I Want a Puppy

We spent Thanksgiving with my in laws who live in Murrieta. It’s a small suburban town. Everyone knows everyone. They all go to the same church and Starbucks. Tyler and I met, married, and lived in Murrieta. I worked at almost every single Starbucks in the area. So when we visit any location, there’s a 90% chance I will know one person either working or a customer. We decided to head out to a Starbucks where I worked for a few years for some coffee. I get there and of course I know people working and a few customers sitting in the lobby. We have a little small talk and the subject of having a second baby comes up:

“So when are you gonna have another one?”

Okay first, fuck off. Second, you’re assuming I want a second one. You didn’t ask if we wanted a second child. We live in fucking LA! It’s expensive as shit. A second child would be financially irresponsible for us right now. And more importantly, you don’t know someone’s situation. Asking “when are you gonna have another one?” is putting a lot of pressure on a couple. I struggle with postpartum anxiety. Just thinking about having a second child overwhelms me. My sister has two kids and she fucking kills it. She’s amazing but I couldn’t do it. Not like this. My anxiety got me fucked up! There are so many situations a couple may not want to have a second child right away or even at all. So instead of asking “When?”, ask how momma is doing. Or don’t ask anything. Give her a Starbucks gift card and walk away.

Then the conversation of having a second child turns into trying to convince my husband and I that we SHOULD have a second.

“But you HAVE to have a second one!”

I don’t have to do shit, Becky.

“But he’ll be lonely!”

Luckily Bruce has baby friends and cousins.

“It’ll be easier with two because they can keep each other entertained.”

I’m sure it is. But I already said no.

“You’ll change your mind.”

LOL! Honestly, fuck you.

If someone doesn’t offer up the information about having a second (or third or whatever!) child, then you probably shouldn’t ask. If you do ask and they say no, accept that. Don’t fucking ask why and don’t try to persuade them. I think that’s what really pissed me off the most. I said what I said, Gina, now back off. When I get this anxiety under control, and we’re making six figures, AND Bruce can wipe his own ass, OH AND I lose a cool 50 pounds. Then maybe we’ll get a puppy. But we’re good with the three of us. Thanks.

His Breathing is Annoying AF

Sometimes I want the throat punch my husband. He can’t ever find his shit or remember to close the bathroom door so Bruce doesn’t play in the toilet. But he can tell you what comic issue Batman and Superman became best buds and formed The Justice League. WTF. Marriage (or any long term commitment) has its ups and downs but when you throw a baby in that bitch, it gets wild.

I know I don’t have to say this but I will for all you basic ass Betties. “I LoVe mY hUsBaND hE’s tHe bEsT! I KnOw i’M lUcKy tO hAvE sUcH a SuPpOrTiVe mAn…” Blah blah blah… he still gets on my damn nerves and sometimes I hate him.

It’s okay to feel like your baby daddy is annoying as shit. I guess it’s something that happens all the time after you have a baby. So you’re not alone my mom friend! Just like pregnancy and motherhood, everyone wants to share the good and pretty stuff. But they aren’t willing to talk about the rough patches and the ugly parts. Now don’t get it twisted homegirl, I’m not talking shit about my husband and there’s no dirty laundry to air out. This is the reality. My husband is annoying as fuck.

It’s totally irrational and I’m sure it has a lot to do with hormones and sleep deprivation, but man sometimes he pisses me off. Like skin burning, seething anger over weird small things. Like after a long day with Bruce being extra clingy, my husband tried to comfort me by putting his hand on my shoulder. I literally recoiled. I was so angry. Bruce had been attached to my tit all damn day and I wanted my body to be mine for a second and HE TOUCHED ME! HE FUCKING TOUCHED ME! I’M GONNA MURDER HIM! Or when he’s rushing me to get out the door and I’m trying to get a diaper bag packed, a onesie on a feisty 6 month old, and put on concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes. Or like when he is breathing too loud near me. I want to smother him.

So of course these little annoyances build up. And then one day I looked at him and I was like, I hate his guts. Now obviously I don’t hate my husband. There is no reason to hate him. He’s a great man, husband, and most importantly, dad. So I had to take a moment to figure out what the fuck was up. I was getting annoyed when he wouldn’t do things the way I do them. So I had to remind myself that he is trying to help the way he thinks is best. And that’s fine! You don’t have to micromanage your husband. That's not cool sis. And I would get so fucking irritated when he slept in on the weekends. I was up every single day at 6a with Bruce no matter what time I went to bed. But I was letting that happen! I didn’t wake him up or tell him I wanted to sleep in. I needed to be more vocal about my needs and how he could help me. Once I wasn’t bottling things up anymore, I stopped hating him. (he’s still annoying…)

Now I’m not a marriage counselor or a therapist. This is my experience and I’m sharing it for solidarity. If you actually hate your husband, I would advise you to seek some professional help and get that shit resolved sweetie. If you have never, not once, been so annoyed by your husband, then congratulations, you’re a fucking angel, good for you bitch.

What is the most annoying thing your husband has done?

G'Night Brucey

Since Bruce was born, on and off, we bed share. Which is exactly what it sounds like, he sleeps in bed with us. No Dock a Tot, no bedside bassinet, no. (I see you Judgmental Jenny! Fuck outta here!) It made night feedings easier, I loved feeling his little toes on my belly and I liked to hear him breathing. Now that he is 8 months old, and very mobile, sleeping with him is not as fun. I wake up with his ass in my face all the time or he’ll kick my husband in the kidneys. He’s an early bird, so he’s up around 7am everyday and he likes to wake us up with a nice hair pull or head smack. So I decided to sleep train him this week. I hate it.

