Our Home Birth Story

Deciding to do a home birth wasn't a difficult decision for me. The labor and delivery of my first was so traumatic, that I opted to be induced and get an epidural with my second, which went much smoother, but I still wasn't in control. I labored on my back in a hospital bed for ten hours, unable to eat, drink, or walk around. When it was time to push, I couldn't really tell when I had to, so the nurses told me when to push and how long to push for.

When I found out I was expecting my third, I knew right away I wanted my birth experience to be very different. I wanted to be in control and I wanted to be able to do what felt natural, whether it was eating, drinking, walking around or taking a shower. I researched throughout my entire pregnancy, read books, practiced visualization and felt ready. My labor went very fast and I was able to labor almost the entire time at home. Mavis was born just 20 minutes after we arrived at the hospital. She came out in one push and I did it without any pain medication. 

As great as my labor and delivery went, there was still just one thing. Well, a few things. We were in a hospital with well meaning nurses who drove me crazy. They come into the room constantly to check my blood pressure, check on the baby, do wet diaper checks, ask when she nursed last... It always seemed to be timed just right too. As soon as I finished nursing and started to drift off to sleep there would be a knock at the door.

 Because I delivered in the late evening, the hospital kitchen was closed, so all I had to eat was a dry turkey sandwich and a blueberry muffin. I was starving!

 

Eighteen months later we found out we were expecting again and right away I knew I wanted to do a home birth. It took about 28 weeks to convince my husband that this would be an amazing experience.

And it was--

Doing anything had become increasingly uncomfortable. Standing, walking, sitting, laying down... nothing relieved the pain or the pressure of the baby being so low. I woke constantly in the night to pee or chug water, and getting out of bed was excruciating. I kept thinking my entire pregnancy that I would go early. I was convinced. Probably because I was so miserable towards the end. Pregnant, three other kids to take care of and a house on the market with daily showings.

At my 40 week, ugh, yes, 40 week check-up, I was 3cm dilated and about 40% effaced. I was feeling so hopeful that labor wasn't far away. I spent the whole day thinking any moment the baby would just come. But she didn't, which was actually okay because my sister was arriving that afternoon and staying for four days. I remember worrying that I wouldn't go into labor before she left.

Later that night, I had this weird urge to go grocery shopping. It was around 6:30pm and we are usually cleaning up from dinner and getting ready to give our 2 year old a bath, but I needed to go grocery shopping. 

My husband was a good sport and went along with it as we stocked our cabinets and freezer with all kinds of foods and snacks. We all sat in the living room after the two younger kids went to bed and joked and laughed at all the silly labor inducing techniques there were listed online. We tried a few just for fun and I went to bed around midnight.

I woke up around 4am having contractions and I knew this was it. I went to the bathroom to pee and noticed I was losing my mucus plug. I climbed back in bed and waited about thirty minutes before waking up Greg to be really really sure the contractions would continue, and they did. Once he was awake, I opened my contraction timer app and had him start timing them. They were about 9 minutes apart. Around 5:30 I decided to get up and take a shower, while Greg called the midwife and let her know I was in labor. We also woke up my sister.

Somehow, by the grace of God, the morning fell into place. My husband got our oldest off to school, dropped our toddler off at a friends house, and our baby-sitter came and took Layla to school for us so Greg could start setting up the birthing pool.  I bounced away on my birthing ball while the pool filled up. I was able to breath through the contractions and was pretty chatty and happy in between them. They were now six minutes apart and I felt better once the midwife arrived.

My contractions started lasting longer, about a minute and half to two minutes, but I was still in control. My sister and I started out watching a movie while I bounced on the birthing ball, but as the contractions became more intense I found the noise to be very distracting. I wanted it quiet.

The pool was finally full, and I couldn't wait to get in. It was cold. I labored on my ball while Greg and my midwife scooped out pots of water from the pool and boiled pots of water on the stove to dump into the pool to warm it up.

