PTO Drop Out

We won't judge your messy bun and mismatched socks

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Meet a Mom Monday!

It's meet a mom Monday, so let's hear it! Comment and introduce yourself. Tell us what makes you an awesome Mom and you could be our next featured Momma!

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Meet a Mom Monday: A Mom who lost her Mom

Nothing can ever prepare us for a significant loss.  Even when we know it is coming, the reality of it actually happening somehow still manages to feel like a surprise.  As a parent, there are several other things we have to take into account when dealing with a loss.  My Mother and I always had a really close relationship.  I told her everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING.  I saw her and talked to her every single day.  As she got sicker, I helped take care of her.  As a stay at home Mom, part of my routine had become taking care of my kids and my Mother.  Even though I knew she was sick, when the time came that we actually lost her, it still felt like a surprise.  It did not seem real.  “How could this happen now?” I asked myself.  Any other time I have had to deal with a loss, my preferred method of dealing with it was to allow myself a day or two of not doing anything but binge watching sad tv and crying, and then after that put on my fake happy face and go into the world.  Pretend that everything is ok, and nothing happened.  However, as a Mother, I quickly realized I was not going to be granted that luxury this time.  There are now three other little people who are experiencing their own grief and they are looking to me for answers.  My oldest knew what was going on, but that kid is amazing.  She is one of the toughest cookies out there.  She handles her emotions on such a mature level, it even amazes me.  We talk openly and honestly about things, cry together, and tell each other that it is ok to cry sometimes because we are sad, but that we will be ok. She also has the ability to say things that break my heart, but I have to camouflage that because I am her Mother and she is supposed to be able to tell me anything without worrying about how it might affect me.  The best example of this was when we were sitting quietly together one evening rocking her newborn sister, and she starts to get kind of teary eyed.  I asked her what was wrong, and she tells me “I’m just very sad that Daphne will never get to remember Nanny.”  Want to talk about a knife to the heart.  But I can’t break down like I want to do.  I have to be strong and explain to her that it can be our job together to tell Baby Daphne stories of her Nanny.  We get to be her memories, and that’s how the people we love can live on.  My middle child is the more emotional one.  He is very sensitive and because he is only in half day preschool, he spent a lot more of his day with me and his Nanny.  He often comes to me telling me he misses his Nanny.  Why did she have to go to Heaven?  He never wants to go to Heaven if it means leaving his family. How do you explain to a four year old that Heaven is a wonderful place, and that we should be happy Nanny got to go there when you are still pissed and sad yourself?  The only answer I have right now is you just do.  I have drawn on my super hero power of inner Mommy-strength (all you Moms out there know that secret super power I am talking about.  It is the power that allows you to do things that you would have never thought yourself capable of doing before you became a Mother) and use that power to get through this time.  It isn’t easy, and I still have those “hide in the bathroom and cry when I hear a sad song” moments, but I am doing it.  Just like everything else in our life, becoming a parent changes all of the rules.  Dealing with a death is no exception.  Our kids come first, and they change the way we make it through it.  But as I look at my three beautiful babies, and I remember how much my Mother enjoyed them, I think that this is at least one area where they are helping me through it simply by being here for me to love.  As I read back over this post, I realize it has taken a completely different direction than I had intended.  We usually feature a Mom for Meet a Mom Monday, and this page was never meant to focus on myself, but after bringing a life into this world, and saying goodbye to another life all within two months time, I haven’t had much time to keep up with the blog.  This was supposed to be an apology and explanation of that.  Instead it turned into another example of the significance of Motherhood, both our roles as Mothers, and that of our own Mothers.

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Meet a Mom Monday with Amber Kirkpatrick

Today’s Meet a Mom is Amber Kirkpatrick.  She is a loving Mother to two children, and she talks to us today about her experience of having two babies who spent time in the NICU.  Please feel free to post any questions for her.