We first tried to sleep train Bruce when he was about 4 months old. But both Bruce and I weren’t ready. I cried. (I have learned that motherhood consist of a lot of crying and other unexplained outbursts of emotions.) We tried for about 2 hours and I completely caved. It was too heartbreaking. I wanted to hold him and rock him to sleep. Then we tried when he was 6 months old and again he wasn’t ready. I knew what to expect so I felt like I was more prepared but it was still hard and I held him until he fell asleep. I wish that I didn’t let outside thoughts and opinions force me into trying to sleep train him when I knew we weren’t ready.

If there is any advice I would hope you take from me it would be to trust your own instincts. Listen to YOUR gut (not Sally's or whothefuckever has an opinion). If you’re unsure, of course ask for help, but if it doesn’t sit well with you, don’t do it. The best thing about advice is that you don’t have to listen to it.

Now here we are. Bruce will be 9 months in about 2 weeks. We can’t sleep with him in our bed anymore. So I started our sleep training journey. I wanted to wait for the weekend so that the screams of a baby wouldn’t bother our neighbors too much. I made sure we continued with the usual bedtime routine. I nursed him for the last time that night. He was dozing off so it was time to put him in his bed. He was still awake when I laid him down and as soon as he felt me lowering him, he clung on to me and started to scream. I kissed him, said goodnight, and walked out. It’s so hard to listen to him screaming. I was so sad. I sat outside his door and listened to him.

Now, there are a few ways to help baby soothe themselves to sleep. The previous times we tried to sleep train Bruce we used the modified Ferber method. Checking in on him every few minutes, but Bruce caught on to that. He’s a stubborn boy. (I have no fucking clue where he gets that trait from…) So this time around, I had to shut the door and walk away. He cried for a while. It was getting hard for me but I could hear him getting tired. But I couldn’t handle it so I went into his room. I got into the bed with him and nursed him again and we talked for a while. He got distracted with a little bear in his crib so I snuck out. He cried for about 8 minutes and he was out after that! After a while I got curious so I made the mistake of peeking into his room. I swear, it was a scene from a horror movie. I turned my phone flash light on and shined it at Bruce. He was sitting straight up, with his back to the door, hunched over. He didn’t even move when I flashed the light on him. WHAT THE FUCK. I was so creeped out. I asked Tyler to go check on him. When he went in, he said Bruce was sitting up but he turned to face the door. He had his eyes open but he wasn’t moving. It was so fucking scary you guys. I swear I thought he was possessed. I guess he eventually fell over and passed out.

It was so bittersweet to have him sleeping in his own bed. Obviously I was so stoked to be able to stretch the fuck out in my bed, but I missed him. I woke up a few times looking for him. But we kept at it for a week. Same bedtime routine every night; dinner, a little playtime, a bath, read some books, and the last nursing session for the night, then bed. I keep a bluetooth speaker in his room and I play his favorite sleepy time music. He still whines a little bit but he’s usually out in about a minute or two. He sleeps a good 10 or 11 hours and he wakes between 6-7a everyday. Now if only we could get nap time down...

So that’s how sleep training worked for us. It’s not for everyone, or the faint of heart. It’s hard to hear your baby cry. Would I recommend it? I don’t know. To each his own honestly. What works for me, might not work for you. But to all you mommies who are trying it, good luck! 

Scrunchy but not a Hair Tie

Honestly, I fucking hate being placed into a category or label. It really doesn’t matter but reading other mom blogs and articles, it’s like a thing. But like to box yourself into a category or lifestyle just because some stupid mom blog said that is who you are, is super lame and you’re more than that. 

With that being said, what kind of mom are you!? LOL! AGAIN, it really doesn’t matter. This is all for shits and gigs, sis. Also when I was reading some mom blogs I had no idea what they were talking about when they said shit like “Crunchy Mom LYFE!”

 So here is a quick little breakdown about Crunchy, Silky, and Scrunchy moms.

Crunchy Momma- A crunchy mom would be a mother who practices holistic and natural living. Like, she may have an at home water birth and she will opt out of vaccinating. She probably exclusively breastfeeds, co-sleeps and wears her baby. During my maternity leave, I watched every single episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians and Kourtney Kardashian is literally a crunchy mom. Her sisters gave her so much shit for like living an organic holistic life. Calm down Khloe, the bitch is just tryna do what’s best for her kids. And that is all that matters. 

Silky Momma- A silky momma is a modern lady! She is pro medicated birth, she’s pro vaccines and she uses modern technology for convenience and time management. She might part time bottle feed because she’s a hard working momma. So basically, she’s the exact opposite of the crunchy mom. No shame in that, again, momma is only trying to do what is best for babe. AND ALSO WHO FUCKING CARES.

Scrunchy Momma-  A scrunchy momma is a mixture of both. She might eat organic, she might not. She might formula feed and breastfeed. She probably baby wears but won’t co-sleep. She might’ve had a hospital birth but no medication. She might use disposable diapers but make her own organic baby foods.

