Motherhood and all that comes with it

This one is going to be random as it's just something on my mind... Some of this may open a part of me you may not have known about or seen. To some, this may be uncomfortable, but this is motherhood. Motherhood is always uncomfortable. We are ever changing, ever adapting, ever loving. We just kind of wing it most of the time and somehow, at the end of the day, it turns out okay. And then we go on to the next day and strive for better than "okay" just to normally be "okay" again. .

Motherhood.

Men will never understand, just as we will never understand being a father. But there is something primal that happens within a woman when she becomes pregnant and then further intensifying when we become mothers. There's something so beautiful in the transformation that takes place when a woman becomes a mother. Not every woman feels this. Some women don't even feel it for the first few weeks, months, or  years, but it lays dormant, just waiting for the right moment to make its appearance.

When I became pregnant with my first child, it didn't seem real. I loved being pregnant. The pregnancy seemed so long, because, while, I had the support, I just didn't feel I had the support I actually needed. I researched extensively about the female body, how we operate during labor. I looked up the good, the bad, and the adorable. I swear my Youtube search history likely still would show me mostly birth videos as I just couldn't get enough knowledge. I wasn't going to let fear stop me from being the best mother I could be. No person was going to tell me I would be anything less. That passion to be better than the generation before me and before them was the fuel that kept me moving forward.

Then I went into labor for the first time. I labored by myself as my husband worked in the morning and I wasn't completely sure it was really happening. I talked to my neighbor, who was still awake, and she let me know that I wasn't alone. Not long after, I waddled across the street to labor with her. She timed my contractions, talked to me when I needed someone to talk and was silent when I needed silence. I labored on her couch until my contractions became a little more consistent and I waddled home as she watched to make sure I made it okay and didn't start going through active labor in the middle of the street. I woke my husband up and told him it was time and we went to the hospital. Something seemed so wrong on the way to the hospital. Not with labor, but with leaving the comfort of our home to go to a place I'd only seen once. It was so unnaturally bright and uncomfortable. It was so cold. I felt like a dog going into the veterinarian. My eyes were wide, my heart was racing and my body was going through changes that I could feel in my soul, not just physically.

By the time I had gotten situated and into my room, I had made it to 8 centimeters before arriving. The doctor came in, did the usual exams while nurses got me hooked up to IV's  and monitors. I felt so overwhelmed. Everybody was moving so quickly. This wasn't an emergency. It was just labor. I laid there, with labor intensifying with each contraction. My husband was a huge support, even if he had no idea what to expect from me. He held my hand, rubbed my shoulders, got me anything I needed, but something was wrong. I called in the doctor and he noticed my dilation had stopped progressing and then the interventions began. The stress, the nervousness, the fear of being in a hospital, surrounded by people I didn't know, all asking me questions, bombarding me with policies and information that didn't apply to me made a natural progress stop progressing.

The doctor told me he "had to break my water". I asked him if I could get up to walk around and attempt to break it myself. The nurse quickly chimed in, "You are hooked up to an IV." to which I replied, "Yes, but it has wheels" and the doctor quickly snapped, "It is not in our policy". He broke my water for me and pushed on my abdomen. It felt so unnatural to me. I felt so violated. Not long after, I had to go to the bathroom. They refused to let me get up so my mother helped me when the nurses left the room to go to the bathroom. When the nurse came back in and saw I wasn't in bed, she stormed into the bathroom, I guess to be sure I wasn't having the baby in the toilet. She quickly turned away and walked out because, well, I did tell her I had to go. It was either in the toilet or all over the bed. And I'm sure she didn't want to be cleaning a soiled bed and a soiled patient.

My contractions picked up at an insane speed, but my labor was still not progressing. I was forced on to my back and I asked to change positions. "You are hooked up to monitors and an IV. I need you on your back". Again, when they left, my mother helped move my IV lines around my head and moved all the cords so I could attempt to get comfortable. Everything hurt. Everything was wrong. I knew I could do this. I was doing it so well before I arrived here. The light hurt my eyes, even dimly lit. The gown was scratching me. The nurses voices were ringing in my ears. Chatting about me like I was a number and not a person. Talking about me as if I wasn't in the room beside the door they were standing outside of. The ringing overpowered the actual words, but judging the nurse who refused to "allow" me to birth how I felt my body needed to and the terrible attitude, it likely wasn't anything good to say.

