Take off your judge-y pants, please.

I sometimes wake in the early morning & listen to the soft breathing of my child & I think to myself, this is one thing I will never regret & I carry that quiet with me all day long.

Recently, I was sitting having a conversation with a classmate. Let me just state, for the record, that this was not one of the girls in my program- and as such I have no hesitation about repeating our conversation, verbatim. We were talking about teenaged parenting. This particular person has a job working with different families with a variety of needs. A profession, I would imagine, that requires a level of open-mindedness. During this conversation she turned to me, someone she knew was the parent of a young child, and said " I work with someone who is 22 and got pregnant ON PURPOSE. Like went to a fertility specialist. And WANTED to have a baby. I mean, she was married...but who in their right minds wants to be a parent at 22? People are by no means prepared to be parents so young..I know I sure wouldn't have been!". My jaw pretty much hit the floor. Either I look significantly older than I truly am or this person was at some point kicking themselves for their unfortunate episode of verbal diarrhea. 

Let me talk for a minute about young parenting. About the reactions I've gotten, the judgement I've received. And it's been a whole lot, so if you aren't interested in hearing about it- I suggest that you leave now. 

I have ALWAYS  been extremely candid and honest  about the fact that becoming a parent so young was never part of my master plan. Contrary to popular belief- spending my senior year in college pregnant, dashing out of midterm exams so I could vomit, accumulating a ridiculous amount of parking tickets because I couldn't manage to waddle myself across campus...not exactly what I was counting on.  Nursing my 4 week old in between graduation ceremonies...lets just say graduation gowns were not designed for this. 

There were other paths I could have taken. Other choices I could have made. Perhaps I wasn't strong enough, bold enough- but the choice I made, to commit myself to this child, to love her- was by far the bravest and the best decision I have ever made, in my entire life. 

 I get judged by doctors, who before hearing I'm in graduate school, have talked to me as if I was ignorant, uneducated. Ignored my concerns, rolled their eyes at my requests. By random classmates, professionals I have job-shadowed & most likely a whole host of people I have never even considered. Because I am young. Because I did things a little backwards. 

Yes. There are young parents who are "bad" parents. Neglectful parents. Irresponsible. But last time I checked- poor parenting, abuse, neglect, absences (both emotional and physical) has no age limit. Turning a particular age, wearing a gold band on your left hand... doesn't magically prepare you for the challenges of becoming a parent. 

Yes. Young parenting is hard. You are unsure, you make mistakes. You quietly mourn the days when sleeping until 11, nursing a hangover on the couch all day, was the norm. You get jealous at your friends who are "free"- to make a trip to the grocery store without tears, to pick up & go at a moments notice.  You worry, debate, get mad. You fail, fall down, get turned around. But isn't that what parenthood is all about? Isn't it a job with a very large learning curve- with no concrete guarantee you are doing the right thing? 

When I was in the hospital after having Grace, we became close with one of our nurses. I asked her if she had ever had any particularly difficult patients. She told us that older mothers, who had waited to have children, tended to be more difficult. They had grand expectations surrounding child birth & motherhood that didn't always come to fruition.  Physically, the whole process was more draining & damaging for them. I don't judge older mothers. I see the value in waiting, in establishing your lives, finances and career. But a lot of what she said to me made sense. 

Although being a young mom may not have been in my original plans, I see some distinct benefits. There is something to be said from making a quick transition from pulling all-nighters pouring over text-books, to waking up every 2 hours to feed a crying infant. I was used to running on little sleep & had more energy to spare in my reserves. I rebounded quickly and easily from Grace's birth. Grace is surrounded by a network of "aunts" and "uncles" who have yet to have children of their own & have embraced her & love her in a beautiful, unique way. 

And yes, there is a level of isolation & loneliness in young parenting. I feel like a founding member of my generation's "Mommy club" and wait eagerly for the day when I can welcome new additions...people who can share in the dread of the morning dirty diaper & the joy of that first smile. But I have also found new friends...friends that I now wouldn't give up for all the money in the world. Who have hopped on this crazy ride with me, or have rode this roller coaster once or twice before. 

I have no doubt in my ability to teach Grace everything that she needs to know. More than that, what I find most astounding is all that she has to teach ME. She has instilled in me a level of quiet confidence. Pride in being her Mama. She has opened up dreams I never even knew I had. I appreciate my parents in a way I would have never ever imagined. I have seen the definition of love completely reinvent itself right before my eyes. 

