a month of maternity leave: day 8

Day 8: July 8, 2014
Age: 8 weeks, 2 days

today was a day almost like any other day. i spose they're all a little different, but the fact that mom didn't get a chance to get outta her milk soaked pajama top and shorts or put on deodorant until her daily afternoon run at 5pm was similar to the past few days. got another 5 miler in tonite - that's 15 in the last 3 days. don't anticipate i'll be able to keep this up for long - actual plans are in the works later this week, but for now i'm just enjoying it without any set expectations. and i'm feeling great afterwards, if you can disregard the sweaty mess i evolve into for the following 90 minutes.

holds and i had a pretty chill day, he had his usual melt downs, i combated them with iced coffee and a cliff bar for lunch. last week vin and i indulged our tech wishlist and splurged on iphones. did we absolutely need new phones? no. we never talk on them and our past devices were plenty sufficient for texting, which was their number one purpose. but the internet was 'slow'. and we were eligible for an upgrade. the real reason i permitted the expense? SHEER BOREDOM. because tending to a wailing infant or sitting around while he snoozes every other hour is only so entertaining. it's not like i can get dolled up and ready for a social engagement while he snoozes because as soon as he wakes up - back to couch arrest. so yeah, i bought us iphones so i could take better pictures of my baby boy and play stupid, brainless games. right now i'm embarassed to admit i've been nearly addicted to a combination of angry birds and that ridiculous kim kardashian game. I KNOW HOW SAD THIS SOUNDS. what's even more sad? this stupid kim k game, you like, earn points doing different superficial tasks to become a superficial superstar. instead of scoring 'vanity' points, or 'romance,' though, i kept sending my avatar to work a dayjob. to make money. kind of the opposite of the point of the game. i think it was around hour 2 of playing this ridiculously addicting game this afternoon and making my avatar go fold clothes at her 2nd retail job that i realized - wait. i cleared with my doctor and HR department to like, actually work, at my job, this week if i so chose. not really wanting to work and dreading turning on my machine, i realized however that my time would be better spent getting caught up to speed remotely at my REAL job instead of some ridiculous kardashidan fake job, earning REAL money instead of fake virtual money that would just buy my fake character a fake condo. because, you know, my son needs REAL health insurance, and whatever time i can put in, albeit brief, will go towards his premium bill. five hundro bucks for his premium in july. so i figure, yeah, maybe it IS worthwhile to turn on that dusty dell. so i did. and i called my boss. spent maybe a total of 2 hours on/off throughout the afternoon while H snoozed working with IT to get access to my accounts which had expired the past two months, checked some emails, and got an idea of what i could work on in the next month, as i pleased.

i will admit, it wasn't as fun as folding clothes at my avatar's fake retail shop, but i did feel much better about myself. it's a tiny bit stressful knowing my boss now may have expectations from me on my leave and that i feel jipped out of my leave, knowing there's potential responsibilities waiting for me - but i made it clear that i cannot commit to any time sensitive tasks, and that holdie is my number one priority. plus, i can always bill work for checking emails/making calls that i'd probably have done anyway. so i can probs put in enough time to at least cover the health insurance and not have to tap into my savings account.

so that happened, today. just hope i didn't open pandora's box. while i kind of like being a smelly, disheveled couch potato with my babe, i'll admit the idea of work both stresses me out, but also made me feel good about myself (just a tiny bit), when i felt the gears in my brain start turning again. like, oh wait, i do have a brain. i can follow this concept, and for a tiny bit second, i even got upset when i noticed something fell through the cracks after my departure that others didn't save/pick up on. proved to me i do have a place on the team and am a valuable asset. and more importantly, that i'm more than a pair of boobs.

