Tag: parenting

The Birth of Happiness

I don’t claim to be an expert about much, but I do know a thing or two about being pregnant. There was a period of time where I was just straight up pregnant 24/7. Love your baby? Here! Here’s another one! And so on and so on.

I’m exhausted even thinking about it. 

I’m not one of those glowing, amazing pregnant ladies. When I’m pregnant I turn into a 5″5, 180 lb, hormonal monster from hell.

I throw fits. I cry. I eat a lot.

It occured to me that many of the symptoms I experience during pregnancy have A LOT of similarities with early sobriety. I hit the 9 month mark of sobriety, and I can’t help but to reflect…

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First Month of Pregnancy: Oh, my GOD. I can’t believe this! There’s a tiny life growing inside of me! The future is so bright! I want to tell everyone! I’m scared, but excited. I wish I could have a beer right now.

First Month of Sobriety: Oh, my GOD. I’m changing my life forever. I’m scared but excited about my future as a sober person. There is a hope growing in me that I can have a better life…but if you offered me a drink right now, I’m not sure I could say no.

Second Month of Pregnancy: Yo. WTF just happened? WHY AM I SO BLOATED? WHY AM I CRYING AND THEN LAUGHING AND THEN CRYING AGAIN? WHY CAN”T I STOP PUKING? WAS THIS A HORRIBLE DECISION? Of, course not. It’s the best decision I”ve ever made. I love this baby so, so much. WHY AM I SMELLING MY HUSBANDS FEET FROM UPSTAIRS WHEN I’M DOWNSTAIRS? I HATE PEOPLE! And chicken. I HATE CHICKEN. I’ll never eat chicken ever again.

Second Month of Sobriety: My body hates me. I took away the one thing that made it happy. I’m bloated and gross, because I have replaced alcohol with double stuffed oreos. My ass is fat. I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop smiling. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this. I can hear my husband chewing three feet away from me. EVERYTHING ANNOYS ME, SO STOP CHEWING SO CLOSE TO MY GODDAMNED EARS! I think I deserve an entire bag of twizzlers right now.

Third Month of Pregnancy: How long does this whole pregnancy last? Because, I’m over it. I feel like shit. I hate everyone. I miss my jeans. I miss sleep. I KEEP FARTING.

Third month of Sobriety- YAAAAS! 90 days! I worked so hard for this. Can I relax now? I’m tired. How long do I have to continue going to meetings everyday? Can’t I just stay home and watch Netflix? Look at me. I’m doing it! I didn’t think I could go one day without wine, let alone three months.

IMG_9071Fourth Month of Pregnancy: Am I showing? I’m showing right? That’s not just a food baby, is it? How much weight am I going to gain? My dr said I need to slow down, because I’m eating too many donuts.

Fourth Month in Sobriety: DID YOU HEAR I’M SOBER? BIG NEWS! I’M SOBER. CAN’T YOU TELL? Can you overdose on sugar? Sugar is my main food group. No, I’m not pregnant. No, that’s not a beer belly. That’s my sobriety stomach. Full of brownines and happiness. IMG_7283

Fifth Month of Pregnancy: I think I felt the baby move. I’m tired. I’m excited. I want to buy every single baby thing that ever existed. Are there any other movies about pregnancy and birth on Netflix? I watched ” The Business of Being Born” ten times. I want a natural birth. No drugs. I’m so strong. I’m going to be a mother. Shit, I cant sleep at all. Too much to think about.

Fifth Month of Sobriety: I’m reaching out to others. I want to stay sober and help others stay sober. I”ve watched every documentary on addiction that the internet has to offer. No drinking. No drugs. Every day is a blessing. Ok, not everyday, but I know that I have the ability to make it a good day if I work my steps, reach out to my peeps, focus on myself so I can be the best version of me for my family.

Sixth month of Pregnancy: I had three slushies today from Sonic. Go ahead. Judge me. I dare you. There’s no way I am prepared to be a mother. I don’t think I can do this. I’m not strong enough. I just want to nap and eat chips all day long. What if the baby hates me? I’ve already washed all of her clothes and set up her room 18,000 times. I’m still farting like a champ.

Sixth Month of Sobriety: SIX MONTHS? ARE YOU SERIOUS? WHOAH. That’s a long ass time. I feel alive. Finally. I”m scared. What if I’m not strong enough to do this forever though? I have replaced alcohol with red bull and it makes me gassy. Fart, fart, fart.IMG_7198

Seventh Month of Pregnancy: I’m almost done! I’m almost done! I’m almost…FUCK. I thought I was at 30 weeks. I”m only at 29. I”M GOING TO BE PREGNANT FOREVER. I can’t shave my legs. I can’t see anything past this massive belly. I bought sneakers that you can slip on, because I can’t tie my own shoes anymore. I”m tired dude.

