Magic Pills

I'm not sure where the past five weeks have gone, but evidently I have a one-month old. Ridiculous!
While I'm still navigating the whole parenting-two thing, I have been able to reflect a bit, inevitably comparing this time to "last time" around, as if 2011 was eons ago or daughter (firstborn) and son (new kid on the block) are different species... one thing I found myself comparing was myself postpartum, which led to an interesting discussion with my better half.

I didn't mention in my birth story, but I had my placenta encapsulated with my second baby. My ever supportive husband served as the "placenta contact" and was in charge of making sure we requested and remembered to bring home my placenta. While the words 'cannibalism' and 'witchcraft' were included in [his end of] our conversation multiple times, he obliged my request. The "placenta lady," came over the next day, steamed my placenta with herbs, diced it up and set it in her dehydrator, and returned the next day to grind it up and put the now innocuous looking powder into vegetarian capsules. She left me a pretty little note with recommended doses for each week after childbirth and went on her way.

I recall feeling a little anxious in my postpartum weeks with my daughter and hoped it would stave off any return of my long history of anxiety. By a little anxious, I mean that I thought I did a decent job of hiding my raging, sleep-stealing, panic inducing anxiety that lurked around me most days of early motherhood. I blamed it on my history of anxiety, my colic-ridden firstborn who screamed like clockwork pretty much from 2 or 3pm until 11pm nightly-- how convenient that daddy worked second shift at the time! My poor husband arrived home after 9-hour shifts to my bleary bloodshot eyes, her bleary bloodshot eyes, and a baby hand-off that was a mix of desperation and exasperation. I thought I was holding my own and eventually the colic faded, as did my memories of how long those crying/screaming spells lasted.

I commented to my husband earlier this week that I was a little disappointed. Everyone I knew who has had placenta encapsulation done just RAVES about it. They said they feel amazing and all the second-time moms who didn't encapsulate the first time around said it was a different world than the first time. I had commented to our encapsulation specialist that I was eager to experience the effects of the capsules because not only have I never heard negative feedback, but nor had I heard neutral stories. No one's experience was, "eh, it was ok..." until mine. I have been feeling a bit disappointed. I don't feel any magical high, I don't feel on top of the world. I'm tired and mothering two kids, one of whom wants to nurse every other hour, for an hour. Meh. How anti-climatic. My husband looked at me like I have two heads, and then gently proceeded to put me in my place. He kindly informed me that he HAS noticed a substantial difference, that I am normal me this time around, that I have been incredibly "together," and "sane," ESPECIALLY compared to last time. Then for the kicker, he told me that I was a hot mess last time around. He went as far as to call it a dark time. So much for a decent cover up on my part.

As I try to be honest with myself and reflect upon the very topic that I love to write about, maternal mental health, I have to say, "Well said." It was a dark time. I wasn't okay. I wasn't coping. I was surviving, but I wasn't doing well. I didn't experience psychosis, I didn't fail to bond with my [screaming] baby, but I cried everyday as my husband left for work, I cried when my mother couldn't come over to hold me up through those 9-hour shifts he was gone, I cried when he got held late, I cried on his last day off from a weekend anticipating him leaving for work the next day. I cried for no good reason. I would lay awake worried about unwanted thoughts or I would consume my night clock-watching the evening away. You know the saying, "a watched pot never boils?"... my life was "a watched driveway remains empty" Those nights were never-ending.

I practiced all those great counseling skills I help clients in the same situation rehearse. I guided my own imagery through postpartum anxiety and postpartum OCD... I could see the colorful leaf floating down a flowing stream... and that's nice but I'm still anxious. I practiced deep breathing and thought-stopping through unwanted, intrusive thoughts that plagued my lonely evenings, they were still lonely and I was still full of panic and angst. I waited for my husband to come home, waited for the baby to pass out for the evening, waited to get through one more day of the madness.

I kept this secret hidden in our home. I kept my distance from almost everyone, probably anyone who might be onto me. I posted photos on Facebook, though not nearly as often as I used to or do now. I made polite (and not so polite) excuses as to why we couldn't go to gatherings; how we weren't ready for people to meet the baby; why today wasn't a good day to come over, and how maybe another day would be better.


I nonchalantly joked when I returned to work that 14 of my 16 weeks of maternity leave were spent listening to screaming, I told no one about the darkness I was slowly crawling out of four months later. I thought I had done a decent job minimizing this from my husband, but this week he called me out. One of the reasons I married him is because he knows me better than anyone else [and loves me in spite of this]... the other reason might be that he cared for me as best he could in this difficult time rather than dismissing my experience or leaving me out in the cold. This is why he stayed up with our daughter for two or three or even four hours after an exhausting shift, this is why he turned down overtime even when I was on unpaid leave and we needed the money. He knew, and he knew I wasn't ready to talk about it, either. He rocks.

So this time around, when I suggested something off the beaten path, that involved cooking bodily tissue that I birthed, he went along with it. While the past few weeks may have been anti-climactic, they've also been non-catastrophic. We took the baby out much earlier. We've invited people over sooner. The only sleep disruptions I've had are for brief nursing sessions and a diaper change. No bad thoughts. Far fewer tears, not even what we'd consider the baby blues, more toddler-induced terrible-two-tastic frustration, and I feel human again much sooner. I guess the placenta pills are as magic as others have said. I'm thankful that I ventured out to try something new, and even more grateful that it has had a positive impact on my recovery.

This blog post has been floating in my mind for a few days now. I feel vulnerable just typing these thoughts out, being honest with myself about the anxiety struggles I've lived with and conquered over the years. Here I am about to send them on a slingshot into cyberspace for all to read. Look at me, internet! Here's my vulnerable secret! I may be a counselor but I have struggled, too! Self-disclosure is frowned upon in the world of counseling, but I write this as a mom today, not a counselor, and hope that my raw honesty hits home for someone.

There are a few resources I found priceless in helping me climb out of my darkness and rebuild my emotional strength, in case any of this rings true for anyone else or is of interest to you or a friend you know yada yada, here are some favorites of mine:

Books:
Dropping the Baby and Other Scary Thoughts by Karen Kleiman 

The Pregnancy and Postpartum Anxiety Workbook 

Websites:
Postpartum Support International

and a great organization I have befriended in my research on maternal mental health, MotherWoman

Lastly, here are the HuffPost blogs I had published in 2013 on the topic of maternal mental health:

Perinatal OCD and Intrusive Thoughts

But At Least You have a Healthy Baby: Traumatic Birth and Maternal Mental Health 

Nowhere to Turn: Perinatal Mental Health Resources can be Difficult to Find

A Great Divide: Bridging Gaps Between Maternal and Mental Health

A Pretty Quick Crunchy Birth Story

 

  

This [surprise] pregnancy has been worlds different than my first. Last time around we tried to have a baby for over a year before getting pregnant, this time around we found ourselves expecting months before we thought we would be- funny how things work out!