back in mommy world, though, today was holdie's 'on' day for pooping. but he wasn't pooping. so i had to dose him with another smack of his juggalo juice (colic calm), and we finally got the big finale we were waiting for. but he wasn't happy about it this time. he got sent to bed early, and (for now) seems to be dozing quietly. i'll give him another 40 minutes, tops, until we start hearing desperate fake crying, realizing he was jipped out of his seconds of titjuice. the piglet. the sounds he was making this morning for his 5am feeding were so grotesque and animalistic, i wanted to toss the piglet back in bed. i felt embarassed and bad that we were waking up his dad, since we typically take fieldtrips to the couch for feedings, but figured H would be sleepy enough to let us stay in bed for the last feeding since his dad had to roll out of bed in 15 minutes anyway. instead, he took it as an invitation to grunt, squeal, slurp, cough and god knows what else as he continuously punched my boob, wild eyed. that's my boy, though.

he's got his 2 month check up on friday. while he passed the 8 week mark on sunday, his official 2 month mark is friday, and i'm a bit nervous to take him to the pediatrician for all his shots. i know he'll be in a bit of discomfort and will shriek his little head off. i only hope i'll be able to comfort him the way a mommy can.

maybe a bath will help him afterwards. my little man sure loves his bathtime. in fact, that was the only cure to get him to stop shrieking from 4pm onwards until bedtime. homeboy loves getting submerged in his sinktub. can't say i blame him, a nice warm bath always calms down his mama, too.

that's it for now. i'd like to say i'm going to go off and do something productive, but knowing me, i'll prob just start playing superficial games on my iphone. 3.5 more weeks, gotta live it up somehow. at least i'm honest with myself, right??

a day in the life of new motherhood: day 7

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.

1 month of mommying h.r.s : day 6

Day 6: July 6, 2014
Age: 8 weeks!

WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?? HOW IS MY LIL HOLDIE BEAR ALREADY 8 WEEKS OLD?!

oh man. 4 more weeks/ends before the inevitable return to work. (deep breath/exhale).

today was a nice day. not the easiest, but are any of the days easy? highlight of my day was getting in my longest run to date since i've gotten back into the groove. instead of trying to set an expectation on my ipod running guide thingy with either a set number of minutes or miles, i just went for a basic free run. and wound up running 5.2 miles in just under 45 minutes! overall good pace and covered the distance. not to mention i accomplished this feat in swarmy 80+degree humidity. but it helped me clear my head and boost my esteem/sense of accomplishment. i told myself my goal was to clock 5 consecutive minutes under an hour before i returned to work and i totally nailed it with 4 weeks to spare. so here's to hoping i can get that time even tighter before i get back to work. the natural endorphins/high of running are my new thing. so much more rewarding than booze. (although i will admit i'm currently treating myself to a glass of Cabernet at the moment to help get me sleepy eyed for bed, since the mister has been in bed for the better part of the last half hour).

i suppose i should give some sort of explanation for the photo collage above. the top left is obvs just my lil man being zany and cute, hamming it up instead of focusing on the past task at hand (eating), he's pretty into swatting/punching my boob and getting super pissed at me for not being able to bend over at 45 degree angles into his mouth, vs. having him turn slightly onto his side like he has been doing for the past 8 weeks. as my husband said, i don't have 'freddy krueger arms' (or boobs). the pic on the right hand side  was this morning when he was being a goof hiding/playing under his swaddle. and the lower left hand side is when vincent and i decided to dress holden up as a juggalo and we fed him two liter bottles of orange flavored faygo. (or, not). the real story is much less entertaining - rather, we gave the little dude some 'colic calm' gripe water to aid him with his colic/gas, and that shit has been recommended to us by 3 different sets of newish parents, but noone warned us about the juggalo black lipstick effect it had - apparently it's pitch black and makes your newborn infant resemble a gothic dude who's been necking some squid. whatever, it helps him poop and that's all that matters. BECAUSE PARENTS LOVE IT WHEN THEIR BABIES POOP!

i can't believe it's been 8 weeks. they have seriously flown by. every day is an adventure, whether we're stranded on the couch and i'm crabby as a beast at my wit's end, convinced my child hates me - or if we've had a fun laughter filled day, flirting on the changing pad and going out for lovely summer strolls. i love my little dude and am determined to make the most out of the next 4 weeks.

right now, though, i'm determined to enjoy the shit out of this glass of wine so i'm back on my 'every 2 hours' feeding schedule.

here's to a happy monday!