I opted for the epidural and felt defeated. Not because I wanted a natural birth but because I felt I was robbed of it just by going somewhere that was meant to be there to help me, not to harm me. I was able to rest a little once the pain subsided and get some sleep. People mostly left my room and left me alone. I'd wake up once every 20 minutes or so and look around. This was not what I wanted and only two people in the entire hospital were listening to what I needed at my most vulnerable time. I watched the second hand tick on the clock as I realized I think I'm slightly allergic to my epidural. I was itchy, I was uncomfortable, I was so cold that I felt that I was dead and my blood turned cold. They gave me some heated blankets and I went to sleep.

I am forever grateful for what happened next. The midwife on the team came into my room, the short lady she is, and lowered my bed to it's lowest setting and her chair to the highest setting so she could be at the right height for catching our child. I still giggle that she had to completely adjust because of how little she is. She told me "The doctor who was seeing you went to help another woman who is pushing, so I will be helping you for the remainder of your birth". I smiled, I felt heard, I felt like a weight had been lifted. She examined me and told me it was almost time to push. She came back in a few more times after and talked me through it. I'm so thankful for her in the last stretch as it could have ended differently had the people who were not listening to my simple wishes been the ones to "deliver" my baby.

My son came out with his chin touching his chest, which made labor very difficult for me. I still say I was progressing normally and once forced on my back and labor stopped, his movement changed and he became crammed against the edge of my uterus upon exit. He was birthed with the back of his head first, coming out with a cone shape. He was having trouble breathing from being chin-to-chest for so long as I rested, waiting for labor to pick back up. It was traumatizing, they handed him to me quickly and didn't even take their hands off him before putting him under a warming light and frantically surrounding him to check him out. Tests all came back fine but he was gasping for air every so often. He was taken to the NICU and was kept there for a while before I was even allowed to see him. When I saw him, I didn't feel like he was my child. I sang to him, I tried connecting but it wasn't there. I wasn't allowed to hold him, to bond with him. I wasn't allowed to share those first moments of breastfeeding like I planned. They gave him formula against my wishes because I wasn't pumping enough, fast enough. I didn't get to attempt real breastfeeding until day three. It was such a struggle and I felt so pressured to give formula, which fueled my need to keep trying to nurse.

I was so disconnected from my son and so tired from a long labor that I left him in the NICU most of the time I stayed. I wasn't ready for all of this - being a mother was a huge adjustment. I was uncomfortable with all the questions, all the care, all the "policies". I didn't feel like he was mine. It was a terrible feeling. I wanted to love this child, I wanted to snuggle him, but I didn't feel like his mother. It broke me. Then not seeing him broke me further. It was a battle inside myself to force my body down the hallway ten steps to ask to see my son. I'd sit beside his "bed" and just talk to him. I was so thankful then, that the NICU room he was in had a door. The things I said in that room, the things I admitted to myself, to my son, just shattered me. I sat in the rocking chair beside him, just holding and rubbing his feet, crying. I can honestly say there was never a more emotional time than the first few months of my son's life.

There were many other things that happened in the hospital that I not only regret, but still haunt me. My heart aches that I missed those moments of bonding. That I made wrong choices that shouldn't have been left up to us as new parents. Things that I was informed on, but still made a decision based on fear, based on the stigma created by the general population. The social norms. I scarred myself and my child. It spiraled me into PPD, which nearly destroyed my marriage. My husband had no idea how to talk to me. Everything was an emotional mess. I never felt heard or understood, and neither did he. Parenthood, those first three years, were the hardest years of our relationship, and overall, for our age, we're pretty seasoned in the relationship department. 14 years today. What an accomplishment for us. Anyway, sidetracked.