This time around while I felt more prepared for pregnancy itself, I didn’t realize how quickly it would fly by while chasing a toddler around!  Before we knew it, we were decorating a nursery and laundering baby boy clothes.  The stress of working long hours in the crisis department took its toll and I thankfully stopped working at 36 weeks [also avoiding the flu shot mandate along the way!]. For weeks my midwives had commented on how low baby boy’s head was already. I felt as though I had a bowling ball weighing on my hips, and boy oh boy was I nesting! Every night we had to try a new Pinterest recipe, usually Mexican (which Daddy didn’t complain about at all!) and I baked up a storm in between cleaning, alphabetizing, and organizing anything and everything. At 37 ½ weeks I thought, “This is it!” I had several hours of contractions 7 minutes apart, I even called John home early from work… I called the midwives to let them know I might be in early labor, 5 hours later- NOTHING! Every night the next week and a half, I had contractions so strong throughout the night that they woke me from a sound sleep. I kept timing them in the middle of the night with no baby—this kid was driving me nutty!

39 weeks

 I went to the midwife Thursday evening (don't forget they're an hour drive way!) for my 39 week visit—we were literally there until 7pm, after a lovely dinner at Whole Foods in Danbury and a late drive home (for a toddler and a very pregnant mama, 8pm was late!). We've had some tough bedtimes in our home as of late and things went relatively smoothly, then just about 1am I had a contraction that woke me up, but at this point was nothing new. I went to the bathroom and 7 minutes later had another and was thought, "No... this can't be..." I've had WEEKS of hours of regular contractions that just fizzle away at this point.

By 2:00am I was doubled over the bench in my kitchen waiting for my sister to arrive to watch Addison. I was delighted that my favorite midwife, Katie was on call but felt panicked—something told me that we needed to hurry. We left home just before 3am; John literally drove over 100mph because by 3 o’clock I was two minutes apart. We arrived at 3:35 and I was 9cm!

I felt a desperate urge to get into the tub and climbed into a mere four inches of water as the tub filled around me. John climbed in [with his swim trunks on] and held me, hugged me, and put pressure on my belly and back as I groaned through each powerful contraction. I felt a new confidence that I didn’t have last time around- I was able to laugh and talk in between contractions, making jokes and even cracking a few smiles. I c an do this! Been there, done that!

  

  I tried to remember techniques from last time that were helpful—lower my voice through contractions, don’t hold my breath, flex and move to help the baby down. All of these were helpful, but having John there was really what got me through the intensity of the pain. My love for him grew immensely after he supported me through our first birth, and I couldn’t have gotten through this labor without him, either.

These contractions were ridiculous! It felt like I wasn’t in the water but four or five minutes before I felt an urgent need to push… Katie asked me if I wanted to move or shift at all to get ready to push and I thought, “I must be close, I must be… it can’t get much worse than this, right?!”

 

 

I was at the birth center a total of 50 minutes before Declan Edward McDonald arrived at 4:21am, in the water. He didn’t make a peep when he came out and was placed on my chest; he just stared at John and me quietly.

THIS is what natural birth is all about!

 

 

 

It wasn’t until Katie lifted him so I could get out of the tub that he let out a cry. He measured in at 20 inches long, 7lbs and 15oz and practically perfect in every way J. As soon as he was back in my arms in bed, he was peaceful and alert, taking it all in. 

  

 We snuggled up in bed with John to rest up before coming home later that day to meet big sister, Addison.

Images beautifully captured by Victoria Gloria Photography

I think I need to become a midwife.

Wow! How has it been over a year since I last blogged!? Oh wait, I have an 18-month old now :-) While I'd love to promise retroactive posts and reflections, we all know how likely that is to happen so here's where I am... I think I need to become a midwife.

I had an interesting class in college titled "Reproductive Technology and the Future of  Motherhood, it was a women's studies course and met my liberal arts requirement for technology class... you'd think that would have been a clue to my calling, but no! In this course the extreme-feminist instructor had us write a reflective paper describing whether or not we wanted to be mothers, if and how and when we knew this, and why. I naively thought she was open-minded and had no idea until she reamed my paper with angry red ink that her hidden agenda was her personal opinion that society forces young women to decide they need to become mothers to be complete/effective/accomplished whathaveyou. NONSENSE! I knew few things at 20, but I knew for damn sure I had always wanted to be a mother. As a child I always played with dolls, treated them as my own, and nurtured them in every way I knew how. I used to tell my mother I wanted to be a nurse practitioner who delivered babies... I didn't know at the time what a midwife was or how fabulous the profession is, but I created in my mind what I thought I wanted to be. I have always had a fascination with medicine and planned to become a nurse practitioner and help mommies have babies. Fast forward to high school where I breezed through Honors Biology, only to have my confidence in my science abilities crushed by a socially inept, smelly (literally), mean chemistry teacher who fostered my text anxiety, failed to ever answer a single question I had, and successfully deterred me from pursuing a nursing career in my [first] college career.

This blog was largely created as a result (and a component of) my journey to motherhood, my excursions in becoming more crunchy, and pursuing the birth I knew I wanted. After my daughter was born, I was on a birth high. Midwifery is amazing! Natural birth is out of this world!! Every baby should have such a peaceful welcoming Earthside! Everyone needs to know how crummy American obstetrics care has become! I shared my wonderful birth story several [dozen] times, basically to anyone who would listen, I published our PG-rated birth photos in a Snapfish book with our birth story for our daughter, I kept reading articles and blogs on natural birth, and I assumed eventually this excitement would settle.

It hasn't.

As our daughter's first birthday came and went I found myself thinking more and more about the logistics of becoming a midwife. I travel an hour (one-way) for my quality well-woman care, another hour and I'm in New York City for goodness sakes! Skilled, attentive practitioners shouldn't be that far away, period. Not in modern times, not in developed (or overdeveloped) New England! I continued to hear crummy birth stories from friends, tales of trauma, disrespect, and bullying at a woman's most vulnerable time--things like this make my blood boil. I started googling around which  is never a cheap, quick, or easy answer, to anything. In my undergraduate career I attended seven different schools, graduated in four years with a double major, and then went straight into an intensive and rigorous two-year Master's program. I don't want to go back to school for my RN, work for a few more years, then go back to school yet again for an MSN--- I'm young but not that young, and I'm not that redheaded but I am certainly auburn- I can't be a labor and delivery nurse and listen to providers push women into unnecessary interventions! I wouldn't last too long as a nurse, not with my fiesty fiery personality. I need to do this right, I need to become a midwife. 