Once I was able to get in it felt like heaven floating in the water and I was able to escape into my zone. I closed my eyes and with each contraction tried to relax and let my body work. Not fighting it. I let myself feel each contraction, knowing I was that much closer to being done and meeting my daughter. I remember feeling my water break in the pool and knowing we were getting closer because the contractions were getting harder to breath through and I started humming through them now. I asked the midwife to check me and I was already at 9cm. I didn't realize it, but I had been in the pool for four hours. I was still calm and focused, but with fleeting moments of wanting it to be over. Greg patiently sat by my side in silence for hours, only leaving me to heat up a pot pie, which I remember telling him to go away while he was eating because the smell was making me sick.

There was an increase in pressure with each contraction now, and I was moaning through each one loud enough that everyone was in the room, waiting. I wasn't expecting it to happen so fast, and neither was anyone else, but with the next contraction I started pushing, and I heard the midwife ask my sister to grab something, but all I could focus on was pushing her out. She didn't come out in one push like my last delivery. I had her out up to her ears and I remember pleading, "just get her out"

She was big, and I could tell she was big. The position I was in wasn't working, so with her head out, I climbed out of the pool, got into a squatting position and pushed with the next contraction and out she came. I will never forget that feeling of relief the very second she came out. It was over. The contractions, the pressure, the need to stay calm and focused. It was over and she was here.

I held her in my arms and studied her, made sure she was okay and breathing. With Greg's and my midwife's help, I climbed into my bed, still holding my precious daughter. We waited for the placenta to stop pulsing completely before cutting it and I was able to comfortably relax in bed while they got me cleaned up and I nursed my newborn baby girl.

Adaline Ameila was born on May 24th, 1:15pm, weighing 11lbs 9oz 21 inches long. Our home birth was everything I had hoped for and a fantastic way to welcome our fourth child into the world and into our beautiful family.

It's Okay

Last week was probably one of the hardest weeks I have had in a very long time. I had been planning my husbands 30th surprise birthday party for six months. This was not easy because we can't keep anything from one another. We both always know what we are getting for Christmas or birthday's because we end up telling one another. The moment something exciting happens, we are on the phone gushing to each other about it. Keeping this from him for so long was almost unbearable.

I planned and schemed and even wrote a speech for the big day. Everything went perfect. Getting him out of the house, keeping him gone. Finding spots for everyone to park so he wouldn't see cars.
He was so surprised that he cried when he walked in the door and saw everyone waiting inside. Then things got difficult . . . My toddler, who is usually super friendly and happy, became withdrawn, quiet, and only wanted me to hold me. She rested her head on my shoulder as I made my way around the party. I kept trying to put her down, get her to eat, or play, but she just wouldn't. I wasn't sure at first, mostly because I was carrying her against me for so long and I'm 7 months pregnant, but her little body felt so hot.

I was getting tired and sore from holding her, and it was time to do cake. We sang happy birthday with my sad little girl still flopped over my left shoulder like a limp doll. Cake got cut and passed around and she finally let Greg hold her so I could have a small break. Within two minutes of me passing her over, and maybe four bites into the cake that took me a combined four hours to decorate, she threw up all Greg!  In the middle of all our guests eating cake, we took her to the bathroom and got them both cleaned up and decided to wrap up the party.

As I snuggled with Mavis on the couch that night, it hit me that I didn't take one picture of anything. I had my camera out, and I planned to get photos all day, but was distracted from holding my daughter. I also never read my speech. The speech that I secretly worked on during her nap time for two months! I never got to even read it. The speech my husband deserved. For everyone to know how incredible he is and all that he has accomplished. It sat under 'saved documents' on my laptop.

Mavis woke up that night with a 103 fever. She slept in our bed and the next day we took her to the doctor. They thought she had an ear infection and we started antibiotics. A couple days later, she still wasn't better. She was actually worse. She had watery diarrhea all day long for 3 days, wouldn't eat, barely drank anything, and only wanted to lay on me on the couch, falling in and out of sleep. By Wednesday, she was still not improving. She threw up again that morning and we took her back to the doctor. She never had an ear infection and we were told to stop the antibiotics, and she had something viral and we just had to ride it out. The rest of the day we snuggled under a blanket on the couch, and Greg took the day off work because Mavis was too sick to ride around in the car all day picking up her siblings.