a month of mommyhood: day 5

Day 5: July 5, 2014
Age: 7 weeks, 6 days
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today was a long one. almost too beat to draft this, but doing my best to sticking to the grind. after our eventless fourth of july evening last night, (sadly spent listening to 90s alternative itunes radio on my iphone speaker, drinking a whopping 3 beers and feeling it - driving me to paranoia of not being a good mom (but totally not being affected at all) and watching fireworks from our dining room window (inside)), we had a super long day/draining day today. decided to take the little one to oak creek, wisconsin to visit h's great grandmother with the in-laws. it was a beautiful day and the visit was nice. but it almost took longer to prep holden and his needed supplies for the afternoon trip than the visit did itself. not too mention the little bugger kept us up all nite last night (again), so mom and dad were running on nearly dead batteries. h took the liberty to then sleep ALL DAY - in the car, at grandma's house, during his feedings, on the ride back - by some miracle, we were still successful in getting him swaddled and put in the crib with the sound machine by 8:30 - an hour ago that has since FLOWN by. in that time i had the luxury of pumping my excess supply, unpacking/inventorying the diaper bag, organizing and putting away all his crap and getting bottles put away. #awesomesaturdaynightrager, amirite?

seriously though, today's theme is sleep. how much i love it. and need it. and crave it. and it's not fair that my little guy gets it - only when i can't. so as soon as i wrap up this post dear friends, i'm about to brush my teeth and crawl in my queen sized bed and keep my fingers crossed that i can score more than 3-4 hours for the night.

also, the reality of being in my final month of maternity leave is kicking in, and as each day passes, the more anxious i get and sad that's it's almost to a close. don't get me wrong, i'm totally up for having adult full lunch breaks, bathroom breaks, wearing a bra, brushing my hair and conversing with real people (more than just, 'oh wow, that was an excellent pee pee, holdie! can we get a poopie? who's my lil holdie bear! you are, you are!!'). but at the same time, the office is the last place i want to be, or scratch that, the commute from to/from the office is the last place i want to be. the 8 hours in the office themselves won't be that awful, but the throwaway hour+ downtown each way will be brutal, knowing my lil pumpkin is at home and i'm not. kinda hurts my heart a little bit thinking about it, so maybe i should wait to really ponder it over too much until later in the month.

for now, it just helps me appreciate the time i do have with my lil guy. our mommy/babymoon period. the fact that he's growing into his own person each and every day just makes me love him all that much more. as would him sleeping tonight. if he sleeps tonight, oh my god. i'd marry my own son. i just need sleep.

sleep.

on that note - i'll be back at 'em tomorrow.

31 days of holdie bear: day 4

Day 4: July 4, 2014
Age: 7 weeks, 5 days

It's a Friday. Was a beautiful day. Mid to upper 70s, not too humid. Sunny. Green. Happy. But . . .

Today was a tough one. I'm posting a collage of pix from a better day (yesterday, post pooping party), when HR was in a better, cheery mood. (and mommy, too - who knew that discovering a hoodie had bear ears on it would be the most ADORABLE and fun thing in the world - the pics above were a shot by shot reaction of h's when he saw me geek out about how cute he was - my boy really does love me (sometimes)).

Last nite the hubs and I had our weekly 'date night' and I got to venture out of our neighborhood for the first time in 2 months (literally - i hadn't left the confinements of Lincoln Square since May 1st when I was sent home on bedrest until my delivery - unless of course, you count leaving to go to the hospital to deliver the bundle a 'trip' out of the neighborhood. I do not). We opted to go grab a burger and a drink in Ukranian Village/Humboldt Park area, followed with a german brew in the hood. Was a nice night, had a funny run in with my cousin and a chihuahua, just the usual stuff. Since Holdie was in a super smiley mood yesterday, the nerves weren't too fried, but as soon as we got home and Grandma left for the night, Mr. H put me to the mommy test - waking up nearly every hour from 11pm onwards throughout the night. Finally, around 7 am this morning I realized there was no way I'd get the luxury of 'sleeping in' until 8, so up we were for the day, with a sounding alarm of shrieks and sobs.

