Lopsided: Breastfeeding without Judgment

I’m lopsided.

And not just “a little.”

This isn’t the first time it’s happened either. It seems to be that when the milk comes in my babies immediately turn up their tiny noses and deem one side to be of “sub-par quality.” The quintessential picky-eaters from birth.

When my daughter was born, she struggled to stay latched. Those first few days were anxiety-riddled as her weight decreased and her diapers dried up. It didn’t matter that I had a full and healthy milk-supply. It didn’t matter if I used a nipple shield. One side was simply boob-non-grata.

It was exhausting.

It was stressful.

I felt like a failure.

And it took me three times as long to feed.

And so I quit.

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The Longest of Nights

These are the early days. The nights when the baby fusses and you awake every half-hour, bleary-eyed and exhausted. When you’re no longer able to string cognizant sentences together and your nightshirt smells like spit-up and baby lotion.

You’re tired. Oh-so-tired.

If you could wish these nights away, you would. They’re exhausting and mind-numbing: this endless cycle of sleeping, eating and changing.

And yet, you find yourself inexplicably passing up moments of sleep to stop and marvel at this new child in your arms. You kiss the top of their downy head and soak in the syrupy smell of milk and baby. You watch them sleep with wonder.

The little one’s breath comes soft and quick after months spent immersed within. The squeaks and gurgles, murmurs and bubbles from within the bassinet make for a noisy roommate. But when they quiet, you peek your face over the edge of her bed. Your hand hovers over her chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of new life. For now, life slows.

Yes, these weeks and months are draining. But through these longest of nights, we hear the never-ending whispers of a mother’s love.

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Beautycounter Product Review

We all know that there are a lot of unseen toxins in the world around us. We use products everyday without knowing exactly what is in them and are just now beginning to learn how some of these chemicals affect us long-term. Most of us have started to think more about the food that we’re putting in our body, but have we ever stopped to think about what chemicals might be hiding within our every-day beauty products?

When I saw friends and family begin promoting and talking about a safer beauty option, I was intrigued (and admittedly, slightly skeptical.) The company is called Beautycounter — a consultant based sales company that markets itself around safety and transparency. 

The premise behind the company is simple: many of the every-day products we currently use contain toxic or harmful, unregulated, chemicals. Beautycounter aims to fix that by providing “cleaner” options. With lotions, makeup, shampoos, and kid collections, Beautycounter offers a wide variety of products that are said to be safer and healthier for consumers.

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Learning To Be Thankful For Morning Sickness

The porcelain bowl glistens clean and white, the scent of anti-bacterial wipes wafting from its open lid. This has been my on-and-off view for the past few weeks; the bathroom mat a frequent companion for this newly-pregnant mama.

Retreating back to my spot on the couch, cuddled up under a brown blanket, my nose twitches at the scent of whatever it is my husband is cooking in the kitchen. I gag and growl in frustration at my endlessly-rolling tummy. No one could ever say that this is a “fun” part of pregnancy, but nonetheless, I take a deep breath and direct a quick word of thanks upwards.

Despite the discomfort, I try to remember that I am enjoying this.

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Pregnant Mama, Take the Belly Picture

Dear Pregnant Mama, take the belly picture.

You just peed on a little white stick and watched two solid, pink lines appear from the nothingness. You’re barely five weeks along but there’s a child growing within your womb, a little bit of your DNA mashed into an ever-growing and dividing clump of cells.

You place your hand tenderly against your stomach and feel nothing but skin and a little bloat. There’s no evidence that this little one is here. Your stomach muscles have yet to stretch and give way to the life within. Everything is seemingly the same, and only you know it’s all begun to change.

And so, you feel silly asking your partner to take a belly picture. It seems strange to stand sideways against the wall and take a picture of “nothing.” You tell yourself that you have time.

But sadly, not all of us do.

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When the Pregnancy Test is Negative – Surrendering all to Christ

Cautiously prodding a crumpled tissue out of the way, I carefully reached my hand down into the garbage can and fished out the used pregnancy test. I’d tossed it in moments earlier but now I was second-guessing myself.

