Nine Month Check-in

     On Monday my son had his 9 month check up. It's always so exciting to show my little guy off and see how much he has grown since his last visit. Upon entering the crowded waiting room, the office staff asked me to complete a questionnaire focused on my son's milestones. Can he pass a toy from hand to hand? Can he bend down from a standing position to grab a toy from the floor? It amazed me how much my little love has learned in nine short months. To see him evolve from a tiny newborn with no control over his arms to the little gentleman that I see before me is astounding. But he isn't the only one who has new skills under his belt. Mommy has learned some lessons too.

1. I am only barely stronger physically than a nine month old child. It is amazing how easily he can knock me over from a sitting position or how difficult it is to get objects from his tiny, steel grasp. If I need him to straighten one of his thick, chubby legs I must ask him to do so and wait. Even with all of my might I cannot force those little tree trunks straight. I have learned that mommy needs some serious arm work.
2. Baby boys discover their pee bugs early and once they do they never stop checking to make sure it's still there. I'm not sure where this fear that it has disappeared stems from, but I am certain that they never outgrow it. I have learned that in some ways, men never change.
3. It's super exciting when your baby learns to roll over. That excitement lasts for about five minutes until you are forced to change the diaper of a rotating child. While I am always excited for milestones, I have learned to appreciate the wait.
4. I have learned that most milestones are followed pretty quickly by tears. Example: “Oh my God, look! Archer is holding his sippy cup on his own! Oh, he hit himself in the face with it” and “Oh look! He's standing! Awwww, he fell into the couch on his face.” I have learned that growth is pain and babies are an excellent example of this.
5. A plastic Tupperware bowl is more entertaining than any five star rated toy on Amazon. I have learned that you are better off saving your money and time. Just invest in as many of these plastic miracles as you can get your hands on. They are endless fun and relatively difficult to injure yourself on.
6. I have learned that Archer can, in fact hurt himself with a Tupperware container.
7. The witching hour is real and it will kick your ass every night during whichever hours your child deems to be unbearable. I had never heard of this phenomenon until I had a child but it is true, babies lose their shit every evening for no apparent reason and nothing can comfort them. I have learned that at times like these, you just remind yourself that this too shall pass and it does... eventually.
8. Breast milk poop stains everything. I have learned to soak soiled clothes as soon as possible before washing.
9. A baby boy can shoot urine completely across a room and can hit and follow a moving target. In Archer's case, for the first few months it was literally every time his diaper was removed. I learned to immediately cover that thing with a washcloth and lived to regret it anytime that I forgot.
10. Yes, your boobs can always hurt worse. I have learned to respect the boobie.
11. Baby toys are equipped with the most irritating songs and phrases on the planet. You will learn them by heart and sing them when your baby isn’t even around. I have learned to accept the phrase “It's learning time” into my internal dialogue. It's a part of me now.
12. Bedtimes are negotiable and I'm not above letting Archer stay up later at night so that we can sleep in a few minutes longer in the morning, especially on weekends. I know that this practice may be frowned upon, I have learned that I don't care.
13. Babies will crawl directly to the most dangerous thing in the room. I have learned to anticipate death traps before putting him down.
14. You can do almost anything with one hand. This is not true for eating cereal, soup or steak. I have learned to identify one hand friendly foods and gravitate toward them. On the plus side, a wine glass only requires one hand.
15. Your baby will never be smaller than he is right now. Cuddle him every single chance you get. I have learned to be grateful even when it has been a very difficult day. Someday he won't care to spend every moment on my hip and I will long for these days again.
16. The hardest times end without you ever even realizing that they have passed into history. There are so many different things and milestones that I remember stressing over and looking up online to see when they get easier. These trials have come and gone. I rarely look things like that up anymore. I have learned that being a mom never gets easy. You roll with the punches that day. Tomorrow is tomorrow.
17. Breastfeeding does get easier. The books and websites are correct. It takes about six weeks to stop being so difficult, then around the three or four month mark it gets easy and by six months it is second nature. And then they get teeth. I have learned that nipples are tougher than they look.
18. A nice new outfit and an important place to go is a poop explosion waiting to happen. I have learned to always pack a second “nice” outfit unless you want your kid dressed in mismatched pajamas for pictures.
19. Sanitize as long as you like, but germs always win in the long run. The sooner you accept this fact, the sooner you can get on with your life. I have learned that germs are a part of the family.
20. Clothing sizes by age are worthless.
21. I have learned that I have a great deal of control over some things and no control whatsoever over others when it comes to my child. Both are okay. By fighting to control everything you set yourself up for failure and only succeed at taking away from your enjoyment of life and your offspring's childhood. I am learning to embrace the areas of motherhood that I have no control over. This also frees up time and energy to really fixate on the things that I can control.
22. The time literally goes by in the blink of an eye. I have learned to cherish every moment.
23. I never knew that I could love someone so deeply and while it is a little bit terrifying and makes me feel unbelievably vulnerable to have someone in this world who I adore so much, it is the most amazing thing that I have ever experienced. I have learned that my weakness for him is a strength to my soul.
24. And the number one thing that I have learned in my first nine months of motherhood... A piece of advice that was given to me by a very dear friend that I repeat in my mind about ten times per day, never try to make a happy baby happier. This advice has served me well many times over these past months.  When I would see my son, laying quietly with his thoughts, I would find myself mentally playing with fire thinking, “I'll bet he would like to sit up.” But then this excellent advice would pop into my head and I would stop myself. I have learned that if he is happy, for God's sake let him be.
    
    

     So, these are my personal milestones of motherhood, which I have acquired over the past nine months. I laugh when I look back to how I expected motherhood to be. It is absolutely nothing like that. It is messier, crazier and more exhausting than I could have ever imagined. But I am also a million times happier now that I am his mommy and I can't wait to see what lesson Archer has in store for me next.

Cesarean Awareness Month

     So it turns out that April is Cesarean Awareness Month and while the actual goal of this campaign is to reduce the number of these procedures through education, I prefer to utilize this time by simply informing other women of my experience. There are so many things about a c-section that I did not know about or expect as I was being wheeled into the operating room nine short months ago.

     As my due date approached, I found myself preparing for the most anticipated event of my thirty-four years. The birth of my son. It was not an easy road to get here, but my pregnancy had been shockingly simple. I avoided so many of the usual pitfalls of pregnancy. I was as big as a boat, but my skin was better than ever, I was still rocking my regular shoes, no ankle swelling or accidental peeing. I was good. I stopped viewing my reproductive self as a handicap and began looking toward the future with a renewed positivity that I had not felt for years. I was going to have a completely natural birth. I didn't know if I could manage without pain medicine, but I sure wanted to try.