I tried hard to connect with my son, and, while we did everything together with me being a stay at home mom, I never truly connected with him until his sister was born and I redeemed my birth. I have a few moments where I felt close, but being robbed of that birthing experience stayed with me and made me resent the entire process. I didn't resent my son, but I was denied the basic maternal, primal need to be with their child right after birth. I was denied a basic need because one denied basic request after another was one less moment I had with my son. It was one more stress, one more dreadful minute of a pain that didn't feel normal. Being in a place that didn't help me feel comfortable even wanting to snuggle with my child. Shunning me for breastfeeding in bed because they feared I would fall asleep next to my baby. Feared I would harm my baby when all I wanted to do is be near him. They put their fear into me. It's what hospitals do to expecting and new mothers. Disagree if you please, but many natural minded mamas will agree that a birthing center or home birth are much more beneficial to mom and baby if both are otherwise healthy.

Jump forward to my daughter's birth. My rebirth. I knew she'd redeem birth for me and give me what my soul craved. When we found out we were pregnant, I was excited but that fear rose in me again. It came up every 2 months or so, as I'd get bigger and the date would get closer. We hired a team of midwives who were not just knowledgeable in all things birth, but also became friends of mine. These women made me feel like I could take on the world and I hadn't even started birthing yet. I was more excited for this birth, despite the fear that maybe, in fact, it was my body's fault in the hospital. I was determined to have a home birth. I could do it. I was made for this. Women have birthed for thousands of years. I can do it too. I am strong. I am able. I am a mother. I survived it the first time, but I could thrive this time. Determination was not letting me quit.

I had symphysis pubis dysfunction both of my pregnancies and every day it became worse. The chiropractor could only do so much with my huge belly, but he did try the few times I called him. I got very little sleep from the pain of never being able to get comfortable. I was ready for this baby to come out so I could begin healing and I could get bonding. I had my entire birth kit ready for a water birth, but the birth took a very unexpected turn, and quickly.

August 30th, I awoke to a strong urge to urinate. I got up and sat on the toilet, wondering if this was labor, if it was happening. The drizzle of rain in the early morning calmed me, the summer breeze blew over me as I sat there, everyone still asleep. I let my contractions overtake me and I just waited. When I noticed they continued, I woke up my husband. I giggled when I checked the time "Hey honey, it's 6:29. Happy anniversary. Also, I think I'm in labor. It's no big deal so you can stay asleep and I'll let you know how it progresses" I just got to the chair to begin timing my contractions and my water broke. I can't tell you how pleased I was that my water broke by itself. It was coming. It was happening. I wasn't sure how far away it was, but it was happening.

I called the midwife when it was closer together, but was talking through some of the contractions so I thought I was okay. The pain was manageable and I actually enjoyed it. I'd get through it and be ready for the next. I told her "there's no rush. My water broke, but the pain is manageable. Just come when you can". She said they had planned for a zoo trip, but that she would feed her kids breakfast and head over.

My daughter wasn't waiting, though... Within 45 minutes, my labor picked up and so did the pain. I threw up once and then felt like I was able to focus more. I was laboring while kneeling against the couch. My husband went out to shuffle vehicles to make room for both midwives and when he came in, I was disoriented. I was at a stage of labor where I didn't know what to do. I was pacing, circling. I had seen dogs do this when I was growing up as my mom bred dogs. It didn't hit me though that the baby was coming very soon. I was frantic. My husband asked me what I thought we should do and I said "help me to the bathroom". I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. I was sitting there, enjoying the breeze from the window and the smell of a rainy summer morning. In the next contraction, I felt the urge to push. I cried to myself "no no no, body, don't push. I can't stop it. I can't control it." The midwives still weren't there and we were going to have a baby, just us two. I could see the look in my husband's eyes. He was as ready as he was going to be, but I knew we were both so nervous.

He grabbed some plastic to lay underneath me and once the head was out, I got over the plastic and birthed my baby right into our hands. My husband quickly wrapped a towel around our brand new baby. We admired baby fingers and baby toes for a few minutes before it truly set in that we were parents again and that we did it ourselves. Then it hit us: SURPRISE GENDER! We had no idea if we had a boy or a girl. We looked and SURPRISE! Our little precious girl. She was waiting for nobody, she was so excited to get into the world and begin changing lives. We called the midwife first, stating that I had the baby and that I was just sitting there on the bathroom floor, absolutely over the moon in love with life and to just get here when they get here. Then we called family and friends.