I learned that one school in my state (and really New England) offers an accelerated, second-career MSN. Students have an intensive 15-month RN program and then jump right into the MSN-component, graduating in three years as advanced practicing nurses, either APRNs or CNMs. This program also happens to be the only Midwifery program north of New York City... somewhat of a one-shot deal. No big deal, just get into an ivy league school's graduate program, pursue another graduate degree and take some licensing/certification exams. Easy peasy. 

Holy crap, are you kidding me!? Am I crazy? Can I do this? I have to, I finally understand what my career counseling instructor meant when he discussed being called to a career. I feel called, I have heard said calling. Ok, calling... I'm on my way!! 

Right now I work part-time, I am a crisis clinician two twelve-hour days per week. I can't quite afford yet to stop working altogether, but we were able to gather enough pennies to pay for my first pre-requisite, Intro to Nutrition. Next semester I plan to take Anatomy and Physiology I, then A&P II, andddd... something else that fits into my odd work schedule. I hope to have four BIO classes under my belt before I apply and I'll figure the rest out later. I was a little intimidated to go back to school, especially with a toddler, but thanks to my supportive husband I've been allotted plenty of study time thus far and feel confident that I'm off to a good start. 

Proteins, carbs, lipids, watch out! I'm a midwife-to-be, on a mission!!

Minor Setbacks...

I apologize that it's been two weeks since my post, a colicky baby is not conducive to blogging in a timely manner!!

Monday at noon came quickly, the rest of the week has felt like an eternity. I couldn't hold Addison Sunday night or Monday morning without breaking down in tears, fearful that I was terribly ill and had no idea, or that our beautiful breastfeeding relationship would be taken from us... I love nursing her, I love the way she eagerly seeks me out and the sighs of relief when she fills up her little tummy. I love that she can fall asleep on my breast ANYWHERE [and we've had it happen in a few exciting places thanks to the ERGO and MobyWrap... Whole Foods, Target, the doctor's office, you name it!]. I felt a strong mix of fear and irritation this week, the latter of which I did not anticipate. I'm not sure if it was my hormones and fear or just the nonsense I encountered...

EVERYONE at the Breast Intervention center was excessively perky [and adorned with pink ribbon flair] and kept asking how I was doing today and how I was feeling- I'm talking Disney World perky... don't bring your scalpel and hollow needles around my magic milk makers and act like we're about to go on the tea cups. The nurse who confirmed my appointment Friday left me less than confident in her abilities when she couldn't tell me how long I would have to interrupt nursing on my left side, after putting me on hold twice. The radiologist who I met for my ultrasound furthered my terror in her small talk... she applauded me for breastfeeding and said, "Two kids... never had it in me, couldn't do it." ... a) Yes, you COULD HAVE and b)Why must you tell me this?!   I likened this to the thought of leaving one's child with a stranger who hates kids... in any other situation [or if my bra was nearby rather than down the hallway, surely not an accident] I would have thought, RUN! But alas, I was topless so there I lay. She turned the ultrasound on and started looking puzzled and clicking around... my lump was measuring a full centimeter smaller than on Thursday. Cancer doesn't shrink! Let's call this party off! The radiologist said this drastic change assured her it was a galactocele and after a brief pause said that we should proceed anyway. Ugh! Are you sure? Wouldn't you prefer an early lunch? No such  luck. Halfway through the procedure, the doctor drew milk into the lidocaine syringe, further assurance that this was a milk duct, that was being numbed and chopped up...ugh again! I should note that one of the highlights of having this procedure while lactating is that under my little half-gown, I had to hold my breast pads in place while tilted on my side on the table with a wedge under my shoulder... talk about awkward and uncomfortable!  The entire procedure took less than half an hour, I was taped up with steri-strips, told to not shower for 24 hours but resume normal activities immediately and promised I'd hear results by Wednesday evening.

All I could think about was getting home to Addison, I just needed to hold her and I was sure she needed me.  This confidence was half correct... she needed me, but I couldn't hold her, for two days. The discharge directions should have read, "resume normal activities with the other side of your body, and good luck where we sliced and diced you."  I suppose that doesn't sound as friendly. My poor 7-week old baby hadn't a clue why a)I left her for two hours, again and b) why I wouldn't just hold her in my left arm and bounce her as we have been for the past month and a half. She had this painful upset look in her eyes that tore me apart, as if to say, "Mommy, don't you love me? I need to snuggle in that arm... please bounce me." My sister came to stay with me once we discovered that I couldn't hold Addison at all in my left arm and holding her in my right was awkward with the swelling. We were both miserable, and I was anxious. She sensed my anxiety this week and so did my healing breasts. We both cried as I pumped and dumped a precious 9 ounces from my left breast in the 24 hours after the procedure. We both cried when she was gassy because my already overactive letdown was confused by the extra 9 ounces I had to waste as I fed her only on one side. Talk about confusing new milk makers! Five days later, I had to get up at 4am because I was leaking all over and somewhat engorged.

The nurse had placed a band-aid over the steri-strip 'X' across my breast... When it came off after my shower on Tuesday, I had a lovely horseshoe-shaped red area on each side of the 'X'. It was also so puffy that if my arm was by my side, I was pressing into the incision site, ouch. I have always been sensitive to band-aids and the cheap hospital-issued band-aid was no exception, awesome.

Wednesday came and went, I stared at my cell phone all afternoon and into the evening. Addison sensed my anxiety and stress and was equally stressed... we collectively slept almost three hours that night. I felt as though my incision site was puffy, which didn't help when no call came from the radiologist. Thursday morning I had an early dermatologist appointment, I figured she could tell me if my incision looked okay, she looks at skin all day. Her assessment was that it might be infected, or it might be irritated by the steri-strips and that I should have the radiologist look at it- just who I wanted to see again, Miss Formulafeeder Idontreturncalls. The radiologist who conducted my biopsy wasn't in that office so I had an awkward male doctor poke around at my little puffy wound site... he decided it was the allergic reaction and sent me home after taking off the steri-strips.Within a matter of hours the puffiness went down but I still had a giant itchy circle around the biopsy.

Finally , Thursday afternoon I heard from the radiologist that the lump that changed in size in a matter of four days was in fact a galactocele and was neither cancerous or precancerous. Her recommendation was to follow up with the midwife who would decide if I should leave it alone, have a needle aspiration, or have it surgically removed- talk about a spectrum of possibilities! Thankfully, my fabulous midwives value breastfeeding and avoiding interfering with the breastfeeding relationship and happily offered to leave it alone unless it becomes uncomfortable. No more needles, no more tests, no more radiologists!