So before you judge...recognize that age...marriage... finances... does not automatically make a perfect parent. Doing everything you can to make the life of your children fulfilling, enriching and infused with laughter...respecting yourself & your abilities...and worrying if you are doing it right, on a fairly constant basis- that does, as least as far I've learned up to this point.  And last time I checked...these things co

me from your heart, not from the date on your birth certificate. 

Lonely was the song I sang

until the day you came

showing me another way

& all that my love can bring...

Umm..excuse me?

     A few days ago, Gracie and I were at the grocery store. Gracie loves shopping. She sits in the cart, holds on tight and flirts, coos and waves at everyone . She doesn't squirm or fuss. She doesn't attempt to fling herself out of the seat or wiggle everywhere. She sits still and happy, sometimes secured by the little strap, sometimes not. And I am always right in front of her, most often with my hand somewhere on her.
But, I digress.
            I was picking out bananas, trying to find the perfect bunch that would entice Grace to eat something more than popsicles. One hand on the cart, Grace in my peripheral vision as always. All of the sudden, I hear from behind me "Excuse me!" and feel a strangers hand on my shoulder. I turn around too see an elderly lady literally scowling at me. I must have looked extremely confused, because she launched into an immediate explanation of her sour expression. "I can not believe you would put a baby that young in the cart. She is far too little to sit up in there like that and you are risking a very serious injury. It is irresponsible  to put such a young and small baby in a grocery cart".
 Umm..what?
I gave the woman a sickly sweet smile and replied "She's actually 13 months old and I've got a pretty close eye on her, but thank you for your concern."
 The woman's face showed only a hint of embarrassment as she said "Oh..well...she is certainly going to be small, isn't she? I thought she was only about 6 months" Her tone was still disapproving, like perhaps I was starving my child, dwarfing her on purpose. Grace then threw her pacifier in her general direction and laughed, effectively ending our conversation.
          Now, I have heard a lot of ridiculous, completely unsolicited things as a young mother- particularly as a young mother who didn't run to the altar the second she discovered she was expecting. Things such as "well you sure did everything backwards, didn't you?" and "Well, at least you weren't 18 when you had her".  Seriously. But in what universe do you live in where how I chose to contain my child at the grocery store is ANY of your business? If she was putting herself in danger, if I wasn't paying attention...maybe you have a case for yourself. But when my happy girl is sitting contently, STRAPPED IN TO THE CART watching me pick out bananas- I think I've got things under control. Do you offer your opinion to people outside smoking cigarettes, about how unsafe that is? What about the people with carts full of junk food..do you warn about the dangers of obesity? Somehow, I don't think so.

On a happy note...

        Dear GBaby,
               Here are somethings you love doing at 13 months:

• Blowing kisses. You haven't quite figured out that your hand is supposed to leave your mouth, but the end result is pretty cute. 

• Showing us where your head and nose are. Sometimes this translates into a booger-seeking, nose-picking mission...which I don't particularly appreciate, but your Dad & Mimi think it's pretty funny.           

• "Tickling". It generally ends up more painful than tickle-y, but Daddy & I giggle appropriately all the same. 

• Saying "Shhhhh". Daddy enjoys invoking this skill when I am talking about something important or asking him to do something. 

• Signing "more" and "please". This is so gosh darn adorable that it normally gets you exactly what you want, even if you've already eaten your weight in cheerios. I think you've already figured this out. Shoot. 

• Cruising everywhere. You can now get from the kitchen into our bedroom. If Daddy pretends to chase you, you can move at warp speed to get away. Sometimes you get distracted checking out something cool and stand on your own...but once you realize this, you swan-dive for the nearest stationary object. Seeing as you recently opened a cabinet door and sat inside, I'm in no rush for you to be any more mobile...but it's coming.

• Showing off your two new bottom chompers. Finally, you have teeth! I can cancel that baby denture order that I was sure was going to be necessary. 

• Snuggling. In the morning, Daddy normally gets you from your crib and lays you in bed with me. You lay your head on my chest and say good morning, and in Gracie-speak you chronicle your dreams for me. This is by far the best part of my day & a memory I know I will find myself returning to when you are rolling your eyes at me at age 16.  

