I Hope She Always Builds

Instagram has long been my true social media love. Unfortunately for this space, another name for Instagram is "abbreviated blogging." In full disclosure, I have copy and pasted a recent Instagram post below, because I want it to be saved here with all of the other memories from the last five-ish years. I solemnly swear that I will do better as dedicating time to sharing and writing more words than in an Instagram caption.

Shared on March 23, 2017:

I hope she always builds.
Builds others up.
Builds her own confidence.
Builds creatively.
Builds upon a foundation of acceptance, love, and fairness.
Builds a strong will and a soft heart.
Builds a wide web of loved ones.
Builds (and moves) mountains.
Builds a purposeful life with fun and adventure.

Keep building, little one. The world is yours!

Why I Need to Embrace Toddler Fearlessness

[Alternative title: Wise Words from My Dad]

Do any of you toddler parents out there ever feel like slamming your head on the table out of frustration that your kid continues to do something that already caused them injury? Lately, I've found myself wondering, Why are you doing that again? Why are you not learning your lesson? That is dangerous! "Dangerous" is a word that Presley hears more than a handful of times every week.

"Please do not run with that in your hand. That is dangerous."

"Pres, please do not climb on the table. You might get hurt. That is dangerous."

"Please step away from the oven. It's hot and could cause an 'ouch.' Dangerous."

"Presley, dangerous. We do not want you to pull on that. We want you to be safe."

It's exhausting. Over the holidays, she fell backward while standing on a chair and hit her head pretty hard on the floor. She also fell off the couch and busted her lip. This past week she was sitting on top of the two-tier cat perch, and all I could do was look at my husband and say, "I can't watch her do that. She's making me too nervous." Her new favorite thing is climbing over things head-first: her miniature couch, piles of pillows, off the bed.

I was talking with my parents this weekend on FaceTime. Pres donned her favorite pink skirt over her pajamas and was running laps around the family room as her screams and laughs echoed through the house. Unable to ignore the background noise and flashes of pink that kept sweeping through the room, my dad said, "She has so much energy!" He thought back to our visit to San Diego last month and added, "When we were at the zoo, she could have played for hours. Up and down, and up and down!"

I gave them a bug-eyed look and said, "It's exhausting, because she has no fear. She can fall off a chair, bang her head, sob uncontrollably for ten minutes, and then she's back up on the chair two minutes after that. It's maddening! I don't want her to be that fearless. Sometimes, a little bit of fear can be good, because it helps us create boundaries." Right?

My wise dad said, "But do you know what that is? The thing that makes her so fearless? Confidence -- that you probably passed on to her. Think about it. When she puts her mind to something, she will do it until she succeeds. She's not afraid that she fell once. She knows deep down that she can do it, so she'll try it again." This, guys. This. [Editor's Note: I will venture to say that my husband is a more confident, sure-footed individual than me, but yes, she is a product of us both.]

I was completely humbled as a parent, because he gave me a completely different perspective on how toddlers operate and learn. I was so concerned that she couldn't get it through her thick skull that being too adventurous might injure her, and then in swoops my dad who reminded me that she is in constant exploration of her world and fueled by confidence. While I can't help being cautious, he has reminded me to reshape my thinking and wrap my head around what her world looks and feels like and to celebrate her adventurous side instead of always wanting her to play it safe, stay in line, and make parenting easier for us. By embracing her fearlessness now, I can help build her confidence... forever. (Wow, this parenting thing can feel heavy, sometimes!)

So cheers to my dad! He is proof that being goofy, cautious, and wise are not mutually exclusive.

Thanks for everything you taught and continue to teach me, Dad!

Happy birthday!

Dear Presley: The Things You Taught Me in One Year

Dear Presley,

Happy 1st birthday! I've spent the last week watching you walk around the house and remembering the tiny infant that changed our world on this day last year at exactly 9:20 in the morning. As I had been warned ad nauseam throughout your first weeks, your first year nearly gave me whiplash. I had been "textbook ready" for parenthood after all the books and blogs I (prematurely) studied for years, but nothing could have prepared me emotionally for what it would mean to be your mother. There are a few things I would have done differently as I stumbled through being a mom, but I certainly cannot imagine that it's possible to love you more than I do. Lucky for me, you won't remember all the things that happened in your first year. Instead, I want to write down a few things you taught me.

Thank you for teaching me....

... to always acknowledge those who are helping me out, even when I thought I was on my own. (How many mamas can say that their little one literally twisted and pushed her way out during delivery?!)

... that tomorrow is a always new day.

... that it is more important to achieve milestones on our own time rather than someone else's.

... that love can be so overwhelming that it renders one speechless.

... that doing something you've always wanted to do can be hard, sometimes, and that is OK.

... that love is all that matters, not whether I am a full-time working mom or a stay-at-home mom.

... that parenting is equally magical, maddening, and funny.

... that, like you, I don't have this whole thing figured out, but we'll figure it out together -- and that is really special.

... that there will be days that you only want Daddy and that I'm really lucky to have this family.

... that you make me want to be better in a lot of ways. A better wife, mom, family member, friend, student, teacher, worker, jokester. Basically, anything that I could possibly do in this life, I want to be better.

Being your mom and your dad's wife are two of the most important things I'll ever do. I love our family. You have completed us. Happy birthday, my darling girl!

Love,
Mom

Christmas to Christmas

I love side-by-side comparisons. Last Christmas I was almost 32 weeks pregnant. This Christmas I was chasing a ten-month-old. Next Christmas I'll be painting and cutting snowflakes with a toddler. So much changes in just a year's time!