I’ll never forget the day I found out I was pregnant with my first child. She was a complete and total surprise. I thought I was having back problems. I was actually scheduled to go in for an MRI when I found out my back problems came from being pregnant. I had the textbook pregnancy. I had all the normal symptoms, I gained the appropriate amount of weight. The only problems I came close to dealing with was having gestational diabetes and Group B Strep. I cleared the test for diabetes, and the Group B Strep would be treated with antibiotics during delivery. It wasn’t a big deal at all. Alli was due December 23rd. I always measured ahead at every appointment, and since things were great at my 36-week appointment, my doctor said she was not going to stop labor if it started.

I was laying in bed the morning of November 23rd, 2011, when I felt a gush of water coming out of me. I ran to the bathroom as quickly as possible. My husband immediately knew what was going on. We thought I was term (or close enough) and we were not worried, so we headed to UHC excitedly. I was Group B Strep Positive, so they started the antibiotics right away. They also started the Pitocin since my water had broke, but I hadn’t gone into active labor; and I quickly requested the epidural.

My Nurse went on a lunch break and I felt like I needed to push. I had this intense pain, and no one believed that I was already fully dilated. Only seven and a half hours since my water broke, I was delivering this 6 pound, 10 ounce beautiful baby girl. I didn’t expect anything to be wrong, so my first question was, “Is it still a girl?” They placed her in my arms for a split second and then next thing I knew, she was gone. I assumed there were doing all of their little tests. As I was lying there, I heard muttering of “only 36 weeks” and “not breathing well”. I began to panic. They started to take her out of the room, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around what was going on. I had a birth plan. We were supposed to be skin-to-skin, breastfeeding at this very moment. What was going on? I was told that she would be taken for observation, that it was probably just fluid in her lungs, and she’d be back to me in no time. I took this as an opportunity to rest up from what I just went through. I was positive my baby girl would be back in my arms later that night.

It was one long night, and things were starting to get worse with Alli. I found out that only one round of the antibiotics were able to get through me before I delivered (instead of the recommended two rounds), and I’m pretty sure Alli had contracted Group B Step (no one ever confirmed that, but I know in my heart that had to be it). UHC didn’t have the capabilities to give her what she needed, so her pediatrician made a life-saving decision to send her to Ruby Memorial Hospital. I was in such shock and disbelief. I didn’t even know what a NICU was, let alone that one existed. Her pediatrician, having been through this himself, spoke to us like parents. He reassured us that she was going to be just fine, and this would be a distant memory one day. This wasn’t my idea of having a baby. I pictured breastfeeding from the start, welcoming visitors who would adore my baby girl, and bonding with my new little family. Now my baby was riding in an incubator, in an ambulance that I wasn’t even allowed to ride in. I remember telling Doug that I didn’t want to leave the hospital without my baby. My doctor told me I needed to get to my baby, and he discharged me within 24 hours of my stay so that I could get to Morgantown and be with her. I remember the feeling of walking out of the hospital without my baby in tow. I watched as other moms left in their wheelchairs with their babies on their laps; and here I was, no baby on my lap, riding in a wheelchair out to my car.

They admitted Alli. They told us it would be a long time until we could see her. So we went home, packed bags, and drove to Morgantown. When we arrived, one of the doctors met with us before we went back to see her. He took us into his office, and he prepped us for all the possibilities of everything that could go wrong, going as far as transferring her to Pittsburgh if she got worse. This is the moment I knew how seriously sick my baby was. Then, they finally let us go back. When you walk into a NICU, you pass so many rooms of so many tiny babies, hooked up to machines with goggles covering their eyes and wires coming out of everywhere. They all look so sick and hopeless. There are parents gathering at bedsides of some babies, looking as hopeless as I felt; and then there are babies without any parents, which broke my heart even more. We arrive to Alli’s room, and the next thing I know I’m looking at this stranger baby with wires coming out of her umbilical cord, an iv stuck into her head, and a machine strapped to her face that was literally helping her breathe. I didn’t feel connected to this baby at all. How did I know her? How did she know me? I felt lost.