Pumping for an entire week my supply was substantially more than Addison needed and I nearly drowned my already gassy, colicky baby- poor sweet girl... this week we are finally back to where we were in our progress in dealing with my oversupply. I try not to complain about my oversupply because I worry about having enough milk for Addison when I return to work in *gulp* seven weeks. I pump a little each day so John can give her a bottle with her probiotic mixed in, and some days I freeze what I pump, our goal is no formula when I go back to work, hopefully we can make it happen!

Thank you blog readers for your prayers, thoughts, support and love. Thank you for the private messages and emails, it's pretty awesome to know people are thinking of you in such a scary, tough situation. <3

That's Not What Those are For...

Breasts are for breastfeeding, not for biopsies!

I have been breastfeeding for six weeks and four days. I have never thought about my breasts so much in my life. I am constantly thinking about them. Which one did Addison nurse from last? How many ounces do I need to pump today? Which one feels more firm? How many hours since our last nursing? Am I leaking (again!)? Do I have extra nursing pads? Am I running out of nursing pads? Can I easily nurse in this t-shirt? Did I leak on this shirt (... I'm not even out of the house yet!)? It's all about the breasts... Ten days after Addison was born, the boob-question of the day was, "Is this a plugged duct?" it certainly seemed as though overnight I acquired a large almond-shaped lump in the side of my left breast. I consulted my friend and LLL Leader, and made my husband palpate this lump roughly 5 dozen times over the weekend . With hot compresses I was more comfortable, but it was definitely the super hot shower and massaging showerhead that helped! It was nearly gone and I was relieved. Over the next few days it seemed smaller but was definitely still there... I could express milk in the shower and Addison was eating happily so in my sleepless, colicky stupor, I did what any new mom would do and ignored myself and focused on my baby. At my six-week postpartum follow-up I made sure to show my midwife. She said it felt like a plugged duct but the responsible thing to do would be to send me for an ultrasound to confirm. Ultrasound? Ack.  Ok... I can do that.

John and I left Addison with my sister the next day so he could take me for my ultrasound. Those of you who have had ultrasounds know it's a little awkward to have body parts exposed for a stranger to massage with a wand, but add lactating, leaky boobs to the mix and you have an awkward-convention! The tech only took images for a quick minute or two and then left me in the darkened room to get the radiologist to review what she had taken... for nearly half an hour. There are never clocks in these darkened rooms so you can't complain about how "she left me there for 30 minutes!" however I beat the system and had a view of the ultrasound screen timestamp in my peripheral vision... In this half-hour I wondered... did she only take a few images because it's small? because she knows what breast cancer looks like and didn't need anymore? because that's what they do? What was going on? Were they deciding who was to tell me I was sick? Was I not sick at all and they were taking their time because I wasn't urgent, I was just leaking precious milk into my silly little half-robe? What the heck was it?!

Finally the radiologist and technician came into the room... the radiologist said that it "doesn't look like cancer but." ALL YOU NEED IS A BUT to send a woman's mind spinning down a pessimistic dismal spiral of terrible possibilities. Her guess was it is a fibroid adenoma which is a fancy term for benign tumor, or a galactocele which is the snooty medical term for "plugged duct". But (there it is again!!) just to be sure, I should have a needle biopsy... soon. I guess they have to add the "soon" because who wouldn't put off a biopsy if given the chance... I'd love to schedule it for the Tuesday after never. Ugh!

This happened on Thursday and the "biopsy coordinator" (can we just say, secretary?!) was to call me Friday to schedule me for Monday... I called her because I need to get this nonsense over with. So there we have it, noon on Monday I am scheduled for a needle biopsy of my lump. I have a lump. It's not a lovely lady lump, it's an annoying female interrupting my breastfeeding lump. I haven't slept well even when Addison is quiet the past few days because my mind is absolutely racing... I can't counsel myself out of a million worries and I'm finding blogging to be cathartic so I'm going to unload a few of them onto my blogging world, irrational or not, here they are:

*I'm going to have cancer and I'm going to die. Addison will grow up with a single parent and I'll leave John to raise her. While he would do an AMAZING job, I get choked up at the thought of missing a day of her life. She is my world and I don't want to leave her, ever.

*I'll be okay but this biopsy (or the doctor) will damage something important and disrupt breastfeeding. Breastfeeding means so much to me and there is a risk that this biopsy will damage a duct therefore impacting my still-new supply.

*There is a risk that I will leak milk into my breast as a result of this biopsy- not only does that sound like gross sci-fi craziness, but that would REALLY disrupt things and be horrible if I had to have my breast sliced open to drain the milk from the biopsy gone wrong that's just floating around in my breast.

*I'll have to have this lump removed which would really disrupt Addison's breastfeeding... these are her leaky boobs. They're only big and leaky for her.

*The concept of a long hollow needle going into my breast is appalling, disgusting, scary, and gross all at the same time- eww, ouch, ick.

*Silly but: Addison will be upset tomorrow because she'll have to nurse on our less-coordinated side all night... I have to pump and toss my milk for 24-hours... those of you who breastfeed know how painful the thought of that is in itself. Ugh! All that lost milk that I don't get to give her now or save for later!

I don't know if it's growth spurt or just her sensing that I'm upset/distressed but Addison has been nursing every 30-45 minutes for the past several days... the thought of having to leave her for a few hours to have someone biopsy her milk makers makes me feel guilty. While I know the important thing is praying it isn't cancer, being a new mom who values breastfeeding as much as I do makes it that much worse.

So today, my blog readers, I selfishly ask for your prayers... and if God happens to be keeping up with the Crunchy Mama blog... Please Lord, let this procedure go well and let the results be benign. 

The Secret Reason...

...why breast is best.

I'm a fan of breastfeeding. I'm somewhat of a lactivist even. I started reading about breastfeeding benefits before I was pregnant and started attending La Leche League around 4 months into my pregnancy. Much like my desire to be a mother, I have always known I will breastfeed my children. We took a private class, read books together, and my husband has been completely supportive from the get go. I am often overly eager to share my knowledge of breastfeeding benefits with pregnant (or not-yet pregnant) friends and people I meet, and am always extending the invitation to attend my [amazing] La Leche League group- what incredible support and friendship Addison and I have found. :-)

A few of my favorite benefits of breastfeeding...
*Sets the foundation for the baby's immune system, lines the gut with beneficial cultures
*It matches the needs of the baby as they change- amazing!
*Lowers the child's risk of obesity, certain cancers, asthma, diabetes and possibly childhood leukemia
*breastfed babies don't get sick as often as formula-fed babies... they have less respiratory infections and ear infections, and many illnesses are less severe in breastfed babies
*It's never recalled for contamination or manufacturing errors
*You don't run out- you can breastfeed when the power is out, when there's terrible weather and you don't want to go to the store, when you're not near a store, wherever, whenever!
*Breastfeeding helps moms heal from childbirth, contracting the uterus in early days/weeks and lowering likelihood of postpartum depression
*Mom's risk of breast cancer, and ovarian cancer are greatly reduced
*Baby weight melts off- breastfeeding burns tons of calories!