The next two days were about the same. I was exhausted, worried, and in pain from sitting in one spot all day and carrying her around on my hip if I had to do anything. If I had to pee I had to take her with me and then she would cry on my lap the entire time. After almost 3 days had passed since I showered, I had to take one, but Mavis wouldn't let me leave her side. I had to do it. I brought her in the bathroom with me and hopped in. She sat outside the shower and screamed my name, tears streaming down her face while I quickly scrubbed down. As soon as I got out, she jumped into my soaking wet arms where she stayed as I struggled to get dressed with one arm and she clung to me as tight as she could.

By Saturday I felt completely defeated. It had been seven days and she woke up for the seventh morning in a row at 5 am and all she wanted to do was snuggle on me on the couch. Greg had to work so I was on my own. I kept telling myself each day that it would be okay, that she would be better tomorrow. But tomorrow came every day for a week and she wasn't better. I was tired, emotional, and frustrated.

Mavis eventually fell asleep on me as Layla was waking up. Layla is very particular and likes things to happen in a certain order in the morning. That order was not going to happen. She wanted me to get up and make her breakfast and I couldn't. It was 8am and Mavis had been up since 5 and had just drifted off to sleep. I knew if I got up, she would start crying and I wanted her to rest. She had to get better. I explained this to Layla and after a small tantrum, she understood. I watched her from the couch, my heart slowly breaking, as she made herself some toast. It hurt that I couldn't be everything they both needed at the same time.

We got through the afternoon, me still in my pajamas, the exact clothes I also wore the day before. Mavis wasn't getting better and I couldn't coax her into eating anything. I mentally began to panic. Thoughts of all these possible things wrong with her infiltrated my head as she cried on my hip while I tried to make lunch. "Couch. Couch," she cried. "Mommy, couch."

-Why wasn't she getting better?
-She doesn't have a fever, so what else could it be?
-Why wont she drink anything? I offered her some water, then juice. "No. Away," she cried, pushing the juice box from her face.
-She isn't really peeing. Maybe she is dehydrated.
-Bladder infection? UTI from having so much diarrhea? I know I wiped her carefully and bathed her every night.

I started to cry. Tired. Worried. Irritated. I lost my patience. I shouted, "Just be quiet."
The moment I grunted those words out, regret immediately followed. I felt like a failure. I just shouted at my sick toddler to be quiet. The tears poured out of me as I kept cooking lunch, and crying while she cried.

I was at my limit. Pregnant. Tired. Scared. Sad. Annoyed. Needing a break so badly but felt too guilty to actually take one.

It took her two more days and a reassuring phone call to her pediatrician before she was 100% again. After getting some gym time and rest, and peace of mind from actually seeing my daughter act like her happy normal self again, I reflected on the past week.

I'm an incredible mom. I am not a robot who can go endlessly without emotion. I get cranky and pushed to my limit. I break sometimes and that's okay. No matter what anyone says, I will forever feel guilty about taking time away for myself even though I know I need it. Even when I whine about needing a break, when it comes down to it, I would rather be in the middle of chaos with my family, then sitting at Starbucks drinking a hot coffee that isn't spilling on me or needing to be reheated 400 times.

It's okay that my daughters saw me cry because it's okay for them to know that mom's get tired too. We aren't this disposable thread of everyone's needs all the time. It's okay for my kids to understand that mom's are human and we need breaks and hugs just like they do. They saw me break down, and then they saw me take a deep breath and keep moving forward despite being exhausted. Even when I thought I was failing, I was showing them how to keep fighting and stay strong. They saw me putting other's before myself in a time of need. They saw compassion, love, and tenderness.

I'm so hard on myself that I often fail to see myself through my kids eyes. I think I'm falling apart and they see me pulling it all together. I think I look awful and they simply see their mom.

