A dream is a wish your heart makes...

Today I am 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I've been putting on a brave face, but in truth every muscle and joint and ligament and ounce of of my freaking being is uncomfortable. The thing is, I realize that less than a year ago I would have given ANYTHING to be in this position. And I realize that this is the last time I'll ever be doing this. And so, I'm trying to relish every ache and every pain and every trip to the bathroom every 10 freaking minutes - because I wished for this. I hoped for this. I prayed for this. And here I am. In reflection, I wanted to tell this story for the life we're about to welcome into the world. Because I'm uncomfortable - but dang it, I'm so happy.

-----

"It started out as a feeling which then grew into a hope
Which then grew into a quiet thought which then turned into a quiet word
And then that word grew louder and louder until it was a battle cry..."
- The Call; Regina Spektor


At the beginning of 2015, I made a secret Pinterest board that was dedicated solely to ideas for announcing a pregnancy at Disney World. It's a notion that makes me cringe even today, but it's true. My husband and I had long ago decided that we wanted our last vacation as a family of 3 to be taken at Disney World.

I have a habit of getting WAY ahead of myself when it comes to planning and given that we were planning to start trying for another baby at the beginning of the year, the timing seemed perfect.

Six years ago, when we found out we were pregnant for the first time, I learned nothing about my reproductive health in the process. For all intents and purposes, we got pregnant accidentally on purpose after one month of trying. It's a blessing, one that I do not take for granted (especially now), but it was unfair. It's unrealistic. It set me up for what would end up being 6 months of sadness and disappointment and above all - confusion.

But, first - Disney World.

Upon packing for the trip we had planned for for months, I realized that I would be able to take a test around the fourth day of our trip there and was sure it would be the most magical positive pregnancy test anyone had ever peed on. I thought of fun ways for us to secretly announce our pregnancy through photographs while at Disney World to share with our families when we returned. I was excited for the trip, yes, but I think I was more excited about what the trip would mean for us.

I remember taking the resort transit to Hollywood Studios on our second day of the trip and suddenly being overcome with nausea. The kind that only exists in the first trimester. I can't even describe the elation I felt at this sudden and inexplicable urge to vomit. I had never been more sure that I was pregnant.

We arrived early at our brunch reservations the next day and while waiting for our table, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. And that's when I saw I had my period.

In my bag, I had packed six different pregnancy tests.
And four tampons.

I walked out of the bathroom with tears threatening to spill down my face. I don't even think I had to say the words to my husband. I think he knew. And he tried to hide it, but I saw the disappointment I was feeling mirrored in his expression. We both decided not to discuss it and to try to just enjoy the trip.

We spent the rest of that day at Epcot. I drank a beer in every country that day. Partially because I could. But, mostly because I was numbing the pain. There was so much self blame. I wanted to space out my pregnancies. It had always been the right decision for our family and now I was filled with so much doubt. Truly, this was one thing I felt like I (personally) was born to do - and I was failing at it. Quite frankly, I felt broken.

The next day, while waiting in a very long line at the Magic Kingdom, I did the thing you should never do when you're panicking about a possible medical problem - I Google'd.

However, the great thing about relying on Dr. Google when it comes to fears about your fertility, is that sometimes you stumble upon a community forum that tells you you are absolutely insane. It was there that I learned facts that sustained me for the failed cycles that would follow. It was there that I learned I was not even close to infertile - just uninformed and impatient.

I learned that it can take up to a year for a healthy couple to conceive.
I learned that a couple only has a 20% chance of conceiving every month.
I learned that I had expected to get pregnant in a fraction of the time that many couples out there have been trying (and some with varied levels of medical intervention).
I learned that accidental pregnancies are pretty much mathematically improbable.
I learned that most pregnancies (including my own previous pregnancy) are pretty much mathematically improbable.

I felt like an idiot. Little Miss "I got pregnant after one month of trying, what's wrong with me now?" really got a dose of her own medicine. I read post after post after post after post of women struggling with fertility, women starting IVF, women who knew so much more about this stuff than I ever bothered to learn. It was like I had fallen asleep in health class in middle school and suddenly woke up at 31 and decided to pay attention.

So, I read. And I learned. I found solace in a community full of women who understood what I was going through.

Who would listen when a very pregnant person complained to me about her pregnancy while I was hoping so desperately to be in her shoes.
Who would sympathize when I was asked over and over again when we were finally going to have another kid.
Who would understand when every pregnancy announcement was like a punch in my (empty) gut.