This Christmas wasn't what I had hoped it would be. The idea of becoming a parent filled me with ideas of crafts and seeing the holiday through a child's eyes. I failed to remember that the glitter and excitement of Christmas are completely lost on a ten-month-old. The tree was interesting for only a few days. Scrunching wrapping paper brought her more holiday cheer than the anticipation of opening a gift. She doesn't have the attention span to watch Frosty the Snowman. Also, I was in a rotten mood in the morning. I regret it, and I'd take it back if I could. I was up with her in the wee hours of the morning, and sleep deprivation is torture in my book. I napped while she napped and was a much better human being afterward. If I'm being honest, I was really sad to not be with my family too. My sister and brother have never held Presley. (Editor's Note: I can barely type that without crying.) My relatives have never met her. Holidays alone are already hard, but throw in a baby, and I'm the bawling emoji face. But! ... Yes, there is a "but" ... It was still a sweet Christmas! I've been really busy with work, so I was very thankful to have time off to just relax at home with my peeps. ;)

We agreed that Christmas will be different next year, because Presley will have a better understanding of it all and will want to join in the fun.

Where ever you are, whatever you celebrate, who ever you spent time with -- I hope it was wonderful.

Our Sleep Training = The Internet + Gut Feeling

Let's talk about sleep training.

Really, who has all the answers to sleep training? I've been banging my head against a wall since, basically, day 1 of Presley's life trying to figure out how this whole sleep training thing is supposed to go down. How old should she be? How will we know she's ready? How the heck do you do it? If I love snuggling her so much, will I ever be ready? To be honest, I haven't laid a finger on a book about sleep training, because...

• looking at the Google search results alone was already overwhelming, 
• I secretly bargained with God that she'd be a "good sleeper" without any issues whatsoever,
• it seemed time-consuming, and I'm already exhausted from work and home life, and
• friends had so many different answers, because... "every baby is different"... which made me wonder why I was even trying to decode sleep training in the first place.

Excuses, excuses.

Until last week, dear husband and I have only loosely talked about Presley's sleeping. He would ask me questions since I've had more experience with babies, but I had little more than tidbits of information that I read online. Having a lot of family and friends with babies isn't the same as raising a baby. In true millennial fashion, I crowdsourced on Facebook to get some first-hand advice. As expected, everyone offered different approaches.

Some raved about The Sleepeasy Solution.
Some talked about some level of crying it out.
Some cited all the ways crying it out may ruin a child.
Some mentioned diffusing essential oils.
Some proudly stated that they are happy to co-sleep until further notice.
Some shared that their baby was in the crib from the beginning and didn't need sleep training.

WHAT THE HECK. I was left feeling more informed but more confused.

After a few solid weeks of climbing Mount Frustration and nearly drowning in Lake Is This Real Life, something had to give. It seemed like Presley's sleep was getting worse each night. She was waking more often and for up to two hours at a time. As I tried to soothe her back to sleep, she screamed inconsolably. We attributed it to teething and her rapid development from sitting up independently to crawling and standing. I pleaded with her.

Then, we made a decision. We had talked so much about how much she'd grown and changed. Maybe she was ready to try sleeping on her own. We felt ready to dip our toe in the water and committed to doing whatever it took to help her stay in her crib for a full night. I warned that they (baby sleep experts) say we might be up all night, but "we have to start somewhere."

We have had eight consecutive nights of Presley sleeping in her crib and almost sleeping completely through the night from 7:45 PM to 6:30 AM -- a far cry from the last two months! We learned that she wasn't sleeping through the night, because we never gave her the chance to try. The second we heard her whine on the monitor, we rushed to her room. The middle-of-the-night transfers to our bed only left her rolling into one of us. Whenever we changed positions in bed, we disturbed her sleep. Whenever she woke up, I popped a boob in her mouth. Now when I hear her on the monitor, I look at the clock. I give her five minutes to put herself back to sleep, but her whimpers usually trail off into silence within 1 to 3 minutes!

I know this isn't the end. I know there will be rough nights in the future with teething, illness, or crummy moods from missing nap time. But right now, all of us are enjoying better sleep at night and happier moods during the day. It took the internet and some gut feeling.

Presley, we apologize for ruining your sleep all this time!


** I do not claim to have all the answers about baby sleep training. If anything, this post proves that I support whatever feels right for any given family.

Motherhood Initiation

I always knew it would happen at some point. I had been warned several times by many, including my parents, that I would be faced with the evils of baby fecal matter. I was told that over the course of the first few years, I would collect poop stories like baseball cards. I've heard every variation of baby poop stories from diaper blow-outs to being pooped on in public to finding a baby smearing poop all over the crib after nap time. (Okay, ewww.)

Well, today was our day!

After we brought Presley into our room this morning, she played by herself while we continued to half sleep, half appease her. She babbled, whined, played with a burp rag, leaned on S, climbed on top of me, and did everything in her power to get our attention. My alarm clock sounded at 6:43 AM (because I usually set the clock on odd times). I hit snooze and then rolled back over, barely peeking my eyes open to rub Presley's back. As my hair grazed my shoulder blade, I felt something wet. I thought, Awww, man. There's spit-up in my hair. Like most new moms, that didn't faze me. I closed my eyes and hoped for just a few more minutes of quiet.

When my alarm went off again five minutes later, it was time to really get up. I turned off the alarm, and then propped myself up on my elbow to greet Presley. She shrugged her shoulders and grinned from ear to ear like an excited kid visiting Disneyland for the first time. It made me feel so special! I grabbed my hair to find the spit-up I felt earlier. I pinched a few strands of my hair, slid my fingers to the ends, and then wiped the evidence on a burp rag.

But surprise. The evidence was brown, not white. It didn't take me long to figure out what happened. After a bath for her and showers for us, I hustled to get ready for work. We cracked several jokes throughout the morning. While I pumped, I posted on Facebook:

Happy Tuesday! I just sent the following text to a co-worker: 

"Going to be a little late, because parenthood is super glamorous, 

and we woke up to a smiling Presley Noel with poop all over our bed. 

It may or may not be in my hair. (emojis: baby face, poop, hair flip)"

So there's that.

I finally had a reason to use the poop emoji. It didn't take long for a friend to point out that it was Wednesday, not Tuesday. I replied, "So you know exactly what kind of morning it's been!"

 I've learned that this motherhood initiation process is going to be life-long, isn't it?