I started to regain a little hope… It was my mom and the wonderful nurses who got me started on something I could do for my baby: pumping. I pumped every two to three hours around the clock. It felt relieving that I could actually do something. I couldn’t hold her, change her diapers, dress her, or anything; but I could provide her with the most perfect food that could only come from me. Family and friends surrounded us at the hospital. We practically lived in the NICU and waiting rooms during shift changes. I’d come early and leave late. It felt like my second home. I’d get up around the clock at night to pump and back up again the next day. I’d pump all day at the hospital, washing my parts in the bathrooms. It was this constant routine that felt like Groundhog Day. It felt monotonous and like it would never end.

Doug eventually had to return to work, because he wanted to save his days for when Alli would be home. Many family members drove me back and forth from the hospital each day. I was always eager to get there in time for the doctor’s rounds. The doctors let the parents participate in rounds about their children. We celebrated Alli’s tiny successes. Every little milestone was another step out of that hospital; and we constantly asked when she would get to come home. By day 7, I FINALLY got to hold my baby. After that, things started improving. Eventually, the CPAP was gone and replaced with a nasal cannula. Then, by day 12, Alli had recovered fully enough to go home.

I worried her entire first year about her health, and part of me still didn’t feel bonded to my baby because I was robbed of those first 12 days with her. I let people make me second-guess my abilities as a mother constantly. She was late on every milestone due to her prematurity, and Doug and I never stopped worrying about her until we had her evaluated and found out she’s perfectly fine. We have had the blessing to meet a lot of families who have been through similar or worse situations than ours. It always makes us feel blessed that what we went through was minimal compared to most. However, even though we felt blessed, we were still nervous to have another. I contemplated it for a long time, because I knew I couldn’t handle this again. Everyone kept telling me it would be different, so we decided to try again.

Cater was planned from the start. Again, I had another textbook pregnancy. I carried Carter higher, and we were sure I would make it to term. Cater was due March 8, 2015. I had the best pre-natal care, and they watched me very closely. Then, on the morning of January 30th, 2015, 6 weeks early, my water broke again. This time, I knew he was in for a NICU stay. We headed straight to Ruby, the NICU team prepped us, and I was prepared. I handled everything much better the second time around. I wasn’t happy about it, but I knew I could handle it with much more grace. It was harder to stay at the NICU all day this time around. I had to split my time between two kids. I spent my days with Carter and my evenings with Alli. Doug worked while I traveled back and forth. I knew the importance of touching my baby as soon as possible, so I made sure to get my hands on Carter much sooner. He wasn’t as sick as Alli, which made this all the more possible.

Carter’s stay was like a roller coaster ride. We would have good days, then bad days, and then good again. Mostly, because he was so early, he just needed to learn how to eat. That sounds easy, right? Wrong. Teaching a baby how to suck, swallow, and breathe at the same time might be the hardest thing I have ever taught anyone how to do. He had to take eight feedings a day of 60 ml and have the bottles finished in under 30 minutes. I never became such a number cruncher as I did with him. It was so hard to leave him in the evenings and at night to come home to Alli, not knowing how he would do with his feedings. We’d call the nurses from home with high hopes, only to hang up disappointed. It was the longest 14 days of praying for a baby to eat that I have ever had. Finally, it clicked with him, and we got to bring him home.

I now have two, beautiful, healthy kids. However, there are still days that are hard. I feel like at times, my body failed me. My body robbed me of my picture-perfect labor and delivery. I get jealous when I see moms get to have their babies right in the rooms with them and leave the hospital with them. I get angry when people tell me I shouldn’t have any more babies because I can’t carry them to term. I get even angrier when people try to compare their experiences with mine just because their baby was early and/or tiny; it is not the same as having a baby in the NICU. I worry constantly about if my babies are going to be behind because of their prematurity, and if that is my fault. I constantly search for answers as to why this happened, but no one seems to know why. I just feel like it would give me some closure.

However, on the flip side, the NICU can be a positive place. It gave me time to heal up from what I had been through, and we got first-hand lessons in how to care for a baby. We met so many great people, and we have learned that we are not the worst off in any situation. Even though at the time, it was the worst thing we had every gone through, we are very humbled by our experience now. We look at our beautiful, healthy, wonderful children and we know that we are so very blessed in every possible way. And just like my children’s pediatrician said, it is a distant memory.