Even though I was now armed with the knowledge that our timeline was completely normal, I felt less normal as every non-pregnant day went on. I discovered through various tracking methods that sometimes I ovulated and sometimes I didn't. My body just doesn't see it to be a necessary process every month. The birth control pills which had regulated my cycles for years were finally out of my system and in response, my system had no idea what to do with itself.

I put in a call with my OB/GYN for an appointment to discuss my concerns. The nurse I spoke to was very reassuring and sweet and told me that I should give it one more irregular cycle before I made an appointment.

That cycle never came.

And one afternoon, motivated by some sweet women on a board which had become my safe haven for sharing my obsessive charting who saw my chart and told me I would be crazy to not pee on a stick that afternoon, I stopped by a store and bought a pregnancy test.

I was on the way home from our second annual musical and still feeling elated from watching our students and their triumphant performance. I didn't want to ruin that feeling with another disappointment, but I just had to know.

I remember closing the door to the bathroom and standing outside of it. I had seen so many negative tests already. I just didn't want to see another one turn right in front of my eyes.

I cautiously approached the test the way one would approach a live wire. Convinced it would be another disappointment.

But it was positive. I was finally pregnant.
And no, it wasn't Disney World - but it was still magical.


I'm sharing this story here because I am certain there are people out there who, like me, don't understand the reality of fertility. Who think pregnancy is a right rather than a privilege. Who perhaps have never felt the pain of this struggle. Who have felt the pain of this struggle and are glad to hear someone break the silence that surrounds infertility. I was never one to approach people about their plans for procreation - I find that to be a highly personal decision and I never wanted to accidentally harm someone who was unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant.

However, I also never applied those same principles to myself. I approached myself over and over saying "Why aren't you pregnant yet, Amanda?" and it was a very painful and scary time. It didn't have to be. It just took a little bit of self help and education.

And now here I am - 3 days before I'm due with this little man. All I can feel is grateful that I didn't allow the fear and judgment and disappointment keep me from the magic I've wanted for so long.

"Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling that no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too, doesn't mean that you have to forget
Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
Until they're before your eyes..."

Begin again...

Brevity has never been my strong suit.
You ask me what time it is and I'll tell you how to build a clock.

So, as the weeks and then months and then nearly a year passed - I really wasn't sure how I could come back here without writing nothing short of a novel. I'll try to be brief, but that isn't easy for me.

To say a lot has changed in the past year would be a drastic understatement. Here's a short list.

- I got promoted and became the head of my department making many dreams come true and giving me the opportunity to do even more of what I love to do so much.

- We decided to put our house on the market. While some of our neighbors were truly the best people we've never known, we knew that with The Incredible Hulk starting Kindergarten in the fall and being hesitant about the school he was slated to attend, we needed to make a change and began the arduous process of preparing our dream home to be put up for sale.

- We went to Disney World for the first time as a family. (Not that important, just part of what we've been spending our time doing and important for a future post I hope to write.)

- We started showing our house. It was on the market for around 45 days. In the first week we had 9 showings. It was not an easy time in our lives.

- I got in a car accident. The other driver was texting when she hit me. It wasn't bad, but it totaled my vehicle. And so, in the same week we put our house on the market, we were in the market for a new car. I got another minivan. Hell didn't freeze over.

- My team put on our second musical with the students at our school. Oh, and it was on the news. NBD.

- I got promoted...again. This time to a job I've been spending my career working toward with a team of professionals I respect so much. It was a bit ground-breaking to tell the truth. It meant stepping away from being solely a music therapist (I haven't touched a guitar in three months) - and now instead using those skills to oversee an educational team. More dreams coming true.

- We took a another trip to our happy place. Michigan in the summer will officially be a tradition for our family as long as they'll allow it. This time we were hosted by some of the best friends in the world and if there was any reason we were able to get through this stressful year in one piece, it's because of them.

- Our house sold...and we hadn't yet found a place to live. So we started that process. Which had its heartbreaking moments. Lots of beautiful homes that didn't work out...

- ...but, with two days to spare before TIH started Kindergarten, we moved into our new home. We love our neighborhood, we love how much closer we are to our family here. We love his school. We have LOTS of work to do on the new home and we love that too. We're starting our first official project today...which brings me to the final bit of news...

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

I was finally ready to begin again. It took me awhile to get there. And then it took us even longer to respect God's timeline. But, on the day that I drove home from the musical at my school, still giddy from the success of another year, something told me to stop and get a test.

So I did.
And I was.

This pregnancy began much like the first - being bowled over my nausea from around week 6 to week 16. And then smooth sailing.