Wow, breastfeeding is just great for everyone! These were my reasons for deciding to breastfeed... but aren't why I fell in love with breastfeeding over the past three weeks. I fell in love with breastfeeding when tiny beautiful perfect little Addison hugged my breast in her little arms and fell asleep with her amazing little hand over my heart... just like that I melted, literally melted. I fell in love with breastfeeding when her little arms wrap around my breast as she feeds, holding on as she knows my breast is hers. I fell in love again when I come into the room or closer to her and her attention stops and focuses on me as if to say, "Oh! You! Come over here! Let me nurse!" The shift of her gaze and the tiny little mouth opening in my direction are her way of saying she needs me, and it takes my breath away. While leaky boobs are funny (especially when you say, "leaky boob"and not "oversupply of the milk ducts," haha) it amazes me how my breasts react to Addison's cry. It's as if my milk has a mind of it's own and says, "I'm coming!" faster than the rest of my body can get to her. There's a sense of accomplishment for a new mother when simply putting baby to breast quiets her cries and fussing...to see that my milk and my breast meet her hunger and emotional needs is not only flattering but gratifying- I love being able to take away her worries.

We are still feeding every 2-3 hours, I am exhausted... we haven't had a good night's sleep in a while now, but I will never complain when Addison wants to feed because as I have told her, "it's all hers. made just for her, and she can take her time and stay latched as long as she needs to... each time that hand rests upon my breast, my heart melts all over again. That tiny hand  has changed my world.

Let the Debates Begin!

During pregnancy, women are bombarded with advice, much of it conflicting. I was told by several women (who  ironically smoke, by the way) that coffee was terrible for the baby... [it's decaf, b*tches... I'd be in a much better mood if it wasn't, thank you.].  I was told outdated fitness information by a personal trainer about how intense my workout should be, I was told to Eat This,  Not That, and it wasn't by David Zinczenko... I heard about supplements to take, supplements to avoid, you name it. I was also told that I'd need an epidural, that a midwife wouldn't provide me the best care, that being out of a hospital was dangerous- I heard it all.

In having conversations about terrible unsolicited advice, I was told, "just wait until you're a parent, it gets worse."  It does.

We did our research on vaccines, breastfeeding, pacifiers, cosleeping, attachment parenting, baby wearing, all sorts of parent-values that we were sure we had mapped out. I had successfully blocked out anyone who had opinions that conflicted with our strong values, and welcomed feedback on those things for which I did not feel I had enough understanding or knowledge... I was ready to be a parent!

...and then Addison arrived.
...and then Addison cried, and cried and cried, and my books say no pacifiers until 6 weeks.
...and my nipples got sore, and my books say no pumping for 6 weeks.
...and then our pediatrician said "pacifiers are fine!" and told us at 3 weeks that she should be introduced to a bottle before she refuses it.
...and then my LLL leader told me that's not crucial
...and then I thought about how I'd LOVE a short outing to myself but I can't leave her until I'm pumping and she's accepting a bottle.
...and then I worried about messing up my supply in week 3 because this book and that book said 6 weeks.
...and then my head was officially spinning.

Who to listen to? Who to ignore? Who to trust? Who's talking out of their... pacifier?

I have a degree in family studies, another one in psychology, another one in counseling. Addison doesn't need therapy and doesn't care about Erik Erikson or Maslow. She wants... mommy milk, all the time. We have a small library in our sunroom with a wall of bookshelves; my shelves are full of human development texts and parenting books... I went from a certified family life educator and parent education expert to an overtired, flustered, lost mommy, desperately reaching out to anyone who wants to give me a correct answer. I stare at my library wondering "where is the magic answer?! who wrote that article about that thing that makes the kid stop doing the thing with the stuff?" I fold. I surrender. I got nothin'.

and so, we're back where we started... who to listen to? what is the right answer?

I am a mommy!

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind. I'm a parent! I am a mommy! I am... exhausted!

All in all we've had a great two weeks. Addison learned to latch well quickly so breastfeeding has been a decent learning experience for both of us... my milk came in when she was 2 1/2 days old and she's been quickly gaining weight. I had some excitement with a plugged duct around 10 days, which is thankfully when her 2-week growth spurt started early. At 16 days, Addison got to attend her first La Leche League meeting, and we've successfully breastfed in public (at Target, of course!). We are getting good at this! I still haven't found a comfortable spot to nurse in bed at night, but we're getting there. My friend Pam told me that I'd love my rocker/ottoman and I have quickly learned that this is a key place for nighttime nursing. Addison nurses well here and falls to sleep quickly. Ahh, sleep. Easier said than done...
We started out with an Arm's Reach Co-Sleeper and in the first week bought an in-bed cosleeper because Addison seems to only want to sleep on one of us at night. The therapist in me assessed that clearly the cosleeper beside the bed was too far from us and if she were in the middle of John and I, we'd all sleep... HA! My daughter is smarter than that! Next to is not nearly as cozy as on top of. Nice try, mom. Addison naps during the day in her swing, in her pack and play, I've even set her down in her crib... nighttime? No thanks. So for now, we snuggle.

John was initiated into the projectile poo hall of fame on Day 4 when we were of course, at Target. It just wouldn't stop... it was a mustardy nightmare! We have since braved 2 bath-worthy explosive poos, one of which went almost all the way up her back- where does it all come from!?