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“I couldn’t Imagine”  Meet a Mom Monday with Becca McDonald

“I couldn’t imagine”

A year ago this Thursday was the worst day of my life.

Part 1: The day started out normal, waking up early, getting the kids out of bed. I brushed my oldest daughter’s hair as we watched Peppa Pig on T.V. I decided to tell her that she would have a little brother or sister soon, we had just found out we were pregnant with our fourth child. I asked her what she would name the baby if she could. She said, “Rosie Mama!” I smiled and we headed down the block holding hands as I pushed the double stroller down the sidewalk. Then we stopped to wait for a van to pass, and my life stopped. The van snatched Ella away from me as well as my baby boys in the stroller. No one will ever know how I felt that moment. Panic, disbelief, fear, and oddly logic. Once I managed to stop screaming my mind went to mother mode. I assessed, I knew the baby was fine. He was still strapped into the stroller that had been dragged down the street. He wasn’t even crying. Then I looked under the car and saw my 2 year old son laying belly down on top of Ella. He was screaming, and she was, red. Just red. She was bleeding so much out of her mouth I knew then that I would face the worst even if I didn’t want to admit it. I dragged my son out from under the car, weighing the risk of injuring him or Ella more by moving them with the risk he would pose to her by kicking her trying to get to me. Once I got him out, I made sure he couldn’t see her. I screamed out loud when the police officer told me she still had a pulse. I knew it was bad, but she was still with me right now. The next few minutes were a haze. I ordered Ella’s birth dad, my ex to ride with her in her ambulance while I rode with my son, Jack. As I climbed into the ambulance with my 1 year old uninjured son, a man stopped me and said I couldn’t ride if I didn’t have a car seat for him. I remember screaming at him. I remember using some harsh words. I panicked. I had no way to follow them. Then my husband screeched up behind us. I nearly threw the baby at him and told him to follow the ambulance. I didn’t even think about explanations. It’s amazing how even small children know when something is serious. Jack was completely somber in the ambulance. No crying, no talking. He just stared at me while I tried to calm him and act normal. I told him everything was okay and tried to point out how cool the ambulance was. I knew he would be okay. I don’t know how, I just did. I wasn’t worried about him. We later learned the only injury he had was a small scrape on his chin. They claimed that Ella saved him from a hard hit. She protected him. When we got to the hospital, a man helped me out of the vehicle. Then he hugged me, hard. I didn’t know who he was but I broke down into his hug. He said he was with Ella when they were transporting her, and he had children too. That’s all he said. It was the most amazing moment of human connection between two complete strangers. It also scared me. I knew she was bad off from his reaction. We spent the next four days in the hospital after they transported her to Ruby. Four days wondering. Four days knowing even though we didn’t want to know. She had a brain injury. Two strokes, and severe bruising on the brain. The doctors weren’t hopeful. I don’t remember a lot of that time aside from lying in bed with her. I remember her hand. I memorized it knowing this was my last chance to memorize everything about her. I watched the numbers on the monitors as they increased, knowing they meant her brain was swelling. Then, the number went down to zero. I called for the nurse. She cried. She got a doctor who told us her brain had hemorrhaged and she was gone. The only think keeping her here was the machines. There was no decision to make, no struggle. She just left without us even knowing for sure what had just happened. I knew she was gone. I could feel it then. She wasn’t in this perfect little body next to me anymore. I couldn’t stand to be in the room after that. I went back a few times to say my goodbyes. I watched her through tears, clutching her stuffed teenage mutant ninja turtle as they wheeled her down to surgery where they would remove the pieces of her that could save someone else. The time I had with her before she passed was a blessing. I got to say goodbye while she was still warm and soft. I will always be grateful for that. My husband and I came home to an empty house. We asked my best friend to keep our sons one more night so we could just be alone. We hadn’t slept in four days. We piled our bed with her stuffed animals and blankets that night.