     So I focused my preparation and researched on having a perfect, natural birth. That was my plan. I considered looking up information on c-sections, but I didn't want to jinx myself. I wasn't going to need that information. I was having a natural delivery. Well, as it turned out, aside from ending up with a baby, my birth plan was absolutely nothing like Archer's actual birth.

     He ended up being two weeks late, so I was induced and after more than a day of labor and an hour of pushing my little bean still refused to budge. With that, I joined the ranks of the c-section mommies. Looking back, I should have explored this option more. I went into the operating room with no clue what was headed my way and let me tell you, the surprises just kept on coming.

     So in honor of Cesarian Awareness Month, I would like to make the other pregos out there aware of what may be in their future as well... be it a part of the original birth plan or not.

     I guess the first thing that surprised me about having a c-section was that it was suggested at all. Even though my body was not progressing fast enough, it was progressing. At the time that my doctor wanted me to start pushing I was only 9 centimeters dilated. We waited another hour after to see if I made any more progress but I didn't, so he recommended a c-section. At the time, I was exhausted and just ready to be done with this whole situation, but looking back, I believe that if I had been allowed to wait longer I would have been able to avoid a c-section. I'm not a doctor, but I deal with insurance companies everyday and I know how the game works. Time is a factor. Money is a factor. Archer's heart rate was perfect and he was in no distress; I think we were just rushed along. But honestly, by that point I didn't even care. I just wanted to hold my baby.

     My next surprise and event that I wish I had known to expect and mentally prepare for is that your arms and legs are tied down during a cesarean section. This was unwelcome news to me because I am a tad claustrophobic and not being able to move my arms and legs taps into that anxiety and threw me into a full on panic attack in the operating room. I actually cried and forced them to loosen my arms for just long enough for me to regain my composure before allowing nurses to tighten them again. Had I known to expect this practice, I would have prepared myself prior and been fine. Well, at the very least not a raving lunatic.

     They actually do this to keep patients from putting their hands into the surgical site during the procedure which sounded insane to me until my medicine ran out while I was being closed up and I was actually grateful that I was tied down because I would one hundred percent have tried to leap off of the table and away from them had I not been restrained. I wouldn't have been able to stop myself. My guts would have been all over that floor. So I get why they do it. I just wish I had known to expect it ahead of time.

     I was also surprised that when you throw up in the operating room, which I did because I literally threw up in EVERY room that they put me in while having my baby, they don't untie you. This gives the sensation that you are going to choke on your own vomit since you are laying on your back and is exceedingly unsettling.

     The actual procedure was very similar to what I had seen on television and in movies. They put up a large sheet to block your view completely and honestly, while my medicine was working I had absolutely zero pain. In fact, I was so exhausted that I nearly fell asleep until I heard the sweet cry of my little one from behind the curtain. It was the most beautiful sound that I have ever heard in my entire life.

     After a cesarean birth, the father usually will not be asked to cut the cord, which is something that I didn't know until I lived it. You will get to see your baby right away, but you won't get to hold him for a while. My hospital was wonderful. They did allow my son and I to have skin to skin contact immediately after birth, which was very important to me and they did allow him to try nursing, but both of these things were done with a nurse holding him. For me, missing out on that time right after his birth was the worst part. You want that reward of getting to hold and snuggle and bond with your baby as soon as he is born and it feels very lonely in recovery afterward when it is just you by yourself, no husband or baby in sight. I ended up being in recovery for two hours. I will say though, it didn't feel like two hours because I fell asleep for the majority of that time.

     I was shocked at how quickly I was able to move around after surgery. The hospital will have you up and walking around your hospital room by later that same day. While just the thought of this will be terrifying, I promise you that it does not feel as bad as it sounds and the sooner you stand up straight and walk around, the faster that you will start to feel much better.

     I was also amazed by the process of going to the bathroom afterward. I had assumed that by having a c-section I would at least get to avoid that whole process. Well, it turns out that skipping a vaginal delivery does not mean that you get to skip any of the maintenance after having your baby. You are going to continue to bleed for a long, long time and you are going to get to spray bottle your bits and pieces just like the lady next to you who had a vaginal delivery. So consider yourself warned.

     Word to the wise: Take as many of the mesh panties as you can get your puffy little hands on. Just the thought of real underwear over your incision is going to make you cringe for a long, long time. Hoard that shit. You will be glad you did.

     I was shocked by how swollen my feet and ankles became in the days after I returned home from the hospital. This is a normal reaction. Just wearing flip flops and walking hurt. Try to elevate your feet as often as possible, especially when you are sleeping at night. This helps a lot.

     You are going to be very constipated for a long time after your c-section and you are going to have more people interested in what is going in and what is coming out of your body than ever before in your life. They will give you worksheets to fill out regarding your intake and your um... output that a nurse will collect every night. They will want you to measure it and identify the color of it and every other aspect of it that you could ever imagine. It will feel ridiculous, but make sure that you do it. They are trying to make sure that everything is still functioning properly in there and the last thing you want is to end up with a newborn and a serious complication all at once. Just do your worksheet and be glad for the attention. You're a mom now. This is probably the last time it is going to be all about you for a long, long time.

     You are going to be told that you can't drive for six weeks after your c-section and you are going to scoff. Listen to them. You will be amazed by how difficult even riding in a car is after surgery. Until I left the hospital, I never realized how much a person actually uses their abdominal muscles in a day. Everything becomes incredibly difficult. Especially getting up from a laying down position, which you will need to do constantly with a new baby. A step stool by the bed is incredibly helpful in these early days.

     I remember the first night that we had Archer home and he was sleeping in his crib while Jim and I were asleep in our bed a room away. The baby monitor crackled to life with Archer's tiny cries and I struggled to sit up while Jim jumped up with terror in his eyes next to me. “What can I do?” he asked, with an expression that would have been more suitable if the house was on fire. “Just help me up” I said. With that he grabbed my arm and flung me up and out of the bed. I kid you not, I looked like one of the improperly buckled babies in the car seat video they make you watch before leaving the hospital. I don't think my feet touched the ground. It was terrifying, but effective. I was up and running. Moral of the story, prepare your partner ahead of time for what help you will need. A gentle help up from bed will be necessary often since you will be physically unable to sit up on your own.