That was meltdown number one. Eventually, (4 hours later), we were composed enough (Holdie and mommy) to take a walk in the neighborhood and get some iced coffee at Starbuck's (our usual spot, Perfect Cup, was closed for the holiday). H calmed down enough to sneak some shut eye in the stroller, and we got home in time for a few lady visitors in the afternoon. Queue meltdown number two. After 20+ minutes of impressing his friends with his waterworks, we managed to maneuver him to the park to hang out on the holiday in the shady grass for a bit, until mister got restless, again. Daddy was home at this point, so naturally it was time to queue meltdown numbers three and four. Guess who had tummy problems, again? So I dropped the twenty bones on some black liquid called 'colic calm' at the advice of a few fellow parents who swear by it. Maybe it worked? Maybe it didn't. I don't know. Several minutes upon minutes were spent doing leg/tummy exercises, sing songs, walkings, rockings, swaddles and feedings. Finally, I was successful in getting the little man down not ten minutes ago for Vin's and my first 'adult rest' all day. It breaks my heart to see him upset/sick, but sometimes mommy just needs some time to think/relax. Not to mention the slight anxieties Vin and I are facing with some gunky action in his left eye - the fact that his tear ducts only work in that eye and not the other makes it look worse with the sobby wetness. It's fun to be a parent. The line of worrying about whether or not our lad is sick, vs. 'being the parent' and training him to sleep on his own and knowing when is an 'i'm tired' meltdown vs. legitimate 'i dont feel well' is a challenge.

But I think we're getting it?

Today is the fourth of july. I've never been huge on the holiday, but the fireworks have officially begun in my neighborhood - the booms and cracks of fireworks just started a few minutes ago, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't with the majority of the neighbors curled up at either Winnemac Park or the River Park with a sheet, six pack and blanket (and any sort of bbq foods).

Maybe next year. Tomorrow we are supposed to take H to meet his great grandmother for the first time in Wisconsin. I'm slightly nervous because of the duration of the car ride and back, but more so that he'll be a fussmonster again and ruin everyone's nerves and be sick. I guess time will tell if he starts to feel better or not, so now that he's down for the night my next question is whether or not to allow myself to indulge in one of the beers my husband just bought for us. . .

These times, they are a changin'. Instead of witnessing the splosions in the sky, I'm waiting with bated breath for a splosion in my son's diaper.

1 month of mommyhood: day 3

Day 3: July 3rd, 2014
Age: 7 Weeks, 4 days

the face(s) you are seeing above are not just any regular 'smiley baby' snapshots. nope, these are much, much more than that. these are 'smiley baby after finally releasing a decent sizable mustard poop after not pooping for 36+ hours'. for those of you that aren't parents, yr probably thinking, 'gross, tmi, dude.' for those of you that are parents, you can most likely relate. holdie was normally on a regular schedule, giving us the joy of mustard yellow diapers 2-3 times a day, up until last week, when he decided to throw us for a loop with an every other day dump. 'is he constipated? do we need to take him to the doctor? give him gas drops! gripe water! bicycle legs! tummy massage! why won't he poop?? he won't stop crying!' fun stuff. with the help of my friend google, (seriously i don't know how moms mommed before google), i discovered it's actually pretty normal for a baby to only have bowel movements every other day or two. it just meant more crying and discomfort for my little gas bomb. so after an evening of hectic baby gas workouts, (my 'luxury tub time' was spent to the soundtrack of my husband's high pitched child coaching vocals creaking, 'one one one, holdie get it done! instructional sheeting poop youtube video, cmon holdie, one one one, get it done!' as he raced to get my son to stretch his legs to his tummy to release the gas. that's totally normal).