I would consider myself a scrunchy momma. I wanted to give birth in a hospital but I wanted no medicine (if you read Bruce’s birth story then you know that didn’t work out). I know disposable diapers are bad for the environment but I live in an apartment in LA with a shared laundry room. Cloth diapers were out of the question for me. I buy as much organic food for myself and for my baby that I can afford. But I love In n Out and we eat that at least once a week. I make my own baby food but I also buy foods when I don’t have the time to meal prep. I vaccinate on schedule. I love Bruce’s pediatrician and I trust her suggestions and her opinions. I mean she spent years in school studying medicine. I had a baby wreck my vagina, I’m no professional. But I do research and I try to find natural remedies for things like teething and resort to Tylenol when necessary. I read every label on every product I purchase and research things I don’t understand. I bed share and sometimes baby wear. 

There you go. But again, IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER WHAT THE INTERNET SAYS. Is your baby fed? Clothed? Happy? LOVED? If you answered “Duh you stupid bitch!” to all of those questions then you are ONE BAD MOTHERF*CKING* MOM! And that’s the only label that really matters. 

Identity Crisis

I was about 8 weeks postpartum when I looked at myself in the mirror and could not recognize who I saw. My eyes were red and tired. My hair was so matted that when I tried to take it out of the bun, it stayed on top of my head. I tried to run my fingers through it but it wouldn’t budge. I got in the shower and examined the new body motherhood gave me. My smooth skin was gone. I found stretch marks on my hips, belly, and boobs. I don’t know this fucking body. I cried.

Seven months postpartum and I’m still not sure who is staring back at me. I don’t fit my pre-baby clothes anymore, so I bagged them up and gave them away. I want to go shopping since I only have maternity shirts and leggings in my wardrobe. But I’m not sure how to dress this new body. My old body loves crop tops, dresses, and high waisted pants. I don’t know this body. I torture myself by looking at pictures of the body I had before I was pregnant. I decide to go online shopping because being in a store gives me anxiety. But of course I don’t know my size now and I have to guess. I look at clothes that are different than what I would gravitate to, and I hate it all. I get frustrated and buy some jeans and a couple t-shirts and hope for the best. I get them a few days later, and I hate the way the jeans fit. So I send them back and I cry more. 

I don’t know if this is how becoming a mother is supposed to make me feel. I feel vain for being so wrapped up in my body image. I feel lost because I don’t know who I am anymore. And I am lonely because I don’t know if anyone will understand me. Motherhood is so strange. There is so much strength and power in being a women. I created and continue to nurture and protect this precious little life. And still, I am completely lost and unsure of myself. 

Like Peanut Butter & Jelly

In July 2017, my husband and I moved from the small town where we met, to LA County. I was excited, but leaving our friends and family was hard for me. Being pregnant can get isolating. Sometimes your friends aren’t in the same place you are in your life journey so it can be hard to connect. And for me, not only were most of my friends not ready to have kids but I was moving a couple hours away from them so I felt pretty lonely.

After I gave birth, the only socialzing I did was with my husband and on social media. I was starting to get weird. So I looked for local mom groups to become a part of but they were like not what I was looking for. There was one that you had to pay a membership for… You want me to pay to meet with other women to bitch about our kids? Nah sis. Then there was one that seemed cool but I didn’t feel like I had anything in common with them. They had more than one kid and they seemed like real adults, ya know? Like adults who can take care of plants and eat real meals instead of In n Out 3 times a week. I wasn’t ready for that. One day I was scrolling through Instagram and I saw this ad for an app called Peanut. I’m not sure why I tapped on it but I ended up downloading it and creating a profile.

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Peanut is an app to meet other Moms. It’s very similar to Tinder. You can find mothers close to you. You can set up a filter to see moms up to 25 miles from you. You can use the filter to find moms with kids in the same age group as yours. Instead of swiping left or right, you swipe up to “Wave” to a momma or swipe down to skip. If you swipe up to a momma and she swiped up to you too, then you guys are a match! (Like Peanut Butter and Jelly! So cute!) When you create your profile you can pick 3 traits, they are called Packs, to describe what kind of momma you are. There are traits like Strictly Organic, Beer Buddy, or Mom Boss. (Mine are: But First Food, Powered By Caffine, and Beer Buddy. DUH!) You can see what traits moms pick and swipe up based on that. You can fill out your occupation, write a cute little bio and add photos. The app also has a message boards section where you can talk about motherhood, pregnancy and other women/mom things. One thing I super liked on the messgae boards was the Local section. You can read post from other mothers who are local to your area. Some moms posted when they were going to Disneyland and if other moms wanted to meet. Another mom posted about having a bunch of used baby clothes in my area and offered them up to anyone in need. It’s such great way to connect and reach out to other women. And since I was new to my area and a new mom, this was my fucking life line.

 This is my profile.

This is my profile.

 Super basic bio.

Super basic bio.

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The most awkward thing about the app is actually trying to break the ice with someone. There were many times I started conversations with a mom and they would talk for a little and then ignore me. Straight up motherfucking ghosted! Or what would piss me off the most was the one word answers. Like I’m trying to connect with you here and you are either not interested or you’re really boring. So I would stop replying. It’s hard to get your personality across to someone online. I feel like my sarcasm and transparency didn’t come off the way I intended, so that was probably why no one wanted to be my friend. Oh well! Those bitches missed out! I’m such a good ass time. But I finally met some cool women who wanted to meet up and be mom friends. The first meet up is always nerve-wracking. It’s like first date jitters! It’s so weird! “Shit. I hope they like me. I hope I don’t say anything stupid or offensive. Fuck. I said something stupid. Back pedal! Back pedal! Too late. Wow they invited me to the next meet up. I guess I wasn’t that lame.” We’ve met up a few times at a park. Bruce gets to socialize with other babies and I get to talk to real people! It’s a win win!