     Healing from a c-section isn't easy. I ended up with a small infection two weeks after giving birth that slowed things down a bit, but we got through it. I think that is the most important thing to remember. You will not feel “normal' for a while, but you do get through it.

     I am currently 9 months post c-section and I am still surprised by things. Currently, my incision is still numb yet it itches from time to time, which are an odd set of sensations to combine. I still get pain at my incision site, but it is mild and fleeting and from what I read, completely normal. You will have a scar, but you may not mind it as much as you expect. It is very low and most underwear and bathing suit bottoms completely cover it. Only now can I finally suck in my gut again. This is a skill I welcome back into my repertoire with open arms.

     There is a great deal of discussion surrounding cesarean births. If they are overused, probably. If they are actually a “real” birth, of course they are. But I am less concerned about that and more interested in informing other ladies out there on what to expect. I know that I would have had an easier time had I known what was in store for me and Lord knows mama's deserve anything that can make our day even a little bit easier.

“When are you...?”

     “When are you going to get married?” This question. My most hated question to date when I found myself in my late twenties, in a committed and happy, yet ringless relationship. I answered this question on average once a week for at least 4 years of my life. Why do people ask this question? What are they looking for? It's an extremely personal question, if you think about it. It's a loaded question. There are a million different answers to this question, very few of which are happy and positive. “We don't believe in marriage.” “Half of all marriages end in divorce; we just don't like those odds.” “We don't love each other enough.” “We can't afford a wedding.” What are they looking for when they ask this awful question? I never did come up with a good answer. The real answer would have made people too uncomfortable and would have made me feel too pathetic. “I want to get married more than anything in this world. I found the man that I love with all of my heart who I want to be married to but he doesn't want to marry me... yet.” Yet. That word. My most hated of all words. It's the word that dangles your future out in front of you like a tease. You know you want me. But you can't have me... yet. Unlike myself, my husband hadn't had the good fortune of seeing many happy marriages in his life and for him, love just didn't require paperwork. Marriage just wasn't something that he associated with happiness. I, on the other hand knew what a beautiful thing a happy marriage could be and couldn't wait to call him my husband.

     I guess looking back, it was a fair question on which to speculate. My then boyfriend and I had been together for 5 years, living together for 3. We were very happy. We owned a home. We had good jobs. That's the next step, right? Why weren't we married? It felt like an intrusive question with no acceptable answer and all the while I was attending wedding shower after wedding shower for friends wondering when it was going to be my turn. I myself asked my boyfriend this same question a million times over. Sometimes nicely, other times less so. I got various different crappy answers, but after 5 years, countless tears and an ultimatum (with an extra month tagged on for good measure) I did get a ring.

     And it was a beautiful ring and a year later we had a beautiful wedding. It was a brisk day in early November and in the back of my mind I relished in the fact that I would never have to answer that horrible question ever again. I breathed a well earned sigh of relief and settled down to live happily ever after. We lived in wedded bliss for 6 months before the masses decided we were resting on our laurels. “When are you having kids?” The questions started yet again.

     At first this question was simply a mild irritant. If you think about it, it's an extremely personal question. Again, I'm not sure what answer people are looking for when they ask. Do they want to hear that we don't like kids, or that we want them more than anything on Earth but can't have them? Do they think that we don't know that kids are an option in life? What? We would laugh politely and simply state that we weren't ready... yet. And to be honest, at that point in time early in our marriage that was the truth. We were newly married and figured we would just be husband and wife for a minute before expanding our little circle.

     But the questions persisted. “When are you guys having kids?” Again I was faced with a frequently lobbed question with no acceptable answer. And this one was worse. Once we had been trying for a while with no luck and began to consider the reality that we may really never achieve a family of our own, the pain behind this question became excruciating. To this day I will never ask anyone this question. To start, it's none of my business but more than that, I know the pain that this seemingly innocent question can inflict and I would never want to cause another human being that kind of hurt. I assume that people who ask this question had their kids very easily and must assume that if you don't have kids it must be by choice. Which by the way, would still not be any of their business.

     Again, I found myself at a loss for the right answer. I hated to tell the truth. “We would love to have kids and we have been trying for a while but it just isn't happening” because inevitably what followed was awful, often rude advice that I had not requested. I ended up learning to just give the answer that was the safest, “Someday,” to which most people would kindly remind me that I was not getting any younger and each time I would die a little inside.

     I remember one morning in particular. I was selling old junk at the flea market. I love the whole process of yard sales and flea markets. I love getting rid of old clutter and turning it into new, cold, hard cash. Well, paper cash. I usually go with my mother but on this day my husband came with me instead. We were selling our crap, making some money and a man with a beautiful little girl in a stroller came up to our table. She was absolutely adorable and as always, looking into her bright blue eyes tucked behind perfectly chubby cheeks made my heart sting a little. What I would give for a perfect little baby of my own. The man browsed our table, picking up an item then laying it back down. Even through our sunglasses he noticed both myself and my husband admiring his little one, and he smiled proudly. “Do you guys have kids?” he asked. “No,” we both shook our heads.

 

     “Someday,” I said in my standard, knee jerk answer. “Well don't wait,” he said. “It's the best thing I have ever done in my life.” And with that he walked away. I felt that familiar heaviness in my chest. That feeling like a hand has reached up into your ribcage and is squeezing and twisting your heart with all of it's might. I looked up at Jim and was taken aback. His expression said it all. While I was used to this type of surprise attack, he was completely blindsided. People ask men the kid question, but I get the distinct feeling that it is fewer and farther in between. He hadn't seen this one coming. “Really?!” he said in disbelief. “Welcome to my world,” I said, getting back to straightening my table. I felt the all too familiar burn of tears wrap around my eyes and was grateful in that moment for my sunglasses. Then, like so many other times I pulled my broken self back together and continued on with my day. Readying myself for the next blow, which I had come to expect as a normal part of my life. People can be unintentionally cruel. But that is the trick. To remember that it's unintentional. They don't know your struggle and even if they did they would have no clue what to say to make it better. There is nothing to say.

     I often get asked if I think that Jim and I will have more kids. My standard answer now is the most honest that I have ever given. “I would love to have as many kids as we are blessed with.” Most people now know that we struggled to have our first and seem satisfied with this answer. We are married with a child. The masses are happy. Nothing left to do now but die. I don't mind the question anywhere as much as I used to. I guess because Archer's birth healed so much of my pain. Holding him, I feel only gratitude. If I never experience having another baby I'm still the happiest woman alive.