Part 2: All I wanted to do was go with her. I wanted to die too. Then my sons came home. They smiled, laughed, and played like nothing had happened at all. I instantly realized I had two options. I could die. Or I could continue to be their mom. Ella didn’t need me anymore. She was gone. I knew my mother was taking care of her somewhere else. I truly felt like she was okay. It was me that wasn’t okay. And I couldn’t afford to not be okay. Being a mom is putting someone else before you in every way no matter what you are going through. My boys just lost their sister. They didn’t deserve to lose their parents too. I chose to keep going. That’s all it was for a while. Looking back I feel bad for the lack of involvement I had with the boys. I made sure they were well taken care of. I got out of bed, I fed them, and cared for them, and made sure they were well. I thought about her constantly. In those first few months, not a minute went by when I didn’t replay what had happened. I blamed myself for not protecting her, for not leaving a minute earlier or a minute later, for not being a super mom. The worst feeling in the world is knowing that sometimes, no matter what you do, things can happen that are out of your control. This both hindered me and freed me. I became very paranoid and worrisome. But I also knew that I couldn’t dwell on what could happen because I don’t know how much time I could have with the children that are still in my arms. I nearly forgot I was pregnant most of the time. I felt absolutely no connection to the baby inside me. When we found out she was going to be a girl I cried. I realized that not only had I been mourning Ella, but I was also mourning everything I would never do with her. The proms, the boyfriends, the wedding, and of course being with her as she had her babies one day. She was my firstborn. I wasn’t used to being a mom of only boys. Annabelle Rose was born on June 9th. Ella gave her a middle name. I cannot describe how much I love that little girl. It’s different than any of my other children. She is my rainbow baby. She is my miracle that I didn’t know I needed so badly. I know she’s not Ella, but she’s my second chance. Ella would have loved her little sister. During my pregnancy I began to take an anti-depressant. I will never again question the power of medication on mental illness. I felt one hundred times better. When I thought about Ella, which was still constantly, I could think happy things and move on with the day. I was able to do things without having to stop in my tracks because I found a picture she drew or a bracelet she wore once. I cleaned. I cannot describe how much better things got once I cleaned. My house was quickly resembling a hoarder’s house. I knew I needed to do something. The medication helped me get it done. I’ve learned a lot in my journey. I feel like I’ve gone through more than most people do their entire lives. I feel old. I feel like my spirit is aged well beyond my physical years. It’s okay though. It’s helped me gain perspective. I’ve learned not to give a damn about what anyone could possibly think of me and my family. Worrying about what people think outside of the ones who love me and my family is a waste of time. I’ve learned to hug my children every chance I get. I’m lucky they are still little enough to love it. I’ve learned that as long as my children get the chance to grow up, it doesn’t matter what they become, as long as they are happy. I will not cry when they grow up and leave me, because at least they grew up. I will not judge their choices, because at least they get to have them. I will not groan over their relationship choices, because at least they get to be in one. And when they are snotty teenagers and hate me, I will remember that it’s a blessing that I get to annoy them. Most of all, I’ve learned that the world keeps going. Even when you want it to end, it keeps turning. Time goes on and you will have a choice to stop, or keep going with it. I chose to keep going because I cannot let this ruin the lives of my children. They need me to be a great mama, not just an okay one. People tend to tell me I’m strong. I actually really don’t like it when people say that. I’m not strong. I just kept going. In the end, I didn’t really have any other options. I gave up my options when I gave birth to my four little miracles. I promised them I would be everything to them. And, I promised Ella I wouldn’t give up. I promised her while she laid in that bed, that it was okay if she needed to go. I would be okay, she didn’t need to hold on for me. I promised her that I would take care of everyone. That’s what a mother does. Everyone says “I couldn’t imagine going through that, I don’t know how you did it.” Well, in response to that, I hope you never have to imagine going through it, and I don’t know how I’m doing it either. I just keep going and hope my children know how much I love them every minute of the day. We will try not to think about Thursday, and then a week later, October 19th, on what would be my Ella’s sixth birthday, we will try to celebrate the time we got to have with her.

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What does PTO stand for?