It felt like an eternity before the midwives arrived. I breastfed in the first few seconds of my daughter's arrival. It just came naturally for the both of us, something that I struggled with after having her older brother. My leg was thoroughly asleep by the time they came from sitting on a hard wooden floor. I didn't want to move in case anything happened between that time. Best to stay still. The midwife helped me deliver the after birth and then helped me up and into the shower. They offered to make me something to eat but all I wanted was donuts. My husband left to get me donuts from the donut shop that had just opened. What a beautiful way to celebrate a birthday of the little girl that had me craving donuts my entire pregnancy! While stepping into the shower, I was asked what we'd named her. It was a toss up of names, and, just like with our first child, hearing it being said out loud made all the difference. I chose a different variation based on the midwife's suggestion and it stuck. She was named after my late grandmother and my late aunt. I never met my aunt, but I am told I would have loved her.

We spent the better part of four days just sleeping, lounging around our home as visitors came and went. It was blissful, recharging at home, sleeping in my own bed, raiding my own fridge, using my own toilet, taking a shower when I wanted without having to wear sandals inside. Everything came so naturally at home. It was where I was meant to be. I truly believe had I stayed home another half hour with my son instead of getting in the car, my birth would have been completely different. But I will never know. I will never know if I could have bonded with him differently. I'll never know if his entire life could have played out differently. I love him just as much as his sister now, but before she was here, I found it so difficult to connect. He felt like such a stranger. Maybe he was just always meant to have a sister. I'll never understand that part of my brain - the part that just jumbles thoughts up and turns them into anxiety over everything. I throw confusing things in there and it just makes it more confusing until I tire myself out by running in circles.

Now I have two beautifully healthy children. I made many mistakes with my first that I won't make with my second. I've made many mistakes with my second that I won't make with my third. And I will likely make a lot of the same mistakes two or three or four times with all of them, both present and future babies. I will kick myself every time and still vow to do  better tomorrow.

Motherhood is about stained clothing, messy hair, spotted glasses, a pile of dishes, five mountains of laundry, never-ending crumbs on the floor and loads of love. It's about reading the stories with the funny voices and making the blanket forts and watching the same cartoon twenty times a day because they just love it that much and you love when they're happy. Motherhood is about sacrificing the woman you used to be and even the woman you thought you'd be and turning her into something completely different. It is putting another person before yourself. It is skipping meals because you're always making them the food they ask for or cleaning up the food they asked for that is now on the floor. It is losing sleep because of their sickness when you're even too sick to care for yourself. It is fighting battles we never thought we'd fight against people we never thought we'd fight against. It is taking a stand for those who don't have voices or whose voices are overlooked, unheard, or deemed unimportant. It is being the advocate for your children when nobody else is.

It is selfless.
It is scary.
It is exhausting.
It is love in the purest form.
It is unique to each child.
It is painful.
It is empowering.
It is controversial.

It is motherhood.
It is the unknown.

It's something I could never explain, even in a long blog post, to someone who hasn't felt that love before. I would give my life for my children. I would give everything that makes me happy to make my children happy. I would sacrifice anything and everything to give them the most fulfilling life that I can. I would gather the stars in a net. I would lasso the moon. I would tame the sun. I would give the world to my children because they are my world. They are equal parts of both my husband and I and that in itself makes me love them more. They are a product of love, a reminder of the time we've spent together, the memories we made before them. The whole story, every memory, led up to them. They were the real beginning to our love story, we just had to wait to get here. Children come out equipped to love, equipped to be snuggled, warm, and safe. The more we copy them, the more we find that nature had it right all along. We may be teaching children how to be more like adults, but I've found they have taught me much more in how to be young at heart.

