• the one about how i can wait

    October 14, 2014 /

    Yesterday morning, I didn’t want to get up and going. My back hurt, and I had another night of sleeplessness between the hours of 4-7 a.m. My girls didn’t care about that, though. I would say “Up with the sun,” but since the sun doesn’t come out until nearly 8 a.m. these days, these girls are up way before the sun.

    I fumbled around, my 36 week pregnant belly adding to the overall clumsiness of my usual morning fog. I got the girls set up with some Doc McStuffins, blankets, and granola bars, and I slid back into bed.
    Just as my eyes started to close again, I heard the familiar sound of an over-saturated diaper squishing between the legs of an almost two year old, with best friend Blankie dragging behind. I was expecting to hear, “More milkie!” or “I nack,” code for I want a snack.
    But all I heard was, “Hi. Mama.”
    Yes, she punctuates her sentences just like that…with a big pause between “hi” and “mama.” It’s just one of about three trillion things I love about her.
    She toddles over to my side of the bed and extends her arms to me. With as much strength as these flabby, haven’t-seen-a-gym arms could muster, I lifted her up and over my belly mountain to the other side of the bed. 
    In what seemed like one, fluid, continuous motion, she snuggled down underneath my blanket, laid her head on the pillow beside me, and fit herself neatly into the bend of my arm. 
    Pretty soon, she won’t be “the baby.” A new baby is due to arrive any day, and even though Charlotte is still wearing diapers and relying on pacifiers, she will look instantly older the second Shiloh takes her first breath. 
    And so for that reason alone, as much as I want to meet this new life who will certainly flip our family on its head…well…technically she has already flipped our family on its head…, as much as I am ready for the stress of this pregnancy to be a thing of the past and for my diabetes/diabeetus to go away so I can drink a legitimate Starbucks…
    I can wait. 
    I’ve waited 36 weeks, the past 11 of them feeling more like 11 years, to meet this new baby. But I can wait a little longer, because for now, I’ve still got a baby curled up in my arms. She needs me. She wants me.

    Still clutching the granola bar I had given her when she first woke up, she began nibbling on it. Little pieces were falling from her hand, onto my sheets and into the creases of her neck. I picked up the remnants that had fallen away and popped them back into her mouth. And before long, she was doing the same for me. Her little fingers holding tiny chocolate chips, dropping them into my mouth as I had done for her.

    Every now and then, she would pat my arm and say, “Mama” in the same way an adult would say with a sigh, “I just love you.”

    The moments ticked on and Doc McStuffins ended. Full daylight was streaming in through my windows. Surely it was time to get up and moving. Laundry needed started. Lunches needed packed. Girls needed dropped off at preschool. Grocery store. Doctor’s appointment. I needed to get started, but I reminded myself that I can wait a little longer.

    I can wait.

    I can wait because right now she’s still the baby. 

    And regardless of whether or not Shiloh decided to come that day, it would still be Charlotte’s last day as a one year old.

    Today, she is two.

    I can hardly believe it, but I lived 28 years on this Earth before knowing this sweet and lovely child. She has enriched our family and given us so many reasons to smile in her short 24 months.

    Everything she says, and nearly everything she does, is cute.

    I mean…throwing food on the floor or dumping board games out is kinda cute, but not really.

    I am so excited to see the little lady she becomes. She’s got quite the fire inside of her, and I know she will make such an impact as the years lead on.

    But I can wait.

    I can wait because right now, maybe for even just one more day (or hour), she’s still the baby.

    And she won’t share granola bars with me forever.

    Happy birthday, my sweet, precious, baby Charlotte.

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  • the one about time

    September 21, 2014 /

    You all know the story by now. On July 30, at just over 25 weeks through this pregnancy, my world was rocked when an ultrasound revealed that my body may not be able to carry this baby to term.