Oh...and it's another boy.

When I started this blog (5 years ago next week), I always imagined that I would chronicle my second pregnancy week by week. Share every detail. Every funny story. Every way that this pregnancy is all at once totally different than my first, and in some ways completely the same.

Instead, I've been reveling in the here and now a bit. Without putting words to it. I know this is likely the last round for us. So, I've just been enjoying the journey and not wondering what is going to happen next.

There's been enough change for one year. I'm happy to revel in the simplicity of stasis.

Brevity has never been my strong suit.
I'm always afraid I'll leave out some detail that will bring everything together for the reader.
But, at some point, I just had to start somewhere simple.
Simple is good.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

Oh, Lido...

Lido missed the boat that day
He left the shack
But that was all he missed
And he ain't comin' back

Dear Lido,

A little over five years ago, there was a great buzz going around the hospital where I worked that the feral cat who lived in the courtyard had given birth to the cutest kittens.  Slowly, many of the kittens disappeared and even the mama cat was nowhere to be found - but, you remained.  My friend and co-worker at the time would sneak out and find your tiny little self hiding in the bushes or laying out in the sun and would send me pictures.

"You need to adopt this cat."

I was convinced that I was not a cat person and in truth, that I wasn't a pet person in general.  Shortly before we were married, we adopted a puppy.  The dog was needy and didn't sleep and was not a good fit for a home with two working owners.  We were able to find her a new home with family members, but I still look at our decision to adopt the dog as one of my biggest failures in life.  The entire situation made me terrified that I would never be able to be a good mother if I couldn't even care for a silly animal.

So, with that history I told my friend I would never adopt you because I didn't want another shot to fail at pet ownership.

And yet a few days later (and against all good judgment), I somehow had you sitting in my front seat in an old copy paper box with holes cut out so you could breathe, waiting to come home with us.  You hissed and spit and refused to eat for the first few days we had you.  We thought you were just nervous, but we soon learned that this fiery personality was pretty much uniquely you. 

We named you by putting my playlist on shuffle until we heard a name we liked.
And that song was "Lido Shuffle."

There were times that people didn't even know we owned a cat because we had to put you away when guests came over. Unlike normal cats, instead of running and hiding under beds when you were nervous, you would stalk our guests and slap them with your paws.  You'd hiss and growl and even bit a few people.  You were kind of a jerk, Lido.  But, you were our jerk.

When we brought The Incredible Hulk home, you didn't go near me for 8 months.  You seemed to hold me personally responsible for this new family member cramping your style.

But, you eventually figured out that he was here to stay and for the most part, you accepted that.
You also accepted that we liked him a little bit more than you.

You got a lot of second chances with us, Lido.  This must be why people say cats have nine lives.
I hope you know that we tried to keep you.

You hissed at my pregnant belly when I used cocoa butter because you didn't like the smell. You meowed anytime anyone closed a bathroom door to you, only to have us open it up so you could walk away. Affection was mostly on your terms, but when you did cuddle, you were actually kind of great at it.  (Even though you insisted on licking us constantly because you clearly you thought we didn't bathe enough.)  You loved pepperoni, a fact we discovered when we had to put you on Prozac to improve your mood and hiding it in the pepperoni was the only way to get you to take it.  (You totally knew we were drugging you, thanks for only spitting on the meds sometimes.)  You loved to sit in front of open windows and meow incessantly.  I told you to be quiet a lot, but I want you to know that I really loved that sound because it told me how happy you were.  You made us into the cat people we never really thought we'd be.

I hope you know we wish it could be any other way.

I hope you know we wanted to ignore the two doctors who told us this week that we shouldn't keep you as a pet anymore.

I hope you know this was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I hope you know that I'll never know for sure if I did the right thing or not.

I hope you know that every day since, I've walked into the house expecting to hear your obnoxious meowing and feeling desperately sad when I all I hear is silence.

I texted the friend who helped me take you home to tell her you were gone, to tell her about the terrible decision we had to make, to tell her "Thank you" for convincing me to adopt you five years ago.  Because, Lido...it was a really great five years.  

You were a crazy cat. But, you were our crazy cat.

She told me "Don't forget, Amanda.  You saved him."

She's halfway right.  Yes, we saved you from the courtyard where no one was around to feed you and you were likely going to meet the fate of your mom and all of your brothers/sisters.

But, Lido?  You saved me too.  Saved me from the feeling that I was a failure and could never take care of another living being.  Saved me from the crippling self-doubt I'd experienced.  Saved me from the selfish person I once was.

