I am so incredibly excited to have been published by Scary Mommy. This site has been at the top of my "to-be-published-on" list, practically since my daughter was born, and today, a little dream came true.
You are all of it All of the happiness, goodness, grace My forgiveness, my redemption, my salvation, my peace
Our daughter's first birthday (I am happy but, if you can't find me later, I am sobbing in a corner; they seriously grow so fast!) was this past week and we celebrated yesterday, the day before Mother's Day.
I'm so excited to have been published for the first time by Mamalode! Please click here to read my article "One Day, She'll Only Want You" for their May theme, Cherish!
Let me begin by saying that I like French culture, I really do; I might even consider myself a mild Francophile. I have a big tapestry of France that hangs on the wall in our bedroom. I love camembert and Champagne, quiche, and oysters on the half shell with mignonette.
When I think back on Mila’s birth, I feel a lot of emotions remembering the details. The biggest thing I still feel, and the thing that usually prevents me from thinking about it much longer, is the heartache I felt when our daughter was taken the NICU.
I was spanked as a child. I was spanked with hard hands, leather belts, skinny switches from the bush outside the basement door, a flyswatter that Nana kept next to little porcelain tea pots. I was spanked as a child, and I turned out absolutely fine.
When I was pregnant, I heard (from the media) how often people were going to tell me how amazing having a child is. How they’d say it completes me. How they'd say I’d never known love like that before.
When I was twelve years old, I was friends with a girl who had a brown, sleek bob, with those super cool chunky highlights everyone was into for god knows what reason. I remember her teasing me, calling me "Frizz ball!" What started off as a joke quickly became her name for me.
It's been almost eight months since I gave birth, and I've noticed a myriad of bodily changes. Most have actually been easy to move past; some things, I'd like to change back.
The first thing I want to say about this wine is kind of superficial, but I'm okay with it: the bottle is pretty cool. This bottle just says, "Drink this wine. Feel this wine." It transports you to another time and place.
They say a woman changes a lot when she has a baby.
So your baby has knots in her hair. Clearly, you must not be washing or brushing it because YOU'RE A BAD MOTHER. Just kidding. You're definitely not a bad mother.
I became a mother before the majority of my friends; at 25, I had our precious baby girl. At the same time, all of my really close friends were nowhere near having (planned) children.
This wine is special. You can just taste it from the very first sip.
Newborn babies love noise because it reminds them of the constant whooshing of amniotic fluid in the womb, their mother's heartbeats, voices, even outside sounds like hair dryers and dogs barking. Silence is actually pretty frightening for them.
My husband and I noticed about a week and a half after she was born, Mila's left eye was closed shut by some crusty, teary gunk akin to what you might see when you have pink eye. I was completely freaked out, wondering if/how she could have gotten pink eye.
Long before I was pregnant, I was unsure if I ever wanted a child. As young as sixteen, I really didn't have a dedication to the idea. I had a few names picked out just in case, but I mostly dreamed of a wonderful life spent without children.
There are few things more awkward than a woman trying to get through a door in public with a stroller. While there are several ways to go about this, you almost always look ridiculous, unless someone holds the door for you.
In December of 2014, my husband (then-boyfriend) and I decided to take a babymoon. I was four months pregnant; destination: Miami.
Around the beginning of July, Mila had her two-month doctor appointment. I knew she had to get shots, which I was dreading as, I think, many parents do.
I read a lot while I was pregnant, like, probably too much. So, I can't remember how I stumbled onto an article in Time about allergies and babies sleeping on fur, but I did.
Okay, let’s say it together: those big blue bulb things are GARBAGE. I actually wish that I had brought the Baby ComfyNose Nasal Aspirator to the hospital with us when Mila was born.
I had been up since 4 am; Mila woke up, ate a little bit, and then decided that it was an appropriate time to have a conversation with her dad and me. She babbled for about an hour. We listened to her and giggled a little bit for the first fifteen minutes.
I thought I was the exception. I thought I was totally going to skim right over that whole post-pregnancy-hair-loss thing. Not so.
When I walked into our local wine shop, Unwined, and I saw this German wine delicately displayed by itself on a wooden rack toward the front, I knew there was something...different about it.
When I was researching all the things to put on my registry, I got so overwhelmed by strollers and car seats, I asked my husband to conquer the task. I’m glad I did because he made a wonderful decision: the Baby Jogger® City Mini®.
I like it when things look nice, sophisticated even. I'm a big fan of the classic look, clean lines, the color black. That's why looking for a baby activity gym was so difficult. They're all hideous.
In some ways, it’s like I was meant to be a mother. I never knew that I would be capable of doing things that suddenly became automatically instinctual. I felt compassion for her when she cried. I rarely became frustrated or angry with her.
I was holding a baby, in a room with three of my friends. They were leaving before me. I would meet them there, at Olive Garden, where we were going for the happy hour wine specials.
I had a baby last week.