Beauty and the Slow Blink

I never considered postpartum hair loss until a friend mentioned it to me on Instagram five months ago. I said I liked some new hair products I tried, and she said,

"Let's see how it does with your postpartum falling out/ baby hairs. They are awful." 

I chuckled in the way that smug people pat others on the head and thought, Oh, please. Everyone said my hair would change while I was pregnant, too, and that never happened. Lies! She warned that it wouldn't start until 3-6 months postpartum. I shrugged. At only four weeks postpartum, my ego was still slightly inflated from delivering naturally. 

Postpartum hair loss? Pshhh. Please. I just pushed a baby out sans drugs, muthalovuh! The rules of mere mortals no longer apply. 

Oh, how humbling parenting can be. The day Press turned four months old, my hair started falling out. By "falling out," I mean shedding like a homeless cat mid-day in August in Texas. I was in the shower combing conditioner through my hair with my fingers when I realized my hands were full of my own hair. (Did Cousin It have hands? If he did, that's what they would have looked like.) I was used to some shedding, but I started to wonder if I was going to have bald spots. To keep it all from clogging up the drain, I've always been in the habit of putting my hair on the shower wall and then wiping it off and throwing it away afterward. Do you do that too?

For the last two months, my hair has been everywhere. Like, everywhere. On the floor of every room of the house, the seat of my car, my office desk, my purse, the hair tie around my wrist, the sink, my clothes. I told S that I was losing my hair, and he said, 

"I know. I threw away the wig I found in the shower yesterday." (Oops!) These are the romantic one-liners we exchange these days. Despite losing what seems to be a third of my hair, it is still as thick, wavy, and frizzy as ever, so... RIDDLE ME THIS. I'm so confused.

* * * * *

As if losing all of my hair (and none of it at the same time) wasn't bad enough, my child gave me a little taste of her future pre-teen self. Zip-a-dee-do-da! 

Presley is very alert and follows the conversation when S and I are talking. Her eyes bounce back and forth between us like a tennis ball. Her eyes stare very intensely, and her lifted chin exposes her precious little neck which is usually hidden beneath that scrumptious baby fat. Recently, she decided that she wanted to join the conversation. With much determination, she let out that dreaded scream-talk I mentioned yesterday. With a low, soft voice, I said, 

"Presley. Please do not do that. Nobody likes that. It hurts Mama's ears." She slowly turned her head from S to me, held her stoic glance for three seconds, and then blinked her eyes. My child slow-blinked me. I was utterly taken aback. Before I could even react, S was practically wheezing with laughter. I gasped.

"Excuse me? Did you just slow-blink your mama?" Then I started laughing. And then Presley started laughing. 

It was so well executed that I wanted to slow clap her slow blink.

Meeting People Where They Are

Hashtag word vomit.
Hashtag no holds barred.
Hashtag hunker down. 

There seems to be a common theme in my life lately of meeting people where they are.

I know most people think of fake smiles, rule books, and people being fired when they think of HR, but that's so not what my job is about. Yes, there are still standards to follow, but "new school" HR is about developing people, recognition, and meeting people where they're at. I spend a lot of time coaching others on acknowledging progress and understanding that people come from different backgrounds and experiences. It's really easy to hastily judge someone for making a choice other than the one you would have made or to get frustrated with someone who "should have known" because it was "common sense." You'd be surprised how much more a person is willing to learn and work harder if you applaud improvement instead of pointing out everything that's wrong. Meet people where they are.

The past few weeks threw a few curve balls. Boone was hospitalized, and we're still trying to figure out his ailment. Our credit card information was stolen and used. We had to change our arrangements for Maui which dashed our plans of vacation time together. I dropped my MBA class, because I knew after one week that there was no way I could juggle everything and do it well. I tried not to feel too guilty, but honestly, I felt like a failure for admitting that I thought I'd struggle to balance school and work. I had to swallow my pride and accept that I was doing the best that I could.

After our Maui plans changed, we both felt more and more frustrated and spent a lot of nights talking it out quietly. Nothing makes you feel more like an adult that making the "smart" decisions and canceling plans when you actually want to kick and scream and find a way to make money and health grow on trees. I am one month into a quasi-new position at work, and I am so determined to kill it, guys. Seriously, I want to be so badass with these special projects and land the job I'm trying to prepare for. But the work on top of the curve balls on top of the things I never seem to complete (errands, calling friends back, baby books, blogging, etc.) on top of lack of sleep was like a rolling pin, and I was the dough. Being rolled so thin had me frustrated that I couldn't do everything I wanted to do in a day and worried that I was too distracted to be the mom my kid deserved at the end of the work day.

One night I ran an errand after Presley was asleep to buy T-shirts for S and mascara for me. I was down to my last ounce of energy, but I was determined to check the errand off my to-do list. When I got home, I asked, "Do you want me to remove the tags and put the shirts in the washing machine?" S looked at me like I was crazy and said, "No, don't do that. I can do it tomorrow. Take care of yourself." Generally, we manage ourselves just fine and trust that the other makes smart, rational decisions most of the time, so for him to say that out loud made me stop and listen. That moment required him to meet me where I was (and call me out when I was drilling myself into the ground).

Not that I'd ever want to be compared to a baby, but I have to think of it this way: Every one of Presley's milestones is celebrated, because she is growing and accomplishing new things. Holding a bottle and sitting up? Kid genius! It would be preposterous to expect her to solve calculus equations, because that's not where she is yet. So why am I getting down on myself for not being ten steps ahead of where I am? I'll get there. I'm doing a pretty good job so far.

Emotionally, I am in a quieter place today, remembering Matt and continuing to make peace with unsolved mysteries of life. I think a little piece of me will always be the me at age 16 who learned what it meant to be truly heartbroken but eventually capable of strength. Memories like these sort of taunt the soul. Today will be fine -- probably better than fine!

But that's where I am today, and today, that's good enough.