Our other notable milestone the past two weeks also occurred on Day 4. We had our first after-hours urgent call to the pediatrician! Addison did not have much tolerance for diaper changes at this point and worked diligently to notify the neighbors (and neighboring towns) of the terror which she was experiencing. She tensed up and would scream until she turned purple (at which point she'd keep screaming, while purple). I noticed that in her flailing squirms she was knocking her little umbilical cord stump with the top of the diaper, [regardless of how far down we tried to roll it] and was bleeding a little bit... I called our doula who said to watch it and call the doc if we were concerned, and called my mother who said it was too early for it to fall off, and ended up calling the doctor anyway. The doctor on call took only a few minutes to call us back and assured me that it was just irritated and it was way too early for it to fall off. She told me that it was still attached to blood vessels and she's only seen one come off this early in her career and it could result in hemorrhage but that's very unlikely. Note to all pediatricians- do NOT use the word hemorrhage with an emotional, exhausted, type A hypochondriac mother! Just don't! She told us to make sure the area stayed dry and keep an eye on it, but it wasn't coming off at 4 days old.  I did what I was doing every 20-30 minutes on day 4 and put Addison to breast... I hoped nursing would calm us both down and she would go to sleep [for 6 or 8 minutes]. I had her snuggled across my chest, nursing and not even 2 minutes later I literally lost my breath and my heart stopped... her umbilical cord stump fell off between us! It was just there, on my belly next to her belly! I barely choked out John's name and my eyes welled up with tears of sheer terror. CLEARLY my baby was going to hemorrhage tonight. CLEARLY. I stared at her belly button which was a tiny bit oozy but not at all hemorrhagic... I still couldn't breathe- I just stared. I'd love to say that after a minute or two I realized she was fine and we went to sleep, but that's just silly. I stared at her ALL NIGHT. She had an 8:30am pediatrician appointment the next day and I stared at her belly, offered to check her diaper on the half-hour so I had an excuse to open her onesie and stare at her stump-less belly button. She was annoyed, I was paranoid... and we all somehow made it to the morning. When the doctor checked her Monday morning she apologized for the on-call doctor's horror-inducing warning and said her navel looked fine, and looked as though she were several days ahead of herself- overachiever. This little non-incident made me thankful that she had her vitamin K shot, who knows if it impacted her healing or not but I'm glad she had it nonetheless.

Ok, I've been pooped on, I've cried to the pediatrician in the middle of the night, I've stayed awake staring at my newborn... I am a mommy.

A Pretty Crunchy Birth Story

Our precious little girl has arrived!!! I have never had a baby so I have never written a birth story... but I'm going to write our tale! :-)

Monday, July 25, we had our 38 week appointment where we met the Birth Center's newest midwife, Katie. She was a student midwife early in our pregnancy but our paths had never crossed as I wasn't going frequently at that point. I found Katie to be friendly, kind, and patient... She spent a solid 40-minutes with John and I, and when we left the appointment I thought to myself, "Yeah, she could attend our birth and I'd be comfortable. At this point I was a big fan of 3 of the 4 midwives, and quietly prayed that my "4th favorite" as I called her wouldn't be on-call whenever BG McD decided to make her grand entrance.

 I had been having braxton-hicks contractions since 34 weeks when I spent a day in the hospital for too many contractions too early. I spent weeks 34-37 out of work and ate all my accrued time and taking some unpaid time to avoid eating my FMLA. My HR director was kind enough to let me delay my short-term disability so I could keep my 16 weeks for after her arrival-on the condition I was able to return to work.

I only returned to work 6 [exhausting!] days before 3:27am on Tuesday, July 26th, when I was awakened by a contraction bigger than I have ever felt--it wasn't painful, but definitely caught my attention. I went to the bathroom, refilled my water bottle and just lay down and relaxed... I didn't want to wake my husband if nothing exciting was going to happen, but after an hour and a half of these new contractions almost perfectly 8 minutes apart, I poked him awake. John was scheduled for a field training and wouldn't be available by phone during the day-much to his supervisor's dismay, he wasn't going to be able to attend the training (ironically, he was making up for the day I was in the hospital and he missed the training!). I contemplated going to work for at least a half-day, however by the time I would need to get ready, I was having contractions 6 minutes apart... probably not a great idea to drive 15 miles to work.

I started my labor to-do list... eat protein and carbs, breathe, move a little. I listened to my HypnoBirthing relaxation CD, and quickly figured out I was most comfortable on my big exercise ball. After eating an omelette made by my husband with love, away I bounced [and bounced and bounced]. My contractions slowed a bit, so we went for a walk around the neighborhood. We chatted briefly with our doula, Deby, and she suggested I get some rest... Around mid-morning, my mother and sister arrived at our house. My mom made me pasta and after a small lunch, my body obliged my need for a break and I was able to nap around lunchtime with another 30-minute relaxation exercise.

I woke around 1:30 and felt unsure for a short time if my contractions would resume, they had quieted down so much for me to sleep! Within an hour they were again at 6 minutes apart, then 5 minutes apart, then 6 minutes apart. The afternoon went on this way and John filled our [seemingly small] bathtub with warm water. I brought my iPod player in there and John and my mother took turns sitting with me through contractions as I kept breathing through each wave.

For those of you who don't know, the week prior to this excitement, our smallest/youngest dog, Molly, was hospitalized and almost died from a crazy allergic reaction to a sting of some sort (we think wasp)... SHE had a follow-up vet appointment scheduled for 5:30pm. If this baby was coming tonight, we weren't going to want to reschedule for later in the week, and she really needed to see the veterinarian. My contractions were maintaining their 6-minute distance and I urged John to take Molly to her appointment. The vet is less than 2-miles away and they don't usually keep us waiting too long. He couldn't have been at the end of the driveway when all of the sudden my contractions were 4 minutes apart... my mother was sitting with me and after a few strong ones I interrupted her conversation to say, "Hey... time these, will you?!" In the 90 minutes that John and Molly were out, my mom had to call the doula, update the midwives, and the doula arrived. She sat with me and encouraged my mom to get our cooler ready. Deby was amazing, she kept me breathing through each contraction as they got bigger and stronger, observing where I was holding tension and easing my anxiety. I felt as though I was making progress with her encouragement. When John returned home, Deby calmly and quietly prompted him to pack the car, (quickly!) and give the midwife a call. To my excitement, Katie and Cathy P were on call!  In less than 2 hours I went from 6 to 4 to 3 minutes apart and we had an hour-long drive! Our doula helped me get dressed and John called our friend and birth photographer, Christine. A few minutes later, we were on our way! I felt nauseous and could not focus on anything but the strength of the contractions- there was no doubt in my mind, this baby was coming... soon! John reclined the passenger seat for me and held my hand as he drove (in torrential rain, mind you) to Danbury.

When we arrived at the birth center, my contractions were so strong they were literally stopping me in my tracks, as John rang the doorbell I had to sit on the stair to breathe through a contraction. One birth center contraction down! We went inside and I had to breathe through another one before Katie could check me... 5-6 cm, almost fully effaced... I was far enough along to admit and excited that I was at least halfway dilated! I begged Katie to fill the jacuzzi tub and breathed through contractions while the bath was drawn. John climbed in and helped me in, I felt a sense of relief as I was able to lean against him under the warm water. Submerging my belly in the warmth of the tub made the contractions much less uncomfortable, and I felt a sense of calm as John held my hands and had his arms around me... this is crazy, this is intense, but I'm not alone. Our doula went to get an iPod player as our photographer arrived. Christine did an amazing job of quietly capturing our experience without being noticeable. I saw her a few times but for the most part had no idea where she was in the room. Katie set up a stool next to the tub and Deby had a chair near John's head... every so often Katie checked BG McD's heartrate on the doppler, and through each contraction Deby encouraged me to exhale lower and deeper in my sighs and eventually moans.