    This day was the beginning of weekly progesterone injections, daily medications to swallow, and very restricted activities. 
    For the past 8-ish weeks, I have probably spent 80% of my waking hours sitting or lying down. It hasn’t been fun, and it hasn’t been easy. Prior to pregnancy and parenthood, “bed rest” sounded like Heaven. Hours a day of cozying up in bed with a good book or Lifetime movie, people waiting on me constantly, not having any responsibilities to tend to or tasks to complete. 
    Yeah, right. 
    The whole term “bed rest” is laughable to me because, at the end of the day, my husband still has to go to work, my girls cannot be in the care of others all day everyday, and things still have to get done. Trash needs taken out if my husband forgets. Laundry needs done or we won’t have clothes to wear. Floors need cleaned or CPS is going to come and take my children away. When we are out of milk and it’s a billion hours until my husband can pick some up, well…I go and get it. My girls still need driven to preschool, and it is just easier if I do it. Some weeks, I have 2-3 appointments with the doctor(s). I have to get myself there. 
    Yes, we have had countless offers from people who want to help us. And we have taken them up on a lot of them. We have had 2-3 meals delivered to us weekly since the beginning of August. This has been such a huge burden to have taken off my shoulders. Friends and family have taken our daughters on outings for hours at a time to provide some relief to both them and me. But I cannot, and will not, rely on others for everything, so we just do the best we can. 
    I’m still not working. I’m still not doing photo sessions. I’m still not exercising. I’m still not taking my girls to the park or going on walks or taking a day to go to Indy for shopping or a nice dinner. We aren’t using our zoo or museum memberships. We haven’t been to the library in too long. I’m not on my feet for longer than 30-40 minutes at a time…because it is exhausting and painful and not what’s best for me or Baby Shiloh. 
    I’ve missed out on weddings, birthday parties, family gatherings, and countless opportunities to make memories with my husband and children. 
    Tired. Depressed. Sad. Anxious. The absence of life’s simple pleasures has brought me down. 
    So, yesterday, we took an hour to do what families do in September.
    We went to an apple orchard. 
    Why?
    Because time waits for nothing, and time could care less about bed rest. 
    I’ve watched 8 weeks of sunny Summer days pass by without enjoying any of them, and in another 8 weeks, the leaves will be gone and the trees will be bare and Shiloh will surely be here, which means I will be a new mom again…learning how to balance parenting my toddlers and tending to a newborn. 
    I need to make memories with my girls now. I need to see them smile and play and experience now.

    Because it will never be just the four of us again. 

    Time wouldn’t have cared if I missed her climbing to the top of this straw mountain.
    And it wouldn’t have cared if I missed this smile.
    Time wouldn’t have cared if I missed the enjoyment of her first apple cinnamon donut.
    Complete with cinnamon sugar. Everywhere.
    Time wouldn’t have allowed me a redo of this moment.
    Or this one.
    Or this one.
    Time is going to pass anyway. 

    I can’t slow it down. I can’t stop it. I can’t do anything about it.

     I can’t afford to miss another thing.
    One hour of “Mama, look!”
    One hour of “I did it, Mama!”
    One hour of “Mama, come with us!”
    One hour of normal.
    One hour of time we will never get back.
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  • the one about letting it go

    September 16, 2014 /

    This will be the 5th Halloween I have experienced as a mama, and the anxiety I feel each year to think of “the perfect costume” for my children borders on…well, ridiculous.

    Right around this time in September, I begin scouring Pinterest for clever, ironic, funny, or just plain cute ways to dress my children up to go beg the neighbors for candy they won’t really ever get to eat. 
    It was easier when Noelle was younger. She would wear whatever I asked her to wear, and I didn’t have another child to try and “pair” her with. When Charlotte came along, I had visions of perfectly matched and “theme-y” Halloween costumes, like Dorothy and Toto or Cookies and Milk or this…

    Last year, Noelle told me she wanted to be Ariel. I began to labor over her costume, buying tulle to craft into a tail and a red wig. I wanted to make Charlotte a charming mini-Ursula. A week before Halloween, Noelle decided she didn’t want to be Ariel, so she ended up wearing a cut up pink t-shirt and bandana, proclaiming herself to be Izzy, the girl pirate on Jake and the Neverland Pirates. Charlotte was a cat.

    “We will do better next year,” I thought.

    I recently asked Noelle what she would like to be for Halloween this year. Imagine my horror when she said, “Anna from Frozen!”