so while we had another successful 8pm bedtime last nite, sir holden decided to wake up EVERY two hours on the dot, wailing (not so cute this time - eyes were NOT closed), to feed and not so gently inform me he was still in discomfort. this morning, he woke me up for good around 8 or so, SCREAMING. i sucked whatever tiny blockages of snot he had out of his nose using this creepy swedish nose tub thing (nosefrida, i think?), used saline in case he was stuffed up - no dice. dosed the bugger with 2.5 oz of gripe water - (he still griped). mad biking action. burp hugs (my FAVORITE method of burping - just hug him! and blech!) even if it doesn't work, i get hugs. it's the best. finally, after we got dressed and washed his face at least 14 times - (gripe water is mad sticky, yo - and cat hairs? gross), we tried to feed for the umpteenth time and voila! the worst, foul smelling holdie poop and wet splosion sounds erupted in his little green romper. he pooped. and i changed him. and he kept giving me the hammiest poop grins (see above), i've seen to date. these weren't the typical 'i'm so happy i'm cute and trying to please you, mommy' smiles, but 'yeaaaaah - i crapped. this rules.'

so there's the update on my son's bowels i'm sure you've all been anxiously awaiting.

motherhood rules.

tomorrow is the fourth of july. i've never really been one to celebrate murica's independence (either because of work restrictions, or just never really been one for huge crowds), but last year i really enjoyed getting out to see the fireworks at winnemac park, just down the street from our apartment with vincent. this year, obviously, fireworks will be on display after h's bedtime, and would scare the dickens out of him, so i bought a package of jalapeno chicken sausages and ruffled chips from trader joe's for vin and my 'celebration.' maybe we'll even split a sixer? (but that would be bold, bc mommy only has a 2 drink max these days). might see some girlfriends tomorrow, hopefully holdie will behave and not freak the fuck out and scare them away. (he has a tendency to do that).

well, the mister is currently in his vibrating chair and i now am hearing an erupting chains of farts, some possibly wet. so he's def keeping on today's theme. he's looking at me like this, so i think it's time for me to sign off today. . .

aaand - sidenote: the face above is the face one makes when they realized they've experienced their first 'blowout,' aka - 'oops i crapped my pants' (literally). or in holdie's case, romper. mommy has never been more impressed/horrified. huggie's '12 hour protection sealant', my ass.

31 days of holdie: day 2

Day 2: July 2nd, 2014
Age: 7 weeks, 3 days

i'm nervous to try and start this post right now because the goose is in a mood. he's currently battling the hiccups, distracted in his vibrating monkey chair, cooing at the shaking stuffed monkey mobile. he actually gave me approximately 4.5 minutes before getting bored in his playmat to wolf down a salad. premade, of course, because ain't nobody got time for actually preparing food in this household. nope, we actually had a pretty eventful morning, scoring a ride with grandpa 'papa smurf' (his nickname choice), to trader joe's. so that meant getting out of bed 90 minutes earlier to ensure that not only was mr. h dressed and fed, but mom had 5 full minutes to look like she spent 25 full minutes getting ready. (aka - dunk the hair, throw it in a messy ponytail, deodorant, brushed teeth, mascara and clothes - super model time!). we managed to get the groceries without any meltdowns, but here we are now, inside for who knows how long on this gorgeous summer day.

at least i have the joys of getting down to the soundtrack of fisher price jams, thanks to the monkey chair.

every  day i fall more in love with my little man, as high maintenance as he can be.

we had another successful evening with the 8pm bedtime last night, thank goodness, but this time the lil bugger woke up at 11, instead of midnight for a snack. which was fine by me, because i was having a hell of a time falling asleep anyway. it made me realize how much i absolutely adore him - the late night feedings, when he runs 100% on nature and instinct. wakes himself up crying, not the fake phony whine/fussiness i get throughout the day. he cries and cries, but quietly - with his eyes closed. the little dude is too pooped to even open his eyes. so as is our normal nighttime routine, i scoop him up, unbaby burrito him out of the swaddle on the dining room (just kidding - holdie room) table changing station, change his diaper and then cradle him into the living room to give him his feeding.

since vin likes to sleep with the air conditioner on, (which is in the living room, vs. bedroom due to crappy window sizes), i'm always nervous little h will get super cold (because even i am), so once i have him curled up on the boppy pillow on my lap, i wrap him up in this light, floral summer blanket that one of our family friends gifted us before he was born. it fits him from head to toe and wraps around - literally, i cover his little head so only his tiny little bug face is peeking out to feed. it is absolutely ADORABLE. especially when he cries with his eyes closed. maybe i'm just a creep, or super duper sleep deprived, but its especially in these moments that my mommy instinct kicks in over drive and my heart explodes, letting me nurture the hell out of this little toadstool, until he's fed himself back to sleep.