                                                    You are the sweetest baby girl.
You are learning new things every day  & you are expanding our world by association. We're bursting with love and laughter and wonder- all thanks to you.
                                          Love you to the moon & back,
                                                                     Mama.
                    

        
      

Things I wish I had known...

In case you haven't noticed...it seems to be the season for cookin' & serving up babies. Everywhere I look, there are pregnant ladies- gorgeous, glowing, exhausted, uncomfortable looking pregnant ladies. I want to touch all their bellies (thanks Rhi for indulging me), ask what they are having, when they are having it, what their birth plan is, what their nursery theme is...and then I remember exactly how I used to feel when strangers felt entitled to asking me these questions. Let me remain polite here and just say...I didn't love it. 

Unsolicited advice abounds in pregnancy- everyone is a child-development expert, part-time birthing coach, survivor of the most epic labor ever...so I try and keep my comments to a minimum unless they are specifically requested. However, I feel this is an appropriate venue to share the things I have learned along the way..and the things I wish someone had included in one of the three-zillion baby books that I read...

• Everybody (and I mean EVERYBODY) wants to share their labor story with you. I got a pedicure about a week before I delivered. The lady doing my toes took that as an appropriate moment to tell me about how her daughter was 10lbs (at this point, we thought I was quite a bit overdue, so having a gigantic baby was a bit of a concern of mine) and “ripped her to shreds”. Direct quote. I had nightmares. Lesson learned- find some way to tune out whenever anyone begins to share their oh-so-helpful (read: entirely petrifying) experience with childbirth. Nobody has the exact same experience. I would sing songs to myself, begin to alphabetize my DVD collection in my head...you get the idea. 

• Warning- I’m going to get a little graphic here. But this is something I think should be shared with every pregnant woman. If you have a vaginal birth..it is going to really hurt to pee afterwards.This is a very simple fact that was nowhere to be found in anything I ever read. Let me just add here that my labor was pretty fast and furious...I arrived at the hospital at 11 pm ish and Grace had arrived by 1:33 am. I swear I pushed all of 5 times. I shudder to think of what other women have gone through, those with more intense experiences. I had Grace with no pain medication. I never made a sound while in labor, never grunted or groaned, let alone screamed. When the nurse who delivered Grace (she had no need to wait for a doctor...that’s just the kind of girl she is) suggested I try to go to the bathroom, I bee-bopped in there, delirious over the fact I was now so deliciously pain free...and shrieked. I was certain I was peeing razor-blades. The nurse casually called in  “Oh yeah, that might sting a little bit hun”. A LITTLE BIT? Following this experience, I went on a hydration strike, which led to Andrew and Robyn trying to coax me to drink by bringing me every delicious (and hospital friendly...if they were smarter they would have tried to smuggle me a margarita) beverage possible. I refused. The insertion of a catheter was threatened & I, much to everyones dismay, encouraged this idea. I was never EVER going to try and pee again. Perhaps if I had been more prepared for this...situation...I wouldn’t have had such a dramatic response. So when people do ask me for birthing advice...this is the gem I always share with them. Charming, right?

• Breast feeding hurts. And it’s hard. People elude to the fact that it might be difficult. Or uncomfortable. But mainly they focus on the wonderful, warm and fuzzy bonding experience that it is. Now, don’t get me wrong, it is an incredibly beautiful and rewarding thing. This does not negate the fact that initially...it HURTS and it is HARD. Another instance where brutal honesty would have served me well. There were times, in the beginning, where I literally cried and thought that I must just be really awful at this whole thing, because it shouldn’t possibly hurt this much. If you stick with it, for as long as you can stand it- it does get easier. Automatic, you can practically stay sleeping while doing it at 2 in the morning, kind of easier. Seek out support wherever you can find it--- don’t let the lactation consultants (who I fondly referred to as the “Nipple Nazi’s”..please don’t take offense to this, keep in mind I went on a straight almost 48 hours with no sleep) and La Leche league enthusiasts over-whelm you or discourage you, because you just don’t think it would be practical for you to breast-feed until your child reaches kindergarten and you are sure they will judge you because of this. And if you want to  exclusively breast-feed...don’t let any doctor try and push you to supplement with formula, as long as your child isn’t losing weight. If you want to know more about my experience with this, I’d be happy to share. Let’s just say my slow-weight gaining baby girl- who a certain doctor tried to claim needed to be switched to, or at least supplemented with formula as a newborn- stopped nursing completely at around 7 months, switched to formula and even now with eating 3 real meals a day...is still only 17lbs, in the 5th percentile, and a peanut. She’s JUST SMALL. I was not starving her. And I’m so proud of the fact that I stuck with nursing her, despite this pressure. And the reverse is true too- if breast feeding just isn’t for you, don’t let anybody pressure you to stick with it. A cranky, miserable mommy is going to = a cranky, miserable baby. Do what feels right to YOU. Stepping off my soap-box now, I promise. 