Lido, you made me a mama and I love you for it.

You weren't perfect.  But, you were ours.

I hope that when you get to where you're going that there's a pepperoni buffet and open windows for you to sit by for all eternity.  When we meet again, I know you'll probably purr and sit right on top of me, but bite me if I try to pet you.

And that's okay, because that's how I'll know it's you.

Lido will be runnin'
Havin' great big fun
Until he got the note
Saying tow the line or blow it
And that was all he wrote

I love you, Kitten Man.

One more for the road...

Slow down everyone, you're moving too fast...

Dear TIH,
I don't even try to hide the fact that I was not really a baby person before I became a mother.  Whenever I would hold a friend's baby before becoming a mother myself, it was as though the baby could sense I was uncomfortable and he or she would promptly scream their heads off.  Even in the first weeks of your life, every time I held your tiny little body close to mine, I was so scared that I was "doing it wrong," that I would "break" you somehow, that you also could sense I was really not any good at this.

On one such occasion, feeling the anxiety which was all too familiar in those days, I had finally gotten you to go to sleep in the middle of the day.  I looked down at the smallness of you and was dumbfounded how such a tiny little thing could be so overwhelming for me.  I felt a tear roll down my cheek and before I knew it, I was silently crying as I held you.  I felt like SUCH a failure.  And I whispered to you, "I'm sorry about all this.  I can't wait until you get bigger."

And, you did get bigger.
You grew and grew and grew.

You learned.  You walked and talked and did all of the things I was longing for when you were that tiny baby in my arms.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

It all happened SO fast.
And today - you are four.

I love that you're growing.  Watching you grow is one of the great privileges of my life.  And, I love that we've gotten to grow together.  I got to grow from a sort of selfish woman who didn't really have any idea what it was like to take care of anyone else into someone else entirely.

Your mom.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

So, thanks buddy.  Thanks for letting me watch you grow.  Thanks for teaching me in your little way to be the woman that I am today.

I know you're excited by how big you're getting and how much you're learning.  You tell us every day about the new "big boy" things you can do.  And truthfully, it breaks my heart a little bit.

Buddy, I have to tell you, it's not so scary for me that you're little anymore.  It's actually much scarier how fast the time is going.  So...if it isn't too much to ask - slow it down just a bit.

Because as it turns out, I can wait for you to be bigger.

Love,
Mommy

From this year's photo shoot with Rosser Photography.
Stephanie, I am forever indebted to you for these priceless and beautiful memories.

Well, I guess this is growing up...

Before I get started with today's post - I'm excited to announce the winners of our Kindred Photo App giveaway.  Without further ado, they are:

1.  Amanda B.
2.  Adriane
3.  Dawn

Congratulations!  You can claim your prize by sending your email address to newmomontheblog@gmail.com.   (You'll need to use the same email address when you register your account on the app!)

Okay...now, back to the blog.

-----

As mentioned previously, today is my 30th birthday.
There are a lot of things I hoped to do before I turned 30.

I wanted to have a Master’s degree in a related field AND be working in that field.  I wanted to travel a lot more than I did.  I was hoping to be closer to free from my student debt (which I realize is kind of at odds with the first item on this list).  I wanted to be done having children by the time I turned 30.

I haven’t accomplished any of those things, in case you are wondering.

Instead, life happened and while I can truthfully say I’m very happy at the place I am in my life, it is the human condition to want that which we do not have.  So, on the days leading up to today, my 30th birthday, I can’t say I was sad about ticking off the next decade in my life (I not only believe it is a great, great privilege to grow older, I’ve also never in my life considered 30 to be an old age).  However, I must admit, I was a little bummed about the list of things I didn’t accomplish by now.

But, then I looked back at who I was when I celebrated my entrance into my 20s. Back then, I was a person who, if I remember correctly, marked the occasion in a frat house by consuming way too much cinnamon flavored liqueur and then spending the rest of the decade avoiding the stuff like the plague.

I’ve come a long way.

And I don’t just mean that I eventually learned my drinking limits.  I mean that in looking back over the years, my entire life as I know it was shaped in this decade.