 This is the message board page.

This is the message board page.

 When you match with a mom!

When you match with a mom!

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Now all you moms, not just new moms, any mom who needs a tribe, download the Peanut app! Do it. RIGHT NOW! It might be hard to connect with other moms at first, but don't give up! Your perfect mom gang is out there! 

https://www.peanut-app.io/?_branch_match_id=576054530504850117

I'm a Cow

I love breastfeeding. I knew I was going to do it when I found out I was pregnant. Like duh, I knew it was good for mom and baby and it’s fucking free! But it wasn’t easy when we first started. It hurt. My nipples were cracked and bleeding for about 2 weeks. My shoulders and back were sore in places I’ve never felt before. And when my boobs were engorged, LORD! I will go on record and say that my contractions were nothing compared to the pain of engorged tits. But, I’m fucking stubborn so I kept trying. My pregnancy sucked and I didn’t have the delivery experience I wanted. I wasn’t gonna let bloody nipples stop me from trying to have some control over this. 

Bruce wouldn’t latch right after he was born. A nurse said he was tired from the trip down the vag so I should try in a couple hours. When he finally latched, I was so happy but he felt like he was tearing my nipple off! A nurse helped me reposition him, and showed me the football hold to nurse him. It felt a little better but something was still uncomfortable. Of course I panicked and worried that something was wrong. The pediatrician came in for a check up and she noticed Bruce had a tongue tie. She told us it could make it difficult to nurse. It could be clipped or I could bottle feed him instead but that could still make it hard for him to eat. I wanted this to work. I cried about getting his tongue clipped. I didn’t want that for him. I know it’s a small quick clip and he wouldn’t remember it but I did have him circumcised. (Don’t come for me bitch, it was my family’s decision to make.) It was hard for me to hear him crying after that. It was too soon to be talking about more cutting. So with support from Tyler, I decided that we would make breastfeeding work without clipping the tongue tie. I was gonna make this work. 

 Because of Bruce's tongue tie, he wasn't able to latch correctly and I suffered form cracked and blistered nipple and he wasn't getting enough to eat.

Because of Bruce's tongue tie, he wasn't able to latch correctly and I suffered form cracked and blistered nipple and he wasn't getting enough to eat.

The days after bringing Bruce home were fucking dark. I remember Bruce woke up from a nap and he started crying. I knew he wanted to eat but I was nervous. My nipples were so raggedy. They were bleeding and scabbed. My right boob was engorged! I was so scared but I picked him up and nursed him. I sat in a rocking chair and cried. It fucking killed me. My husband is so sweet and perfect. He sat at my feet and tried his best to comfort me while I nursed our baby. We talked about other options if I was going to forgo breastfeeding. I talked about not getting the pregnancy or the delivery I wanted. I felt like I was failing if I gave up breastfeeding. I wanted one thing to go the way I planned but it didn’t look like I was getting that. Before I made my mind up about breastfeeding, I wanted to make an appointment with a lactation consultant.

A lactation consultant is this magical creature who specializes in breastfeeding. They teach women how to feed their babies. They can help with low production, latching difficulties, clogged ducts, and even pumping. I met with one at Bruce’s one week check up. She was this bright women, dressed in a Santa hat and she wore this wild Christmas themed skirt. When she walked she jingled. She was so happy and nice! I needed that, I was feeling pretty low. I expressed my concerns, showed her my engorged tit and cried when she said she could help. She examined my boob and gave me advice on expressing milk when I’m engorged. She showed me the correct way to sit while nursing so my back wouldn’t hurt. And she taught me the best way to hold my baby while I fed him. I told her about his tongue tie and how we were advised to get it clipped. She checked it out and told us it was so minor, he’d be fine without any cutting. So I cried. 

I was able to continue breastfeeding! My nipples healed but they are not the same and I’m still trying to come to terms with that. That’s okay. I did have some issues with forceful or overactive let down, which is when your milk comes out too fast. Bruce would pull away because the milk was going down so fast and I spray him in the face. It was funny. I figured out a better nursing position to help with the letdown and started pumping regularly (I hate pumping). Then one fucking great day I woke up and felt a sharp pain in my right armpit. Whatever. No big deal, it’ll pass. Nope. It got worse throughout the day. I couldn’t lift my arm and I felt a huge lump right on the side of my boob. So I googled all my symptoms and found out I had a clogged milk duct. There are so many things that can cause a clogged milk duct. Sleeping on your stomach, a nursing bra that doesn’t fit, the baby not latching, all kinds of stuff. Google it. It was a combination of sleeping on my stomach and Bruce having a hard time latching. If you don’t unclogg the duct, it could turn into an infection caused mastitis. There are a few ways to unclog it. Feed or pump that tit girl until you feel like it's empty! All day long I nursed Bruce from my right boob but it didn’t unclog immediately. I took a warm shower and massaged my boob. It fucking hurt, but after that I nursed again and it unclogged! If you ever get a clogged milk duct and you start to have flu like symptoms, go see a doctor. You could have mastitis. (Tit is in the word mastitis lol)

 A clogged milk duct causes inflammation and could progress to mastitis.

A clogged milk duct causes inflammation and could progress to mastitis.