• There is so much more I wanted to share, but I will leave this post with this- nobody prepares you for the constant worry, guilt and anxiety of parenthood. No matter how much you have read, what kind of awesome support you have (my mom was a pediatric nurse for a very long time)- you are always worried that you are doing something wrong. That she wouldn’t have gotten such a bad ear infection if you didn’t let her have a pacifier. That maybe she never crawled because you couldn’t stand to hear her cry during tummy-time. It’s endless. I try so hard to just enjoy every second, every milestone, just to love being Gracie’s mommy. But I worry. All the time. About doing this monumentally important job well. I once read somewhere that if you worry about being a good parent, you probably already are one. This phrase has been comforting to me and hopefully, it is true. 

Maybe someday I will write an honest, mildly inappropriate, true account of what to REALLY expect when you’re expecting...but I worry this will just turn me into a more in-your-face version of those supermarket baby whispers/labor geniuses.  Yikes! :)

Have I mentioned that this moment makes it ALL worth it?Every time I think about it, I get the chills. There's you daily serving of cheeeeese. :)

The friends I wish I had...

I'm fully aware that this post is going to make me seem a bit crazy. Which is, regrettably, accurate. The fact that I've had this conversation, with multiple people, also regrettable. But, I stand by this list of people I wish were my friends.

1. A hybrid version of Emeril Lagasse & Jamie Oliver. Delicious, delectable, somewhat healthy (enter Jamie Oliver) food. Live in my kitchen. Cook for me. Make me the happiest girl in the world. 
2. Bill Belichick. I'm sure there is a friendly soul somewhere underneath that cool demeanor. I'd like to discover this...have him over for family BBQs...and receive various perks such as, oh I don't know, on-field passes and free season tickets. 
3. Tim Gunn. I need all the help I can get becoming a snazzy dresser. And I would constantly be setting him up to utter the phrase "make it work.."
4. Tyra Banks. So that I would have a friend that I could look at and say..... "Man, that chick is crazy..." and know that she was, indeed, crazier than me. The potential entertainment value of this friendship = endless. 
5. Beyonce. Truly, I want to BE Beyonce. I have long kept my adoration of Beyonce a closeted secret. Here it is world... I LOVE BEYONCE. But not Sasha Fierce. I can't handle alter-egos. 
6. Dr. Drew. I would like him to moderate every disagreement Andrew and I might have. 
7. Nancy Botwin. Yes I know this is a fictional character in Weeds. No, I dont' really want to be friends with a big-time drug dealer. If I could simply be that friend that she meets for coffee, but doesn't get wrapped up in all of her shenanigans- that's be fabulous. 
8. Reese Witherspoon. I really just want to be her best friend. We could take our kids to the park together, go shopping...ok, ok, I digress...

  Could you imagine the epic conglomerate I would have? Not that I don't love my friends & family, because I do... but sometimes, it's fun to dream :) Happy Monday!

Dear Gracie...

Fresh out of the oven.

Three days old, getting ready to come home

One month

Two months

Three months (and my favorite pjs EVER)

Four months

Five months

6 months

7 months

8 months

9 months

10 months

11 months

1 year....W O W. 

Gracie girl, 

  As I watch you napping in your crib, peaceful, snuggled & still- you look so much like my little baby. But I know when you wake up you will remind me of your blossoming independence. How you are becoming a less and less an extension of me, a little monkey clinging to your Daddy’s shoulders, and more and more your own, independent little person.

You are constantly testing your boundaries these days. Letting go of our hands for seconds at a time to stand on your own (only if you don’t notice that is- you’re a little bit of a scared-y cat), throwing your sippy cup down from your high chair defiantly and then smiling sweetly in anticipation of someone picking it up for you, furniture surfing to make it to Mama’s make-shift desk & throw every single one of the pens out of the holder. 