     I know that this blog has caused some people to feel like they have nothing left to say in conversation. Anything can be hurtful, regardless of the intention of the sentiment. What can you say when you are just trying to make small-talk? What's left to converse about? The truth is, you can't live like that. You can ask people about work and learn that they just lost their job. You can ask people about their spouse and find out that they recently separated. That's life. It is what it is. I guess my goal in sharing my experiences is not to scare you about asking anyone any question, it's just to remind you that their answer may not be what you expected and in those moments it is important not to pry, or offer advice or try to fix their problem. All you really need to do it listen. If possible, validate what they are feeling. If people feel able to give more honest answers, then the questions don't sting quite as much.

     My goal is to inspire you to think about how your questions are worded and maybe consider the replies that you offer back when you do get an answer that indicates some struggle in that area of their lives. Maybe people don't need you to remind them that time is ticking, or that they will regret missing certain milestones in their life because odds are, they already know. If someone doesn't have kids, then they don't have kids. Maybe it isn't your business why. You may be curious, but it may be a subject that is deeply painful for them. Maybe your curiosity doesn't trump their pain in that moment. I don't want people to stop having conversations, but those conversations can be greatly improved with just a small dose of empathy. In the end, the goal should always be to leave someone feeling better than when you found them. Questions can be the gateway to that, if you are actually willing to listen and offer comfort in exchange for the answers.

Putting Baby in a Corner... Office

     I love my job. I love my job more than most people love their hobbies. I have absolutely found my niche in life. The only thing I love more than my job is my family and being a mommy to my sweet little boy. In theory, combining these two parts of my life should be heaven on Earth, right?

     Working outside of the home is hard, working within the home is often harder. But for me personally, the hardest days are the ones when I combine both of these endeavors. The days when I decide that I really want to play hell and really half ass both of the things that I love the most in life. While always the result of an either ill or otherwise occupied grandmother, I never take babysitterless days and choose the more logical decision of just canceling my sessions for the day. Instead, I always decide that a take your baby to work day is more appropriate for whatever reason. Actually, the reason is a paycheck and the fact that if I cancel, my client's are set back about three weeks for the next available appointment. These days are few and far between and I absolutely cherish the fact that I have a wonderful boss who will allow this practice. But that being said, it is a long freaking day!

     Don't get me wrong, I adore the days that I get to have my little intern by my side. But heaven... That may be a stretch. The fact is, babies are unpredictable and even though I have been blessed with a very, very good baby, he is like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. He will not be ignored.

     On paper, the idea looks great. I keep my schedule as it always is, except that my pumping breaks become nursing breaks and time for Archer and I to just relax a little and play in between sessions. When I know that my son will be in tow, I always contact my clients in the morning to let them know. That way they can choose to reschedule if they like. I also cancel any intake appointments that I have scheduled, due to not wanting a new client's first impression of me to be me sitting on the floor changing a poopy diaper. In addition, I cancel any clients who may be bothered by having a baby present, like clients who have lost children and any EMDR sessions that I had scheduled due to the nature of that particular technique. To this day, when I learn that I am without a babysitter I get an equal mix of excitement at the prospect of having my little guy with me all day and terror at the prospect of having my little guy with me all day. It is the proverbial mixed bag.

     In the early days before Archer was mobile, I used come to work equipped with a super plush blanket and some toys to lay out on the floor of my office for our off hours to relax. Now that my boy is rarely satisfied to sit in one place for too long, the Pack n Play has become my favorite coworker. On nice days when we get a break, we get out the stroller and walk around downtown for some fresh air and a break from the same four walls. Last time we made an exciting trip to CVS for more tissues and made a stop across the street to my dentist's office to schedule a cleaning. I thank God that Archer is still too young to realize how lame these outings are. I must admit though, for me, I will shamelessly take any chance to show off my little guy. I glow walking down the street with him.

     I have had situations, like when my sister was having her second baby when I knew that Archer would be coming to work with me ahead of time. This is not always the case, however. On most occasions I discover that I am going to have an intern when I am just about to walk out of the house. One hundred percent, knowing ahead of time is better.

     Work attire is a big consideration on days when Archer accompanies me to work. No earrings or other jewelry will survive the day, nor will skirts or tops with flimsy necklines. Archer is now old enough to have a general idea of where I keep my boobies and he isn't shy about asking for them and by asking I really mean pawing relentlessly at my shirt. On the flip side, I do need to have access to them to feed him in between sessions, so that is another consideration when getting ready.

     I remember the first time I began planning for a day at the office with my son. “Ooooo! I won't have to carry my breast pump that day!” I thought with excitement. Yeah, while there is no need for my breast pump when Archer is with me, instead I get to carry about four times as much crap and on top of that stuff, a wiggly human. Quickly I longed for my sleek little breast pump bag again.

     I have learned a few lessons over my time bringing my son to work. One tip that I can offer to other mothers considering this option, is to take a change of clothes. Obviously for the baby, but for you as well. It's an easy tip to blow off. It's a huge pain in the ass to pack additional clothes to carry. But you will thank me.

     On the first day that I brought Archer to work with me I was sitting in a session with a young guy in his twenties who had no experience with babies at all. We were discussing his recent losses, which were significant and had led to the symptoms that resulted in him seeking treatment. With the very serious tone of the session, I was proud that Archer was sitting quietly on my lap, playing with a cardboard book. I watched as my client's eyes began to tear up discussing the death of a close friend. His pain was palpable in the room. I held my breath as my heart just broke for him. And then, with timing precise enough to work for NASA, my son let loose an epic toot that sounded like it could have come from a grown man and this was not a quick toot. This thing lingered. It just went on and on and on. My client was very kind and only laughed politely before continuing with his narrative. I was mortified, but regrouped. Hoping that that was the worst of it. A few minutes later the smell wafted up to my nostrils and I took a quick glance down at my love, still playing quietly on my lap. My eyes grew wide with horror as I saw it. The enormous, yellow seeping ring of poop that covered my son's back and the entire front of my own white tunic. My poor client sat talking and I didn't have the heart or the nerve to interrupt him. Nor did I even know what the hell to do. So there we sat, my poop monster and me, wallowing in the feces explosion that would mark his first official work day. When my client rose to leave that day, I held Archer in front of the spot on my shirt and escorted him out, telling my next client that I needed just a minute before bringing them back. I finished my workday in a tank top that still smelled of poo while my tunic sat soaking in the bathroom sink. If you take nothing else away from this post please remember this: Bring extra clothes for baby and mommy... Always. If nothing else, at least don't wear white.