    My mind immediately flashed to 300 other little girls wearing the same costume around the neighborhood. I love Frozen, too, but I was hoping we could go the more creative-kitschy route.

    “Really? Anna?”

    “YES! I can’t wait to dress up like her for Halloween!” She was so excited.

    I knew from last year’s experience not to assume that she wouldn’t change her mind…so I held onto some hope that the next time I asked, she would have a different answer.

    I have since asked her the same question at least a half a dozen times, and she has remained constant.

    ANNA IT IS.

    Well, if my child wants to be one of a billion Annas on Halloween, I will at least make sure her costume is one of a kind.

    So I started searching online for patterns and sales and coupons to fabric stores. I was going to make her the prettiest Anna costume there ever was….

    …until I slapped myself upside my own head.

    Seriously, Ashley? You are 32 weeks into a high risk pregnancy. The baby could come at any point, and the last thing you need to be doing is slaving away over an Anna costume for love of everything holy. With your luck, the thing will be still in pieces on the floor when your water breaks all over it, and you’ll ruin the dress AND your child’s Halloween FOREVER!

    So, I re-routed and found this very nice replica for less money than the fabric would have been had I made it myself.

    JCPenney Anna Costume

    This beauty will be at our door in a few days, and I won’t have to worry about working my fingers to the bone on a costume she may eventually refuse to put on the night of Halloween.

    Halloween shouldn’t be about competing with other parents to see who put the most time and energy into a costume. It should simply be about letting kids have a little bit of fun while they dress up as something special…and then eating all their candy after they go to bed.

    You might assume Charlotte is going as Olaf or Sven or Elsa to complete the “theme.”

    Nope.

    She will be a ladybug. A store-bought-with-a-coupon ladybug.

    They may be the only Anna-Ladybug pair out there, and that’s as original as it’s gonna get this year.

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  • the one about the hospital bag

    September 7, 2014 /

    Oh. Em. Gee.

    I am a hot mess.

    One day, I’m all “Yeah, my life has taken a turn toward Suckville but I’m ownin’ it and taking it in stride.”

    The next day (or minute, or hour), I’m crying into my pillow, blathering on about how everything is so unfair and my hair is ugly.

    Most days, I try to stay somewhere in between of those two extremes, but…hormones.

    So, my point is that I have been wanting to get back to blogging like the good ol’ days, which I will lovingly refer to as P.C. (pre-cervix). These A.C. (after cervix) days have been downright depressing, and I’m sorry.

    This blog is called Heart of the Mama for a reason, and this mama’s heart has been all over the place for the past several weeks. I wish I could say my moodiness will only get better from here, but ((laughs hysterically)).

    So for now, I’m in a good spot, so I am going to do a whole post that doesn’t even mention my shrinking, bitchy cervix! There…I said cervix for the last time this post! All done with cervix talk (sowwy).

    Since I am now 31 weeks pregnant (WAHOO!), I do have my hospital bag packed and ready to go. My best friend had a baby a few months ago, and I harped on her for weeks prior to her delivery to get her bag packed because at any of her regular OB appointments, they could say, “Well, we need to send you over to Labor and Delivery,” and I knew she’d want to be prepared.

    Did she listen to the seasoned Veteran mother friend? Nope. She did not.

    And she was sent over to L&D unexpectedly, a few weeks shy of her due date, with nothing packed in her bag. Her husband was left to do the dirty work, and although I am sure he did the best he could…let’s just say that husbands have horrible ideas when it comes to choosing things for their wives to wear.

    I’m thinking if I left it up to Luke to pack my hospital bag for me, he would probably throw in some athletic socks, a semi-formal dress (that fit 2 babies ago), a pair of his basketball shorts, and a strapless bra.

    There’s no way I was going to risk that happening, so a couple weeks ago, I started gathering items that I thought were necessary.

    There may be some things on my list that you don’t feel are necessary, and that is A-OK with me. I’m just giving advice based on my experiences with my past two deliveries.

    I have a rather large travel bag that I like to use, and it is plenty large enough for my things, my husband’s things, and a couple little items for our baby. If you don’t have a bag large enough, feel free to divide the items up appropriately. I just like to have as few things to keep track of as possible…i.e. I don’t even carry a purse.