Many schools have a Parent Teacher Organization (pto). This organization is usually in charge of planning many school functions and activities.

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Freak out Friday!

It is Freak out Friday Mommas!  Share your Mom freak out Moments with us!

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Pregnant in Prison: Ashley Lamphere, Meet a Mom Monday

Today's #meetaMomMonday is Ashley Lamphere. We all start our journey into motherhood differently. Ashley's story was a little more trying. A series of events left her facing time in a federal prison, and when she was going in to start her sentence she found out she was pregnant. Today she is willing to take your questions about what it was like being pregnant and giving birth while locked up. Please remember to be respectful as you post your questions to Ashley today.  Below are some of the questions and answers we received on our facebook page.  You can submit more questions here on this page if you would like.  

Q.  How scary that must have been.

Ashley Lamphere It was scary to find out I was pregnant and even scarier to face what I was about to face! But life is all about learning from your experiences and never making them same mistakes again.

Q.  Very scary! Ashley Lamphere, How long did you have to be in there after you gave birth ?

I left a month before I gave birth to go to a half way house. Was able to stay with her for 3 months after. Then had to finish 2 1/2 months

Q.  Can you tell us the story of when you went into labor

Labor....... Well, it was around 1am on July 7 when I told a staff member that I was going to take a hot shower bc I was have back contractions. Once I got into the shower is when I went into full blown labor. I got out and got dressed. I went to the staff and told them I was in labor. It was about 2 hours later when I finally was brought to the hospital bc I had to get clearance from the Feds and from the director of the facility. Then I'm in the ambulance with two young guys who are going off on each other bc One Is going the wrong way and the other didn't want me to have the baby in the ambulance lol. Once I arrived I got my epidural while waiting for my family. I was in CT and they were driving from Vermont. About 30 minutes before I gave birth to my daughter my epidural stop working. So I felt EVERYTHING. LOL

Q.  Bringing a newborn baby home is terrifying under the best of circumstances. Was it scary or nerve racking having to bring a newborn into a halfway house, and what were some of the challenges you faced ?

A.  I faced mostly becoming a mother on my own. I had no family after my first 3 days. I was new to being a mother. I was always on edge about trying to make sure she didn't cry to much or I was always holding her bc I didn't want the staff to think bc of my situation I wasn't fit to be a mother. I had some wonderful women who was there with me as well who were mothers and offered their motherly advice which I am forever grateful for them.

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The “Best” Way to Deliver Baby

With my due date fast approaching, I’ve been bombarded with advice and articles on the “best” way to deliver my baby.  Every person, article, website, and medical practitioner has an opinion.  “Don’t be induced.  It is unnatural.  Let your baby come when it is ready.”  “Scheduled inductions are perfectly fine after 39 weeks.”  “If you don’t get to have skin to skin contact with your baby immediately after birth, you will never bond, and your baby will resent you forever.”  “C-sections are terrible and awful.”  “C-sections are the best!”  “You need to have your baby at home in a bath tub.”  “You should have your baby in a hospital.”  You get the idea, everyone has an opinion, and they are all contradictory.  Some early complications in the beginning of my pregnancy had led me to believe I may be forced to have a c-section.  I started to be overwhelmed by this dark fear that if I didn’t get to hold my baby immediately and start breastfeeding right away, we wouldn’t bond and she wouldn’t be successful at nursing.  All these thoughts and fears started to swim through my head of the damage that would be done to our relationship as a mother and child depending on how I delivered her.  And then my rational inner voice kicked in, and I realized it doesn’t matter.  None of it does.  You see, I have two children already, and they both were delivered in very different ways.  I did not get to hold my oldest daughter until she was 2 1/2 months old.  She wasn’t a preemie, or a c-section baby.  I didn’t deliver her vaginally.  She was delivered to me in a car seat on a sunny Summer day.  We adopted her.  From the second I laid eyes on that beautiful baby girl, she was my daughter.  I picked her up, fed her a bottle, and couldn’t take my eyes off of her long enough to listen to what the case worker was saying to us.  The bond was immediate and the strongest pull of emotion I have ever experienced.  My son was a belly baby.  I carried him to 41 weeks, and was induced.  I had an epidural (and I laughed while I was pushing), and held him immediately after he was born.  He, too, was one of the most beautiful things I had ever laid eyes on.  I nursed him for 16 months.  I can tell you without a doubt or a second’s hesitation that their is no difference in the maternal bond I have with these two children.  They are both my babies.  My daughter acts just like me, and my son acts like his father.  Strangers tell me how much my daughter looks like me all of the time.  These two little beings are my world.  What I am hoping to offer you expecting Mommas out there is some comfort.  Don’t get carried away in the hype and be so concerned about how you deliver your baby.  The delivery is just the catalyst.  No matter how your child gets delivered to you, your love and devotion will ensure a bond that surpasses any other relationship you have ever known.