he's much sweeter and nicer to me in his sleep.

awake? another story. definitely keeps me on my toes. somehow, he's still in his monkey chair - but is about to have a shit fit if i don't scoop him out and give him whatever the heck it is he wants. doesn't he know the meaning of 'if you're happy and you know it clap your hands??" (aka monkey chair current jam). jeez, kid.

ok, here's to hoping i can calm his ass down from his about to be meltdown and get him to take a nap so we can cheat away for a stroll in the river park. that would be good. 'specially for mommy.

one month of new mommyhood: day 1

i've been seeing these daily 'challenges' posted all over social media. whether it's on instagram, a pic a day following some general theme, or '100 days of happy' on facebook - (which kind of seems conflicting, b/c if you're really happy for 100 days, why are you spending your time posting on facebook instead of living it up?). since i'm only going to be on maternity leave with mr. h once, and the time seems to be FLYING by (seriously, i can't believe i'm on my homestretch of leave), i've decided to create my own 'challenge,' and hope that it will accomplish a few feats with one attempt - 1) jump my writer's block battery, 2) capture the seemingly mundane moments that i know really truly aren't (at least for me and h), giving me something to revisit in the future and remember my boy when he was a tiny little bug, and 3) give updates for those of you who want to know - without spamming up your social media feeds. i'll call this my one month of mommyhood, or 31 days of holdie. we'll see. this truly will be a challenge for me on many levels - first and foremost, any of you who have ever had a newborn can attest/agree that getting even 4 uninterrupted minutes is a rarity - let alone the 10 or so it'll take to post each day; trying to find something noteworthy to document and get over my writer's block - and remembering to do this daily. so here we go!

Day 1: July 1st, 2014
Age: 7 weeks, 2 days

It's a Tuesday. Seemingly beautiful outside, about 75 degrees, five minutes to noon. Last night was a craaaazy thunderstorm. some of the loudest thunder/brightest lightning flashes i've seen in as long as i can remember. definitely made the later feedings entertaining, although there were a few moments i cursed under my breath that the thunder would stir my sleeping man. we started trying the early bedtime a few nites ago, 3 nites consecutively we've succeeded in swaddling H post feeding when he started to get fussy, turning off every light in the house, and just depositing him in the pack n play  bassinet. and lo and behold, after maybe 10-20 minutes of self cooing and ninja kicking, the little guy passes out, fuss free. couldn't believe it. best thing ever.

so herre we are, chilling in the living room. h has the hiccups and is sporting one of his many 0-3 month rompers - we've officially outgrown the newborn sized clothes - although sometimes i do like to squeeze him in some booty shorts and belly shirts just to make him look like a pudgy hipster. he's in size 1 diapers and seemingly exploded through his 6 week growth spurt overnight last week. his neck/head control is crazy good, although he will still headbang a bit if he gets sleepy/lazy. luckily, the crazy ass involuntary limb flaiilngs have calmed considerably. smiles are a daily occurrence now, and not just 'ima gonna poop real good' grins. not as many as i'd like, and holdie seems to get pissed when i eagerly reach for my phone to capture the moment - like, 'cmon mom, just enjoy this moment. dont paparazzi my ass or you'll spoil it.' touche, kid.

i'm getting my bearings of basic mommy duties pretty well. nursing, swaddling, pumping, diapers, bathtime, burping, going for strolls - i feel like a pro. where i'm still at a bit of a loss is the 'i'm bored' cries. i try in vain to entertain the little guppy, making high pitched coos/noises, placing him in the vibrating monkey chair, the jungle gym playmat, picking him up, making sure it's not a diaper/hunger thing, reading him a story, but it's usually when i don't try that he's genuinely entertained - such as my offkey creaking to veruca salt's 'volcano girls' and dancing him around that he seemed to be happy as a clam. that's my boy, but man, mommy can only dance so much before she has to a) go to the bathroom, b) reclasp her bra so the neighbors don't see a loonytoon dancing around with her boobs hanging out in the window, c) try to eat something - anything. even raisin bran would be a treat - but that would require h being content to be put down for more than 30 seconds.

