NaNoWriMo, Week 1

Why did I ever decide to do this? 

Forrest was sleep on my chest; I had bottles to wash, milk to pump, and a dog that desperately wanted to be fed, but instead, I was frantically typing on my computer. Forrest had been asleep for approximately 40 minutes, which meant he would either sleep for another twenty or another hour. That meant I had  either twenty minutes or an hour to write about 1,000 words, but it was impossible to tell which it was. So I typed as fast as I could to account for this variable.

I'm proud to say, however, despite these obstacles that I've written my required number of words everyday. I haven't written ahead at all, but I haven't fallen behind--and that's definitely an achievement. 

As I started November, I thought I was truly insane for attempting NaNoWriMo with a newborn (#nanowrimowithanewborn on Instagram). However, I've managed to stay on task every single day, which is genuinely surprising. It helped, really, that Forrest was born a little bit early and we'd established some semblance of a routine together. It also really helped that I'd ordered a Boba wrap to help me throughout the day: I can walk, wash dishes, take out the trash, and, most importantly, write--all with Forrest strapped to my chest. 

This didn't, however, change me from often wondering why, exactly, I wanted to take on this challenge this year, of all years. Then I remember: I wanted to do this to prove that I can, that I can be a mom and creative at the same time. 

This is just a short post that I feel like, so far, I've been able to prove that to myself. I can be a mom, I can nurture my baby, I can keep the house somewhat decent, and I can still be creative. And I'm pretty proud of that. 

The Fantasy of Postpartum Style

I came home from the hospital 22 pounds lighter than when I'd given birth, but that didn't mean my pre-pregnancy jeans buttoned.

It's important to know that this is not exactly typical in pregnancy. As of writing this, I'm a mere 2 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight. As it turned out, I'd been gaining water weight for a majority of my pregnancy (suggesting preeclampsia without ever actually showing any symptoms), meaning that the minute I wasn't pregnant anymore, all that water had to go somewhere.

The entire time I was pregnant, I fantasized about what I would wear post-pregnancy: chic striped shirts and jeans for walks in the park, cute sweaters and boots. I pinned outfits on Polyvore. I spent hours looking at boots, measuring my calves (which were bloated with fluid, little did I know), and excitedly looking forward everything I thought I would wear once I actually gave birth. Part of me knew that I wouldn't just automatically shrink back to how I looked before, but having no experience with a postpartum body, I couldn't imagine any other world. 

But one month postpartum and I'm still dressing, essentially, the same exact way I dressed during pregnancy. I have made little discernible change in my wardrobe, aside from the fact that 1) my shoes fit and 2) my clothes are a little (or in some cases, a lot) more comfy now. I also spend about half of my day pumping and feeding Forrest, which means that my clothes require me to be able to easily take my shirt off and that they are covered in milk at least part of the time. I only recently wore jeans for the first time since giving birth and that's only because I bought a new pair. But, typically, day-to-day I wear a tank top and sweatpants. 

It was very easy to imagine that, the minute I had Forrest, my life would transform back into the life I'd always known: I'd dress the same ways, do the same things, and have time for everything I'd ever done before. In these first few hectic days, I've found myself briefly wondering what, exactly, I've gotten myself into. Am I insane? Why did I ever think I could handle this?

The first few weeks of having a baby are, ultimately, about survival: you do what you have to to get through the day, whether that means not showering for four days, wearing the same tank top, or carrying your baby around near constantly because they won't sleep otherwise. Survival, strangely enough, doesn't really include dressing in all the things you fantasized about wearing. 

That doesn't mean there aren't opportunities for style in the early months. One of the best things new parents can do is take some time for themselves. At least once a week, my mom will watch Forrest while Danny and I go out to dinner or go grocery shopping. It gives us a chance to dress and act like humans again... as well as to eat a full meal with both hands. Often, days where Danny and I go out, even for an hour, on our own are the days that I shower, do my hair, and put on normal clothes. A month ago, I never would have walked out the door with primer, foundation, and mascara, but I frequently find myself heading to pediatrician appointments in yesterday's make up. 

Style is something that will always be incredibly important to me as a person. I love dressing up, creating outfits, and thinking of new ways to wear things. But as a new mom, it's just not a priority... and that's ok. 