It Hit Me

For two days, I was absolutely positive that I was in need of nose surgery. The slightest touch while washing my face or blowing my nose made my eyes water. Generally, I'm the type of person who ignores things that might cause others to, you know, actually address the issue. Paper cut? I'll get to that in a sec. Burned my finger? Let me finish flat-ironing this piece of hair first. You get it. I did my best to ignore the pain at first. I'm not sure that I even gave much thought to what was causing it. I just assumed it would go away or that my nose would fall off.

On the second day, it felt like worse, and I was sure it would be black and blue by the end of the day. Short of digging for gold, I sandwiched my nostril between two fingers in an attempt to figure out why my nose was acting like an engorged boob (because that is also a terrible feeling, for the record). I promptly reported to my husband that I must have a piece of loose cartilage floating around the tip of my nose. How that would happen, I couldn't tell you, but it seemed like the only explanation. Have you ever wondered how many times you touch your nose in a day? Injure it, and you'll soon find out. All I had to do was think about my nose, and my eyes would well up.

It had been awhile since I felt pain that brought tears to my eyes. Was I birthing a child through my nasal passage?

Dear God. The horror. Such a terrible visual of that. I'm sorry.

So I went about my usual post-work routine: drive home, unpack and prep breast pump for the evening, change my clothes, play with Presley, eat dinner, bathe Presley, put Presley down for the night, shower, set clothes for the next morning, brush and floss teeth, check e-mail, pump, and go to bed. I just couldn't figure it out! The unsolvable riddle! Hoooooooow did this happen?

At 2:00 in the morning, it hit me! Literally, it hit me. Presley's foot, that is.

She currently sleeps in a co-sleeper in the middle of the bed, and her cute little feet happen to lay right next to my face. She kicked my injured nose, and it took everything in me to keep from screaming. I'm no longer a soprano, but I could have been in that moment. As it turns out, Presley had kicked me in the face a few nights before and then kicked me again in the exact same spot. I'm sure there is an "in your face" joke in there somewhere, but it's too soon, people!

Press is really making me work for this whole motherhood thing, as if birthing her wasn't enough.

Ninja Baby: 1
Mom: 0

This Guy

Today is this guy's first Father's Day. I've been searching for the words for this post for the last week, but they always seem to come up short of what I feel for this man who ten years ago was a new friend, nine years ago became my boyfriend, four years ago became my husband, and four months ago became our little girl's daddy. I've never done this parenting thing before, but I know without a doubt that I have it easy, because this guy is an amazing father.

I hoped and prayed that things would go smoothly when I returned to work. I wanted him to enjoy working from home and having Presley all day, but would it be too much? He hadn't been around babies much in his life, so I hoped that flying solo wouldn't wear him out or feel like a burden. On my first day back to work, I didn't get a single call or text, so around 2:30 PM I texted "How's it going?" to which he replied "Piece of cake." Was he being facetious? I figured I'd be home soon, so I didn't bother asking if he was serious. When I got home hours later, he was holding her in one arm while plating dinner with the other. They were both all smiles. I kid you not. Surely, it was beginner's luck, right? Nope. That's been the drill for the last 11 weeks. Sure, there are days that caring for her takes him away from completing his business plan or making phone calls, but he never complains (which makes me seem really petty for borderline losing my shit/wanting to cry over lost sleep).

He is our daughter's first love, and I wouldn't have it any other way. They're thick as thieves. He need only look in her direction, and she grins from ear to ear. She'll always be his Droolie Andrews, Spitty Cent, and Monster Mash. He'll always be her Daddy. And damn, he's a really wonderful Daddy!

Happy Father's Day, S! I love doing this parenting thing with you.


** Shout-out to my own Dad! Raise the roof, homie! Love you!

Hashtag Real Talk (aka #MomFails aka Things That I Can Finally Tell You and Laugh About)

I've made it a point to photograph Presley frequently, because she changes and grows so quickly. We have so many fantastic photos of her, but we also have a few photo shoot fails. One minute, I'm clicking away as she stares perfectly into the lens; the next, she face-plants. The crazy part is that she didn't even seem to care. She laid there calmly like "Oh, this looks different." I laughed so hard! Go ahead. Judge me.

As I was putting on deodorant after a shower one night, I thought, "Did I put on deodorant yesterday?" I realized I hadn't. So... ten points for my deodorant.

I still use the Bella Band with my dress pants for work, because there isn't enough Crisco in the world to squeeze me back into them. Last week I whipped out the maternity dress pants again, because 1) they're basically sweatpants disguised as work attire and 2) no one would know but me and 3) I DO WHAT I WANT.

Wanting to fit back into my wardrobe didn't stop me from scarfing down the homemade Mother's Day eclair cake which is pure sugar. I was four bites away from finishing when I knew I'd fall victim to a sugar crash later, but I did it anyway. Basically, it's probably regular weight, not baby weight, that I'm carrying.

In an effort to not interrupt my viewing of a Modern Family marathon on TV, I grabbed my breast pump from the dining room table and set up shop on the family room floor. I told myself over and over to be careful about what I was doing so that I wouldn't spill anything, and then guess what? I spilled breast milk on the carpet. I don't know if it was the fatigue or newly acquired "roll with it" mommy philosophy, but I didn't even bat an eye. I calmly cleaned it up without my husband even noticing what happened.

You know what wasn't calm? Me when Presley was three weeks old and screaming in my face after a night of nearly no sleep, and I was the most pathetic puddle of feelings, and I whispered to her, "Why don't you like me?" I can't make this up, people. I actually asked her why she didn't like me! Oh, Lindsay of Several Weeks Ago, you were so pitiful. ;)

When Presley was a few days old, I put her onesie on backwards... and I didn't notice for several hours. It was the first time I claimed "mommy brain" and totally meant it. I wondered if my husband and parents were silently judging me, and then I was like, "Yeah, whatever. I just birthed a small human being which means I just earned, like, 500 free passes."