     That was the worst of our incidents, however. Usually it is just a bit of an oddity having an infant in therapy sessions. I try to make eye contact and look professional as best as I can as a small human is jumping wildly on my lap, twirling, talking and blowing raspberries in my face. Archer is well into his hair pulling stage. It is a bit of a challenge to focus and convey concern while a little man is pulling on a huge chunk of your hair with all of his might. My son is a huge flirt. It's the Italian in him. He tends to sit and just smile at the ladies in my office. He charms them all with the twinkle in his eye. I write my notes during his naps and send faxes and make copies like I do everything else in my mommy life... With one hand.

     My clients have all been incredibly patient and welcoming even when my son, just discovering is voice box went through a phase where he would smile brightly and scream at the very top of his lungs for no reason. I have conducted numerous sessions while standing when Archer prefers it and even had one session where a very sweet client who has raised two kids of his own offered to bounce my son while standing just for nostalgia’s sake. Archer adored him. I considered just paying him to stick around with me all day and console my child.

     On days when I sit at my office and he isn't here I long for the exhausting days when he is, when I only have to look as far as my lap to see my little buddy, working right alongside me. My copilot navigating my day with me.

     To say that it is exhausting is like saying that raw cookie dough is “good.” It isn't good. It is like kissing the feet of God himself. I'm not exhausted after a day at work with my son. I am a mere shell of the woman I once was. I am a scattered, mentally blank, physically disheveled walking zombie. I practically forget my own name. I often wonder how long I will be able to continue bringing Archer to work with me. I usually say that it will need to stop when he starts talking well and repeating, but a few days ago I had a mother bring a twenty-one month old in during her session. After that hour I am sure that I will stop before twenty-one months...

     I feel very fortunate though, to be a mother at this time in history. We as women have so many options. We can work within the home, work outside of the home or any combination of both or neither. While none of these choices are easy they are still choices and that is such a blessing in and of itself. As women we really do have the option of having everything. The hard part is just deciding what “everything” is going to look like for you. For me it often looks like a yellow ring of poop on my crisp, white tunic soaking in my work bathroom. And I love that.

#theotherdaywhileiwaspumping

     So many parts of trying to conceive are difficult. Trying not to fixate is difficult, the advice of others is difficult, forcing yourself to be excited for other people is difficult, figuring out what is wrong with you is difficult. But for me, as time passed, what I found to be the most difficult part was simply remaining hopeful. I kept up the motions of charting and temping and trying, but in my mind I struggled to keep the belief alive that someday I would actually get to see that magical pink line on a home pregnancy test. It felt like seeing a unicorn. I would imagine it, but it never seemed like a real possibility. I just couldn't picture it anymore after a while. It ceased feeling like a real option for my life.

     At times where I felt my hope slipping away I would search for stories online that I could relate to. As month after month of my own struggle ticked by, I frequently found myself searching phrases like, “success after two plus years TTC” praying that I would find something, anything to give me hope and the strength to keep trying. Stories of other women, around my age, who became pregnant without the help of expensive fertility treatments that I couldn't afford. It was slim pickings... But there were stories out there and the amount of hope that those personal accounts gave to me was immeasurable. Even when I found myself reading the same ones over and over again it gave me a reason to believe, to keep trying, to get up again tomorrow and take my temperature and start a new cycle's chart for the 30^th month in a row.

     I was someone who looked online for much of my support and I was often left disheartened by the lack of success stories out there. People tend to post until they get pregnant, but then they just disappear. I assume that they want to put the pain of infertility behind them and move on to the next adventure in their lives, but it can be difficult to be the one left behind. You never hear about what worked for them or see the long awaited happy ending for the people that you have been rooting for. In a weird way, you almost lose the hope that their success stories could have offered to you. Instead they just sort of vanish. You don't know if they are a happy mother out there somewhere or if they just gave up.

     When you are living with infertility, all you see are pregnant bellies and happy babies around you. You don't realize how many of those same families also struggled to be. Since starting this blog, I have been overwhelmed by the number of people who have shared their own stories with me and I am absolutely honored to hear about their journeys. It brings me so much joy to see the faces of their children and to know how very much they were wanted and loved before they even existed. This brings me to an exciting new feature that I have added to my blog.

     In the spirit of inspiring hope and celebrating these special little people, I have added an Instagram feed to my homepage. I encourage anyone who would like to share, to add a picture of their little one, with a caption stating how long you TTC using the hashtag, #theotherdaywhileiwaspumping. The photo will then appear both on my Instagram page as well as directly on my blog.  Share as much or as little of your journey as you like.  All methods of fertility treatments or approaches are welcome.    

     I do respectfully ask that only people who have dealt with infertility or miscarriage share their photos, however. This is not meant to exclude anyone, but is simply due to the nature of the feed. It is my hope that anyone who is currently struggling to conceive and is having a bad day can look at those images and see that success stories do happen every single day. As wonderful as a surprise baby is, or a baby conceived on a first try, it is not super comforting to someone who is struggling. Our goal is to show that after darkness comes the light and after infertility comes lots and lots of baby dust!

Just Me and my Little Nursling

     My son turned nine months old today. We spent our morning trying to get the perfect, pin-worthy picture of my baby boy while he rolled around, screamed and ate his 9 months number, which is fashioned to look like a little businessman's tie. I love this tradition but I won't miss it one bit. It's funny, the things that as a mom you absolutely adore but will be glad to put behind you when the time is right. As Archer and I approached his nine month birthday, I have also found myself anticipating another milestone in our near future. Weaning.

     My goals for nursing have always been dynamic. I never wanted to pressure myself and to be honest, I never thought that I would actually get to breastfeed at all. My body just didn't cooperate that much with the rest of motherhood. It's no secret that I struggled getting pregnant and once I got Archer in there finally, he didn't want to come out. It turns out, I'm not that great at either end of the whole pregnancy thing, conception or birth. So, I fully expected that breastfeeding was likely going to be a total shit show too. And while it was far from easy in the beginning, it was actually a practice that Archer and I thrived at relatively early on, much to my surprise.

     I never beat myself up on the rough days, though. While I was well versed in the countless benefits of breastfeeding and absolutely wanted to do so, I was a formula baby myself, or at least what passed for formula in the early eighties and I think I turned out just fine so I always left my options open. My overall goal was to breastfeed while home and pump while at work for a year, but in the early days I set smaller goals to get through. My first goal was six weeks since that is when most of the websites said it would start getting easier. I at least wanted to get to that point and see if it did actually get better. It did. So my next goal was three months, then six months. I hit both of those with only mild bumps in the road so I said I would nurse until Archer got teeth. He now has six beautiful pearly whites and while I admit that I do get bit every now and again and every time he gets me good I threaten to wean him, we are still going strong today.