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Your future self is watching you right now through memories.

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This is a pretty powerful quote in the context of our children.  Our children are our future and our legacy.  The memories we create with them now are how they will remember us in the future.

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It’s Worth it Wednesday!!!  This adorable photo was submitted on our Facebook group by Becca Cozbi McDonald.  What makes all the crazy moments worth it for you as a mom?

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To the unsuspecting adult, this looks like an innocent toy in a waiting room. To a mom, this is a germ infested cest pool of doom that your child will probably try to lick.

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Meet a Mom Monday w/ Jeanna Carder Parenting Expectations vs. Reality

Before we actually become parents, we have all of these ideas of how life will be when we have children.  We swear that “My kid will never act like that,”  or “I will never be the Mom who does that,” and then we actually have a child and all of our expectations go out the window.  This week, I asked Jeanna Carder, a stay at home mom to the adorable Ms. Lucy, to discuss some of the expectations she had coming into parenthood, and how the reality is different.  We would love to hear how your parenting expectations differ from your reality now that you are a parent!  Below is Jeanna’s experience:

Motherhood: Expectations Vs. Reality

Motherhood has been an adventure from the beginning. Of course, I had already dreamed up just the kind of mother I would be. I imagined how my baby would be too! As with all things in life, some of my expectations did not exactly line up with reality. Some things are better! But, of course, some things are worse. I only have my active imagination to blame.

Expectation: Pregnancy

My husband and I were one of those crazy couples who PLANNED to get pregnant. I knew I would jump for joy once I got that positive pregnancy test. I would glow throughout my pregnancy. I would lovingly massage my baby bump in coconut oil and be rewarded with beautiful, non-stretch marked skin. Labor would be natural and easy, and I knew I would not need medication!

Reality

I was filled with joy and terror once I saw that faint little positive line on the pregnancy test. I had what I fondly call a “stupid pregnancy.” I had to go to the ER on multiple occasions to be catheterized. This was such an odd occurrence that my first OBGYN said he had never seen this before. Wonderful! I struggled with crippling insomnia my fourth/fifth month. So much for the 2nd trimester ease! Oddly, I loved my 3rd trimester. I slept on the couch and watched Gilmore Girls, but I did get stretch marks at 31 weeks. My labor was not textbook. I was stuck between a 2 and 3 dilation with contractions 2-12 minutes apart for over 48 hours. By the time my water broke at home, I was begging for an epidural. Guess what?! My blood platelets were too low, so I couldn't have one! So, I guess I got my wish there.

Expectation: Breastfeeding

I thought “I am absolutely going to hate this.” I thought I would be the dainty one who NEVER breastfed in public.

Reality

Ummmm....I love breastfeeding. Such a wonderful opportunity for connection with my daughter. I have been lucky that it has come easy to us both. As for never breastfeeding in public? My daughter was born with a heart murmur. Within 2 days, her pediatrician had seen me nurse her multiple times to calm her enough to hear her little tiny heartbeat. I am also that lady who nursed on It's A Small World. So much for dainty.

Expectation: Keeping Myself Up

I planned to get dressed in cute clothes daily. Even at home. I would not be the lady caught in a messy bun clutching her coffee. I would get up early to exercise and shower before my husband and baby awoke, so I would be free to have quality time with him when he got home from work.