5 Things You Actually Need in Your Labor & Delivery Hospital Bag

There are a lot of lists out there about what to pack for the hospital when you're having a baby. Almost all of them include things that you may or may not end up using. Everyone has a different experience when having a baby, so it's important to take any and all lists with a grain of salt. Just as no pregnancy is exactly the same as another pregnancy, your experience in labor, delivery, and recovery could be miles away from anyone else's. 

I had a lot of, to be honest, useless crap packed in my pre-packed hospital bag: stuff I never touched, or tried to use and failed, or wanted to use but just couldn't. And then, there were the things I sent Danny scurrying to Target to grab or asked my mom to buy for me. 

1. A Hands-Free Pumping Bra

I saw these in Target before I had Forrest and I thought, "how silly!" It just seemed ridiculous. But 24 hours after Forrest was born and I was producing less than 1 mL of colostrum every two hours. Forrest was eating donor milk or formula as a result. My nurse told me I needed to pump, every two hours, and massage all the glands to get my milk to come in. She recommended a hands-free pumping bra--not so I could surf the 'net like the woman on the box (although, admittedly, I'm writing this post while pumping thanks to this very bra), but so I could use both my hands to self express.

You never know if your milk is going to come in immediately or dilly-dally for several days, leaving your baby in a lurch where you have to supplement and frantically pump to up your supply. So pack your pump (or double check that your hospital has pumps available to use!) and pick up one of these bras. The one Danny got me from Target is available here--I like it because it's adjustable, which means you don't have to worry about sizing it correctly ahead of time (and it will still fit after your milk comes in), but there are cheaper options on Amazon as well. If you don't want to drop $30, you can buy a cheap sports bra and cut slits in the front; it's less discreet, but works just as well.  

2. Pads

No one told me a lochia. Ok, I'd read on message boards and packing lists about postpartum bleeding--I'm not entirely dumb. But no one ever mentioned the word lochia. Have you heard the word lochia? Well, lochia is the technical name for the 6-8 weeks of bleeding that you have after giving birth. I know. You can read more about it here, but basically it's not just from any lacerations or tearing you might have from childbirth. Even women who receive c-sections have lochia. The point I'm trying to make is: you're going to need pads. Lots of pads. Good ones. The word around the mom boards these days is that Always Infinity Flex Foam pads are the absolute best that money can buy--and from personal experience, they aren't wrong. Also, stock up because you will need way more than you think you will. And if you haven't worn a pad since you were, like, 12 years old, then I'm really, really sorry. 

3. Easy Access Tank Tops & Packaged Underwear

I'm against specialty clothing on principal. I refused--flat out refused--to buy nursing tops. I think they're a waste of money when you can easily augment or alter existing clothing to do the exact same thing. That being said: the absolute best tops for quick pumping or nursing are tank tops. You can pull them down or up easily and not have too much fabric bunching around your business. Plus, they're super comfy. I've said it before, but the absolute best camis are from Forever 21 and they're dirt cheap. Buy at least 10 of them. 

Speaking of things you haven't had to wear since you were about 12, invest in some cheap packaged underwear, about 2 sizes bigger than you usually wear. Pick at least two varieties in case you end up hating how one kind feels. As a heads up, you're going to love the little mesh underwear they give you post-delivery and you'll be very sad when they won't give you anymore. 

4. Non-Tech Entertainment

The morning I was surprise induced, I shoved my Kindle into my purse and trotted out the door. I wouldn't go back to my house for seven days and not once did I consider asking anyone to grab me an actual, physical book. The thing about having a baby is it makes you super tired--and then you don't really get to sleep because you have to, you know, take care of the baby. There were times where I needed something to do in the wee hours of the night, but if I looked at another screen for even a minute, my head probably would have burst--and all those lighted screens don't help you drift into a 40 minute power nap between feedings and pumping. So grab a book or a journal for your bag. Trust me. 