They've taught me that a kind, gentle approach will always be better than getting in the last word. That when I want to scream, instead, I should sing. When I am frustrated, I just keep trying until I get it right. I have so much more since having children and it goes beyond just having two more mouths to feed, twice the laundry, twice the dishes. Everything has multiplied. Our love for each other and for them, our passion for things that are important to us, our zest for life. Even if that zest consists of sitting at home and just enjoying watching them play, using our imaginations with them.

Motherhood has been my lowest and my highest points. Motherhood has overtaken me. Motherhood is who I am. Motherhood is a life sentence of love, a prison to which you are free to come and go, but you never want to leave the comfort of its walls. It's an internal expansion that gives you a new reason to love yourself too. My body created this life. My body created this life just for me. My body may not look like it once did, but, without these children, my body would still look like it once did. I've embraced all of the changes my body has endured to bring two children into the world. Every stretch mark reminds me of the sleepless nights, the leg cramps, the uncontrollable sweat, the insane cravings, the kicks to the ribs, and then the kicks to the kidneys while co-sleeping.

Each child is a blank canvas and I hope to paint a beautiful, vivid picture that they will take into the world and share with others who will also add their mark. I cannot wait to see the final masterpiece. To see the hard work I'm putting in make a difference in the world that maybe I won't accomplish. To use their talents to change even the life of one person, or maybe to go on to change the lives of millions.

Children are a blessing and without them, there wouldn't be mothers.

No matter how fired up we get over their messes, their screaming, their sibling rivalry, we need to remember them at all the stages of their life. We need to remember when they were toddlers, learning to walk, learning to speak, learning to undo every child latch in the house and leave you wondering how they did it. There are so many mysteries to motherhood, things etched so deep in us that not even modern society can touch it. But the one thing that has never been a mystery to me is the devotion I have to my children and children all over the world. When you're a mother, the news hurts more. That's somebody's daughter or son. Somebody out there is missing their child. We can feel that in our hearts, in a place that can't be touched until you become a parent yourself. Every fire whistle brings the hope that it isn't your child and sometimes warrants a phone call, even at 3 AM.

Before I was a mother, I couldn't imagine being a mother. I wanted it, but I never knew how badly I needed it. Every day, these children teach me that I need them more than they need me. And they are more than happy to show me how to live again, all I have to do is listen, watch and repeat. Children are an amazing kind of human, the kind of human we should strive to be. Being a mother will always rank at the top job I've ever had. It's definitely not the pay that keeps me coming back every day. It's those tiny arms wrapped around your neck, the silly jokes, the random compliments, the accomplishments they make, the unconditional love they show. I can mess up time and time again and these children still love me.

Ahhh, motherhood.

Being a stay-at-home mother...

Let's get right down to the first post shall we?

First, my name is Amanda. I am fresh into my 30's and so far, I feel my first 30 years have been a story and a half. I've seen many things, but there is so much I haven't. I am married to my high school sweetheart of 14 years, married six years this coming Thursday. We now have two children together who amaze me every day just being themselves. It's crazy having two children who are equal parts you and someone else, but 100% themselves.

It's hard speaking about myself as most days, I feel like a fairly boring person even if I have a very colorful mind. We moved nearly two hours away from "home" about 9 years ago. I still have yet to make a friend who wants to know everything about me. I still have yet to find that connection where I am and I  have no desire right now. Is that wrong? Being okay without friends? Being a stay at home mother, I have no physical friends and I am okay with that. I made one friend since being here but she has since moved away. My husband is my best friend. My children are growing to be my friends also, though, sometimes I don't like them much. That's also normal. Kids are... well... new to this. Makes it hard to get through the day to day without delays, broken thoughts, multiple messes made over and over again. I definitely love them, but some times I don't like them. I'm sure they love me and sometimes don't like me much either. That's part of most relationships, though.

I am amazed that my body created them, that I carried them, birthed them. Being a woman is fascinating. The ability to create life, hold life, nurture life, to literally break our bodies in half to bring a life into the world. It fascinates me. I always felt I was meant to be a mother, I longed for it. I never thought much about it until my younger sisters were born but once I saw babies in a different way, in a more personal way, it was clear I needed to be a mother. Once we were married and made the decision to start our family, child care came into the conversation. My husband suggested that I stay home as I was already home to attend college online and he was making enough to support us. I still have no idea how we did it because "enough to support us" really wasn't much.