     If nothing else, it has been interesting. I'm not sure if this is common or not, but around eight months old we moved into the acrobatics stage of nursing. This is a very exciting stage because between the biting and the cartwheels you never know what's coming next. It's like a very unnerving circus. He gets tired and I assume it is his little body trying to use up his last little bit of energy but he kicks and twirls and spins and takes my boob right along with him. It is as comfortable as it sounds. A few nights ago I ended up on my back with him standing, bent at the waist nursing while shaped like a stocky little L. He actually fell asleep like that and I let him because I was just too exhausted to care.

     So much of nursing is hilarious and those parts I will miss. A few weeks ago after installing Archer's new car seat, I attempted to nurse him in the back seat of my car for some privacy. I didn't realize until we were in there how little space we had with the new, bigger seat. I keep a towel with me because as all nursing mothers can attest, when your milk comes in it is a bit like a sprinkler; in all directions, spouting by itself. As always, some tiny noise distracted Archer right as my milk was coming in and he turned to look as milk began spraying everywhere. Now usually, this is when I am ready with the towel to cover the spray and protect us both. Well, with our new, huge car seat my towel was trapped with my right arm which was completely immobile. We both got hit but poor Archer took the brunt of it. He looked like a trashy chick in an eighties rock video. We were a mess. We were at the mercy of the boob and just had to wait it out. On a side note when we did finally finish that feeding and I lifted him off of my lap to exit the car I discovered that we had also been blessed with a poop explosion. So, you know, yay for motherhood!

     It's times like those when you find yourself looking forward to weaning, just as you do when your milk comes in when no baby is even attached to you and you are just sitting in public minding your own damn business. You feel that familiar sting, followed immediately by a sinking feeling in your gut and a damp feeling in your bra.  You find yourself counting the months. At these times I look forward to having my body and my personal space back. To not needing to know every private area of every public space in town in case my buddy gets hungry for a snack. To not looking around in paranoia in public that a client or other acquaintance may walk upon me with my boob hanging out. I look forward to not worrying about my supply and freezing my milk every night after work. I long for the days when I won't worry and fixate on the possibility that the freezer could break causing me to lose my whole back-up supply. (Every pumping mother's private hell-scape nightmare.) I am excited to wear one piece dresses again and clothing that makes my boobs inaccessible. I pray that we may even get longer stretches of sleep at night as well. These are the things that I look forward to, the bright spots of the months ahead. But if I'm being completely honest, I am already seriously grieving the end of our mommy Archer nursing adventure.

     Now, I know that a lot of people will be quick to tell me that I don't have to stop. There are a lot of very compelling reasons to continue breastfeeding for longer than a year and I am very supportive of any mother who chooses to do so. But for Archer and I, our journey is winding down. Not only do I feel that we are both emotionally ready but financially it is time as well.

     Here is a quick therapy accounting 101 lesson for anyone who ever looked at their insurance explanation of benefits and wondered why their therapist makes so much money for “just talking for an hour.” The reason is this, unless a client is sitting there looking at you, considered face to face time, then you are not getting paid. This makes sense until you consider how much work we do that is not face to face. Any telephone calls that we make for you are unpaid. Any paperwork or notes that we do are unpaid. Any forms that you need completed, faxes that you need sent or conflicts that need worked out with your insurance company or employer are made on unpaid time. We don't get benefits, nor paid time off of any kind. We don't get paid holidays, sick time or vacations.  If you schedule an appointment and cancel or just don't show up, then I sit in my office alone for free for that hour. I'm still working, but I'm not getting paid anything. So, in order to compensate for that, we do make a decent wage per hour depending on the insurance and while it is awesome to be able to pump and make my own schedule to accommodate that, it is a pricy perk. I save money on formula, but I lose much more in income. To pump twice per day, four days per week, I lose the equivalent of a full work day's pay every week. So, financially it is time for us to move on. It will also be nice to have eight additional appointment slots to fill per week since I am currently scheduling about three weeks out for sessions. I am pretty sure my clients are ready for the transition as well.

     So, my plan is to proceed as usual until my nursling's first birthday, then to slowly wean us both from the practice, cutting down on feedings and only pumping once per day at work until my milk supply dries up enough to stop completely without too much discomfort. The remaining milk he can have in his sippy cup while we read a bedtime story together at night.

     I have been researching how to wean and just as I was intimidated by nursing in the beginning, weaning absolutely scares the hell out of me. I realized with horror the other day that I don't even know how much my child actually eats in a day. One good look at those thighs and you know not to worry, but that doesn't help much when trying to figure out his actual daily intake. I have no clue how much food to take with me on outings, or how to tell if he is actually hungry or just looking to cuddle. I worry about him getting enough vitamins everyday and the loss of the amazing illness fighting powers of breast milk. But we will figure it out together, my buddy and I just like we did in the early days of nursing. We are a team.

     I will miss the convenience of being able to leave the house for the entire day taking nothing other than a few diapers, wipes and my boobies, which I might add are incredibly easy to carry. I will miss not having to worry at all about food regardless of how long we are away from home. I will miss the ease of night nursing and having those little hands looking for me in the dark.

     But more than anything I will miss those moments when I return from a long day at the office and I pick up my little man and hold him in my arms and within a few seconds of nursing feel his whole body relax while mine does the same. He looks up at me with those big blue eyes and we reconnect in a way that I cannot explain and it's like we never even left each others side. He gives me a small smile and I caress his head and cheek and all of my stress from the day is just instantly wiped away.

     Babies nurse for a lot of reasons. Obviously, they nurse when they are hungry and thirsty but they also nurse when they are scared or in pain or lonely or tired or even when they just miss you and crave that connection with you. That, I believe is the part that I will miss the very most. That special little thing that only he and I share. Those challenging times early on, struggling at three o'clock in the morning, when the rest of the house was silent, praying that this whole breastfeeding thing would get easier. It was just us. When we are at a bustling party but we share a quiet moment alone off to the side, it's just us. The peaceful little center of my universe with this little person who is my absolute reason for living. Just us, in our moment, doing something that only we share together. I will cherish those flashes of time for as long as I live and breathe.

