door and let me fall into a deep slumber. Hours would pass and I'd feel like I'd just closed my eyes for a few minutes.

Breastfeeding: Neither of my sisters produced much milk after they had babies, so I wasn't sure I would. I walked around with milk soaked shirts for a couple of weeks until I finally ordered breast pads, which are staples for nursing mothers. Needless to say, I am one and there are two things that's been surprising about it: how much I enjoy nursing Max and the fact that I'm not crazy about my augmented boobs.

Breastfeeding hurt a lot at first. For several weeks, nursing was really painful then, like magic, it wasn't anymore. I love nursing Max, who is the size of an average one year old at six months (so much for calling him peanut). There are countless benefits for him to have breast milk and there is nothing like the connection of breastfeeding your child. I am grateful my body has been able to keep up with Max thus far and will reassess nursing him within the next couple of weeks mainly because he now has two bottom teeth (with a third newly broken in) and bites. The idea of not nursing him anymore saddens me, but I also do not want to resent him. If I have to pump for him to continue to get breast milk so be it.

Of course that means continuing to have my boobs fill up with milk every few hours. My boobs are solid Cs these days and, oddly enough, I am not a fan. My clothes don't fit right and I look funny with such big boobs. That said, the fact that they are able to produce enough milk to nourish my son makes me appreciate my breasts and the rest of my body.

I'll breatfeed Max anywhere, which surprised me when I first started doing it. Middle of a coffee shop? A table at Chipotle? Behind the desk at work? Without a second thought, yes. I feed him when he's hungry and do not apologize for it.

So Much Poop: Now that Max is eating solids, he's become more regular. Fraser once said that we should stick to breastmilk because he only pooped every 3-4 days before he started on solids. We didn't, of course, because he loves to eat like his parents. Fraser and I tag-teammed a couple of his blowouts pre-solids and they were nothing compared to now; I imagine it only gets worse, unfortunately. I've given Max a number of emergency baths because he's pooped so much but there are two I had to take photos of for Fraser: the time he projectile pooped (grateful I was not in the line of fire and it landed on the door and floor), and the time he shit so much he had poop up to his shoulders on his back. Up to his shoulders (damn prunes). Where does it  come from?

Losing Hair: Pregnant women have thick, shiny hair. Mine was long and full and, frankly, beautiful. Even though I'd read about women losing hair post pregnancy, I was surprised when a couple of weeks after Max was born, my hair started to shed worse than it ever has. I am no stranger to losing my hair in the shower, when I comb it or run my fingers through it. This was something else: clumps of hair in the drain and on the bathroom floor enough to donate to Locks of Love. I sent texts to my mama friends about it because I was convinced I'd be bald by now. They all told me it's the change in my hormones and told me not to worry. I'm pleased to report the shedding has returned to normal.

Stress: Having Max has made life more stressful and less stressful at the same time. More because Fraser and I are responsible for a new human, which is overwhelming enough. Add lack of sleep to the equation along with the fact that we don't have family close by, and it's a recipe for disaster. Or at the very least, a lot of added stress. It all boils down to the fact that Fraser and I are both doing everything we were doing before and now tag-teaming Max, who needs constant love, care and attention. It's easy to feel unappreciated when you don't have time to just be together.

No one talks about the toll having a child has on a marriage. Let me tell you, it's a lot . Fraser and I look at each other at least once a day and ask how we're doing. Most days, we're okay, but there are days, those Max-is-cluster-feeding-and-woke-up-every-hour-to-nurse-last-night, when neither of us feels appreciated by the other. It's not easy to admit and it sucks, but it's the truth. I would be a lying asshole if I didn't say that.

Being new parents is no joke.
It is fucking hard.
It's easily the hardest thing I've done in my life.
It is also the most rewarding.

Life is less stressful when you wake up to a sweet, smiling face that is somehow the perfect combination of your own and your husband's. Our stress diminishes when Max laughs or discovers something new, which is always. He sees the world the way all children should see it: fun, carefree, safe and warm.

There is nothing more heartwarming than watching Fraser interact with Max. They have so much fun together, my boys. Everything is an adventure between them; there's an undeniable bond in whatever they do. Beyond that, Max has a sweet, gentle soul like his daddy.

