I'm Afraid of My Baby.

I'm afraid of my baby.

Well, not anymore.

But there was a time when that tiny human scared me to my core.

And when I say “scared" I don't mean in the scary movie-walking alone in a dark alley-Halloween night-creaky doors-and-shadows kind of scared. Just genuinely scared.

The first time I realized I was afraid of her was when we were dressing her to go home from the hospital. Since I went into labor a full month before my due date I was not exactly prepared. As in, I didn't have the little cutesy outfit from one of those ridiculous online boutiques. Instead, I had a gray newborn Carter's sleeper with a pink mouse on the side of it and a non-matching white and gray polka dot hat. This outfit was picked out by Mitch who was tasked with packing the diaper bag while I feverishly threw shit in my hospital bag. I remember hollering into the nursery "Just pick out the smallest outfit, I don't have many newborn clothes, yet." In fact, I think I only had two newborn outfits in her closet at the time.

I digress.

As I was taking off her hospital issued long sleeve onesie I realized I didn't have my own white short sleeve onesie to put on under this gray outfit. While, I know the onesie was unnecessary it was an oversight on my part that bothered me immensely. I felt extremely unprepared in that moment while I attempted to maneuver this little girls arms and legs into this boring outfit. As I zipped up the one piece over her bare chest I felt my own tighten.

We placed her in the car seat and I tucked a receiving blanket around her and over her lap hoping that would make up for the missing onesie. And from then on - I was terrified of her.

I'm sure every new parent is a little nervous or hesitant at first but this was more than that. I jumped out of my skin every time she made a peep let alone cried. I didn't understand how someone that I loved so much could send me into a constant state of panic.

Once I was able to identify and come to terms with this feeling I tried to find the root cause and to this day I am still searching. Maybe it was fear of the unknown, or of unintentionally hurting her with my lack of knowledge or maybe it was postpartum. All I know is that this fear kept be confined to the house for months. The most I would travel was to my mother’s house or the local grocery store (each only 10 minutes away.) Looking back I am shocked at how much I was afraid of her. I can't really pinpoint when this fear faded but it did and I eventually gained some confidence that I might actually know what I'm doing.

And here we are, quickly approaching her first birthday, and it concurrently feels like the shortest yet longest year of my life. When people tell you "Enjoy it! It goes by fast!" and "Oh you'll miss these days!" it is true. And cliche. And sad. My heart aches when I think of how much Stella has grown over this past year. I wish I could go back and re-live it because I don't think I enjoyed it enough.

However, the joy of watching her grow and learn new things everyday is slowly making up for the time I felt I missed with her.

I'm happy to say I am no longer afraid of her - I am amazed by her.

Amazed that she managed to survive without that damn white onesie.




Motherhood & Things That Make Me Stabby - Part II

Motherhood will completely change you. You will see life through rose colored glasses and develop an immense amount of patience like you've never known before.

Just kidding. 

Lack of sleep and raging hormones might make you a monster. Obviously, I love my baby and would chew the leg off anyone that looked at her the wrong way like a rabid hound. But on most days, I'm still just my normal self - full of hostility and rage for minor inconveniences.

I touched on this before and you can see that here in Part I. Below is an addendum to that list.

-The fact that I sounded like such a tool in the Part I post.. why did anyone give me Internet privileges in 2014? 

-Photobucket. They hacked all our photos unless we want to pay something like $400 a year... Obviously I don't have $400 because I needed your free site to host my photos. 

-The tiny little plastic pieces in brand new babies clothes, sheets, towels, and toys. You know the pieces that hold together a group of towels - they are clear plastic with a skinny end and larger flat end? There are typically 50 in any given baby item and no matter how hard you try to remove them all you'll miss at least 5. And those 5 pieces will scratch the shit out of your baby when you're trying to dress them or dry them off. 

-Diaper cream. It is the thickest, stickiest goo that I have ever encountered. When Stella goes off to college instead of arming her with pepper spray I am going to give her diaper cream to carry in her purse. If ever she needs to ward off an attacker I will instruct her to cover herself completely in diaper cream making it impossible for the attacker to grab her. She will slip out of his grip allowing her to get away. The police will be able to easily identify the attacker because diaper doesn't come off for days.

-When you pour the conditioner in your hand thinking it's shampoo when you start to wash your hair in the shower.

-These kind of commercials:"If you are interested in patio awnings call 1-800-555-5555. Again if you are interested - please call 1-800-555-5555 at 1-800-555-5555. 1-800-555-5555, again, 1-800-555-5555 for patio awnings. Don't forget to call 1-800-555-5555. 1-800-555-5555."
I need to see the research on these types of commercials and how effective they actually are. Or better yet, I'd like to see the statistical data on the demographic these commericals sell to.. because I'm picturing someone who still says shit like "Get 'er done!" and goes to tractor pulls at county fairs.

-When you drop your cellphone on your face while laying on your back.