Seventh Month of Sobriety: I’m almost to a year, right? It’s just around the corner! Oh. Wait. I have a few months to go. I shouldn’t be focused on the days or years, because this is my reality for the rest of my life. Not just one year. Not two years. Not just a decade. This is forever. I bought myself new shoes, because I’ve been working so hard at being present and sober, I deserve a treat!

Eighth Month of Pregnancy: Whatever.

Eighth Month of Sobriety: One day at a time.

Ninth Month of Pregnancy: Can I do this? Was I crazy thinking I was qualified to be a mother to someone? What if I screw her up? I can’t do this. Honestly, I don’t care if I have to take tons of drugs or zero drugs during delivery-I just want this damn thing out of me. It could happen today! I could go into labor today. Am I prepared? WHAT AM I DOING? This is terrifying. And exhilerating. I think I’ll eat a cheeseburger. I can’t wait until I can drink champagne again.

Ninth Month of Sobriety: I’m sober. I’m going through a lot right now, but I find strength in my sobriety. I know I’m not alone. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know that I’m on the right path. Nine months is nothing compared to a lifetime, but it’s still worth celebrating. Every day sober is a day worthy of celebration. I celebrate life, happiness, sobriety, my family, and my friends with copious amounts of carbs and caffeinated beverages. Strangely enough, I don’t want champagne.

 

The miracle of life. The miracle of sobriety. J3TsK%dTSVSS+ljHoOiEvg

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There were three in the bed and the mother said, “Get your dirty butt off of my face right now, before I send you back to your room. In the dark. Alone.”

Ah, co-sleeping with your babies. What a special, treasured time. I read book after book about breastfeeding and co-sleeping, and how those two things were crucial to having a close, bonding relationship with my child. So, of course, with baby #1, that’s exactly what I did.

Never mind the fact that I had just had a traumatic emergency C-section. Never mind, that my body was all discombobulated and I was dripping milk like a cow. I HAD TO CO SLEEP OR I WOULD HAVE FAILED AS A PARENT. We gave it a shot. She slept like an angel. She breastfed like a champ. I, on the other hand, got zero sleep, my boobs were exploding and I was terrified if I put her in the rock & play that she would surely grow up hating me and probably have a lower IQ.

First time parents are a real hoot.

Then we brought home baby #2. Her first night home was when my brain and body dove head first into the wonderful world of postpartum anxiety and OCD. I was terrified to put her down. I was terrified to smoosh her. I was terrified to breastfeed her. I felt guilt that my eldest had to share me now, and blah blah blah.

So, I put that kid in the rock & play and said, ” You’re going to have to just figure this out. I’ll feed you and all that, but seriously, you’re just going to need to figure out how to put yourself to sleep. I was losing my mind and I need at least four hours per night here, kid.”

Onto baby #3…hahaha. She came out independent, and she also was put in the rock & play at a few days old, while I selfishly grabbed some sleep on my own.

 

So, all my kids did the whole sleeping thing differently. Here’s the thing…they are my heart. We are all so very, very connected. We love each other and I spend many afternoons wondering where these beautiful children came from. They’re all kind of smart…I think…

They’re all healthy. My second and third kids started sleeping through the night WAY earlier than my first.

 

My first child that STILL finds her way into my bed, but now we have mommy cuddles and it’s a snuggle fest every night.

It’s taken me literally this long to finally tell myself that my younger two are going to turn out just fine even though I said F THAT to co-sleeping and exclusively breastfeeding. They’re alive, healthy and happy. That’s my job and I’m doing a damn good job.

 

I’m mad that I put all that pressure on myself to be this perfect, attached parent.

 

Now my version of being the perfect attached parent, is when I have two kids in the shopping cart, and one dangling out of the Ergo as I check the expiration dates on milk at the grocery store.

 

I’ve also been considering putting a tent in the back yard and tell them they can go camping every night… but it’s the middle of winter. That might be a little cruel.

 

Raise your hands up warrior moms, raise your hands up. Co-sleeping or not, we are some bomb ass mothers plowing through this crazy thing called parenthood.

 

(But I swear to God, if a stinky butt makes its way to my face in the middle of the night tonight, I’m leaving.)

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