I have breastfeeding and pumping down to a science now, but the daredevil in me tested the limit recently. I was home all day, so I said, "Screw you, breast pump. I'm not using you today." The breast pump got the last laugh, because as I brushed my teeth that night, my left boob sprang a leak... like Old Faithful. Unbeknownst to me, milk had been accumulating under my silicone nursing pad. I shall not skip future pumping sessions.

I ate pizza while holding a sleeping Presley, and I dropped tomato and olive on her. Considering she spits up on me on the daily, this only seems fair.

____________________________________________

The photo outtake above was taken four weeks ago. Here is that photo's better half:

Blanket by iviebaby // Monogrammed onesie gifted by Houston blogger-turned-business-owner friend Kristen

I get all heart-eyes over that photo of her!

My First Mother's Day

My first Mother's Day couldn't have had a better start. Presley slept for seven straight hours, awoke at 5:00 AM, and was back to sleep in 13 minutes. At 8:30 AM I heard her stirring, and when I looked over at her, I saw that she wasn't fussing. She was staring at the ceiling fan, smiling, and cooing. I thought, "Happy Mother's Day, indeed!"

We kept things very low-key. I get so exhausted during the work week, and I don't know how I would survive without a nap on the weekend and major down time with my people. After a three-hour nap on Saturday and a night of good sleep, I felt fresh and happy and ready to take on the day. Between loads of laundry, ironing, and getting things ready for the week, I smothered her with kisses and snuggles. (I'm renaming the holiday Smother's Day.)

She loves "standing" now. She stretches her legs every time she is picked up, so I'm constantly instructing her to "bend at the waist, so I can hold you, please." The poor thing doesn't realize she'll need to crawl before she walks. She showed off in front of her Nonna and Grandpa on FaceTime, and of course, they ooooh-ed and ahhhh-ed. This little girl knows how to work a crowd.

She was really late for her nap which usually starts around noon. It wasn't until after S walked into the room with a homemade eclair cake and said "Happy Mother's Day!" that she dozed off. Being that the message on the cake was from Press, I suspect she was waiting to see my reaction before she slept through the rest of the afternoon. ;)

It's cool and crazy that I'll get Mother's Days for the rest of my life. Bring on the sweet cards and sugar overdoses! I'm so lucky to be Presley's mom. It brings me infinite joy (and endless slobber).

Letters to My Mom and My Daughter for Mother's Day

Taken on 2/27/2015

Dear Mom,

I have loved and appreciated you forever, but it is only now that I'm a mom that I "get it." I understand exactly what it is that you have done for me over the years. It wasn't just that you kept the house clean, drove me to dance lessons, and cooked meals. You made our house a home. You were actively involved in my life. You were the perfect balance of disciplinarian and "cool mom." I now know how hard those things must have been while juggling work, marriage, family and friends, and somehow, you did it with three kids. I know there must have been times that you felt stretched thin, exhausted, and probably underappreciated -- but I fully get it now, and I sooooooo appreciate everything you've ever sacrificed to be the mother that you were and are. I hope I can be a great mother like you. Thank you. I love you.

Love,

Your Baby Girl, Linz

Dear Presley Noel,

I thought about my first Mother's Day as I laid in a hospital bed with you on your birthday eleven weeks ago. It seemed so far into the future, and I wondered how much you and I would change and grow by this point. We've come a long way! I am so grateful to be your mommy. For the rest of your life, I hope you will always know how endlessly loved you are. Your dad and I promise you a life of fun and laughter and true love. Thank you for making me a mother. We were perfectly picked for each other.

Love,

Mama

Motherhood Is...

Necklace: Gulush Threads (gifted by one of my best friends)

I love having a special piece of jewelry in honor of Presley!

Motherhood is...

Applying make-up at the dining room table while pumping in the morning. #multitasking

Having a crease in your hair from having it in a ponytail for so long.

Discovering another dimension of your marriage.

Perfecting the art of typing with one hand, so you can hold the baby with the other.

Doing everything in your power to resist kissing and squeezing your child so that she won't wake up.

Wearing the same nursing tank top and pajama pants every single weekend.

Feeling proud that you got to take a shower today.

Staring at the baby with your partner while sitting on the couch and then breaking out into laughter at everything she does (because everything she does cute, hilarious and amazing, of course).

Feeling like a spectacular human being (super hero? ha!) for birthing such a perfect baby.

Feeling like the worst, most clueless parent in the world. There is so much to learn.

Losing it, because you spilled freshly pumped breast milk on the kitchen counter. (Literally crying over spilled milk.)

Putting your nose to your baby's mouth when she yawns, because baby breath is made of heaven and rainbows.

Getting odd looks from your partner for doing that.

Hearing phantom cries when you're at work.

Worrying that your baby will pee and poop you out of house and home. So many diaper changes!

Having trouble finding a photo on your iPhone that is not of your baby.

Eating constantly, because breastfeeding is a calorie-burner, y'all! #alwayshungry

Trying to find other things to say at work other than "Oh, my gosh. Last night, Presley did the cutest thing ever."

So much fun!

So much exhaustion.

Playing a constant game of Charades at home to communicate with your partner without waking up the baby.

Never getting to your mug of tea while it's still hot.

Standing on your bed to get the right angle for the perfect photo of your sleeping baby.

Getting so used to baby poop that you giggle and cheer on your baby when she's making a dirty diaper. "Ohhhh! You go, girl. Fill that diaper!"

Realizing that you didn't need nearly as much stuff as you thought you would when you created your baby registry.

A gift.

Those Parental Intentions I Dished on Three Years Ago

Happy April! (I can't believe THIS was one year ago. I miss that sweet man!)

Sometimes I stroll down the path of archives of this blog. Sometimes it's because I'm in search of something specific, and sometimes it's simply because I want to see where I was x amount of years ago and how much things have changed (or not) since then. I love comparisons that span a specific amount of time, as evidenced by THESE handmade coasters. Do you ever do that? I think it's really neat that THIS picture was taken exactly one year before my nephew was born. When that photo was taken, we had no idea that Kyle was on my sister's horizon. The first time I had this realization, I teared up. So much changed for our family in that year. We grew and worried and healed and fought and loved and came out on the other side one family member greater.