Even with little to no sleep, I can power through because one look into my son's eyes makes the world instantly better. His laughter invites joy into our lives. His smile brightens the room and warms my heart. Max is all love.

Perspective: My world has pretty much been Max over the past six months. As it should be. We're super lucky that my schedule has allowed me to stay home with Max for most of his life so far. I once remarked that I'm pretty much a stay-at-home mom while at my part-time job. You work. You're not a stay-at home mom, my female boss, who welcomes Max to come to work with me (awesome, I know), replied.

Beyond that, I run a non-profit working with inner city high schools and am an actor so, yes, technically, I am a working mom. The thing is, stay-at home moms are working moms with one of the hardest jobs there is, and working moms are stay-at home moms when they are home. The distinction is moot.

I'm thankful I can be home with him and work because I know that's usually not the case. We only have a nanny for the 8-10 weeks I teach each semester with the non-profit I run otherwise Fraser and I juggle Max. Because my schedule is much more open than Fraser's, I have Max more often. At home and anywhere I need/want to go, which is awesome but not always ideal. There are days I have to put him in his crib and walk away for a minute to center myself and shift my perspective. It can be overwhelming to have a helpless human depend on you for everything. I've cried out of frustration more times than I care to admit but, at the end of the day, I love being a mom. I know not everyone who wants to be gets be one so I always find my way back to gratitude. How can I not? I have my very own baby.

As much as I loved Max in utero, I did not think it was possible for me to love someone more unconditionally than I love my nieces and nephews until I met him in person. He is even better than I imagined. Not perfect. Better. He is my heart in human form and I am so grateful to Fraser (and the powers that be) for giving me a child.

homestretch

i didn't get much sleep last night. one of the books i'm reading said something about not being able to sleep towards the end of your pregnancy in preparation for the lack of sleep you'll experience once your baby is born. i call bullshit... if anything, women in the last few weeks of their pregnancy should be banking hours of extra sleep. but no!!! because sleeping is uncomfortable with a baby kicking and jabbing at your ribs or pushing their butt up to your lungs making it hard to breathe.

peanut will be here in six weeks, which is simultaneously exciting and overwhelming. i cannot wait to meet the human who is half fraser and half me but am not looking forward to all the things that must be done before he's finally in our arms. aside for all the stuff i have to go through and get rid of to make room for baby gear, there's, you know, labor.

i've read and heard firsthand from my closest girlfriends (and total strangers) about the ultimate female experience: delivering a baby. texts and conversations with my girlfriends, and women in general, are much different from what they were just a year ago. something about being pregnant invites other women to talk to you openly about their own pregnancies and give you unsolicited advice, which i'll gladly listen to. i want to know what they know but there are lines that shouldn't be crossed, and it's not what you may think. being told there may be pooping and tearing and lots of blood during delivery is very helpful, but telling me things like don't get the epidural or keep him whole comes across judgmental and is not okay. those are personal choices and it bums me out that some women feel like their personal choices are somehow better than other women's decisions.

my birthing plan (if you can call it that) is this: go to hospital. feel a cycle (or two) of contractions. ask for epidural if the pain is unbearable. get a c-section as a last resort. rest and recover. (hopefully) learn how to properly breastfeed and pump. go home with peanut.

the first three months of my pregnancy was awful physically; i was nauseous for six weeks straight and pretty much hibernated. there were the weeks of nosebleeds, headaches and constant runny nose during the second trimester. then throwing up in my mouth every day for a few weeks, an introduction to hemorrhoids and now not being able to sleep. i also drank 50 grams of sugar on an empty stomach for a glucose test four weeks ago and had to drink the 100 gram concoction this week because the results from peanut's first sugar high was a bit high.

i'm not complaining. in fact, i'll happily do it all again if fraser and i are lucky enough to get pregnant again in a couple years... that said, i will not feel bad asking for pain relief or possibly getting a c-section if it comes down to it as long as both peanut and i get to go home safe and sound with fraser. period.

oh. and i'm leaving the whole circumcision decision to fraser because, well, i'm not the one with a penis.