    My List of Hospital Bag Essentials

    1. Travel toiletries. These are important because, well, the hospital ain’t the Ritz Carlton. They don’t have wax paper-wrapped soaps and spa samples in the tub. Bring your own stuff so that the first shower feels extra nice. I recommend the travel size toiletries so that you aren’t lugging so many large bottles in your bag, and so that if when you leave them at the hospital, it isn’t a big deal. Buy an extra toothbrush and toothpaste for you and your husband so you have it in your bag and ready to go.

    2. Slippers or flip flops. I kind of hate wearing socks, and walking around barefoot in a hospital room is probably not the best idea, so slippers or flip flops would be very helpful.

    3. Clothing. I truly believe you should feel as good as you can following the birth of your child. You will no doubt have tons of visitors, and I always felt so much better when I was out of my hospital gown and in something I could, you know, stand up in without people seeing my butt. I recommend bringing 1-2 pairs of stretchy, black yoga pants or leggings, 1-2 nursing tank tops or loose-fitting shirts, and a light weight wrap sweater/robe that goes long enough to cover your rear-end (more on that later).

    I think the yoga pants/leggings are self-explainatory. You want things that are stretchy and comfortable. I hate to break it to you, but you will most likely still look very pregnant immediately following childbirth. Those kinds of “I lost all of my baby weight instantly” miracles only happen in Hollywood and that small corner of your Facebook for your “friends” you secretly hate.

    Nursing tank tops are great, but if you aren’t comfortable in those, I would look into those long, drapey, loose t-shirts. I emphasize loose and drapey because, if you are breast feeding, you need to be able to easily nurse a baby without having to hike your shirt up over your head. If you read my childbirth post, you already know that someone very well could open your shirt and slip your baby inside through the neck hole, so a loose-neck shirt will allow this to happen easily.

    I also emphasize long because you want something to cover your butt. You will basically be wearing a diaper following childbirth comprised of a puppy training pad, an ice pack, and medicated gauze out the wazoo (literally). This amount of bulk is quite obvious from the back, and it can make you feel a bit uncomfortable when you get up to walk around if everyone can stare at it. A long shirt will help this to be less obvious.

    This is also where the light weight wrap, sweater or robe can help. Not only does this help to cover you up a little more, but it also covers the junk in the trunk.

    You will want to bring a nursing bra, or at least a sports bra, if you’re not going to wear the nursing tank tops.

    You do not need to bring your own underwear. Really. I had a girl in my childbirth class ask if she “had” to wear the sexy mesh underwear they give you following childbirth. The nurse leading the class laughed in her face and basically said that if she insisted on wearing her own underwear, to go ahead and try, but that it is better if you just give in and wear the mesh boy shorts. Don’t be one of those people. You’re not better than the rest of us. Mesh underwear for life for the win!

    4. Nursing supplies. If you have a breast pump already, I recommend bringing it so you can learn how to use it and get help from a nurse if you’re a little intimidated. They have pumps at the hospital, but bringing the one you will use at home is nice. You can just keep it in your car and then if you decide you’d like to have it brought in so you can use it, it’s there.

    Also, do not forget the nipple cream. You laugh now, but you will need it, and sending your hubby out to buy nipple cream is probably a bad idea. Who knows what kind of store he will end up in.

    I am not a huge fan of the flamboyant nursing covers, but I love the Aden + Anais large muslin blankets because they double as a swaddle blanket and a nursing cover. Either way, I would bring something to cover you while nursing, especially if you’re a first-time mom and you are worried about being exposed. Remember, lots of people will be in and out at all hours, and I always like to have a blanket there in case I am nursing and someone drops in to say hi.

    5. Make-up and hair items. You don’t have to dress up for Prom, but I am a make-up wearer, and after I was able to take a shower, I felt so much better with a little make-up on. With people taking pictures and coming to visit, I wanted to feel good about myself. Just mascara and lipgloss helped a bunch. The same goes for hair items– I didn’t bring a bunch of stuff, but I at least had a headband and a few bobby pins to get my hair back and mildly presentable. If you don’t think this will be important to you, that is totally fine! (but don’t get pissed later when you say, “Why didn’t anyone TELL me my hair looked like that!?”)