I can already see a little spitfire in you & glimpses of my future fielding toddler fits. I complain and moan about this outwardly, but secretly- I’m a little glad. Quiet, demure, well-behaved children are nice- but most have my favorites have had that little spark. The streak of mischief smothered in sweetness & cuteness that is impossible to resist. 

From your safe vantage point in my arms, you point and ask (in Gracie speak) “What’s that?” about everything we encounter, over and over again, never satisfied with my answers. I love this about you. You are inquisitive, curious. It’s fantastic and I hope you always hold within you that sense of wide-eyed wonder. 

There were plenty of moments in this first year that selfishly wished would pass more quickly. I couldn’t wait until you’d slept through the night. Couldn’t wait until you started solids so you would nurse less. Couldn’t wait until you could sit up on your own. 

Today I find myself grasping for these moments, sifting through clouded memories of sleepless nights and early morning snuggles. Those midnight snacks that you demanded, where I would schlep you out onto the couch and snuggle down with you so as to not wake Daddy. I could comfort your cries in a matter of seconds and before I knew it we would both be asleep and I would wake, holding my heart outside of my body, my world inside of my arms. These naps together are among my favorite memories. Daddy used to joke that he would leave from work & we would be sleeping, and then he would come home from work and there we would be, sleeping again. Those afternoon naps- where you would sprawl across my chest & snooze until Daddy came home to scoop you up- were my favorite time of day. 

I know for a fact that you know this already, by the way your blue eyes widen and a sweet smile spreads across your face when you’re in trouble, but you are truly beautiful. Breathtakingly so and more and more every single day. You are this perfect juxtaposition of the best features of Mama & Daddy...your big blue eyes (mine), framed perfectly by your long eyelashes (Daddy), your blonde hair (mine) that is finally coming in curly (Daddy). You are gorgeous. I know someday, you will doubt this. And I will be here to remind you. Always. 

What I want you to know most about this first year is how special it was. You were surrounded by so many people who loved you. Family & friends like Uncle Ryryry (oh how I hope this name sticks), Auntie Becky, Uncle Billy & Auntie Erica. Your grandparents spoiled you rotten & the rest of your family loved you like crazy.  You were truly a princess. When you burst into this world in dramatic, Gracie fashion (more on that later), you opened up a whole new world for Mama & Daddy. You uncovered dreams, hope and love that we didn’t even know were there. You make us laugh every single day.  I walk around each day holding so much love in my heart I feel like I might explode. This is all thanks to you. 

  I have so many dreams for you, baby girl. And we will have plenty of years together to discover them and to create new ones. Right now, my hope for you is to simply keep living as you are. Exploring the world around you, laughing and loving everyone with reckless abandon. These are the things you do best. 

I love you to the moon & back, 

Mama. 

I believe...

I believe... in the power of positive thinking. 100%

I believe... that the people you love the most are often the ones that drive you craziest.

I believe... that a very smart person was right when they told me you can't live with one foot in the past & one in the future, but have to live in today.

I believe.. that mandatory coffee breaks should required by law. Wouldn't we all be happier?

I believe... that learning to compromise is one of the most valuable lessons there is.

I believe... sweating the small stuff will give me wrinkles. Lots of them.

I believe...that even though some days I want to sell my child to the Indians, she is still somehow one of my favorite people in the world.

I believe...people will always believe that they know you & understand your story. Screw 'em.

I believe...heartaches and headaches and tears can be calmed by the sea.

I believe...the people who are the most important in your life aren't the ones who are showing you the loudest...but the ones who are quietly waiting until the moment you need them the most.

I believe... that a good book is a perfectly acceptable escape from the real world.

I believe... that there should be a licensing exam for the right to procreate. You need one to fish, hunt, drive....but parenting is fair game?

I believe... that learning to love yourself makes you so much better prepared to love everyone else & in turn makes this love deeper, richer and more fulfilling.