I learned a lot - from school, from therapy, from the people I surrounded myself with.  I completed college and started my career.  (If you can believe it - I started my 20s without even knowing what Facebook was.)  It was in my 20s that I made one of the defining moments of my life to pick up my life at one college and start it back in St. Louis at another.  I went on a lot of dates.  And eventually all of those dates introduced me to the man who would become by husband.  I discovered many of my views about how the world works.  I found a deeper connection with my own faith and views of the world and when it that has been shaken and disputed - I've found that it really and truly is what I value, not just what I was indoctrinated to believe.  And, I figured out that it really doesn’t matter to me if someone values something else - that we can still probably be really good friends.  I got married.  (Something that I wasn’t totally sure was ever going to happen to me when I was in my early 20s.)  I gave birth.  (Something that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to happen in my early 20s.)  I picked up my life (again) and moved it to another city where I knew basically nothing and no one.  I met people and lost them in this decade.  

So, as I blow out 30 candles on this birthday cake of mine (and try not to set off the smoke alarm), I’m filled with hope.  Hope that I will be so lucky to have another decade filled with as many realizations of dreams; as many discoveries of truth; as many life affirmations; as many defining moments. 

This decade was pretty incredible.  So.  You better bring it, next decade.  I’m ready for you. 

The beauty of uncertainty...

On Friday, I bounded out to my husband's car to collect The Incredible Hulk out of his car seat and immediately rummaged through his backpack to see what precious little artwork he carried home with him.  The crafty wannabe in me lives for the moments when I get to see his adorably created art projects covered in tempera paint and macaroni.

Instead.  I found this:

(Upper left corner.  TIH drew himself a sister.)

Sigh.

Here's the thing.  This has been on my mind a lot lately.  I have this interesting and notable twinge when I see a little face peeking up from a pumpkin seat in the grocery store.  I spent an above average time sifting through little sleepers with adorable footies on them the other day.  Right now, babies smell to me like baby powder and happiness and that is ALWAYS a telling sign.

TIH has also (clearly) become obsessed with the idea of having a sister recently.  He talks about it a lot and has elaborate plans for how they will play together.  ("She will go down the slide at the playground. Sisters are so silly!")  He has thus far neglected to realize that his sister will probably take away a lot of his wealth of parental attention, will rob his family blind in childcare costs, and will also likely steal his toys when she is old enough.  His rose-colored-glasses outlook is adorable.  Really. And, all joking aside?  He's going to make an excellent big brother.  Someday.

As much as these superficial things are giving me that familiar itch lately, I just know in my very core that right now is not the right time.  Last year's move was earth shattering (a point I have clearly belabored here and must do so again).  But, it was earth shattering.  And, not just emotionally, but in every possible way - physically, financially, mentally...and all of these things combined with the fact that I maybe, sort of, had a really, really tough time right after TIH was born does not a good situation make.  (It also makes horrendous, poorly punctuated run-on sentences so I am in no place right now to be a mother of two.  Obviously.)

Listen, I know that I was put on this planet to be a mother to TIH.  And somewhere, deep inside, I know that (God willing), I am to be a mother to TIH and his sibling(s?)  Someday.  Not now.  But, someday.

I am really and truly enjoying TIH at this age.  I am loving that he has all of our attention right now (and any of you who have ever raised a 3 year old know that they don't give a crap how they get your attention - they're going to get it!)  Part of me is happy to be able to be undivided for him right now.

When we had TIH, it was a very carefully calculated decision.  We knew that it was a good time in our life to have a baby.  We felt ready (I say "felt" because we soon learned that no matter how ready you "feel," it's still going to rock your world when you do become parents).  And, truly, becoming parents was the best thing to ever happen to us.

I know we will have that feeling again.

I know it when I see a mother rubbing the swell of her belly knowing that she's feeling little kicks and nudges while doing so.  I know it when I kiss the sweet, soft skin of a newborn and breath in that gorgeous smell.  I know it when I look at TIH, at the little boy he has become, as a I watch all signs of the baby he once was melt away, and I see what a miracle and a blessing kids are.

So, maybe it's not right now.  Maybe it's still a few years off.  And who knows what the future has in store for us.  But, I'm sure excited to find out what it is like to be a bigger family.

Someday.

Make this place your home...

It's hard for me to believe, but a year ago at this time, we were throwing the final items into boxes.  (Boxes that I would soon discover were so unorganized that it took us almost this full year to unpack and reorganize.)  It wasn't the most romantic wedding anniversary, but the whole process was symbolic  of the vows and promises I had made on that day four years before.

Moving day was an emotionally confusing day.  Calling it bittersweet just doesn't do it justice.  There was so much sadness.  But, there were also moments of excitement about the long journey that was spread out in front of us.  I remember someone saying to me when they heard we were moving, "It's going to be sad, but there is a certain excitement to going somewhere entirely new and just starting over."

Whoever that was - thank you.  You were right.