    6. Technology and entertainment items. If you’re staying 2-3 days in the hospital, it will get a little boring from time to time. I woke up the next day after my 2nd daughter was born and was ready to go Target. We ended up signing out early because I was itching to get back into civilization. Whether you stay the full time or not, you will probably want some sort of light entertainment like a book, magazine, iPad, or a laptop. Make sure you have all the chargers for your phones and other electronics! Maybe your hospital room will be fancy and you can bring DVDs. I would definitely check first.

    When we had Charlotte, the Mother-Baby recovery rooms were all full, so we were placed on the pediatrics floor. When we asked about movies (they only had VHS), they gave us a list of what they had on the floor. Let’s just say that our options were any Disney movie created prior to 1998. So….we wished we at least had our iPad. Or pencils to stick in our eyes.

    Also, don’t forget your camera (charged and ready with a memory card)! So many women groan at this thought because they can’t fathom taking pictures right after (or even during) childbirth, but this is like a wedding. You can’t redo it. Even your 2nd, 3rd, or 4th childbirths will not feel like your first. Take pictures, please! Even if you don’t show them to anyone– please take pictures of you with your baby, your husband with your baby, the three of you together. You don’t want to regret this later.

    7. Snacks for after childbirth. You can’t eat during labor. This sucks. So bring a couple of treats you can eat in your room after the birth. I had my 2nd child at 9:30 p.m. There wasn’t any food being delivered at that hour, and I was awake nearly all night while we waited to be put in a recovery room and doing those initial feedings. I was hungry! So, snacks are good! But if your husband tries to eat while you’re in labor can’t eat, so help me, God…!

    If you don’t have snacks, at least bring a couple of bucks worth of change for vending machines.

    8. Husband clothes & toiletries. Remember that guy? He will need at least 1-2 changes of clothes, too. Hopefully he can use some of your same toiletries so you don’t have to bring too much stuff with you. I never wanted my husband to leave me while at the hospital, even if it was just to run home and shower or change clothes, so bringing this along helps to avoid that if at all possible.

    9. Childbirth aides. If you are planning to use some sort of a back massager or special therapeutic birthing rock that emits natural pain medication and/or vagina healing powers, make sure you bring that.

    10. 1-2 outfits for baby. They have basic onesies at the hospital, but if you want your baby to be in his/her own clothes from the get-go, make sure you bring some along– but don’t go crazy. You’re not there for very long. A lot of people bring special going home outfits. I love the long-sleeve newborn gowns. The long sleeves fold over to make mittens to keep him/her from scratching the face, and the gowns are handy because you don’t have to mess with snaps in the middle of the night.

    If you’re having a girl, a cute little hat or bow is fun, but keep in mind that lot of the time, the baby’s head is way too small to wear those and the bow can take over her head! Check for headbands/hats that are made specifically for newborn babies.

    11. Swaddle blanket. The hospital will give you the universal hospital baby blanket, but I don’t think you’re supposed to take those home, and they aren’t that cute. Bring a cute swaddle blanket or the one you have chosen to be the baby’s blanket.

    12. Pacifier. Our hospital is pretty strict on pacifiers and won’t give them out, so if you want your baby to take one or at least try to take one, bring your own just in case. I’m going to bring a couple extra this time to sell on the black market to the moms who forgot to bring one.

    13. Items for siblings. If you have older children who will be visiting, you may want to throw in a couple of coloring books/crayons, a few of their favorite books, the cool Big Sister shirt you bought on Etsy, or a game you can play together. These items may be best to placed in a separate bag and left with whoever is caring for your kids while you are in the hospital…but either way, make sure you think about them and their needs!

    You do not need to bring diapers or wipes! The hospital will take care of these for you, and enjoy the freebies while they last. You also don’t need to bring bath items for the baby. They will have all that stuff there for you to use (and take home).