I also believe that these big blue eyes are going to let her get away with SO much (especially with Daddy & Grandpa)...like eating her drumsticks? :)

Stepping on my soap-box...just for a moment

      In my easter basket, among many other Easter goodies, was Jodi Picoult's (admittedly my guiltiest of pleasures) new novel "House Rules". I have already devoured 152 delicious pages (since yesterday, yes I have a problem. Andrew did have to tell me to stop reading in the car). I have been looking forward to reading this since I heard of its plot- a young man with autism who is enthralled by anything involving forensics and is subsequently accused of murder.


     Autism. This is a loaded word. Let me first explain that autism lies on a broad spectrum of symptoms, behaviors and syndromes. Some people with autism are extremely high-functioning, able to communicate, live relatively independently & have stable jobs (Check out Temple Grandin's story- pretty amazing) while some never speak, never venture outside of themselves.  The comment I hear most often about autism, from people who don't have any experience with it is "There were no kids with autism when I was growing up".  I beg to differ. These children were likely institutionalized. Considered mentally retarded. Or classified as "savants". Remember that kid that was ridiculously good at math- but couldn't hold a conversation with you in the lunchroom? Or maybe you just recognized that there was something a little off, a social-awkwardness you couldn't quite place. There is not yet a conclusive "cause" of autism, but several studies have noted clear neuroanatomy differences in people with autism. Consider the fact that just because there we didn't have a label or the vocabulary for Alzheimers disease until 1906, or MS until 1900- didn't mean it didn't exist.  Autism does in fact, exist. If you don't believe me, I challenge you to spend some time speaking with, stepping into the shoes of a parent who has a truly autistic child. A child who is  locked in their own world, obsessed with spinning the wheels of their toy trucks. A child who can't look you in the eye and who squirms out of your hugs. A child who has a meltdown at the top of a ferris wheel and tries to jump out because they realize they are sitting in a purple seat and the color purple terrifies them. A child who simply refuses to speak at all. I've seen these situations, these children, first hand. 


  I will also be the first person to admit that autism has become the "disease du jour". It seems to be everywhere you turn, with numbers of diagnosed children sky-rocketing. Some of this has to do with awareness. Some of this has to do with the ease&availability of information on the internet- parents who do their own research and then push medical professionals to make a diagnosis. Sadly, most of this has to do with the simple fact that in order for children to qualify for services, be it within the school system, or in the early intervention realm- they need to have a label. Autism, more so than "developmental delayed" or "learning disabled", qualifies a child for a wealth of services that they would otherwise be unable to receive. Not all of these children are truly autistic and it is unfortunate that this serious issue has been tainted by the overabundance of current diagnoses, as well as the panic over mercury in vaccines and so-called "miracle cures/diets" touted by celebrities. It's my personal opinion that a person is never truly "cured" of autism, but can be taught compensatory strategies to overcome the struggles associated with autism, but that is a whole other post for another day. 


   So when you find yourself frustrated at the overabundance of autism awareness campaigns, rolling your eyes when the Toys-R-Us cashier asks you to donate a dollar to Autism Speaks. or feeling uncomfortable with the child in the grocery line who is flapping his hands & communicating through a Dyna-Vox- stop to consider for a moment what these parents go through every day. An excellent, poignant example of this is the piece "Welcome To Holland", which chronicles the mourning process a parent undoubtedly goes through. When a person becomes pregnant, they expect & plan for a perfect, healthy, "normal" child. Imagine if this journey of parenthood wasn't at all what you were expecting?
  
 Autism is an issue & an important one. It merits consideration & awareness. It requires educated, motivated and talented interventionists, pediatricians and professionals and I am thrilled to say I know several people personally who have been touched in some way by this disorder and have chosen to dedicate their professional lives to working with children with autism. It requires, as Jodi Picoult's book has already started to suggest, a level of awareness in the general public, because the social-avoidance behaviors sometimes associated with autism can present like guilt during criminal proceedings, or become problematic to emergency personal called to the scene of an accident. 


  I have had the pleasure & challenge of working with numerous children with autism and they have all challenged me to grow & learn as an individual. Their parents have been some of the strongest people I've met as well as the best imaginable advocates for their children- but they wouldn't have to be if we all took a chance to learn a little bit more about the challenges they & their children face- as well as learned to appreciate the unique things that make them special & valuable assets to our society. 


  Phew! Thanks for reading along with me. Maybe now you'll have a little something to share when someone says " I don't think Autism is real" or "Why can't they just get their children to behave?" Food for thought, for sure.