Then cluster feeding happened. Cluster feeding is when your baby will nurse and nurse and nurse for-fucking-ever. It will typically happen in the evening time and they might get really fussy. Bruce would latch for a few minutes and then he would pull away and cry then do it all over again. It was super frustrating and exhausting. I was starting to feel crazy. I wasn't sure if there was something wrong with me or what! But it's totally normal. Cluster feeding helps build your milk supply and Bruce started to sleeping in longer stretches. When he would get fussy in the evening, I knew it was time for his little nursing session. So I would turn all the lights off, make sure my bedroom was the perfect temperature, get my computer, queue up a Harry Potter movie and started our little bonding moment. Tyler would stay in the living room and watch TV while we had our cluster feeding marathons. Then he would come to bed when Bruce would settle down and fall asleep. Cluster feeding was really hard at first but when I found out what worked for us, it became a great time for us to bond and watch Harry Potter together. Cluster feeding only lasted about a week and a few days. Don't worry mommas! It's not forever! (Let me know if you want me to go into more details about how I dealt with cluster feeding and milk production!)

Breastfeeding was rough in the beginning but once I found my groove it worked for me. If you’re breastfeeding and you’re finding it hard or painful see a lactation consultant! I cannot advise that enough! They are magical, really! But if you’re feeling like it’s not for you, don’t trip! You have to do what's right for you and your family. Yo, as long as your baby is healthy and fed, you’ve made the right decison sis! 

 Lol censored my tit! 

Lol censored my tit! 

 As you can see, the tongue tie is not an issue for Bruce. 

As you can see, the tongue tie is not an issue for Bruce. 

That's a lot of Blood...

Many women say they had no idea what to expect after giving birth. I knew what to expect, my sister told me everything! She's the best. You should get one like her. On top of the crazy hormones going on, you’re bleeding from your vagina and you might get hemorrhoids. If you’re breastfeeding your nipples are bleeding and you are leaking from your tits while you sleep. It’s a lot and if you’re a working Momma, you’re expected to return to work…haha! That’s fucking crazy. (We should be fighting for longer maternity AND paternity leaves, but that's a subject for another time.)

Remember the huge pads I said the hospital will give you? Get as many as you can girl, because you’re gonna fill those babies up. I mean it. You will be draining for weeks. I finally stopped bleeding for good at about 8 weeks postpartum. Thats so long. I can’t even imagine going back to work in that state. Eventually you can use normal sized pads but you’re gonna wanna keep those granny panties in rotation for a minute. Forget about those cute floral thongs girl, it’s not worth it. 

My baby has a huge head. So naturally, he shredded my vagina. I opted out of an episiotomy because, well I didn’t fucking want one. After pushing out the placenta, I was watching my doctor sow my cooter up. It felt like it was taking forever so I asked him what the fuck was up! And he said AND I QUOTE “Well, your tear is a bit eccentric.” What the fuck does that mean? I don’t know. Someone told me, “I had a 2nd degree tear, what about you?”….I had an eccentric degree tear bitch I don’t know! But I must’ve been wrecked because it took forever to sow up and forever for the stitches to heal. Luckily the hospital gives you Dermoplast Pain Relieving Spray. I still have some! I fucking sprayed my vag down after I used the bathroom every time. They also give you this little squirt bottle to hose your lady flower down after you pee. You can’t wipe homegirl. You gotta drip dry. I had some friends who told me not to check it out down there afterwards but I was curious. I grabbed a little hand mirror to make sure my vag was still in tact. It wasn't. 

Fuck, and your first poop….That’s some real traumatizing shit, literally. I was so scared. I wanted to have my first poop at the hospital in case I tore my stitches open, but I didn’t poop until I got home. My stitches didn’t tear but it took me like 20 minutes to even get the courage to push and it hurt. I thought I ripped all over again! I was sweating so much! The second poop isn’t as scary and you get better at it. The squirt bottle! SIS! It makes the bathroom experience easier. Fill that baby up with some warm water and hose her down! It makes peeing and pooping less painful. Spray your girlfriend with the pain relieving spray, change your huge ass pad and you’re set!   

I thought pooping was going to be there worst part and it pretty much was. But then I started to experience something weird, like why does pooping hurt so bad? Like damn am I constipated? No. I had freaking hemorrhoids. If you don’t know what those are then google it. I don’t know exactly how to explain it but they hang out your asshole. It's so scary because it fucking hurts while you poop and there's blood everywhere! So get yourself some creams and wipes girl. The wipes will help with the cleanup and the creams help soothe the irritation. Hemorrhoids and stitches make pooping a nightmare. Prepare yourself girlfriend! 

You get to deal with all that while breastfeeding and being sleep deprived! Oh and of course your hormones are wild and you can't stop crying ever! Then you start to think "OMG! Is this my life now? Am I just going to be a butt bleeding cow forever? Will my vagina ever look the same again!?" It’s such a good time. We are so lucky. I love it. I miss it so much...

If you’re pregnant, are you scared about your first poop? If the answer is no then I didn’t scare you enough. If you already had your sweet babe, how was your first poop?

 

Don't Forget Underwear

I didn’t know what to bring to the hospital. I read so many lists and watched videos of people packing their hospital bag. It seemed like a lot of unnecessary shit. So, if you are about to have a baby here is a list of what I took to the hospital and why. Maybe it can help you either limit the shit you pack or remind you to take something you’ll need.