What I Wish I Was Told About Motherhood

The fierce love I feel for all my children is undeniable, and something I don't think anyone could have even begun to try to explain to me. I wouldn't have truly understood. The moment all three of them were born, and I held them for the first time, looked into their eyes, this urge grew inside of me. The urge to protect them and love them.

After my son was born, and I was expecting my second, I wasn't sure I would love her as much or the way I loved my son. He was my first and we had such a special bond.

The heart is an incredible thing. When my daughter was born, I instantly loved her so much. I literally could not stop staring at her out of disbelief that this beautiful little creature was mine. And then my third came along, and oh my goodness, the love. The love is incredible. Sometimes my heart feels so full I can look at them and it brings tears to my eyes. They are each so different and special in their own way, and they way they need me and my love is different. Its the most amazing I have ever been lucky enough to experience.

There are so many things people tell you about motherhood and becoming a parent, and so many things they don't tell you. I always heard a lot about how amazing it is. And how cute babies are and what a special thing it is to be a mom.

Well, I want to tell you everything I wish someone told me. I want to share the raw truth of what being a mother is.

You will never know exhaustion like you do when you are a parent. You think you do. You might even try to compare it to something. But whatever you are comparing it to isn't even close to how painfully tired you will be. You will be so tired, you will contemplate the unthinkable just for five minutes of shut eye. You will be so tired, that you will cry when your baby cries because you just want him to go to sleep. Then you will cry because you feel bad for wishing he would stop crying.

You will do a lot of crying.

You will go days without a shower. This will seem horrible at first. It will bother you that you have spent three days in the same yoga pants, but eventually this will become the norm and it wont bother you anymore. You will come to realize that putting on a full face of make-up and heels is a waste of your time. You cannot effectively parent in heels. Trust me.

You will try to protect your kids from everything and it will be horrible when you realize you can't. And you will feel pain when they feel pain, only worse. Worse because you couldn't prevent it and you can't always make them stop hurting.

You will develop spidey senses and the ability to see germs on every.single.surface. Every person is a suspect and you will trust no one. This does get better with each child. You will boil every toy, pacifier, and sanitize everything with baby number 1. By the time you get to baby number 3, you wont even flinch when you see them eating sand.

Everything in your life will change. You will think it wont and that everything can just stay the same. It wont ever be the same. You will change, and grow and become someone you never thought possible. Instead of an 8pm dinner on a Friday night, you will be in pajamas at 7pm rocking your sweet baby to sleep. You will love this. You will hate this. You'll pine for a night out and when you finally get one, all you will think about is being at home.

Motherhood is not always great and special. Some days its horrible and you will wish the day would just end, and that your kids would just leave you alone for five seconds. You will get frustrated and irritated and annoyed. Bedtime will never come soon enough. When the house is quiet and everyone is asleep, you will lay in the dark, wide awake, going over everything you could have done different that day. You will pray for more patience for tomorrow, then you will wish your kids were awake so you could give them a hug and remind them how loved they are.

Don't rush them to sleep through the night, or eat solids, or crawl or walk or anything. They will do all of these things when they are ready and before you know it they will be teenagers you can't get up in the morning who love hanging out alone. For some reason, society wants us to think there is something wrong with our children if they aren't potty trained, weaned from breastfeeding, and reading a book by their second birthday. Hold your baby when they want to be held. Don't let anyone tell you you are spoiling them because you can't spoil your baby with your love. They need your love and attention. What they don't need is things. But they need you, and nothing can replace your touch or presence.

People will love to give you their advice and try to tell you how to raise your baby. They will tell you what you are doing wrong, what you should change, etc. No one knows your baby like you do. Trust your instincts and have confidence in your choices.

If you don't like coffee now, trust me you will learn to. And there are at least 20 different kinds of creamers out there to choose from. Coffee. Great stuff. Either invest in a killer travel mug that will keep your coffee warm for hours, or be prepared to reheat your mug at least 3x every morning. But, it's the one thing you absolutely do not have to share.

