The Birth Story

Every single person I know is now pregnant and I can only assume it’s because I have really sold the whole parenting gig. Many first time moms will ask a mother about her birth story and are curious about the various options that are available. TLC has even opted to make an entire TV series about it, because what teenage boy doesn’t want to have their mom whip out that DVD the first time their friends come over the play video games? 

Do these sound familiar?

All natural, baby

These days you are only limited by your imagination when it comes to where you give birth. Labor may take place at home, in a tub, or holding onto a tree in the woods. These superhuman hippies believe if they tell enough people, eventually, someone is bound to give them a much deserved medal, or perhaps a (vegan) cookie. When I walk with my mother’s group in Davis and this topic comes up, it’s amazing how quickly our strollers get divided. Oh I’m sorry this path is only wide enough for moms that didn’t selfishly drug their babies at birth. 

Epidural me, Doc 

I’m not a fan of pain and I was told I get my baby either way.

The theatrical hero

Even at birth he was a stubborn child. Their labor was like 3 days long and they seem to remind their child every time they are just about to blow out their birthday candles. And 49 hours, a blood transfusion and one C-section later there you were… happy birthday to you!

The war veteran

Women in their third trimester should actively avoid the moms that describe birth as a battle scene. The words placenta and tearing should really be limited to Lamaze classes. Dads are generally not invited to share what it was like for them, sort of a no vagina no voice philosophy, but I overheard a dad tell another dad through hushed whispers, “There was a lot of blood, man. Like a lot of blood.” The only place where these accounts are appropriate is the Sex Education classroom with an audience of hormonal teenagers, ideally before prom. 

The ultimate goal of every birth story is always a healthy baby. I have found it is best to be proud of the decisions you've made in the delivery room and share them with the type of blind confidence that is our only currency in parenting. This is the first time you will feel completely ill-equip to be making such important decisions and trust me it won't be the last. Consider it your initiation.

I'm going to have to do what now?

The Anal-Retentive Scale of Worry

My husband told me casually one day that he got electrocuted several times as a kid.

Like how many times is several?

Well there was the time with the Christmas lights. Then once while setting up the wiring for the horse stable and a few other times I can’t remember.

Yeah, I bet!

My mommy mind was actually exploding. On a scale of 1 to 10 on the anal-retentive scale of worry, I consider myself to be an even 5 with 1 being I’m sure my toddler is around here somewhere and 10 being it’s mandatory that my child wear a helmet on the park swing. As a 5, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I won’t allow my daughter to dabble in activities that may result in her electrocution. This must simply be a boy thing and we need not worry because we will only be having girls. But here is the kicker! My husband has wonderful, protective parents as do I, and I too was electrocuted as a child. I remember going into the garage when I was around 10 and trying to plug in the light with my finger in the way of the socket.

The feeling of knowing that your child will inevitably feel pain, as a parent, is truly terrifying. Now that Charlotte’s standing and crawling everywhere, I’ve entertained the idea of swaddling her in bubble wrap and just rolling her around the house until she gets tired from giggling too much. Knowing her, she’d be amused for a day and then she’d be looking to go for a swim in the dog’s water bowl, again.

What I have come to accept is that worrying about the worry is no way to live. Sure I cringe when Charlotte finds a way to lick every ball in the ball pit where we do baby gymnastics and my heart skips a beat when she scales the couch only to fall backwards on her perfectly padded lil’ tushie. All of these experiences make our children stronger and ultimately us stronger as parents. So if you’re wondering where you fall on the scale, I suggest covering your outlets but put your hands up and step away from the bubble wrap. 

M'mmmmmmm germs! 

Halloweenies

It’s about that time! Regardless of where you are in your life, your news feed is probably chalk-full of painfully adorable babies dressed in various vegetable, princess, and animal attire. The law of the universe says that if you have baby fever this is probably the time of year your ovaries skip a beat. A baby dressed as a pumpkin, sitting in a pumpkin, seriously I’m dying of cuteness over here. Anne Geddes really had the right idea. As you continue to scroll down there are all your single or random old college friends dressed in the exact same costumes as the babies, just the slutty versions. I’m not sure how you can make Elsa from Frozen look like a stripper, but you pulled it off, literally.

Then there are the newly engaged or the newlyweds that are in couple’s costume. No guy, or rather, no straight guy has ever ran home and said, “Honey! I have the perfect couples costume for us to wear this year!” It is always the wife’s idea and he goes along with it because it is pretty much written into the "in sickness and in health" part of your vows. There is a picture of the two of them, the guy seven beers deep and the girl giving her very best pouty but I’m still sexy even though I no longer single look, right? She’s pawing at his chest, while simultaneously sticking out her booty, most likely biting her finger. Guys, do me a favor and tell your woman she is pretty. Right now, turn to your right, because I’m sure she’s the one making you read this, and say, “My goodness you are beautiful!”

Halloween has got to be a logistical nightmare for parents with kids old enough to dress up and go out on their own. I’m sorry, strangers are going to be giving my child an unlimited supply of candy, and I’m supposed to be cool with this because they go door to door as opposed to getting it from an unmarked, windowless, white van? Who came up with this idea? These are the things that make my head explode as a new parent. But I am going to put those fears in the box marked: driver’s license, first date, and belly button piercing and store it far away in the future. For now, I’m going to go dress my little duckling and see if I can convince my husband that the only thing more fun than a couple’s costume is a family costume.  

Quack quack, I'm adorable.