Oh, gosh. Here I go getting carried away with posts of Lindsay's Blog Past. I love that blogs can be little scrapbooks of our lives.

Back to the point.

In looking through my "Parenting" category of my posts, I came upon a post I wrote three years ago called Parental Intentions, and I thought it would be interesting to revisit those five things I had planned for my pregnancy/parenting days.

1. Have a natural birth. Check! I didn't prepare with Bradley Method or Hypnobabies, because quite honestly, I didn't feel like I needed to. My greatest preparation was talking candidly with other women who had done it (the good, the bad, and the ugly, so to speak) and mentally preparing myself. I approached childbirth with reminders to myself that the baby and I were healthy, I had successfully carried a baby for nine and a half months, and that my body was prepared for childbirth.
2. Use cloth diapers. We scrapped this idea back in October when we moved to Memphis. When we were in Knoxville, there was a cloth diaper service we planned on using. With both my husband and I working full-time, we were glad to know that someone else would pick-up the dirty diapers and deliver clean ones every week. When I accepted the job in Memphis, we found out that there isn't a similar service here. Furthermore, my husband would be working from home which means he would have been doing all the cloth diapering work. There was no way I was going to obligate him to that, considering it was my goal to cloth diaper all along. I appreciate that he was on board for as long as he was, but parenting is enough work. There wasn't a big discussion about it. One day I simply said, "We don't have to cloth diaper. It's not the end of the world. We have to do what works best for our family." Relief washed over his face!
3. Breastfeed. Breastfeeding has been wonderful so far, and I am so thankful for that. Presley hasn't had any issues nursing, and I've not had any pain or complications. I don't enjoy pumping (or robot nursing, as it should be called), but breastfeeding has been a success. I'm the resident milk maid!
4. Make homemade baby food. Press won't be eating solids for another four and a half months, but when she does, homemade baby food is still on the docket. And yes. We will still have a vegetarian household, but once she starts making food choices (in a couple years), she will be free to eat meat when we go out to eat or at gatherings/parties. Her choice.
5. Use baby sign language. We have a few baby sign language books, and we plan to start signing with Press when she is four months old. Neither of us is fluent in ASL (I wish I was!), but we'll integrate the things we anticipate she'll want to communicate before she can speak: Dad, Mom, milk, more, yes, no, diaper, cat, hurt, thank you, please, etc. I'm excited for this! I have a personal interest in ASL. Recent loves are Signed With Heart on Instagram and the Marlee Signs app.

If I've learned anything in my time of carrying, birthing, and mothering a child, it is that life requires flexibility, but 4 out of 5 ain't bad!

How do you set and reflect on your goals?
How do you "scrapbook" your life, if at all?

Transitions

Everything here feels so the same and yet completely different. I attribute this feeling to the fact that all the days run together and to the fact that I miss getting several consecutive hours of sleep every night. But this state of same-yet-different is life, isn't it? We become so wrapped up in the day-to-day that we miss all the little transitions that are happening between the lines. Even though this weekend seemed like a blur of wasted hours (forget about the errands I had planned to run), I realized last night that little transitions were happening.

Guess who has grown out of newborn diapers and clothing? Well, everyone in this house has, but most recently and most notably, Presley! At her one month check-up last week, she clocked in at one ounce shy of nine pounds (before she promptly peed all over the scale)! She gained two and a half pounds in one month, people. No wonder I can barely use the football hold on her anymore. We knew she had grown, but we had no idea it was by that much. After two diaper blow-outs this weekend, I realized that the newborn diapers were just too small now. Not only that, she looked like a giant in her onesies. The sleeves were too short, and we had to stretch the fabric every which way just to fasten the snaps. Goodbye, newborn things!

It seems my PC days have come to an end. Talk about being late to the party, eh? I had a Gateway (remember Gateway?) that lasted for six years, a Dell that lasted for five, and an Asus that lasted for four. All served their purpose and did rather well, but after countless nights of me pounding on my keyboard and ranting about the endless updates and twenty billion minutes it took to start up, my husband got online and ordered an Apple certified refurbished Macbook for me. And it's amaaazing. I felt instantly cool as I powered it on for the first time. It's so pretty. I'm afraid to touch it! I'm learning all the shortcuts and keyboard gestures and am constantly in awe at how much easier it is than my old PC. It also gets bonus points for having iMessage/texting and FaceTime on it. We do our best to keep cell phones away from the baby, so having those pop up on the Mac means I don't miss them! I can also take calls on the Mac, but that just seems weird to me, so I didn't enable that. Yet. One day soon, it probably won't seem so weird to me. We'll see.

Press has been sleeping better at night. Hallelujah! For the last few nights, she's slept for slightly longer periods (3-4 hours) a few times and even when she doesn't, I've been able to get her back to sleep much faster (30-45 minutes instead of 1-3 hours... hours!). I know that this doesn't mean that we'll never have a rough night again. Of course we will. She's a baby. At least I know that better sleep for her is within reach. If she sleeps better, so do I, and there is no better gift I could wish for right now (except more diapers... always). I got a total of six hours of sleep last night and rose like a spring chicken this morning. I was bright-eyed and kissing all over her little body and talking with that sing-song voice you only hear in Disney films. I had "today is going to be a great day" written all over me. And then 1:30 rolled around, and I napped so hard you'd think I was hit over the head with a mallet like Wile E. Coyote. We all napped. Press in the swing, me on the couch, husband in bed, and cats in the sunshine streaming through the window. So clearly, this will be our future for the next long while. Naps on the weekends! So wild. We followed the naps with an evening walk to negate any assumptions that we're becoming hermits. Anyway, sleep! Transitioning to better sleep!