Being a stay at home mother has it's perks and it's downfalls. To me, time is money, so spending time at home while making money was a must. I do know being a stay at home mother is a job in itself, but I must be doing more with my time. I would work five jobs if it meant my kids got to stay home. It's just one of those things that are important to me, a child raised at home. If my husband lost his job, I'd go back to work having 18 hour days, alongside my online business, even if it meant having half of what my husband brings in. I would work to provide for my family. I would work because I enjoy working. But I enjoy working at home more. It just makes sense in our busy world. It has the potential to make me more money than "working for the man" and gives me more freedom.

My favorite parts of staying home are watching cartoons I enjoyed when I was my children's age, watching their fascination, knowing I was just as fascinated way-back-when. Hearing their big dreams, questions, listening to the things that expand my own brain and force me to research and think outside the box. I love that my blanket fort skills don't go to waste in adulthood. I love that someone thinks my terrible jokes are funny, because, let's face it, food puns and knock-knock jokes never go out of style, people just become sticks in the mud as they age.

But being a stay at home mother also has it's downfalls. Most days I am spread so thin. Most days I don't eat a warm meal that doesn't have baby fingers all through it. Some days I am lucky if I eat more than the leftover crumbs of my children's meals. Most of my day consists of food - preparing food, cooking food, storing food, buying food, growing food, researching food, washing food off clothing, cleaning up food off the floor, table, chair, ceiling, windows... You'd be surprised the places you find food once you become a parent. Really, really surprised.

Most days, I make a pot of coffee and lose my cup, pour another, lose that one, find the first one, drink cold coffee, then lose it again in the midst of daily mom tasks. Most days, I forget the last time I had a shower. I have stains on every article of clothing I own, I have baskets upon baskets of clean laundry floating around the house. I'm sure that I've rewashed the same clean clothing multiple times this month because of said baskets. I have dishes by the sink that never seem to get fully finished. I just cleaned the counters last night and they're dirty again and I am pretty sure nobody went near them. I think trolls come in at night and trash the place. It's the only explanation...

I am a mess most days - a train wreck of emotions, clash of mismatched clothing, messy hair, and crooked glasses. And even on the worst days with the most house work, I would never take back these five years I've had at home with my children. We made many sacrifices for me to stay home, but I think it would have been a far bigger sacrifice have someone else raising our children rather than making the sacrifices financially to adjust. I thank my husband each day - the good, the bad, the in between. He's worked so hard for me to raise our children. He comes home to his train wreck of a wife and still showers her in love. He still thinks I am the most beautiful woman he's seen. He appreciates the little things I do along with the big things. That's a big deal to me. To have that love, that appreciation, that acceptance of who I am even through the worst days. To still look at me at my worst and love me his best. That's love.

Overall, being a stay at home mother has been what I was meant to do, but I feel not where I am meant to stay. Most days I wish I was at work instead (I'm sure some working mothers cannot imagine that feeling), but overall, I've loved watching my children grow and learn. I love being outside the home to work - small businesses, local businesses. I love the social interaction, I love seeing adults from time to time. I'm looking forward to the moment that I can replace my husband's income with my online business and still work outside the home just for a break, for my sanity. A job just for fun. The business I work online may very well end up branching into a physical business where I create huge events which will allow me the best of both worlds - both being at home AND being social. That's the end goal. But I truly have no idea what the future will bring.

I can't wait to just write now that the first blog post is done. The first blog post is the hardest. It's your basis of your entire blog, it's what everyone looks at first - where you began. I'm just beginning where my mind is working right now. My mind is set on being a stay at home mother. I'm at a crossroads and I must make a turn, but I'm making them blindly. One day at a time is all I can promise, so it's what I will give. If anyone has a suggestion of what to post next, leave me some comments! I will get to them all in time, I'm sure, but I can't wait to start writing again!

Stay tuned!