so it's a blast. really, it can be. the hardest part for me thus far in my past 2 months of first time parenthood has been battling the loneliness. experienced moms are a good source for me to ask qs, vent, etc., via text or facebook. the handful of park dates i've had with non 9-5 friends has been more therapeutic than i'd ever imagined. but most of the days, especially those where either the weather or my son prevents us from getting outside for a daily stroll, it's really hard. i guess i'm suffering a bit of an identity crisis? no longer jodi the corporate professional or fun lovin' pal, but jodi the mom. the mom with messy hair, stinky armpits and a boob always hanging out. (and dark circles under her eyes).

jodi the mom needs a break. but that can wait- cuz mr. h is crying again and my feverish rocking of the newborn rocker play thingy isn't working. so here comes feeding number 8. . . .

til tomorrow. :)

afraid of the dark. (new mommy edition).

when i was young, i used to be scared of the dark. not in the traditional, 'there's a boogeyman under the bed' sense, but i would get eerie feelings that there was something else there - and not necessarily in a physical sense. i can probably account it to my freedom in movie rentals even as a little one, (the nightmare on elm streets and childs play series were a regular watch for my cousins and i, even at ages 7-8), and my runaway imagination - but i never got nervous chucky or freddy would be waiting for me at bedtime - although i did develop an irrational fear from the little troll jester from stephen king's 'cat's eye'. (never seen it? it has drew barrymore in it as a kid and there's a cat in a series of stories trying to save her from this jester monster who is trying to steal her breath at night. the fact that this little troll thing (about the size of my fist), had his own little dagger and weapons, and could come out of the wall and then close the wall up behind him, leaving no evidence of his arrival - TERRIFIED me). so i guess that was one of my fears at bedtime. but that was the only thing from a movie that ever freaked me out at bedtime. later in my teen years, i decided i had some sort of extra sense or sensitivity to picking up on spirits/ghosts, whatever you want to call the beings that aren't physically present, but could be felt - and not necessarily welcome presences. i was convinced my childhood home in argyle had some sort of other worldly presence in it - as did my grandparents' farm. as did my senior year college apartment, and a handful of other places i'd stay overnight in. i could use this as a forum to ramble/rant about all my 'ghostly' experiences, but chances are i've already rambled about them in previous posts on here or to you personally over a beer or bottle of wine sometime in the past.

my point is - footsteps. monsters above my head. cool drops of temperature in the room. the unexplainable. that's what used to freak me out at night. in the dark. i've experienced things of this nature even with the biggest skeptics present with me. although, since i moved to the city 8 years ago, these events have pretty much disappeared. so what keeps me up at night now? knocking in my knees? pulling the covers up to my eyes, causing me to hold my breath and pray for the morning to come?

not much. not really anything, really. maybe the threat of a break-in since i do reside in chicago. that would be pretty scary, and legitimately so, but let's face it, i'm pretty safe in the confinements of strollerville, lincoln square. so the only thing keeping me up at night is my husband's snoring.

that is - up until 5 and a half weeks ago, only increasing as each day passes.

the fear of the night that makes me stop in my tracks, hold my breath and stop everything i'm doing/thinking is now my newborn son. i'm not scared in the 'ohmygod is he breathing' new mom paranoia sort (naw, that shit stopped weeks ago). i'm also not scared in the 'ohshit let's call the doctor' way. nope, i'm scared in the - i just rocked this kid for 90 minutes. changed (3) diapers. nursed til my boobs turned to sand. AND paced the apartment in the dark. he was passed the fuck out. and now - i see his shiny, dark eyes glinting in the darkness through the see through mesh window in the pack and play bassinet at the foot of my bed. i see the shadows of his ninja feet kicking, trapped in his swaddle, just moments from breaking a tiny little arm out - at which point he's likely to overstimulate himself back awake, waving his arms involuntarily around like he's at a kanye west concert, hitting himself in the face. the sucking sounds of 'i want another boob.' knowing there's a 50/50 chance that he'll either a) entertain himself into sleep which could occur anywhere from momentarily to 30 minutes and it's best to leave him alone or the sound/sight of my voice/face will wake him back up to full consciousness - or b) he's about to freak the fuck out and start fake cry wimpering, leading into a full orchestral wail, seconds away from waking up my husband who has to work in hours, or freak out the 3 cats or even wake up the neighbors if we god forbid dared to keep our bedroom/living room windows open for the sake of not suffocating in the summer heat and lil h's screams will then echo throughout the courtyard.

