Day 7: July 7, 2014
Age: 8 weeks, 1 day
all i wanted for the last year leading up to my pregnancy was to be a mommy. a mother. a mom. have some sort of sense of purpose other than myself. was getting tired of the weekend partying and empty spending. got caught up in the 'mommy craze' that was my social media feed. seeing all these pics of happy, smiley mommies and daddies and beautiful (or sometimes just weird looking) kiddos. my biological clock started ticking, and somewhere around age 28 this bell started going off of 'i want one.' before i met my husband, i swore marriage was not in the cards for me, so it's pretty sufficient to say that motherhood also was never in the 'when i grow up,' cards for me, either. so when the clock started ringing, i wasn't prepared for it.
but are we ever, really?
after many pestering talks and heart to hearts with my husband, we agreed late last summer that it was as good of time as any for me to go off birth control. we weren't 'actively trying,' if you will, but we knew conceiving a child was a very realistic possibility, and we embraced the idea.
little did we know - (ok, we had no fucking idea), what this entailed.
from the trials and tribulations that was my 9 month gestational journey, to the endless seeming research of google and baby literature, my alarm finally sounded from that biological clock exactly 8 weeks and one day ago. i got my wish. to be a mommy.
and guess what? NONE of those mommies and daddies on facebook captured the slightest hint of reality on their facebook/instagram feeds. not. one. bit.
sure, i'm not doubting the moments of their family portraits and little baby joys aren't authentic happytime moments - but for every happytime moment, there's a bajillion and five not-so-happy moments. or maybe there are some lucky moms/dads that just pop out happy, joyful lil sweethearts. well i can tell you this, vin and i ain't one of those couples - no siree.
ever since his first day here, mr. holden root sassana has kept us on our toes. busy as bees. every day has had moments of the strained eye rolls, insistent rockings and pattings, in your face screaming/bawling. but i think we're finally at a point where it's no longer something to take personal, and we've come to the realization that it's not the end of the world to eat our dinner with a crying baby safely nestled in his napper rocker 3 inches away. (or in my case, on a pillow on my lap, attached to my boob, with a paper towel 'tent' tossed on top of his body/face so i can finally get my grub on - cold dinner quickly loses its appeal after two month, a mom's gotta get her eat on, after all. . .)
don't get me wrong - we're finally approaching the age where hr will reward us with some gummy smiles and loud, abrupt happy coo squeals. these are the moments that we live for, now. these must be the moments that the facebook mommy and daddies post online. but i'm here to tell you, all you current mommies/daddies, soon to be mommy/daddies, or non-mommy/daddies contemplating someday becoming one - KIDS CRY. they scream. they yowl until they turn red in the face. they get clogged tearducts, so their tears pool in the corner of their face until it gets all crusty/puss like, and no matter how many times you whisper softly 'i love you, i'm here for you, no matter what,' into their ears, or rock them gently, or rub their backs and sing - them lil pissbombs will still scream and cry. and you'll be convinced they hate you. and other times your heart will break even more than theirs appears to be. and eventually you will probably (or maybe i'm just an asshole) not be phased at all. and can laugh about it. or like in my case, take selfies to tease the little snot when he/she is old enough to be embarrassed.
i love my little dude. tremendously. and wouldn't change anything for the world. i'm glad my 'clock' started ticking when it did. because if it didn't, i'd probably still be empty spending and binge drinking away my 30 something year old boredom away. i'd also be having a lot more freedom and fun - enjoying lunches with friends, vacations, and not feeling guilty to do something as simple as relieve my bowels (yes, moms poop, too - although i can attest to not as often after they have a child due to getting screamed at for being absent longer than 4 seconds). there's ups and downs. it's not for everyone.
but after the past 8 weeks, i do know this. it is for me.
it's moments like below, that i now live for and cherish.
i love my baby boy. even when he's a bully - he's still my best friend.
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