I had heard of "breathing the baby down" and "sounding through labor," I had even wondered what my birth sounds might be like... the answer is simple: LOUD. The bigger they got, the louder I got. By nature I do not have a higher-pitched voice, sounding my labor in low tones was a conscious challenge. In each contraction Deby talked me through bringing my moan or grunt lower and I felt my body relax and the discomfort (and some pain!) go down a notch. I thought many times during our three hours in the tub of Ina May's sayings... one that stood out for me during my time in the tub was "the contraction can never be bigger than you, because it is you." I hadn't been induced, there were no drugs in my body- these sensations I was feeling were all created by my body and my baby so she could make her way into the world- they were certainly unlike anything I have ever felt before, but they couldn't possibly be bigger than me! I also turned to my HypnoBirthing imagery, imagining my cervix opening wider with each contraction, my baby pushing down and out and on each exhale I envisioned her inching closer to us.

About 2 1/2 hours into our time in the tub, Katie suggested I move around a bit, try to change positions-I had been laying on John for a while now. As I sat up and attempted to lean forward, I quickly realized that my body was *busy!* and I had interrupted. I suddenly felt as though I would be ill and as quickly as I attempted to warn my birth team, it wasn't quick enough. I threw up on John, on a towel, in a garbage can, in another towel, and flopped back on John all in a matter of seconds! I had managed to change to a sideways position but not before my poor husband got more than he bargained for.

I spent another hour-ish on my side, moaning louder with each contraction and relaxing deeper during each break... Katie suggested I get out of the tub and try another position, I had NO desire to get out of the water but was getting fairly tired at this point and could be coaxed into trying anything. I wrapped a towel around my bottom and made my way to the birthing ball. I was still having intense sensations in my back with each contraction and my doula provided counter pressure as John held my hands.

We spent a short time in this position... Katie had spent almost the entire time with us and had been watching my progress as well as monitoring the baby's consistently strong heartrate. She said she wanted to check me, we had been at the birth center about 4 hours at this point... I was fully dilated! Katie told me I could get comfortable wherever and push when I felt the urge. I had a few urges to push in the tub, but hadn't been sure what the sensation was at the time and was breathing through them... now, it was game time!

I was exhausted and wondering about that restful period I had heard about that many women experience between 10 cm and pushing time... evidently my body skipped that because within moments of laying on the bed I felt as though my uterus was in charge- I was pushing whether I thought I was ready or not! My contractions were very close together and my body was giving me just enough downtime between them to get in 2-3 deep breaths, which I religiously took... remembering my hypnobirth counts... in 4-out 8. in 4-out 8, breathing the 8 count from my chest down through my toes.

This is the point where I truly experienced sounding my labor. I nearly lost my voice I was grunting and moaning so loudly, and John recalls (I insist not) that I almost bit his arm at one point, attempting to stifle my carnal, womanly sounds. I kept hearing Deby remind me to keep my voice low and was amazed at how much my tone affected the tension in my body. At this point, my water finally broke! I felt a sense of accomplishment and relaxation for a quick moment... I was also thankful because I have read that contractions are more intense once your waters break, and intact waters help keep the baby comfortable through labor... we made it pretty far!

 I focused on keeping my groans as low as possible and each one passed... not going to lie, birth was definitely painful at this place. I was having a quick HypnoBirth but I was not having a painless one. Another Ina May favorite of mine... she reminds us that Natural birth is honest pain. once it's over, it's over.  I just had to power through this pain and it would be over. If I went across the street to the hospital and got medications or interventions now, I'd probably be in pain tomorrow, or even longer... my baby could experience pain or other ill effects of interventions- this was the safest and least painful place for us to be. I didn't truly want to go across the street to the hospital per se, I just wanted to run away from the overwhelmingly intense sensations of the moment... then my thoughts went to our HypnoBirth instructor- she told us that at the point where you think you might want medication or that you can't do it anymore or that you're ready to give in, that's your body telling you it's about to happen... you're about to have a baby, right then. Sure enough, seconds later the midwives both exclaimed, "Look at all that hair!" BG McD was crowning! I had been on my side as these pictures show, and  wanted to move to shimmy her down a little bit if I could. My thighs were exhausted, my back was exhausted, but somehow I managed to get on my elbows and knees... bottom in the air. For what felt like an eternity (and John said was about 6 minutes) I felt our little girl inch down and slide back up with each crazy ridiculous  intense contraction. I pushed with each big wave and attempted to suck in a quick breath and give it an extra Oomph at the end of each one, I kept hearing my midwives and doula telling me she was getting closer... the RN on-call was waiting with a warm blanket. Warm blankets mean we're almost done, right? :-)

At 12:34am, Addison Grace McDonald made her Earthside entrance. 

Katie helped ease her out and the midwives and nurse finagled some ninja moves to flip me over onto my back while simultaneously changing the chux pads under my bum and swinging my leg around the cord. As you may have read in our birth plan, we wanted to leave the umbilical cord pulsing as long as it decided to, ideally until the delivery of the placenta.  The midwives happily obliged, although I had to rest Addison on my belly for a few minutes as the cord was somewhat short... I couldn't pull her all the way up right away. She was here! She was close enough to stare at in amazement, and a few minutes later the cord had stopped pulsing so Cathy clamped and John cut the cord (which he described as snot-covered rope, yum.). I brought Addison a bit closer to my chest and we just lay there... John, Addison, and I were all under warm blankets in the bed where I just birthed her... THIS is what natural birth is about, people! This is where it's at!

 Our alert, healthy little baby stared up at us, studying our faces and recognizing our voices. She let out a few cries and snuggled against my chest.

As we requested, there were no newborn tasks done before her first feed (aside from taking her temperature, while she was on my chest). The three of us snuggled for a bit, and by the time Addison was half an hour old, she latched onto me for her first meal!

Once Addison was resting comfortably, John took her to the foot of the bed where she was weighed and measured. Everything at the Birth Center was done in our room, she was never separated from us... I think that's the way it should be with all births! John helped measure Addison and placed her on the scale, and he snuggled her as she received her Vitamin K shot--she didn't make a peep! 

One look at him and you knew... he was already in love, and I was in love with both of them. After Addison's few little check-ins, the nurse brought us more pillows and checked my belly, helped me to get dressed into some pajamas, and we pulled up the covers. Addison slept between John and I in the bed where she was born. We were welcome to sleep in as late as we wanted, neither John nor I got much sleep after such an eventful and exciting night, but Addison slept well, in between her mommy & daddy... safe, warm, and secure. In the morning, we each took a long hot shower, made breakfast in the kitchen and enjoyed some relaxation time in the family room. Jessica, the admin assistant, and Cathy G, another midwife came upstairs from the medical office to visit us before we went home around lunchtime on Addison's birthday.