    Now, my pregnancy has been particularly stressful, so I plan to sneak in a few items such as booze, lots of donuts (for when the diabeetus goes away), and I may even take up smoking cigarettes (just kidding…lighten up a little).

    I’m hoping I won’t need my bag for at least another 4-5 weeks, but at least I’m prepared if something crazy happens. And why would I think anything crazy would happen in this pregnancy? Oh wait…

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  • the one about small potatoes

    August 27, 2014 /

    I have gestational diabetes (pronounced diabeeeeetus).

    And a shortened cervix.

    And threatened preterm labor.

    And I am on modified bed rest.

    And, unfortunately, I was involved in a car accident yesterday, which means that I also have a beautiful black minivan with a lot of damage done to it.

    And a shoulder with air bag abrasions.

    And a forearm with bruises from the steering wheel.

    I feel like I have been hit by a bus. Which is funny (kind of, not really) because I really was hit by a bus.

    Yes, the girls were with me.

    Yes, they are OK.

    Yes, after an ultrasound and blood tests and several hours of monitoring, Baby Shiloh is OK.

    Yes, I am OK.

    Yes, this is the longest pregnancy in the history of all pregnancies.

    But I am not here to talk about the accident. I am trying to erase it from my mind completely. I am not here to talk about my short cervix or bed rest.

    I am here to talk about how much I love food…especially potatoes. By looking at me, you can tell I have never met a potato I didn’t like. Loaded, baked, fried, julienned, sliced, diced, crispy, fluffy, mashed, creamy, chunky, in soup, or shredded. I. Luh. Potatoes.

    However, because I have the sweet blood, my potato intake has had to substantially lower. In fact, I haven’t had a potato of any kind in an entire week since I started monitoring my blood sugar.

    You’re impressed I haven’t killed anyone. I can tell.

    It’s not that you can’t have potatoes when you have gestational diabetes/diabeetus, but the portion size has to be so small that, to me, it isn’t worth it to eat them at all. I have no self control, so I cannot be expected to eat only half a small order of french fries or exactly 14 potato chips or whatever the ridiculous serving size is.

    It is simply easier and better if I don’t attempt to eat potatoes at all.

    When I met with the nutritionist last week, she happily explained to me that I could have a 4″ baked potato.

    I didn’t know 4″ baked potatoes existed. The ones I buy at the store have got to be at least 7-8″ long. So, of course, I would have to cut it in half and act like I was so satisfied with that, most likely eating it with a baby fork so as to make it lost longer. Not worth it.

    Suffice it to say that food has been on my mind constantly. I have been fantasizing about the meal I would have upon Shiloh’s delivery. I have obsessively looked up nutrition information for all of my favorite restaurants to see what I could get away with eating. I have found blogs and sites devoted to low-carb copycat recipes for things like desserts and Starbucks drinks…because my regular drink at Starbucks contains more carbs than I am allowed in my entire dinner. So there’s that.

    I have thrown quite the pity party for myself…gotten jealous of the pictures people post of their food on Facebook (which is a problem in and of itself), cried when I couldn’t just eat what I was craving at the moment, and wanted to strangle Luke when he returned home from a birthday party and went on and on and on about how good the food was.

    Clearly, I need therapy. Or wine. But since I am pregnant and have diabeetus, wine is out.

    Before about 1 p.m. yesterday, I thought my life was over because of food.

    But to think that my daughters, my unborn child, or I could have been seriously hurt as a result of that accident yesterday…it’s truly (yet another) lesson in perspective.

    I told Luke this morning that I feel this pregnancy has been one giant test. A test of my strength. A test of my faith. A test of my sanity. A test of my priorities. A test of my willpower. In all of these areas, I have struggled throughout my life. I’ve made mountains out of mole hills. I’ve turned away from my faith instead of toward it. I’ve given in and given up too many times to count.

    But this pregnancy isn’t letting me give up…and after each hurdle I have had to jump, I have learned something new about myself.

    Yesterday, I learned that there is so much more to life than sugary, carby food. I will get through the dietary restrictions and soon enough, I will have a blissful reunion with carbs.

    Of course, I have always known this. But now I will never forget it.

    Family. Safety. Health.

    Everything else is small potatoes.

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