-How eating healthy = more dishes. That is my biggest problem with eating healthy. I know, first world problems. But it is so much easier to throw in a frozen pizza than to get out 50 dishes and utensils to make a healthy meal at home.

-Getting peanut butter out of the bottom of the jar. I manage to get peanut butter up to my elbows during this process.

-When pasta water boils over and makes a mess of the stove top. And yes, I use the wooden spoon trick but apparently our water is extra bubbly because nothing stops it.

-How every single person I went to high school with is now selling Rodan & Fields, LuLaRoe, Isagenix, Advocare, Scentsy, Lipsense, Young Living essential oils, Paparazzi jewelry and whatever else. Are these people actually making money? If so, sign me up but I am totally skeptical that your $5 bracelet is making you any profit. I appreciate their hustle but my Facebook feed reminds me of those annoying mall kiosk people who chase you down to "ask you a question" and give you lotion samples.

-When you follow a car to the same destination. This just happened to me going to the grocery store and the woman called me out on it "Ohhh I've been in your way since you left your house!" Yup, actually Carol you have been in my way. All I needed was 1 lime for guacamole which should have been a 10 minute errand but since you drive slower than molasses it took 10 minutes to just get to the store. And then low and behold who pulls into the parking spot I wanted? And then whose cart is blocking the produce section directly in front of the limes...

See? Motherhood hasn't changed me, yet.

What are things that make you stabby?

Sincerely and Sarcastically,



I Don't Cry


I don't cry.

I didn't cry when we talked about the future or what that meant for us.

I didn't cry when we decided to finally "try and see what happens."

I didn't cry during the previous 6 months when every test was negative.

I didn't cry when I finally saw the 2 pink lines. Even after 3 tests.

I didn't cry when I realized how everything that we've ever known was about to change.

I didn't cry when I told my husband.

I didn't cry when I thought about being able to do one of the announcement ideas I had saved on Pinterest.

I didn't cry during those next 5 weeks while I had to wait for the doctors appointment.

I held it together. Because, I don't cry.

I didn't cry thinking about worst case scenarios. Or even the happy ones.

I didn't even cry when the doctor held the portable monitor to my stomach on April 24, 2017.


Tears started to well up in my eyes when a heartbeat was found and the doctor smirked. I wiped away a tear as I finally released the breath I had been holding for weeks. That breathe which contained the fear of no heartbeat. Not because I was having complications but because I was finally getting excited.

Tears welled up in my eyes during the ultrasound that same visit when I finally got to see a picture of what I'd been hiding for the past 9 weeks. Happy tears that we could confidently tell our secret.

But, I did not cry. Sure there were tears, but not a sobbing, needing a tissue, emotional cry. Just tears.

I didn't cry when the technician started talking in medical terms. Terms I hadn't heard of or even been aware of. Which was shocking considering my nightly What to Expect Google searches.

I didn't cry when the technician printed off a series of ultrasound photos and left the exam room to show the doctor we had just met 20 minutes prior. I didn't cry when the doctor appeared in the doorway. Or while we talked. Or when I anxiously demanded the additional test he mentioned.

I didn't cry on the drive home while I tried to look out the window and not at Mitch.

Because I don't cry.

But, when I was finally alone.

In my car.

In the old Bilo Supermarket parking lot.

Something came over me and I cried.

And cried.

Weeks worth of crying. All at once. And there was nothing I could do about it. The more I tried to stop myself the more upset I got.

I wish it had made me feel better. But it did the opposite actually.

Because I don't cry.


We had to wait 3 weeks, about 21 days, roughly 504 hours, to find out that everything was okay. One simple blood work test refuted all the fears we had to unnecessarily endure.

I am still stunned as to how all of this played out. Maybe one day I'll write a more in depth post about it and how I truly felt but it was such a dark time that I don't care to re-live it in full right now.

Long story short: As we were checking out and scheduling our next appointment we were offered an ultrasound that day. We thought we were lucky to snag an early ultrasound but in reality that was not the case. The technician noticed something during the exam but should have never been looking for it or alarmed us by even mentioning it to us at only 9 weeks pregnant. No one wants to hear the words "possible abnormalities" when they are staring at the ultrasound screen of their baby - let alone their first pregnancy appointment of their first child.

I feel silly being dramatic about this but for a person who is naturally negative like myself - it just reaffirmed my fears that something bad was going to happen. Even when we learned that everything was okay I couldn't relax. I was a nervous wreck for every doctor appointment after that, especially the ultrasounds. Sure, I probably would have been nervous even if that didn't happen, but it just gave me more of a reason to worry. That ultrasound tech robbed so much joy from my pregnancy. Which again sounds dramatic, but at the time it was. 

Luckily, we had a happy ending. Even though I went into labor unexpectedly at 36 weeks.



**I wrote part of this post after we received the results of the blood test and it came back negative. But because I was so afraid to jinx myself I didn't post it, or look at it again until now.**

Blog Design by Get Polished