honestly, peanut has been relatively easy on me so far and i'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to be his mother. all that physical stuff sucks. yes. but i'm still doing pilates on my own 3-4 times a week and started walking a mile a day last week in preparation for the day he decides to come out. i'm 34 weeks now so he's in good shape, but i've been encouraging him to hang in there until may. (because i'm 38, peanut will be evicted by my ob in six weeks; he won't let me go past week forty. i'm hoping peanut comes on his own before that happens.) i feel really good and having him move around in there is really comforting in a there's-an-alien-i'm-in-love-with-growing-inside-me way.

musician and sassy have lovingly taken on my baby shower; bells insisted on sending proper invitations in the mail and have worked out the details with them. packages for peanut started arriving this week; fraser and i have been given all the big ticket baby items by friends and family already. we're requesting gift cards because we'll likely end up needing diapers, wipes and maybe formula the most, but we really just want to celebrate our growing family with the people we love.

my parents are coming from wi the week after my baby shower and throwing me another shower for my dad's family and friends in the area. more celebration. more love... we are so lucky.

just don't ask us if we're ready.

blood tests and ultrasounds

during my 16week checkup with my ob, fraser and i were surprised to learn that peanut has a penis. i sat up when my ob pointed to the ultrasound screen and told us we were having a boy. because i'm 38, we also met with a specialist for a more thorough ultrasound after a lesson on amnios (when they stick a needle through your belly button to get some amniotic fluid to test for genetic abnormalities) the following day. everything looked good. no amnio for us... our biggest concern was getting used to the idea that we were having a boy (not the little girl fraser had had his heart set on calling princess) and coming up with a boy name we both liked.

two and a half weeks later, three days before fraser and i left la to spend the holidays with our families, the receptionist at my ob's office called and left a message. i immediately knew something wasn't right; my heart pounded as returned her call and waited for an answer.

her - hello?
me - hi. i'm returning your call.
her - oh yes. the result of your 12th and 16th week blood test came back positive for down syndrome...
me - (WHAT THE FUCK?!?!)
her - it doesn't mean that your baby has down syndrome but you need to see another specialist.

that last part didn't register because once you hear your blood test came back positive for anything, your brain panics and automatically focuses on breathing so you don't pass out. i should say that i've never been a fan of this particular receptionist because she's impatient and not very nice, which i mindfully overlooked. my ob's office is busy and i understand her job is not to hold my hand and be my friend. i didn't expect, need or want any of that… that said, her blurting out my test results as callously as she did felt like a slap in the face.

i called fraser to tell him, went to work and sent texts to my closest girlfriends. three of them called me. i cried through my conversation with cheerleader, who i've known since middle school; one my hula girls actually made me laugh, which i desperately needed to do; and blondie, who is also pregnant with her first child, listened to me try and epically fail to articulate the dichotomy of my emotions.

at home, fraser and i sat on the couch and discussed our predicament. he wanted facts. i was drowning in feelings, emotions and hormones… with a  slew of girlfriends researching and sending me links, we determined that the chances of peanut having down syndrome was anywhere from 4-12% and agreed that we would try not to panic until we knew more. because we were leaving town for a couple of weeks in a matter of days, it meant  not being able to see a specialist and having to table our discussion until after the holidays. essentially, fraser and i decided to put on our big boy/girl pants, enjoy time with our families and figure things out when we got back. except for one thing.

fraser - nothing is off the table for me.
me - nothing? so termination is an option for you?
fraser - it depends… but that's a decision we would come up with together.
me - (losing it) i can't do it, love. i've felt him moving for weeks now.
fraser - okay.

let me be clear about something here. not terminating my pregnancy whether peanut has down syndrome or not is a deeply personal choice. i would not fault anyone/a couple for deciding otherwise. as bells put it, it's a lifetime commitment; she went on to say she would support whatever decision we made because fraser and i are the ones who will live with it for the rest of our lives… that's true for all couples and possible single mothers faced with pregnancy. neither choice is easy or better than the other.

the days that followed were a complete mind fuck as i tried to wrap my mind around the idea of peanut not getting the same start in life as his cousins and never being able to catch up. fraser and i often wondered what peanut would be like knowing that he's already who he is and our only job is to love, support and nurture him. i'd dreamed about being a mother my whole life. peanut is the realization of that dream and i would rather die than give him up… i was an emotional mess.