I miss my home.  Yes.  There is a hole in my heart where St. Louis used to be and I catch myself aching for some of our traditions we celebrated yearly while still living there.

Cardinals in Postseason has kind of become a yearly thing. Just sayin'.

But, for every second that I miss St. Louis - there is a moment of pure, unencumbered joy and gratitude for the life we are living here and the people that we share it with.  There are things that have taken some getting used to (everything literally shuts down during football games, it's like a ghost town.)  Some things (traffic patterns, for example) I may never enjoy.  But, I truly just LOVE it here.  (So much so that sometimes I feel like I'm cheating on my city a bit.)

I remember on the day we left that I watched The Arch become a tiny little dot in my rearview mirror my eyes blurred with tears and sad songs blaring on my CD player. And yet, every time I started to get scary sad and ugly cry, I would have a message of encouragement from someone back at home.  Messages that promised me it would be okay.  Messages that told me that they missed me already. Messages that allowed me to hope that not only was it going to be good - that it might just be even better.

To all of you who contacted me on one of the most defining days of my entire life - thank you.  And?  You were right.  It is okay.

The past two years that we have been in the process of relocating ourselves here has taught me so much about our strength as a couple; as parents; as people, in general.  And now that we get to live here in the beautiful now - I'm just so grateful and blessed about where this journey has taken us thus far.

So, happy first anniversary, Chicago - I think I'll keep you.
And, happy fifth anniversary to my husband - you can stay too.

My road of good intentions...

Over the weekend, my husband and I took The Incredible Hulk with us to our local outlet mall to get him some clothes (because in true TIH fashion, nothing fits him from last year and it is steadily getting colder out here.)  As my husband predicted, we were able to walk into a store and stand in it for about 5 milliseconds before he began to wreak havoc and needed to be taken out to play on those coin-operated riding toys.  After purchasing a few things for TIH (and shopping around for mommy, of course), I went to find TIH happily entertained by sitting in a boat with a dragon.  (Those things are so trippy.)  A woman was there with her two adorable boys, shaking her head at the change machine.

"Don't put your money in that.  It ate my dollar," she said pointing at the offending machine.

I frowned sympathetically saying, "I hate when that happens."

She said, "It'd be fine usually, except that I already gave one boy his ride and now the other one is wondering when he gets to do his."

I have to be honest.  I didn't even think about it.  I just pulled out my wallet.  Fished out two quarters (When did they go up from 25 cents?) and handed them to her.

"Take these.  It'll make your afternoon go so much more smoothly."  She protested and would not take the money, but I insisted saying, "Seriously. Take it.  It makes me feel good to help."

Soon after, we left with TIH by bribing him with getting a vanilla milk at Starbucks.

We went to Starbucks and made our orders which included TIH's vanilla milk, coffees for us, an ice water, and a chocolate chip cookie.  When the barista rung us up, he said our total was $3.58.

My husband and I both gave him a puzzled look and said, "That can't be right.  Did you get all of the other things we ordered?"  The barista waved his hand dismissively and said, "Don't worry about it.  That's on me."

Bewildered, we collected our drinks (all of which had a nice little ego boost printed on them by another barista, also named "Amanda") and walked towards the crowded parking lot.  We were almost to our car when I stopped dead in my tracks and realized, I had been paid back for my good deed.

I was brought up with an appreciation of doing good things for others.  I know that there is a theory that no good deed is completely unselfish (and this one wasn't any different, it truly did make ME feel good to give this woman those quarters), but I honestly don't do nice things for other people just because I want to get something out of it.  I say this because I was also taught that the good that we put out into the world will come back to us tenfold.  (And, if you've ever bought two Venti drinks at Starbucks, you know that in this case it actually came back to me a lot more than tenfold.)  But, in spite of that, I relish in these opportunities that present themselves like, Here.  Make that person's day.

Sometimes with all the sadness and hatred and pain that I see in the world (the recent events in Kenya comes to mind, for example), I know it has to be nice for someone to have a little sunshine brought back into their life.

I guess it's because I can't help but wonder that if we put just a little bit more sunshine out into the world, maybe eventually there will be nothing left to hate.

I don't wanna become someone who can't live up to what I already done...

As many of you noticed, the last year has not exactly been a wealth of valuable blogging from NMOTB.  In fact, my blog was so silent, I did have people ask me if I had totally decided to give it up. I would usually say that I was in the midst of working on something (and sometimes I was), but for the most part, I actually was doing nothing for myself as a writer.

I wish I could say my time away from the blog was spent constantly generating new content.