Sharing. Let's just say you won't have privacy for a very long time. You will pee and poop with toddlers on your lap, playing on the bathroom floor, and coming in and out of the bathroom. If you try shutting and locking the door, they will sit outside and cry and knock and talk to you anyway. You won't even bother shutting the door.  No matter what it is you are eating or when you are eating it, someone will want a bite, or two or three, oh hell... you'll end up just giving it to them.

Don't expect your kids to act like adults. So often children are expected to not act like children. They are expected to grow up way before they are ready. Let your kid just be a kid. In the entirety of life, their childhood is short. There is plenty of time to be an adult and it's not during their childhood. Let them make messes and be silly and sit on your lap during dinner. They will throw tantrums and cry. They are not being brats, they are being kids. Guide them through, don't punish them for being what they are.

No matter how tired, or irritated, or drained you feel,never forget your purpose. Don't lose sight of the amazing thing you are doing. Some days it wont feel like much, but you are raising tiny people and what might have seemed like a boring day to you, could have been the best day ever to them. Fill your heart with kindness and patience because children learn more from what they see from you.
Even on the absolute worst day, remember to take a deep breath, look into our baby's eyes, and remember they have feelings too. They are frustrated and sad too. You are in this together and every moment of exhaustion and craziness is worth it. It's all worth it.

Babies Are Manipulative

I've really been struggling with what to blog about recently. The weeks are flying by and things are happening one after another. From hosting our first ever Thanksgiving, to a near house fire when our leaky kitchen sink decided to completely flood and soak our electrical box, to a full sink and faucet replacement, in addition to everything else, needless to say we have been busy.

When my first child was born, I was so young, and had no idea about parenting or different styles of parenting. I simply took the advice of family, and assumed it was for the best. I didn't have the confidence to do something other then what they were saying. They all said he would never sleep through the night if I didn't let him cry it out. So, I did it. I listened to my sweet baby boy cry himself to sleep. After a few nights, yes, he stopped crying and just went to sleep. But did he really learn to self sooth? I don't believe so. He learned I wouldn't come. This breaks my heart, even twelve years later.

My youngest daughter, who will be two in March, woke up at 2am and just did not want to go back to sleep. ( I ditched the whole cry it out method once I had my second because it went against every motherly instinct I had so not hold my baby when they needed me.) It's very easy as parents to get frustrated because we are tired and just want to sleep, but we have to remember babies are little people with feelings and fears and so many emotions that they can't express to us in any other way then to cry.

We can't expect to have babies, and then mold them in a way that makes our lives easier simply because what they need in momentarily inconvenient.

When I went to get her from her crib, she hugged me so tight, her tiny feet were cold, and she said, "mommy", between her sobs. Maybe she was cold. Maybe she just couldn't sleep. I will never know what woke her up or what she really needed. I just know that she needed. I could have laid her down and let her cry until she fell asleep. Assumed she was being manipulative. Crying just to get her way.

In some countries, and in a lot of cultures, it is unheard of that a baby will sleep in a separate room from their parents. And it makes me sad when I see moms asking for advice on how to put their baby down without them crying, or how to get them to sleep through the night. They thrive off of our physical touch and warmth. They have needs that have to be met. And while it might not always be a convenient time of day or night, we chose to be parents and it's all part of it. The exhaustion. Running off 3 hours of sleep like I am doing today.

Even as adults, we have difficulty sleeping. We wake up and need a drink of water. We wake up from being too hot, or too cold, Or maybe we just aren't tired. Guess what people?? Your baby goes through the same thing only that can't tell you and they can't fix it. So until they learn how, it's our job to try. Imagine waking up in the middle of the night, cold. And you can't tell anyone. And you can't pull a blanket on yourself. Imagine being left in the dark to fall asleep on your own.

My daughter wasn't being manipulative. All she knew was that something was bothering her and she needed her mommy. She needed comfort. And that is exactly what she got. I am so exhausted right now. But I gave my daughter something way more important then my sleep. I gave her the reassurance that I was there for her.