5. A Notebook 

No, you're not going to have time to wax poetic about your birth experience or anything in the days in the hospital. You might have time to jot down a quick journal entry or doodle or write a to-do list. But this notebook isn't for that. It's for writing down when you feed baby, what side you feed them on (if you're breastfeeding), how much they ate (if you're bottle feeding), how much you pumped, etc. This is information that nurses will come in and ask you about every 2-4 hours... and if you haven't slept in about 30 hours, you probably won't remember a single thing. You'll know you fed the baby. You'll know they had some kind of dirty diaper (wet? soiled? I don't know?), but you won't remember. You'll need to write it down... and you'll need to keep writing it down, post-hospital, because the pediatrician will ask you the exact same questions. Try remembering how much you fed your baby four days ago--I dare you. 

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A few things I absolutely did not need include a robe, extra pillows, and real shoes (until I left). Of course, remember to pack a good, moisturizing lotion. I'm not talking about something that smells amazing. I like Babyology Daily Moisturizing Baby Lotion for both Forrest and I. In the hospital, the air is so dry, you'll end up putting on lotion every other minute and slathering your face with lip balm every chance you get. 

What did you absolutely need in the hospital--and what did you wish you'd left at home? 

The New Normal

I've sat down to write a blog post at least seven times in the last week. I've gotten out my list of topics; I've sat with my planner open; I've started writing... and every single time, I get distracted (usually by Forrest). I've tried to write about postpartum bodies, about Forrest's first weeks, about fashion. About anything. When I'm sleep deprived and struggling to stay awake between feedings, diaper changes, and more, it's hard to focus on articulating thoughts correctly... even though I have a lot to say about my first few weeks as a mom. 

I have spent nearly everyday at home since Forrest and I were released from the hospital. Except for doctor's appointments, I don't really leave the house. Danny and I have gone out to dinner together, sans Forrest, once; we've taken him out to eat with Danny's family once. I went to the grocery store for the first time on my birthday. I have gone to my own doctor's appointment solo once. Every minute of my day is dedicated to Forrest and making sure he eats and stays clean. A typical span of two hours in my house looks like this: feed Forrest; put Forrest to sleep (can take 10 minutes or three hours); transfer Forrest to swing or rocker; pump for a minimum of 30 minutes; clean bottles and pumping supplies; do one part of one chore (put laundry in the washing machine; wipe down the counters; throw away the dead flowers in the vase on the kitchen counter); and repeat. It is, to be honest, exhausting... and then I get to spend all night doing it. Yay! 

In the wee morning hours of my birthday, I sat in my glider, rocking Forrest for about 45 minutes in the vain attempt to get him to sleep. It was 2:30am and, of course, the longer he refused to close his very sleepy eyes, the more I cried. I sang every lullaby I could think of until I sang "Happy Birthday to me" through tears. I wanted so badly for him to go to sleep, to have a good day with him, to go to sleep myself. Then, I looked down at his little face: he'd finally drifted to sleep, closing his dark blue eyes and opening his little mouth to snore. I loved him so intensely at that moment, more powerfully than I have ever loved anything in my life, that it made up for how tired I was, how sad I felt about my birthday.  

It is very easy to make life with a newborn sound all bad. To outsiders (those without kids or who don't want kids ever), it probably sounds like some version of hell. You squeeze a very small human out of the most narrow part of your body and then, immediately begin a year-long sprint of sleep deprivation. They can't lift their own head; they poop and pee all the time, sometimes on you; none of their clothes fit; they communicate through screaming and grunting at you. 

But the raw facts of life with a newborn ignore the really great parts. Yes, Forrest spent three hours scream-crying at me yesterday, but he then spent ten minutes on the floor with me, just looking at my face. Yes, I worry constantly about how much he's eating; I pump and measure and stress and chug water to make sure my body makes enough food, but when he falls asleep on my chest and I finally have time to take a nap, I sometimes choose holding him close to me for just another hour... just because. 

I try not to miss the things I used to do. I'd love to have time for scrapbooking, for journaling, for writing blog posts and hanging out on Twitter; I'd love to sleep for 8 hours straight, make a lazy breakfast, and drink coffee while I watch Food Network. I try not to beat myself up about my messy bedroom, about the breastmilk stains on all my shirts. Because while I am missing all those things (and it would be a lie to say that sometimes I just wish I could have one more day to myself to do all of them), I also love everything new in my life... I just have to get used to it and I'm not quite there yet.