I held the test up close against my face and squinted, hoping against hope that somehow that would change the answer. Maybe I hadn’t waited long enough? Maybe there was a very faint line and I’d just missed it?

One lonely pink line stared back at me and my heart sank. The pregnancy test was definitely negative.

Again.

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When Your Birthing Plan Falls Apart

“This is your son.”

The orderly rolled my bed into the hospital’s NICU and I groggily stared over at the tiny bird-like creature lying in an incubator. His three and a half pounds was composed solely of skin and bones. The ventilator was breathing for him, his tiny body dotted with tubes and wires–and I looked at him and wondered, “Are you really mine?”

I’d gone from pregnant to not pregnant in what felt like mere minutes, and I was struggling to wrap my head around the sudden change.

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Are We Doing Motherhood Wrong?

Sometimes I wonder if we’ve missed out on a key aspect of motherhood.

You know, the part where we’re supposed to do it together?

For far too long, the words “mommy” and “wars” have perched contentedly side by side. Try as we might to peel and split these two incongruous words apart, our fingers are left bloodied and scraped by the effort. And it seems as if social media has only accentuated these differences. Scrolling through newsfeeds, it doesn’t take long to find parenting articles and opinion pieces written by women who are “doing motherhood wrong.” (Or at least, that’s what the sludge of negative comments seem to indicate???)

We bash new moms for using disposable diapers, telling them that they’re going to kill the environment. And then we turn around and give visible eye rolls to the pregnant woman who tells us she’s going to try cloth diapers. “Good luck,” we whisper sarcastically behind her back.

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Jamberry Nail Wraps Review

I can’t remember the last time I got a manicure.

The days of sitting in a comfy spa chair for an hour and emerging with perfectly painted and dried nails  is just a luxury I just don’t have time for anymore. I can no longer justify spending $60 on nails that last a week. And while I may paint my toes myself, I never do my fingers anymore. My hands always end up looking like I murdered some sort of purple cat, and what paint does land on my nails starts chipping within two days.

So when my sister bought me a set of Jamberry Nail Wraps for Christmas last year, I was eager to try them.

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The Halloween Apple Tree

Last year my son wanted to be a thermometer for Halloween.

Yep, you read that correctly: a thermometer.

He was two-years-old and wanted his Halloween costume to be the most difficult word in his (admittedly limited) vocabulary. My dreams for easy, store-bought costumes quickly evaporated into a haze of pipe cleaners, felt, and the ragged stitches of a woman who never took Home Ec.

Fast forward to September of this year, and I tentatively ask my son what he wants to be for Halloween. I’m hoping for something more like Spider Man and less like “a portable TV” (his suggestion for my husband) or “a rolling pin” (his suggestion for our house).

I breathe out a sigh of relief when he says, “I want to be an apple tree!”

Apple tree. Phew. I can do that.

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Day 7: Your Motherhood Story

{October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, share YOUR messy, imperfect, but beautiful motherhood story with the hashtag #thismotherhoodstory.}

Journal Prompt: What does your motherhood story look like? Use the #thismotherhoodstory to share it with us! What do you want others to know about pregnancy loss?

I am the mother of six, much-loved babies but you can only see one.

This is a part of my motherhood story.

It’s not always pretty. It’s full of countless sleepless nights and pillows damp with tears. It’s full of days crouched by a tiny grave, the damp grass sticking to my sneakers and soaking into the hem of my jeans. It’s full of missed anniversaries and hearts that ache with the ebb and flow of babies from my womb. But it’s also full of hope.

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Feeling 26

I don’t do good with birthdays.

Never have. Probably never will.

My parents like to tell stories about my childhood birthdays: stories about how each and every one of my parties ended with me as an absolute wreck, tears galore. I’m pretty sure that’s why they stopped hosting them when I turned twelve. Turns out I’m better suited to marking the passage of time in a more subtle manner.

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