I couldn't have asked for a better birth experience. I was tired and sore, but just hours after giving birth, I showered myself, dressed my baby, prepared breakfast, and went home to my own house, in my own clothes. My daughter wasn't subject to any tests or treatments we did not want, and had the most peaceful, gentle birth we could give her. She never once saw cold, metal instruments, heard loud voices, or was taken to a strange place without her parents. The first bright lights she saw were those of the sun rising in our room, and the first thing she smelled when she woke up on her birthday were her parents-while she can't speak yet, I think a baby couldn't ask for more! I couldn't have asked for a more loving and supportive husband, a better birth team, or a better place to welcome our baby into the world. I am so very thankful for our midwives, our doula, our birth photographer, and my little Addison for all her hard work, too! 

*The photos in this blog are some preview-quality photos from our birth photographer, Christine Paluf, she's AMAZING! Please visit her site, here's the link: Christine Paluf Photography

*This is a great blog I came across yesterday about Sounding Your Labor... it made me feel a little less silly about how loud I was :-)   Sounding Your Labor: Are You In or Out of Control?

Thank You...

There are a few people who I must thank for making this amazing natural birth possible! 

My husband, for trusting me, trusting my body, trusting our baby. For not hesitating once when I said I wanted a natural hypnobirth, when I said I wasn't going near a hospital, when I said we were going to drive an hour for all our prenatal care and that he would drive me in active labor (in the pouring rain at rush hour of course!), for his strong arms holding me in the tub, for not batting an eye when I threw up all over him, and for loving our daughter with all he has :)

My mother for not judging or criticizing my decisions, regardless of how unconventional they were compared to when she birthed. Thank you for your open mind, your support, and love.

My natural birth cheerleaders, near and far! Jen, Kelly, Becky, Kate, Jennifer, thank you all for filtering horror stories, blocking those who wanted to tell me I couldn't or wouldn't achieve this birth, thank you!

Our hypnobirth instructor, Kate, and our doula, Deby- Thank you for helping me breathe! 

Last but not least, some VIB's! Very Important Bloggers! Birth Without Fear, Birth Faith, and The NonConformist Mom... you inspired me to pursue the best possible welcoming for my baby. You helped me establish faith in my own body and faith in my baby and that made a world of difference. You touch so many lives and I can't thank you enough. 

What's in a Name?

Before BG McD was a B[aby], John and I decided that we wouldn't name our babies until they were born, until they were Earthside if you will. There are a few layers to this decision we have adamantly stood by. I later discovered that my longstanding fear of naming an unborn baby being bad luck is actually an Irish superstition... it's not just me, it's the entire history of Ireland that feels this way! It completely freaks me out when someone refers to their belly by a name... since I'm growing us a little girl minion, I also acknowledge that tiny chance that the ultrasound could be wrong. Doctors and technicians can confirm boy parts but will only "guess," at a girl gender. While I believe she's a little she, you can't guarantee. Before our ultrasound we both kind of sort of thought boy a little more than we thought girl... we were both *pleasantly* surprised. 

Before our anatomy scan, we had discussed potential names... we had two definite boy names we loved, one girl name I was in love with [and always have been], and we had selected middle names. We had many exclusionary criteria and scoured websites and books for ideas... we vetoed countless names the other suggested, and still weren't sure. My ideal plan was to have three names selected and when we meet the baby on her birthing day, we would choose the most fitting for her. Welllll maybe that plan will work with B McD #2 because after the ultrasound my kind, sweet, thoughtful husband and I went to Babies R Us and he bought me a large wooden letter for BG McD's door... the letter of the name I have always loved. Never have I known a more loving man. Yes, the letter is a secret, too. You can't know the letter. 

So we have the superstition factor... neither John nor I have even once called my bump by the name she will receive on her birthing day. She's Hiccup or BG McD. No one knows her name, so no one else can refer to my belly by name, in or out of my presence.

The other big reason we haven't shared BG McD's name... is two cents. EVERYONE has an opinion on names, and everyone has something to say about a name. Unless you name your child some random noun like a celebrity (think, Apple or Bronx Mowgli), then someone knows someone who made fun of them in the third grade or stole that promotion they deserved or stole their ice cream cone that summer back in childhood... or the heartthrob that got away, and your name selection is immediately unfitting, silly, terrible, or undesirable. By keeping our name unknown, we not only get to share in a secret between just the two of us, but we also haven't had to hear any reactions, positive or negative. Once she's here, the name has a personality, a face, it's hers, so once it's on the birth certificate, everyone can find out, and do nothing about it!

I thought a few people would be curious, but had no idea how nutty some would be about our decision. My mother regularly attempts to slip an inquiry into conversation. So I bought the baby a blanket today and there was this adorable little onesie at Kohl's and what's her name? ... Nice try, Grandma! My mother asked if she could. submit a list of names she doesn't like... I politely informed her that she can do whatever she wants, her name will be her name.  Grandma aside, I have had a few people make guesses (no one has guessed correctly, yet, but I wouldn't reveal either way!) and a few people ask if we've shared (nope!)... but this past week I experienced the pinnacle of name debates, at Target. in the checkout. This is how my conversation with the cashier went... 

Cashier: Aww do you know what you're having?

Me: A girl, in a few weeks.

Cashier: Do you have a name yet?

Me: Yep, it's a secret.We haven't told anyone.

Cashier: What is it?!

Me: A secret.

Cashier: I know but what is it? You can tell me, I don't even know you, I'll probably never see you again. 

Me: My mother doesn't even know, I'm not going to share it at my local Target. She'll get her name when she's born.

Cashier: C'mon, I'll never see your mom, or meet your baby!

Me: Then you don't need to know. *cue the awkward silence*

Craaaaazy people. I have also had awkward conversations about not sharing at Starbucks, at a counseling conference (you'd think counselors would be more respectful!), and in random elevators. Why is it that when you're doing something as divine as growing a child, everyone thinks it's their business?! People want to know where I'm delivering (are you going to show up in the waiting room?!), my exact due date (I have a due month, it's going on right now, thank you.), what her name will be, how much leave I'm taking, where will she go to daycare, you name it. Would you like to know where she'll apply to college, too? It's like that invasive airplane conversation where people put their guard down and share their life stories, pretending the person going to the same destination that you are is suddenly your new BFF. 

At the end of the day, BG McD will be here eventually (within the next five weeks!), and then she'll have a name... you can call her that name from then until... forever. But, it's hers. She gets to hear it first, on her birthing day, and John and I created her...so we'll get to call her by her name first. All the rest of y'all can wait. :-)