In a way, I suppose it is what that time is spent doing.  I spent my time away from my blog just being a mom and literally developing new stories to tell you, new life lessons to share, and engaging in my general jackassery on social media in the meantime.

I often walk a fine line between being New Mom on the Blog - the writer and New Mom on the Blog - the MOM.  I see and admire so many women who are able to stare at a blank screen and fill it with words and content that actually generates feedback, income, notoriety.

I stare at a blank screen and freeze.

I realize that with every tweet, every post, every picture shared on Instagram, I am developing a persona who people may LOVE, or - who people may judge harshly.  I open myself up to that pain and judgment that is always lurking just below the surface.

I have a pretty incredible fan base just in friends and fellow mommies.  Those people lift me up.  Give me ideas for blogs.  Ask me questions.  Are proud to have their stories featured.  They understand that I am trying to build a brand, a business, and they are my most loyal patrons.  They understand that I absolutely adore being a mother, even if I don't spend my entire day at home with my kid.  Even if sometimes I write about the not-so-shiny moments of parenthood.  They get it. They've been there.  They want to hear more.

Then I have a (mostly) (thankfully) quiet brigade of critics.  Those that don't agree with my wishy washy opinions on how to raise your child.  Those that don't like that I'm a working mother.  Those that don't understand why I'm not still breast feeding my 3 year old.  Those that don't think of me as much of a blogger at all, much less a writer.  Those that don't realize that I obsessively check my social media stats so often that I know the minute, if not the second that they have clicked "Unfollow" and that the dejected feeling of that action will follow me around for the entire day. If you asked those critics about my brand, about my business, they'd sniff their nose at the mere idea of it.  And of course, those are the ones I let in.  The ones that I allow to rid me of every creative idea I have.

This fills me with an anxiety that makes it literally impossible to put a sentence together.  It makes me so frightened to share what I have to share here.  It makes me doubt whether or not I deserve to attend any blogger function, to take sponsorship opportunities, to string together a sentence for the world to see at all.

So, sometimes when I go away - it is to find my voice.  Usually it just takes a few comments on my Better... post that will do it.  Or a great reader question. Or just some topic I just can't be quiet about. So, when I go away, that's when I need the support the most.

What I'm trying to say is - thank you, for doing just that. Sticking around with me even during times of silence.  For being one of the MANY people who "Liked" my Facebook page last week when I (shamelessly) mentioned I was a mere 19 followers away from 200. (I think my page got over 60 likes in just an hour.)  Sometimes that silly recognition is validating enough for me to shove this damn anxiety bug back down in its hole and start again fresh.

So, I guess thanks - thanks for always proving me wrong.

Children get older and I'm getting older too...

A few nights ago, my friend Paige posted a picture of us from more than 10 years ago on Instagram.  A conversation ensued and one of her friends pointed out that she recognized me from LiveJournal.

I'm on the left.  This is before I started waxing my eyebrows.

A trip down memory lane later and I was logged into my LJ account, pouring over entries from a time in my life marked by drama, boys, drama, girl fights, drama, boys, and not nearly enough studying.  LiveJournal was my first foray into the world of blogging. (If you can call writing a cryptic, one-line message into Semagic, stating my mood as "depressed," and that my music was Chantal Kreviazuk's "Surrounded" on repeat a "blog.")  I actually got in trouble for things that I wrote in my blog (stupidly, unfiltered and public) and I would not be surprised, in reading it over the past few days, if I said some things back then that cost me friendships, relationships, opportunities - who knows?

The point is that in reading over entry after entry of mind-numbing blathering on about the same stupid guy and the same stupid fight and the fact that I always, always painted myself as the victim and refused to own any part of the problems in my own life - I found myself being eternally grateful that I grew up.  I got older.  I learned how to treat people a little better.  I learned how to treat myself a little better too.  Somewhere along the way I abandoned the selfishness, the penchant for spelling the word "definitely" wrong (every. single. time.  REALLY?), and the emo music on repeat.
I have never been so grateful for getting old.

How old?
Ten years today.  Ten years ago today, I wrote my very first blog entry.  I am positive that exactly one person read it - Paige - who first introduced me to LiveJournal.  She inspires me constantly to be a better writer, but truly she introduced me to the idea that blogging is writing and some of it (like hers) is freaking beautiful.

And, fortunately we dress better now too.