     As we near the end of this adventure, I know that it will be replaced by many more. We have a lot of exciting times and quiet moments in our combined futures together. But it is these moments, when he was small enough to fit in my arms and share something so special, that will remain the sweetest in my mind. So with a mix of both joy and sadness in my heart we move forward to tackle the next milestone and conquer the next obstacle together. Me and my little nursling.

An Open Letter to the Newborn Mommy

Dear Newborn mommy,
 

     The first breath that your new little one takes into his lungs will be his first on this Earth. He is a newborn. A newborn to this world and for the next few months absolutely everything around him is brand spanking new. Life as he knew it in your safe, warm womb will never again be the same. He will experience discomfort, cold, fear and lonesomeness for the first time. He will experience hugs, kisses, funny faces and love as well. It will be a whole new existence for him.

     The first breath that you take after giving birth is also your first. It's your first as a mommy. You are yourself a newborn of your own kind. You are a newborn mama and your whole world has changed in a flash in ways that you could never have imagined as well.

     Forevermore, the volume on the rest of the world will be permanently turned down. Your heart is now existing outside of your body and that precious little person will be the center of your universe. Things that used to be super important are now just a soft little whisper in your mind and things that used to just matter now barely even exist.

     You are going to be terrified. But that's okay. As a matter of fact, you are going to be a lot of things and they are all okay. Whatever you are feeling. It's okay. You are sharing that feeling with a million other new mothers around the world. You may not feel bonded to your baby immediately. That's okay. You may feel so tired at times that you rethink this whole mommy gig. That's okay. You may simultaneously feel at once completely alone and like you will never get another moment of privacy as long as you live. That's okay too.

     You will look at your current life situation and think, “What have I done?” I had that thought more than once and that is after trying really, really hard for a very long time to get pregnant. This was no accident. I learned what to expect, I prepared and I still had that thought at times and that's okay.

     You will be amazed at the things that come out of your body after giving birth. You are going to feel like you will never be normal ever again and to be honest, you won't be yourself again for a while. But one day, you will look in the mirror and say, “Hey, there you are” and you will be back, albeit a little saggier for the trip. But there nonetheless.

     You are going to laugh harder than you ever thought possible. You are going to cry more than you ever expected. Both are okay.

     You are going to forget what your old life as a childless person was like sooner than you expect, other than the naps. You will remember and long for those forever.

     You are going to feel like a walking sideshow everyday and you are going to look around at the other mother's around and think that they look like a Gap catalog. Believe me, everyone is living their own personal circus. Some just have better costumes than others. Every mother you see is feeling exactly the same way. Everyone is hoping that no one else notices what a freaking mess they are.

     You will be amazed at the things that you frowned upon other mommies doing before you had kids of your own, that are now a regular part of your daily routine. My child co-sleeps, has no set bedtime, crawls on floors everywhere and puts my filthy cell phone in his mouth. He and I battle and these are the battles that in less than 9 months he has won. I'm certain that I will be waving my surrender flag many more times in the future as well and I'm okay with that. You should be too. I once saw a picture of a baby laying on the floor of a mini mart while the mother stood over her fumbling with her things at the checkout counter. While I would never actually accept this practice as my own, I completely get it. I can't tell you how many times that thought has crossed my mind when I needed two hands to complete a task in public. Wouldn't ever do it... But I totally get where her mind was.

     If you are planning to breastfeed, you are going to get to the point, especially early on where you dread the next feeding. Your boobs are going to feel like they are ready to explode and your nipples will feel like they are being sliced with razors. I felt anxiety going to bed in the early days because I knew the pain that was headed my way. The only way that I got through those first six weeks (the websites are right, those are absolutely the hardest) was looking up blogs by women who assured me that at some point it does, in fact get easier. It does.  And you will get there too.

     Your first thought when picking out an outfit to wear will not be the style or the fit to your body anymore, but the ease with which you can get to your boob. You will begin to classify clothes that have “just a little bit of breast milk” on them as “still clean.”

     If you don't choose to breastfeed, then that's okay too. Because the only thing that can make being a new mommy harder is pressure. Pressure from family, pressure from husbands, pressure from yourself. If you start a practice and realize that it's not for you for whatever reason, then stop. That's okay too. We live in a time of options. Use whatever option you need to maintain your sanity.

     Newborn mommy, you are going to learn to do EVERYTHING with one hand. You are going to be amazed at how adaptable you actually are.

     You will leave the house satisfied that you have only one small, barely noticeable spot of human bodily fluid on you. You will be amazed how many human bodily fluids you can have on you before you will consider changing your outfit.

     You are going to poop and pee when it is convenient rather than when nature calls. Nature is going to get pissed at you for ignoring so many of her calls. The majority of your conversations will now contain the words “poop” and “pee” and detailed descriptions of each.

     You are going to forget to eat. You are going to forget to brush your teeth. You will find yourself up at hours that you haven't seen since your college drinking days. These evenings will include the same amount of vomit, but significantly less alcohol.

     Your plans of organization and schedules are going to fall by the wayside much faster than you expected and much sooner than you are willing to admit to others. You are going to feel like you are failing much of the time. Know that you are not. Know that it's okay to feel that way.

     You are going to be the busiest that you have ever been in your life, yet accomplish less than you ever have. You will proudly review your day, patting yourself on the back for getting both yourself and your baby dressed and the laundry folded and put away today. Doesn't sound like much, but when you are doing it with one hand and a boob out for the better part of the day it is an absolutely brilliant accomplishment.

     You will be amazed at how long you can go without washing your hair. You will be surprised how little you care that your hair is filthy.

     You will find the alphabet song is stuck in your head while little else will stick in there. You will learn to shop for your entire grocery list for the week in the twenty minutes that you have between meltdowns.  These meltdowns include both the baby's and your own.  You will feel guilty a lot.

     All of these things sound negative newborn mommy, but I can't stress enough that they are not. They are all just a part of your own rebirth into a new, better version of yourself. Navigating this foreign land for the very first time will be difficult but not impossible. This new version of you is superior in every way. She is less selfish, more mature and nurturing and better at prioritizing than she has ever been before in her life. She is at once protector and teacher, cheerleader and comforter. She is and will always be the soft spot for her child to fall.

     Newborn mommy, you are going to be embarking on the most amazing adventure of your life, with more joy than you thought that your heart could contain. You are going to experience love like you have never known before and belly laughter that will melt your heart. You will experience highs to the heavens and lows that are lower than you ever thought you could fall, but during all of these times, know that you are never alone and that whatever you are feeling today, is okay.

                                                                                            
 Sincerely,

 The mommies who have come before you

When your hormones start to fly out of your mouth...