after fraser left for work that first morning, i found myself in fetal position, sobbing uncontrollably. when sassy called to check in on me, hearing me say hello was enough for her to tell me she was putting on a pair of jeans and heading over. she sat with me that day and made me feel less alone.

the day after that, i reluctantly told my parents. my mom started to cry when she realized what i was saying as my dad looked at me through the screen of his phone (technology!) and steadfastly reassured me that peanut would be loved just as he is because he is one of us, which i knew but also needed to hear. when he turned to my mom and told her to stop crying, i asked him not tell her that and, through tears of my own, reassured them both that it is okay for them to be sad and upset and to cry about it if they needed to.

as cheerleader so wisely (and lovingly) said to me that first night, the cocktail of emotions i felt were all valid and were in no way indicative of my love for the child inside of me. we were both gasping for air in an attempt not to lose it anymore than we already had at the time and i held on to those words along with these: do not feel bad or guilty for feeling whatever you are feeling. you love him more than anything… and blondie's equally wise and loving words when i tried to explain how i was feeling: you don't have to explain anything. no one doubts your love for peanut. they gave me permission to accept whatever emotion came up and to not judge myself for any of it.

the holidays were a bit of a blur. fraser and i celebrated christmas in dc with his family and new year's with mine. we ate home cooked meals, shared stories with our siblings, played games with our nieces and nephews, laughed… i fell in love with my brother's three-month old son and barely put him down while we were in wi; his normalness simultaneously elated and broke my heart… two days before our flight back to la, i told fraser i was nervous. he admitted feeling the same. we may not have been openly discussing those damn test results but we were both keenly aware of my growing belly, which was a source of fascination and excitement for everyone, especially our little loves.

fraser felt peanut move for the first time during our trip.

we had an appointment with my ob hours after we landed back in la. he told us that the chances of peanut having down syndrome was 6% (automatically higher because of my age) and that the specialist we had an appointment with later in the week would be looking for soft markers in peanut's ultrasound. when we told him termination was not an option for us, he told us about another blood test the specialist could do if we didn't want to do an amnio... without guaranteeing anything, he mercifully told us he didn't see any anomalies in peanut's ultrasound that day.

three days later, i was alone at a specialist's office downtown to talk to a genealogist and get blood drawn for the other test. fraser had to work but we wanted the earliest appointment we could get; we'd decided against the amnio, which could cause miscarriage (the chances are small but we didn't want to take the chance. another personal choice), and hoped peanut's thorough ultrasound along with the blood test would put our minds at ease… and the prognosis was good.

specialist - okay. that's a great start. head looks good… spine is perfect… kidneys good… legs are normal… heart is great.
me - really? everything looks normal?
specialist - this is what i do every day. i have no reason to tell you anything other than what i see… your baby looks great. your ob will be very happy. i'll be surprise if the result of your blood test is anything but negative. you're my easiest appointment today... do you want to know the sex?
me - a boy, right?

after thanking him and the nurses in the room, i made a beeline for the private bathroom and cried for a few minutes. it was such a relief to hear the specialist say everything he did. my shoulders felt lighter with every tear of joy i released. i felt happy without worrying about peanut for the first time in weeks. it was incredible... i called fraser and my sisters to share the news before sending texts to my closest friends.

it's been two weeks, so i called the specialist's office today to inquire about the blood test from that day and am thrilled to report that peanut is officially "normal"; i absolutely cried after i hung up the phone with the lovely woman who took my call. fraser and i are forgoing further testing mostly because the results will not make any difference in our decisions regarding our son. we also don't have a history of devastating genetic diseases on either side, which is nice.

peanut will be here in four months. the love and support fraser and i received from our family and friends these past few weeks have been nothing short of a blessing... i'm not exactly religious but i do believe in the power of prayer and collective energy. we are so grateful to everyone who have said a prayer and/or sent love and positive energy our way. thank you.

i must also thank my husband, who never looked away from me as i cried or failed to hold my hand and kept me from completely falling apart simply by being by my side. i could not think of a better father for our son than fraser.