I go back to the office next week, and I'm kind of stressed about building a breast milk stash. I currently have about 55 ounces in the freezer, but I'm hoping to build it up to 100 by next Monday. I'm a little nervous that I won't be able to keep up with what she consumes during the day while I'm gone. I will still nurse her when I'm available at home, but I'm gradually increasing my pumping sessions to four per day to keep my supply high and to continue to freeze milk. Wish me luck on both getting back into the groove at work and breastfeeding/pumping!

All of these little transitions seem small in the grand scheme of things, but they're big. I know I'll look back on this weekend and remember the changes that were happening, mostly that Presley has broken out of the newborn mold.

Our Favorite Baby Items in the First Month

In a way, this is our list of baby registry must-haves -- aside from diapers. These things really helped us out in the first month. Half of the list is for baby, and the other half is for mom. As Presley grows, her needs will change and other items will join the ranks, so I'll be sure to compile our other must-haves over the next few months. Without further ado, here are the goods!

FOR BABY

1. My Brest Friend Pillow: This was highly recommended by my sister, and with good reason. This pillow is extremely sturdy and supportive which is soooo helpful when learning how to breastfeed, especially with a newborn's limp little body. It really helps me get her into position quickly before she gets too fussy and fidgety. Another plus is that it wraps around the body and buckles. If I ever need to stand up from the chair/couch, she easily comes with me while still nursing. It's like having a third arm which is awesome.
2. Munchkin Warm Glow Wipe Warmer: "I love having a cold wipe on my bum in the middle of the night," said no one ever. Warm wipes keep her calmer during nighttime diaper changes.
3. Gerber Prefold Cloth Diapers: These make excellent burp rags! They are really absorbent and rather inexpensive. We have them in her nursery, our bedroom, and in the family room at all times. What can I say? Spit(-up) happens. <-- See what I did there? ;)
4. Baby K'tan Baby Carrier: Babies want to be held a lot, and while that's very sweet and lovey-dovey, it makes getting things done a little difficult. If Presley is too fussy to be set down, I'll wear her in this wrap carrier. She'll usually stay in there for about an hour. We also have an Ergo, but we haven't used it yet.
5. Fisher Price My Little Snugapuppy Cradle 'n' Swing: Why did we not have this on our baby registry?! After several nights of swinging her between my legs in her car seat like a kettle bell (I'm not kidding), we bought this swing a week ago. It has been a game-changer. It cuddles her body, has a safety harness, plays music, and has a spinning mobile. Best of all: It swings side-to-side and front-to-back. She sleeps in it at night which I know isn't viewed as the safest option, but she is at my bedside, and we make sure she is secure. My husband brings it down to the family room every morning in case we need it to soothe her. It is a full-size swing but can easily be moved around the house when the legs are collapsed.

FOR MOM

1. Lily Padz: I really liked the idea of reusable breast pads. If cared for properly, they last up to two months! I recommend using disposable breast pads until your milk supply is established and has evened out. When my milk came in, it was out of control. I would leak due to engorgement, and using Lily Padz at that point would have been messy and annoying. Now that my milk supply has normalized, I use Lily Padz (or nothing at all sometimes).
2. Gilligan & O'Malley Nursing Tank Tops: I live in these. I have the same tank top in different colors, and I rotate them. They're long which gives them a slimming effect. Hooray for that! They are really good quality, and the snaps on the straps can easily be done and undone with one hand which allows me to hold Presley and prep for breastfeeding quickly. I highly recommend the Gilligan & O'Malley tank tops.
3. Boppy Pillow: You might be surprised that this is on the "For Mom" list. What's even more surprising is why it's on my "For Mom" list! I used it as a donut cushion for the first two weeks. Childbirth puts a lot of, ummm... stress on the nether region (surprise, surprise), and on top of that, I did a drug-free delivery and  had a second degree tear and an episiotomy. (Insert Grimacing Face emoji here. Ha!) The hospital provided a donut cushion in my recovery room, and the Boppy was the replacement when I got home. Another brilliant recommendation from my sister.
4. Motherlove Nipple Cream: It's 100% certified organic. It's safe for baby. It works.
5. Lounge pants with pockets: Pants or shorts with pockets are a must, in my book. Now that I have a newborn that can never be left unattended, having pockets makes it easier to grab and carry things when I don't have spare hands to carry them myself. iPhone, charger, batteries, Kleenex, remote control, pen, nail polish, keys, infant socks, USB drive, washcloth, nipple cream, and eyeglasses are all things I've had to slip into my pockets so that I could hold Presley.

SPECIAL SHOUT-OUT
BabyCare Lite app: This isn't a registry item or thing to purchase. Even better... It's free! The BabyCare app helps track feedings, diaper changes, and sleep. It is very user-friendly too. I used it for the first three weeks in order to figure out our "normal." People warned me that babies go through a lot of diapers and are hungry all the time, but "a lot" and "all the time" are really vague terms. I wanted to get a feel for Presley's patterns to see if there were certain times of day or night that were busier. It was helpful as we got settled in at home and were starting parenthood.

Do you have any questions? E-mail or tweet me!

Presley's Birth Story: Labor and Delivery

We always expected that she would arrive mid-February, so when February 21 rolled around, I had already grown anxious and impatient. My parents had been in town for one week already, and every dinner conversation included, “Do you feel like she’s coming soon? Do you feel any different?” Due to a brief bout of elevated blood pressure earlier in the month, there was a short time where we thought I’d be induced. Thankfully, it passed, and we let her come naturally.

I woke up at 4:30 AM on Saturday, February 21st, to rain hitting the window and mild contractions. I had been awoken by baby kicks before, but this was different. It was a dull pain, kind of like a stomach ache. I thought, “Oh, my gosh. This is it. She might be born today!” I was excited and relieved. More relieved than anything. I went to the bathroom, saw that I lost my mucus plug, and went back to sleep. Excitement washed over everyone’s face when I told them later that morning that she was on her way.