****( I am in no way certified or trained on the habits of infant sleep or crying it out. The above is simply my opinion based on my experience as a parent, and research I have conducted on my own time.)

Mommy Wars

Let's be totally honest because we have all done this. We have passed judgement on other mom's before knowing a single thing about them. Hell, we judge mom's we know. I shamefully admit that I have judged a mom based on whether or not she breastfeeds, how her kids behave, how she disciplines, or doesn't . . . and who am I to do that? I am not a perfect mother and I really don't have the right to judge anyone.

I think as parents we all want to feel like the way we choose to raise our children is the best way, and it's very easy to become smug about our choices when we learn that another mom is doing it differently. If there is one thing I have learned about being a mother, it's that there are one million ways to raise kids and just because something is effective for one family, doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be the best thing for you. And that's okay.

It doesn't make you a better mother because you let your baby cry it out so they can learn to self sooth and be independent. And it doesn't make you a better mother because you rock your two year old to sleep.

You are not depriving your child of something because you chose formula from day one. And I seriously doubt that the mother who is still breastfeeding her three year old loves her baby more than you love yours.

We have all been there-- We've been that mom in the store whose kid is throwing a full on temper tantrum because you wouldn't give in and buy that toy, or maybe, just like any other human being, he is having a bad day, and unlike an adult, can't express that in words.
 And you're a great mom for not giving in, and your child acting like a jerk doesn't mean you suck at parenting. Kids throw fits. It happens. Stop judging and go give that poor mama a hug. That could be you next week.

The comments I've listed below and hurtful, and not helpful in anyway:

-You really shouldn't let him do that
-She just gets whatever she wants, doesn't she
-Brat!
-You shouldn't let him get away with that
-It's so weird that you are still breastfeeding
- You need to be more strict
-Or any comment insinuating that you know more about what best for my child then I do


We all make the choices we make because we are all doing what we feel works for our individual family. We do what we think is best and what feels right. What feels right to me, might feel completely wrong to you. It's okay.

We are often harder on ourselves because we compare. I know I compare myself to other mom's a lot. This is probably the worst thing I can do to myself because we are all living a different life and are on a different path and the internet doesn't help. You don't see mom's updating their status about how their baby was up every hour and they haven't showered in three days and the only energy they have is from cold, left over mac and cheese. No. We see the highlight reel. We read about the amazing sleep they got. How lucky they are. And more often then not, you are only going to see the good pictures people take. The ones where they actually had make-up on.

When I had my first baby, I didn't have any confidence as a mother. I was so scared of doing the wrong thing, that I followed everyone's advice, even if it didn't feel like the best thing. I have a lot of regrets about the kind of mother I started out as, but as I gained confidence and fell into a groove, nothing will change how I feel about certain things because I know I am doing what is best for my family and my children.

Before I experienced breastfeeding to the degree I have now, I actually used to say how weird it was to breastfeed a baby with teeth, or when they can ask for it. I never realized how incredibly hurtful a comment like that might be to a mom who chose extended breastfeeding.
It wasn't until I heard comments like that, for me to realize the power of someone's words. It's never fair to judge unless you have been in that situation.



Taking the time to listen to another mom's choices instead of judging them goes a long way. You might learn something new, or understand something that maybe you didn't before.

A judgment happens so quickly. Try to stop it, and replace it with curiosity. We need each other because we are all fighting for the same thing-- the best for our kids!

Why I Breastfeed In Public

Breastfeeding has become such a hot topic recently and I've been faced with a number of questions and statements from family members, friends, and strangers regarding breastfeeding.

-How much longer do you plan to nurse?

-So, she doesn't eat real food?

- You do know she is just nursing for comfort at this point?

-I think it's time you stop.

-Using the bathroom is natural. Why can't I do that in public?

Let me start by saying that as women, we do something so absolutely incredible. Our bodies actually grow a tiny human inside of us. Then, our organs and bones move and shift so we can deliver a baby. If that truly isn't the most amazing thing ever, I don't know what is.

We do something else pretty awesome too. We produce milk specifically composed of everything our baby needs at different stages of their life based on how long and how often they nurse. So cool!