Clothes - I packed a pair of leggings, a comfortable and kind of loose shirt, my favorite Star Wars socks, slippers, a robe, and a ton of cotton high waisted granny panties. I picked leggings and a comfortable shirt to come home in because I had no idea what kind of shape my body would be in. I saw pictures of women who would leave still looking pregnant, so yeah stretchy clothes, sis. I did look like I ate a huge burrito so I was pretty lucky considering how fucking huge I thought my baby was. I packed my favorite socks and slippers to walk around in. The hospital did give me those socks with the rubber nubs on the bottom so you don’t fall. I ended up wearing those a lot. I packed a robe for after the delivery to wear around my room. Yo! This is important. Pack underwear (bras included). When my sister told me I needed underwear, I was like, uh duh. But she was like no bitch, not that lace cute shit you wear, GRANNY PANTIES. The hospital will give you these huge fucking pads. They’re the length of my forearm, not kidding. So you’re gonna need some reliable granny panties to hold those pads in place. Don’t worry about sexy underwear for like 2 months girl. Go ahead and pack them away.

Birthing Ball & Pump - Throughout my pregnancy I bounced on this huge birthing ball, which is just one of those stupid fitness balls you can get at Target. It’s supposed to help move the baby down and prepare you for labor. So I had to have it with me at the hospital. I made my husband blow it up when we first got it. He had to take the air out because it wouldn’t fit in our car, and then he had to blow it up again when I got to my delivery room. Poor man. But I was insistent on having it and I did use it while I labored. Where is it now…

Bluetooth speaker and charger & Phone chargers - Pregnancy brain is a real fucking thing guys and it’s super easy to forget the small things. My sweet husband told me many months later that he wasn’t sure if I had pregnancy brain or if I had always been that dumb and he was just realizing it (the answer is, a little bit of both). So don’t forget your fucking phone charger! Tyler was in charge of packing that stuff because I would’ve forgotten it. We brought a small bluetooth speaker because I wanted to listen to some music while I labored. Make a fun playlist or have your partner make one for you. I told Tyler the vibe I was going for and he put together the perfect playlist. Super dope. 

Snacks - Not for you prego, they’re for your partner. You can’t eat while you labor. I’m a bad girl though. I ate while I was waiting to go into a delivery room. We packed snacks that Tyler would like. Yeah there are vending machines so if you don’t want to bring snacks bring some cash money honey. Most vending machines accept cards now too but I don’t fucking know. I didn’t get anything for them. I asked my mom to bring Oatmeal Cream Pies so I could shove a few of those in my fat mouth before I couldn’t eat again. The reason you aren’t supposed to eat while you labor is just in case something happens and you have to have surgery. Also if you’re worried about shitting while giving birth, don’t even waste your energy thinking about it. You’re more than likely gonna shit, so come to terms with that sis, ain’t no point in stressing about that. 

Baby Clothes & Carseat - I brought the baby’s diaper bag. Dumb. Pack baby shit with your shit. You’ll need one outfit but you aren’t going to be able to decide so you’ll end up bringing like three. I brought a swaddle blanket, unnecessary. I didn’t even swaddle him in it. The hospital had him swaddled in one, which I should’ve taken! Carseat, duh! I hear the hospital won’t let you take the baby home if you don’t have a carseat installed so best get on that. 

Toiletries - Toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash and a washcloth. I thought about bringing makeup but I knew I wasn’t gonna put any on. I kept it simple and essentials only. The less you pack the more space you have to take shit from the hospital!

Birth Plan - I brought a birth plan that the hospital gave me a few months before my due date to fill out and I brought a hand written one, just in case. I never pulled it out. I was able to vocalize what I wanted and if I wasn't able to Tyler knew what I wanted. Make sure you go over your birth plan with your partner or doula or whoever is in the room with you. That way if anything happens and you're not able to speak for yourself, you have someone who can and something written down.

That's it! I started to pack my bag around 36 weeks because I knew I would be super indecisive. If you're like me and can't make up your mind for shit, I would start around that time too. Tyler packed his own bag with whatever he needed or wanted. Like I said, the less you pack the more space you have to take all the freaking diapers the hospital will give you. I had such a great staff at Kaiser on Sunset in LA. They gave me so many diapers, hats and cute little newborn shirts. The nurses also gave me these ugly mesh panties, a ton of pads, some spray shit for your cooter and a squirt bottle. I’ll go into detail about all that stuff later. I hope this helped you figure out what you’re gonna need when you pack your hospital bag. 

What about you mommas who already gave birth? What did you bring in your hospital bag? Did you forget anything? 

Hello Drama, I'm Your Momma

Tv and movies portray child birth as this crazy, wild experience. The pregnant women is screaming and sweaty. The husband is panicking and pissing her off. If she has family there, they are in the way and super fucking annoying. It’s not always like that but it's pretty fucking close. I thought I was prepared for it. We took a birthing class and I watched tons of birthing videos and I wrote out different birth plans. I made Tyler drive us around to find different ways to the hospital because living in LA, who the fuck knows what traffic is going to look like. I laugh at it now, it’s like Bruce heard everything I was planning and was like, “LOL BITCH! YOU’RE ON MY TIME.” 

Six days after my sweet little baby’s due date, I had a membrane sweep. Ever heard of one? It fucking sucks. My sister told me she had one. I saw pictures of it. It looked pretty painful but I thought I was some badass bitch (I am) so it didn’t seem like a big deal to me. I saw a midwife and she checked my cervix, I was 1 centimeter dilated and 0% effaced. This midwife was the sweetest women I had ever met. She told me that it was gonna be painful and if I needed her to stop, tell her. I was like, “okay she doesn’t know how much of a badass I am.” BITCH! I wanted to tell her to stop because it hurt so bad but I’m stubborn and I always have something to prove to no one but myself. LET! ME! TELL! YOU! She was ELBOW DEEP IN MY VAGINA GIRL! AND IT FUCKING HURT. I can-fucking-not describe the amount of pain I was in!