     There are a million small details of pregnancy that you don't learn about until you are there. The agonizing heartburn, the discovery that you will never again remember what you are doing five minutes into doing it, the fact that your boobs are going to be at their most fabulous at a time when it hurts to even look at them and oh, the bodily fluids... A lot of interesting things.

     But for me, the most surprising change that I experienced while pregnant was the physical inability to keep bitchy comments from falling out of my mouth. The condition was practically diagnosable. We lovingly refer to this change in personality as “Pregnancy Tourette's” in my family. This was not meant to be offensive to anyone who has actual Tourette's, but merely as a descriptive term referring to the complete loss of control over one's verbalization while with child.

     This was a symptom of pregnancy that took me down hard. To be honest, I have always been a person who speaks my mind. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you will have no doubt about how I feel about you. I'm a terrible liar and I can't act worth shit so whether I want you to know or not, it's usually pretty easy to tell what I am thinking, if not from my words, at the very least from my facial expressions. I am fortunate that I genuinely like so many people in my life or I imagine I would be a very lonely girl.

     But during pregnancy, it was as though my baby absorbed every small bit of filter that I had left. Like the ability to keep my big trap shut was somehow bonded to the calcium that he was sucking up. I lost all control of any tact or self control that I once, even so sparingly had.

     I'm not sure how to describe the sensation of Pregnancy Tourette's to someone who has never experienced it. In my best effort... Most of the time it is like a drive by shooting. You don't even realize what happened until it is over and you are witnessing the chaos that is left in your wake. You see the shocked faces of those around you with their mouths gaping open and you think, “Oops.”

     Other times it is like the sensation when you need to vomit except without the nausea. You can feel something in there and you know that there is nothing you can do to stop it. You just think, “Yep, this is happening,” and just let the crazy, bitchy fall out of your mouth and onto the floor at your feet.

     The biggest difference is that after vomiting you feel compelled to clean it up. After pregnancy Tourette's you almost feel smug. Like, “Yeah. That felt good.” I rarely ever felt badly for anything I said while pregnant. That part I blame on the hormones. You get a bit arrogant when you are actively creating a human life. And rightly so, I say. That shits hard work.

     As the nine months passed, I watched as my responses to stupid questions and statements jumped the line between passive aggressive to aggressive aggressive and back again and I loved every minute of it. I noticed that my hormonal, verbal bitch slaps were mostly related to a general frustration and impatience with the world around me. It felt like everything that I needed to get done while pregnant took three times as long as it should have and this absolutely infuriated me. Little did I know what a time consuming shit show things become with an infant in tow. Now I wish things only took me three times as long. But I digress... If I needed to get something done and you were the one in my way or what I perceived to be in my way, look out. I was coming for you.

     I remember the day when I was about eight months pregnant, trying to get home from work. I have a very short commute but in true pregnancy fashion, I began to have to pee on the way there and when carrying a human on your bladder, the window between having to pee and peeing wherever you are is surprisingly small. But I needed gas so I swung in quickly to the gas station near my home to fill up.

     I pulled in behind a nice, restored old car and patiently waited while the male owner fumbled with his gas receipt, putting it into his wallet, then slowly sauntered around his car to leisurely get in. I hear, “Hey!” and I glanced over to see a younger man approaching the driver. “That's a beautiful car.” To my horror the driver gets back out of the car and begins to discuss what I assume are details of his stupid car.

     Before I know it I hear a shrill “Any day ladies, I'm waiting to get some gas here!” Only after both men turned to look at me did I realize that , yep, that was me. I yelled at those guys. But again, I have to admit, I felt good about the exchange as I pumped my gas, finally.

     Sometimes people are caught up in the wrong place, wrong time scenario. They are merely an innocent bystander victim of the pregnancy Tourette's. But most of the time in my experience they have it coming.

     I remember the day I struggled to get through the double doors of my office while a man only slight older than myself watched. He was standing near the elevator and observed with interest as I tried to get my enormous self, a work bag and a purse through the doors and into our lobby with great difficulty. With the small ding of the elevator door he was gone. Or so he thought. Our old elevators are slow and as I pushed the up button the doors opened, revealing this amazing specimen of modern gentlemanlyness like he was an exhibit at the pathetic human zoo. “Oh,” he said, clearly startled that I was now standing before him. “I didn't see you there.” With as obvious a roll of my eyes as my occipital orbit would physically allow I replied, “That's okay. I know I'm easy to miss. I'm only 400 pounds and wearing red, asshole.” With that I hit the seven and we rode in silence for the rest of our trip.

     I suspect that some of this phenomenon is just your body preparing you for being a protective mama bear. You need to be pretty assertive to be a mom. But I suspect that a bigger reason is the exhaustion. It got to the point where I began avoiding the people that I already didn't like because I knew it just wouldn't go well if I interacted with them. There was no prayer that it would be anything but ugly.

     In fairness however, people say really stupid things to pregnant women too. Whoever decided that it was okay to tell a woman how big she is getting just because she is carrying a child should be shot. I also loved the people who would remind me of my due date while I was two weeks late and as big as a semi truck. “No baby yet?” They would say. I know now that they meant nothing by it and were just making conversation but to a pregnant person carrying around what is the equivalent of a two week old person inside of their body, it is less than a cute observation. “Do I appear to be carrying an infant in my arms?” I would ask. “Nope then, I guess he's still in there.” I rolled my eyes so hard and so often during my pregnancy that I'm surprised I don't need glasses now.

     When you are pregnant, you are already nervous about this huge life changing event that is coming your way. It is always in the back of your mind that you are like a ticking time bomb, counting down the moments until a small, screaming tyrant takes over your life. You can't wait obviously and the excitement is palpable but it is still nerve wracking. The last thing you need are stupid comments or obstacles in the way of your daily life.

     When I see a pregnant woman I get the hell out of her way. The further along she is, the more space I give her. If she tells me to do something, it is all “yes ma'am,” “No ma'am” from me. She is building a person with nothing more than her own body and I am happy to stay out of her way. In the case that I do screw up and what ensues is a verbal thrashing from a glowing mother to be, I take it like a woman. She has earned the right to be testy and say what's on her mind. I applaud her for it and welcome her to the club. We have all been there. She is in very good company.

     And if you find yourself to be a pregnant person suffering from pregnancy Tourette's I encourage you to live it up. There are only a few times in one's life where you can get away with that kind of business so roll those eyes as far and as often as they will go and let the curse words fly. You've earned it.