When someone tells me it's inappropriate to nurse in public, I'm sort of confused.

It's not inappropriate when cheerleaders are literally in sparkly underwear cheering on America's favorite sport, not to mention their boobs are practically bouncing out of the itty bitty top they are wearing. Victoria's Secret posters in the mall show more cleavage and nakedness then I show when I'm nursing.

I saw something on the internet that was comical, but true. Breasts can sell everything from beer to burgers, but a nursing mother is a huge no no.

So why do I nurse in public without a cover? Well, those cover's are total bullshit. First of all, they are hot. Not just hot for me, but my baby was hot underneath them, and I really couldn't even see her. Second, they are so annoying to maneuver underneath of, and my daughter never nursed well with a cover over her face.

I have two other kids and am constantly on the go, so when I have a newborn baby who is nursing every 45 minutes to 2 hours, it's almost impossible for me to find an isolated place to sit for half an hour while she nurses, and you can go to hell if you tell me to go into a public restroom. And now that she is older, she nurses so infrequently and so quickly, that by the time you have gotten your panties in a bunch over me breastfeeding, she will be finished.

Speaking of finding an isolated place to nurse-- because I choose to breastfeed, why should I have to leave the room, or be sent away to do it? Something like that can become incredibly lonely. Especially in the first few months when babies are nursing so often. If I "went somewhere private" every time my daughter needed to nurse, I might as well have never left my house.

I don't do it to prove a point. And I'm not doing it to flaunt my breasts or activate my right as a woman to nurse in public.

I nurse in public because it's convenient, and if I'm out to lunch with my husband, and my baby needs to breastfeed, I don't want to have to leave the table and go sit in my car alone for twenty-five minutes while my meal gets cold.

I do it because I'm not ashamed to do what I feel is natural when my baby is hungry.
And yes, pooping and peeing is natural too. But excreting waste is extremely different that nourishing a baby, not to mention unsanitary if everyone starting taking a dump in public. There is nothing unsanitary about nursing an infant.

If someone is breastfeeding in public and it makes you uncomfortable, stop looking at them. Because if someone was wearing an outfit that was exposing a lot of cleavage, or their ass was hanging out, would you walk up to them and say, "excuse me, you need to cover up."? Of course you wouldn't. Why? Because it is their right to dress the way they want to. Just like it is my right to nurse where I need to. Not so much want to. Need to. 

If society makes it inconvenient for mother's to breastfeed wherever they need to, they simply won't anymore. I gave up nursing my second daughter after only 4 weeks due to lack of information about nursing- my fault entirely- and also feeling like I had to leave the room, or go in my bedroom every time she wanted to nurse. I remember on one occasion, sitting in my bedroom a week or so after giving birth, nursing my beautiful daughter, and just crying while I breastfed. I could hear my family in the kitchen laughing and making jokes, eating dinner, and I wanted to be out there with them. And I felt so alone.

It wasn't until I had my third baby that I took action and researched, joined support groups and realized it was okay to nurse wherever I wanted to. And the whole experience was very different for me. I stopped leaving the room, or excusing myself from the table, and I didn't feel like because I was nursing that I had to be isolated. Its a beautiful, normal thing that should not be looked at as inappropriate.

The length of time I nurse is entirely up to me and my daughter and it's so weird when people ask me how much longer I'm going to do it? It's weird because I really don't know. When I started breastfeeding my now 19 month old, I had hoped to make it to a year. I never imagined we would have made it this long. And I'm proud of it, and I'm happy to do it. I've sacrificed a lot to exclusively breastfeed for this long.( Yes, my daughter eats three meals a day and lots and lots of snacks) I nurse her to sleep every night, and some people have commented on how it must suck, or they can't imagine never being able to go anywhere over night.

Well, you know what-- That's you, not me. And in the entirety of my life, sacrificing two to three short years of my time to my child really isn't very long. Before I know it, she will be my older son's age, and I will pine to rock her in my arms one more time.