For those of you who don’t know what a membrane sweep is, let me explain. So your physician or midwife will insert their index finger into your cervix. They will stretch that shit and separate the amniotic sac from the cervix. That is supposed to help kick start you into labor. So imagine this women, with her arm, ELBOW DEEP YALL, into my vagina “sweeping” it and yanking around up there! It felt like she was fucking rearranging organs! I like to think I’m pretty tough and I have a high pain tolerance, but that was brutal AF. I’m traumatized from it. I will never do it again.

photo from momjunction.com

The next day I was super sore so I kept it low key. I went for a short walk and I had some mild contractions. For lunch, Tyler's cousin brought me some spicy pasta. Spicy stuff is supposed to help start labor and I was trying to get this baby out. Nothing happened, so I went to the store to get a pineapple because that can help start labor too. While I was cutting the pineapple I felt like I had to pee so I went to sit on the toilet and I felt a huge gush! I was like…okaaaaay, I didn’t pee! I looked and there was some weird red shit in the toilet. At our birthing class the doula told us that it’s rare for your water to break, but if it does, remember TACO. T-time A-amount C-color O-odor. ‘It’s 5:31p. I don’t know the amount. Fuck fuck. It felt like a lot. Color? Clear with some red shit in there. Jesus, that's gross… Odor? I have to smell it!? Fuck fuck! Oh it doesn’t smell like anything. Okay…’ “BAAAABE...my water broke!”  I was so ready! I got so excited but super calm at the same time. We grabbed the bags, carseat and the pineapple. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. It’s 6p on a Tuesday in LA.

Traffic sucked. But when we finally got to the hospital, the nurses didn't believe me when I said my water broke. When the doctor finally checked she was like “Oh wow you do have some fluid leaking.” Bitch, I fucking told you! But I wasn’t having regular contractions and they weren’t painful. So I ate oatmeal cream pies in the hospital bed and took pictures of myself in the mesh panties and giant pads. I walked around the hospital to get contractions started but my cute baby boy plugged up my cervix and was like “Nah bitch. I’m chilling in here.” Fuck. 

Chillin!

LOL! Look at me smiling and playing around. I had no idea what was about to happen. 

I had this idea of what I wanted to happen during my labor and delivery. I knew it would be rough but I was excited to see what my body was capable of. I wanted this au naturale, no medication, relaxing but fun (Fun?? Wtf was I thinking) birth. Tyler put together a playlist of dope female artists so I could feel like a badass while my vagina was being wrecked. I had a birthing ball to bounce on to help with contractions. We had a safe word in case I decided that I needed pain meds. I thought this was gonna take about 10 hours MAX! I had no fucking clue. You can plan and take all the fucking birthing classes available to you. But the reality is, it's not up to you girl. Plan all you want sis, but when it comes down to it, that baby is gonna decide how and when its time to come out. You have little to no control! 

Since my baby refused to come out, even though his damn water bag popped, I had to have medication to induce labor. Its called pitocin. And its a fucking fiery bitch. I got into my room around 10pm. It starts to become a blur so I’ll do my best to recount what I remember. They gave me a low dose of pitocin and that shit didn’t do anything so the kept increasing it every couple of hours. Slowly my contractions got stronger but I wasn’t fucking dilating and I was getting pissed. And because my water broke they didn’t want to check my cervix too often because of the risk of infection. I denied the nurses each time they offered pain medication. Big mistake!

Okay so here’s the timeline so far. We got to the hospital Tuesday evening. They started pitocin later that night, around 11pm. I was able to sleep a little but my contractions were getting strong. Around 3:30a I looked at the clock and laughed because on a normal day I would’ve been getting up to go to work. Later on that morning, I was dilated at 3 centimeters, so they increased the pitocin. Its all kind of blurry here. The contractions were blindingly painful and they were happening every 2-6 minutes. I had to piss at one point and I had a contraction while trying to stand up. God, I will never forget that pain, I broke down and cried. It was getting overwhelming. I wasn’t allowed to eat and I couldn’t sleep because the contractions were so strong. I was fucking exhausted and I wasn’t dilating fast enough. I checked the clock and it had been over 24 hours since my water broke and my contractions started. Tyler started to get worried about my mental state. We talked a little about getting an epidural but I was trying to hold out. Remember the midwife who gave me the membrane sweep? She was on call that day and she popped in. She said she saw my name on the board and wanted to see how I was doing. I told her what was going on, she smiled and said “You have to do whats best for you. If you have the medication you can rest and be ready to push when the time comes.” I started crying, I did not want to have a stupid epidural but there was no way I was going to have the strength to push. I told Tyler to grab a nurse and ask for the medication. We didn’t even use the stupid fucking safe word. I couldn’t remember it. 

I fucking finally got to sleep for a few hours. But of course, my baby somehow got turned the wrong direction. So while I was heavily medicated, a nurse would have to come flip my body to get the baby to turn. At one point I woke up to these wild alarms going off and the nurse came running in because the baby’s heart rate dropped. Of fucking course. He wouldn’t make a quiet exit. He had to give everyone a fucking show. Seven long ass hours after the epidural my body was ready to get him out! We started pushing around 2:30a. He refused to come out. I didn’t realize how hard I was pushing until later that day. I got the courage to look at my raggedy ass in the mirror. My face and eyeballs were red from popped blood vessels. The doctor told me if I didn’t push harder they would have to use a vacuum and that scared the shit out of me. Tyler was at my left and he had my leg in his arm. I asked him to pull my leg up and help me push. I saw my mom behind the doctor, cheering me on "Push baby! PUSH!" I pushed so hard and finally that little shit (the baby, not literal shit. But I did shit when they told me to push the first time. It happens!) came out at 3:18am. The doctor gave him the nickname Drama, like from Entourage. I've never seen that show.