Reality

Listen. I do get dressed every day. I change out of pajama pants into another pair of pajama pants when I am staying home. Technically, that is getting dressed, right? And a messy bun is like...cute and sophisticated sometimes. Yeah. I DID get up early to exercise that one time, and it was awful. So, now I do it when my husband gets home in the evenings. Sorry about the quality time, honey.

Expectation: Sleep

We will never create bad sleep habits for our child. She will be happily sleeping through the night in her nursery by 6 months.

Reality

You know that lady in the Acadia who haunts the Dollar Store parking lot on nearly a daily basis? Yep. That's me. I have a route for car naps that ends there. I am the one staring at meaningful Buddha quotes pasted on some background of a girl with cowboy boots in a country setting on Pinterest. Thank God for smart phones. I will awkwardly wave hello to you through the window, but do not expect me to roll it down and talk to you. I will have to kill you if you wake my baby, and I care too much about you for that to happen. Text me if you need me. I have my phone. OH, and Lucy is nearly 8 months. She is still in a pack n play next to our bed, because she nurses throughout the night.

Expectation: The Calm Mom

I would be the calm mom. My child would never leave me in hysterics. I would respond calmly and rationally in all situations.

Reality

Not to toot my own horn, but I am usually pretty calm. Thanks, meditation! But, while I can be the calm mom, I can also be the mom who shut herself in the master bathroom and screamed as loudly as possible into a towel the day her 2 month old cried for 6 hours straight and never napped. I highly suggest this practice.

Expectation: Social Media

I will not overshare.

Reality

I can almost feel the collective eye roll from all my Facebook friends. The kid is cute. I cannot help it. I suggest you unfollow or unfriend if it is too much, because I don't see it stopping anytime soon.

Expectation: Love

Obviously, I will love my child.

Reality

I do love my little Lucy. I could not have expected this kind of love. It is all encompassing. It is sometimes painful, when I cannot give her exactly what she wants. When I am not with her, I miss her . Yes, even when she sleeps. She is God's greatest gift to me, and she has made our family truly whole. That love has both empowered me and completed me. I did not know love was capable of that. This is the most wonderful reality of motherhood of all.  

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You can  now like my new Facebook page here : https://www.facebook.com/motherhoodcomics :)

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[ptodropout-blog]

Sunday Funday!  Hayride by the river.

[thecynicalcrayon]

I love this commercial! I literally LOL’D when I watched it. Now I’ll be the first to admit that it isn’t perfect; But I think its a step in the right direction.

Plus the message is great "No matter what our beliefs, we are parents first.“ 

[ptodropout-blog]

Check Yes or No

My Daughter just wrote her first love letter.  She is six years old, and the note consisted of a simple “I like you” in red marker slanting sideways down a torn piece of notebook paper.  I know it isn’t really that big of deal and that 20 years from now she probably won’t even remember this little boy, but watching her anxiously write this letter and place it with such care in her folder for tomorrow, I can’t help but feel like this is such a huge milestone.  When she confessed that she was a little scared of how he would react when she gave it to him, my heart almost split in two for her.  As parents, we never want our children to know heart break, but this isn’t something I can shelter or protect her from.  I have no control over this little boy’s reaction.  I can’t make him graciously accept this letter and tell her he likes her, too.  No matter what happens tomorrow when my precious baby girl hands this love letter over, I know she will be ok.   She is confident, self-assured, and fearless.  However, the really scary part is that this is a preview of what is waiting for me 10 years down the road.  One of these days it won’t be just a silly little note written in marker.  It will be love instead of like.  There will be real emotions, hormones, and consequences attached to her actions.  Yet, I will still have just as little control over the outcome for her as I do now.  It seems this whole love letter business has served as an important lesson for me.  I may not be able to control how other people treat my daughter out in this world, but I will always be there for her to listen, comfort, celebrate, or cry with her, and to remind her that no matter what, she is always my baby girl.  Do you remember your first case of puppy love or your child’s?  Let’s hear about it!