The contractions carried on regularly but mildly throughout the morning. Knowing this was a special day, I felt compelled to put on make-up and curl my hair. My parents were surprised when I said I wanted to go out to lunch, but when a gal is in a great mood, even contractions won’t keep her from going to Bahama Breeze Island Grille. When we got there, the hostess asked when I was due, and I gushed, “She’ll be here tonight or tomorrow!” I was like a birthday girl riding around on her new Power Wheels convertible. Nothing could break my spirit! We ate delicious food and wondered what she would look like. When we got back to the house, we took one last photo as “just the two of us.” It was my last of my babybump photos. The rest of the afternoon was spent quietly doing things around the house, checking the hospital bags, and painting my toenails. (Zoya nail polish in Lulu, if you must know.)

Contractions grew stronger at home around dinner time, and I used the Full Term app to start tracking them. I was still talking and smiling through them, so I knew we still had awhile before she would be born. We had been hoping we wouldn’t be making a middle-of-the-night trip to the hospital, because sleep was a precious commodity as it was, but that was exactly the path we were headed down. Bummer. I chatted with my sister on FaceTime around 9:00 PM… and groaned through heavier contractions. She was understanding every time I had to switch to audio-only so that I could access the Full Term app for contractions which were about 5-7 minutes apart. She gave me a birthing pep talk and reminded me that I COULD DO THIS! My brother-in-law texted me a hilarious meme, and my sister explained to my nephew that the baby in my belly would come out soon.

We thought we were headed to the hospital at 11:30 PM when contractions had me surrendering on the floor. For good measure, and to avoid being sent home for going too early, my husband suggested that we call Labor & Delivery. I told the nurse that contractions were 5 minutes apart and lasting 1 minute each, but she advised that I wait a bit longer. I labored at home (meaning groaned and moaned... loudly) while everyone else was in and out of sleep until 4:30 AM when the pain got so strong that I started crying. I was unsure that I could stand the pain, so my mom said we needed to be on our way. At my request, we blasted Gounod’s Faust Waltz and Mendelssohn’s Symphony 4 in A Major as we drove down Germantown Parkway to the hospital.

By the time we got to the hospital, I was squatting to the floor and gripping the nearest sturdy object (table, chair, handrail, etc.) to make it through every contraction. I was 5cm when I was admitted. It wasn’t until the next day that I would realize how sore my arms would be from clutching the bedrail during every contraction. I had a steel grip on those bedrails. The next few hours were a blur. The nurses fluttered around preparing the room and checking my blood pressure. My husband sat by my side, and my parents occupied the couch against the wall. For some reason, I thought I could only have two people in the room with me, but the nurse assured me that all three of them could stay, if I wanted them to. I never asked my dad what he wanted to do; instead, he was simply never instructed to go to the waiting room. I thought it would be a special gift for him to be present for the birth of his granddaughter.

I was 7cm dilated around 6:30 AM and told that my doctor was on his way. I felt the heaviness of our daughter as she moved into position to be born. The pain was so strong that I wasn’t sure if I could deliver naturally, as previously planned. I thought it but never said it aloud. I wasn’t ready to change the plans just yet. I had progressed to 9cm by the time the doctor arrived, and I thought, “Well, I guess it’s too late to change my mind now.” I reminded myself of what my sister said: “There will be a point where you don’t think you can do it, because you’ll be in so much pain, but you can do it! Just stick with it!” My water was broken, and it was go time. I could feel myself bearing down with each contraction.

I pushed for a long time. An hour and a half? Two hours, maybe? I was a terrible pusher in the beginning. They reminded me repeatedly to hold my breath and push. Every time I opened my mouth to groan, they said, “Sweetie, you need to keep the air in and use that energy to push. Don’t let the energy out through your mouth.” My eyes were closed for most of the pushing. It felt easier to focus that way. Even though I wasn’t looking around the room, I was keenly aware of the conversations in the room.

They loved my Wizard of Oz ruby slipper socks.

The doctor’s cell phone rang, and a nurse called his wife back on his behalf.

The doctor told my husband to move in next to him to observe.

The doctor explained that the baby was working hard to get out.

(My husband saw her head twisting back and forth!)

The nurses told my husband to swing the washcloth for my forehead around like a helicopter to cool it off.

I was getting tired. My legs were achy, so they extended my legs between pushes. I kept asking “Why is it taking so long?” I felt like every push would move her down, and then the tip of her head would disappear again. They reassured me that she was almost there and that I was doing a great job. They were so encouraging. My husband didn’t say much, but every pat on my leg and stroke of my hair was his silent cheer. I was so anxious to meet our daughter, and I was getting excited. I was told to reach down to touch her head, and that was my final motivation to push. Before I knew it, the nurse said, “Can you look down? Look, Lindsay. Look, Lindsay.” Her head was out! “Watch her.” And the doctor pulled her out.

She was placed on my chest at 9:20 AM on Sunday, February 22nd -- right on time. I started crying and said, “Happy birthday, baby. We did it, baby!” At the sound of her first cry, the room let out a laugh of joy. That was the sound of our child. I can't accurately, fully describe the kind of love that took over my body and my mind. Presley was here, and healthy, and perfect. I watched my husband become a father. Three generations of my family were gathered together. My husband cut the umbilical cord, as we requested. As they took Presley's stats and prints, my doctor congratulated me on delivering naturally. (He had warned me weeks earlier that many first-time moms change their minds at the hospital.) I never got angry or slung the quintessential "you did this to me" line at my husband, and I only swore once. (I said shit.) Honestly, I didn't feel anything but excited and tired. (Well, and pain, obviously.) At one point, one of the nurses jokingly asked me if I wanted to punch my husband, and I gave her an incredulous "no!"

Presley was returned to me, and she started nursing like a champ. She was an incredible gift that we were lucky to receive. She was ours. I was exhausted and could have used a nap, but I couldn't help but stare at her and smell her.

I still tear up watching the video clip of her being born. I can even feel the energy in the room that morning. Birth is beautiful and magical -- almost supernatural. It's been one month since Presley was born, and I still can't believe it all happened. Saying that I feel grateful or blessed doesn't even begin to describe it.

To be continued...