If you look closely you can see the 36+ hours of labor on my face.

Meet Drama!

I F*cking Hated Being Pregnant

I know that other women cannot have babies and there are women who have worse pregnancies than I do, but that doesn’t mean how I felt about my pregnancy isn’t valid. I hate the mindset of “Be grateful!” It makes women feel like they can’t express their true frustrations. We feel like we don’t have a safe place to vent. Someone is saying “Stop complaining, you should be grateful you were even able to get pregnant!” Shut. The. Fuck. Up. The last thing a hormonal women who is already self conscience and puking her guts out needs, is someone making her feel even shittier. So do her a favor, nod your head and get her a fucking chocolate milkshake. 

I hated being pregnant. I learned a lot about myself during that lifelong time period. I learned that I hated arugula. I ordered this amazing salad for dinner and it was good until about half way through. I started to feel sick and when I got home, I barfed! My sweet amazing douchebag husband got pictures of me hunched over the toilet. So fun, so cute. I lost so much weight because I couldn’t eat and I fucking love food. One night I was in bed and I was so frustrated with being so sick all the damn time, I started crying. It’s kind of funny looking back on it now, but in that moment I was so angry and hungry but like nauseous at the same time. My poor husband had no idea what to do. He hugged me and patted my head. 

 I can't eat arugula again.

I can't eat arugula again.

One of my favorite memories of my awful morning sickness was a trip to Disneyland with my friends. I told them I was having bad morning sickness so I could puke while we were at the park. The smells at Disneyland made me so sick. I gagged the whole time BUT I never puked so that was cool. oh oh! Here's a good puke story! This is my favorite! I was 6 months pregnant and still getting sick. (I heard it would only last up until the 3rd month…lies.) I was coming home from my friend’s bridal shower and I decided to stop at my favorite pho place before I went home. My stomach was a little uneasy but it had been a good day with no puking or gagging so I thought pho would be a good dinner. While I ate, my stomach turned sour and I got super clammy. I fucking knew I was gonna blow chunks. So I paid and ran out thinking that I could make it home to puke in the privacy of my bathroom. But my stomach was like, no bitch, its gotta come out NOW. So I stood there in the parking lot and hurled. It splashed up onto my ankles and got all over my shoes. AND THEN! I lost control of my bladder and pee trickled down my leg…
I have seen so many movies, commercials, and TV shows that made pregnancy seem so beautiful. The pregnant women was glowing! She looked so happy! She was fucking gorgeous! And I was a vomit and urine soaked unhappy lump of lard. I got in my car, texted my best friend and told him how I pissed myself in a parking lot. I knew he’d think it was funny and picturing his dumb face laughing made it easier for me to laugh at myself. I went home, showered and passed out. I fucking hated being pregnant. 

So many people told me that I would forget about my morning sickness as soon as I saw my baby. When he was born and after they cleaned him up, they gave him to me. I looked at his beautiful little smushed face and said “So, you’re the little shit who made me so sick.”

I WILL NEVER EVER FORGET!

Tell me your favorite “morning” sickness story. 

 I didn't really want to do maternity photos but I ended up having so much fun and they came out pretty good. 

I didn't really want to do maternity photos but I ended up having so much fun and they came out pretty good. 

You're One Bad Mother...

Hey! This is weird. Okay, I’m not a writer, so bear with me. I had my palms read on Mother's Day and the psychic told me I have a story to share. I thought that was funny because 2 days before I decided to start a blog about my pregnancy and motherhood. During my pregnancy, I turned to mom blogs to find women who might be having a rough time like me or moms who would give me a glimpse into the life I was about to step in to. But I couldn't find anything that really spoke to me. I was looking for the real nitty gritty. I wanted the fucking dirt. After talking to my sister and a couple friends, they convinced me to be that voice. So here I am!

I’ll start with introducing myself. I’m Cheyenne, I’ve lived 27 years on Mother Earth. I have an awesome son named, Bruce and a pretty okay husband named, Tyler. Reader beware, I have a potty mouth and I won't censor myself completely. I am honest and transparent. I felt like that was something lacking in blogs that a lot of women like myself might want. Currently, my 5 month old shit monster is screaming at the top of his lungs with a huge smile on his face. He’s doing it on purpose to annoy me. I know he is. He has my personality and I would do something like that. And he just shit… God, it stinks.

So welcome, hello and whatevs. I can't wait to share all my horror stories (and fun ones too) with you! I hope you find some comfort in them knowing that you are not alone or maybe you can have a few laughs at my expense. No big deal.

I know that sometimes when we are venting to people or even our partners we have a little twinge of "mom guilt" telling us that we are wrong for complaining. So I want to say something that I think is really important for us, moms, to remember:

Stop feeling like you have to preface every complaint or frustration with, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my child…” because you don’t. Like, BITCH, we know you love your child. Shut up and complain about them because I know it’s not fucking easy and I see you girl. 

 This momma like beers with her babe!

This momma like beers with her babe!