Fortunately, I was able to break up some of reading my loathsome entries with the always popular meme posts.  One was a "get-to-know-you" meme that I filled out.  It asked my favorite quote.  At the time, I wrote this:


Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one." - C.S. Lewis

In a true full-circle moment, I want to thank you all for the outpouring of support I received on my last blog post.  You all have blown me away by how accepting you have been of my truth, but I am truly shocked by how many of you felt the same way as I did when you were only weeks into motherhood.


My first blog was started on the foundation that I just needed to hear someone out there say, "It's normal.  I feel that way too."  (Well, that and the fact that I was a narcissistic 19 year old who loved to hear herself speak.)

And, similarly, this blog was started on the foundation that I knew there were women out there that went through what I went through and who needed someone to tell them, "It is going to be okay."  You all proved to me that I have done what I set out to do with my last post.  So, thank you.

I can't promise that I will write as often as I always wish I could.  I certainly don't have time for the multiple page entries that littered my LiveJournal page DAILY. (And I wonder why I failed Theory my freshman year.)  But, I do know that your support on my last post has provided me with exactly what my narcissistic 19 year old self was looking for 10 years ago.  In so many awesome and beautiful ways, so many of you contacted me just to say:

"It's normal. I feel that way too."

So, thank you.  Please keep reading.

Better...

I've written this post countless times in my head.  I was selecting words for this post long before this blog every existed.  And yet, in 2 and a half years, you've never read it.

This post has received the most frequent use of my delete key.  I actually wanted to vlog it once, but talked myself out of it for silly reasons - I need to have my eyebrows waxed first.  I could use a haircut. I need to lose a little weight.  I don't want to cry on camera.  And so, this post has never been published.


I don't know if I can honestly say I suffered from postpartum depression, but I do know that I was miserable (in a way that didn't seem normal) in the weeks following my son's birth.

At first, I thought it was my own fear of failing at breast feeding.  But, as the weeks wore on, I realized it was more about my fear of failing as a mother.

I was terrified all of the time.
I felt hopeless.
I felt overwhelmingly sad.

When I'm at a grocery store or a restaurant and I see a mother with a newborn, I find myself looking at her and wondering - is she as miserable as I was at that time?

I knew I was supposed to be happy, overwhelmed, but happy.  Worried, but happy.  EXHAUSTED, but happy.

But, I wasn't happy. And maybe that's why I have never written this post.  I am ashamed to admit how sad I was in the first few weeks of my son's life.

I remember standing at the changing table and watching out the window as our neighbors had a barbeque.  I could hear music and laughter and could tell the day was just beautiful, but all I could feel was sadness.  I remember telling my husband, "I feel like we'll never have fun like that again."  Looking back, it is hard for me to recall joy in those first few weeks of motherhood.  I know it was there.  But, I just can't remember.

I began to doubt my decision to have children and resent my own ignorance at thinking I could handle the privilege of motherhood.  I felt so consumed by selfishness that I almost couldn't bear it.  How could anyone look at that beautiful little boy and not feel anything except for joy? How can you look at that child and feel so miserable?  You are an unfit, awful, neglectful, horrible mother.

I remember on our last night in the hospital, a nurse came by and asked what time we wanted to send The Incredible Hulk back to the nursery.  Instead of answering her, I burst into tears.  I realized that this was the last chance I would have to hand my baby off to someone else and I wanted to do it (we had some paperwork to fill out and a video to watch), but wanting to "get things done" made me feel horribly guilty.  The nurse said she'd give me a minute and left the room.  When she returned, she brought tissues and some fresh water and said nothing but this:

"It gets better."

And it did.  I don't remember the exact moment, but I do remember looking into my son's eyes at 3 months.  Seeing his sweet little smile and hearing those cute little coos and I realized how happy I was. It didn't happen overnight, but soon, I knew that nurse was right.  It did get better.

To anyone who ever stumbled upon this blog with the search terms "I'm a new mom and I'm sad" (that's true, someone found my blog that way) or to anyone who ever just wrote "new mom" in Google and hoped they would hear someone say these words - here they are.  It took me two and a half years to be able to say them and writing the posts that fill this blog have been all about the journey of motherhood and all of the joy, humor, and excitement that journey entails.

So, if you're just starting out on the journey of motherhood.  Here is what I have to offer:

It is hard.
It is exhausting.
It is scary as hell.
It is okay if you aren't filled with the joy of motherhood every single second of every single day.
And?

It gets better.

Photo Credit: Stephanie Rosser

-----

And, if it isn't getting better.  If you think you may be suffering from postpartum depression - help is out there.  Please tell someone how you are feeling.  You are not alone.  Here is a resource to connect you with the help you need.  Help is out there.  http://postpartumprogress.org/