So yes, in a way, she does nurse for comfort when she is nursing to fall asleep. But lot's of people have a means of comfort or relaxation to help achieve sleep. She falls asleep warm, comfortable, and peacefully. Nothing at all wrong with that. I'm sure with age, her means of comfort will change or the need for it might go away entirely. And no, I don't know when that will be.

My husband and I go out, and we do things together. We just plan it around her. I usually nurse her to sleep, and then we go out. No big deal really. She sleeps through the night, and I know we have so many wonderful years ahead of us to take vacations alone, or get away for the weekend. We improvise for now, and it's really okay. Do we miss being able to be completely alone for days at a time? Absolutely.

There will be a time when my daughter will wean from nursing when she is ready.Until then, I will continue to nurse her when she needs it, wherever that happens to be.

Parenting Is Not A Competition

I hate how parenting has become a competition of who works the hardest and who does more of this or more of that. Which type of mom is more tired or has it the toughest. And by type I mean, single moms, stay at home moms, working mom's, mom's with nanny's. . .

Everyone works really hard, Parenting is hard no matter how you look at it and everyone struggles in different ways. Just remember we are all supposed to be there for one another. It's not a competition.
I've been a single mom, a working mom, and now I'm a stay at home mom, and there was never a time when I said to myself, "hey, things are so much easier this way." Being a single mom was hard. Being a working mom was hard. Staying at home is hard. And when I was working or a single mom and even now being at home, I always thought things were easier another way.  Each one has it's perks, and each one also has it's downfalls.

The thing I loved the most about working was being around other adults and feeling like I was accomplishing something as a team. It was a good feeling waking up to an alarm, getting ready for the day, and having a job to do. The downfall: I missed out on things my kids did that day. I didn't see them off to school, or their little faces when they came home. I don't know what they had for lunch, or how they fell asleep for a nap.

Being a single mom is draining. There is no one there to help you when you've had enough. No spouse or partner to take over while you shower, or nap. The one thing I do miss about being a single mom is the one on one time my son and I had. It was just me and him and we followed our own routine and did what we wanted.

Staying at home is a blessing. I have the opportunity to see my children every single day, from the moment they wake up, to the moment they go to bed. I hear every story, and see everything they see. I know what they have for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and if they are happy. I'm the one that gets to make it better if they aren't. But staying at home can be lonely and the things I sacrifice, the pieces of myself that get lost alone the way, can be truly difficult to overcome.

The truth is nothing will ever make this journey we are on any easier. It will be hard forever in different ways. From the moment we decided to become parents, we embarked on a lifelong journey to care for and raise another human being. We worry, all the time about whether or not we are doing it right. Are we making good choices? Will our children grow up to be good, successful, nice, honest people?

There were times, especially after my third baby was born, that I didn't even know who I was anymore. I couldn't think about anything except how I was going to get through the next hour. My days and nights merged together and I felt alone. Isolated. I wasn't me. I was this feeding machine. An exhausted feeding machine who couldn't even wear her own clothes or find time to apply just a little mascara. You would never have known this from looking at me, nor would I admit that I was drowning in my life.

My youngest is almost 18 months now and I've started to feel like myself again. I get a full night's sleep. I have a couple hours during the day when she naps to regroup, shower, write . . . and I can breathe. . .  most days.

Looking back on the darker times, I feel proud of myself. I got through something I didn't think I could get through and I wasn't alone. Lot's of mom's go through what I went through and are afraid to admit they are struggling. It's because we judge, we feel we can't seek help for fear of judgment. And whether we work, stay at home, go it alone, breastfeed, don't breastfeed, we all have the same fears and struggles. We probably have the same goals. Be great parents. Love our children.

Stop comparing and don't judge. We are all doing the best we can. Offer support. A hug goes a really long way. Trust me. Not a stupid side hug. A real, long hug!

You're not a better mom because you rock your baby to sleep. You're not a bad mom because you have different parenting idea's then the strict mom down the street.

We are all just trying to survive being in the trenches of parenthood. Give each other a break.