so i wait, with bated breath. nervous and terrified of the shiny eyes. and soft sucking sounds. and flailing legs and shaking, swaddled arm.

this is what scares me. and oh good lord, it's way scarier than anything else i could imagine. because really, mommy just needs some sleep. any sleep. and until that sucking stops, she's not getting any sleep, because the instant i dare to lay my head down on the pillow, queue the alarm. and then even when he stops - the shiny eyes finally do shut - the snores from my exhausted husband and combined sleepy coos of my infant keep me from sleeping. or the thoughts in my head of 'oh man, it'd be nice to score a shower tomorrow.' or 'i should really go clean the breast pump while he's down,' or 'i wonder when i'll be able to clean the living room closet - i need to get so much done before i go back to work.' these thoughts will prevent me from sleeping, even when the little one finally decides to permit a solid 90 minute napfest.

sidenote: here's an example of why it's so hard for me to write/post anything. before i could finish my train in thought, come up with some clever conclusion of why motherhood is a tough, yet rewarding journey and this is just one of many lessons i'm currently learning/battling - the piglet woke up from his nap and demanded more milk - now. a couple weeks later, i finally was written by the courageous writer's bug yet again, only to see this unfinished thought was never posted. update - things are getting better - slowly. without jinxing myself, the last 3 nights we succeeded in getting mr. h down before 8:30 pm, where he slept with only 2 breaks until the morning! mom and dad didn't even know what to do with themselves from 8:30 to 10pm. i can only hope and pray that this is a continous bedtime trend. at this rate, i might be able to score my brain back before i return to work in the next month!

sleepless nights, aka, welcome to mommyhood.

two weeks ago today, I thought I knew the definition of a restless night. 8 and a half months pregnant, I was getting way burnt out on the swollen tummy and frequent awakenings of a full, screaming bladder, gestational fever like dream sequences that would make even david lynch blush, and nightly 4 am bouts of anxiety.

three weeks ago today, I went to my doctor for my 36 week check-up. I was prepared for the regular 'good heartbeat, 'strong vitals,' 'measuring exactly as he should be,' rigmarole. instead - I learned I had high blood pressure. not really getting what that meant, I asked if maybe my doc could just take it again? instead, I was sent on my merry way to ob-triage at my hospital for observation. apparently, the excess swelling (what I chalked up to a mere nuisance of my vanity and discomfort) and high blood pressure were two warning signs of a more serious condition known as preeclampsia. apparently, this condition could lead to kidney/liver failure and seizures for mom, as well as being the number one leading mortality cause in mothers/infants at childbirth if not caught in time. fun stuff, right?

three hours spent in the hospital later, I was sent home on my merry (yet freaked out what the hell is going on) way with a health clearance of 'you don't have preeclampsia - BUT,' orders to monitor my blood pressure closely on a daily basis to make sure my health didn't take a turn for the worse and a heads-up that my little bundle would be coming sooner than expected, with a '100% chance' within the next 1-2 weeks. this was on may 2nd. I was due may 25th. and orders for bed rest (aka no going to work until after the baby's born), this part I was ok with.

but that just made shit that much more real.

as you can imagine - the orders to closely monitor my bp just made my blood pressure rise even more. previously unstressed by the pending birth of my little one, I now was paranoid with every pump of the blood cuff. numbers rose and with every daily increase, the nurse triage at advocate Illinois masonic got yet another call from a frantic mom to be. 'that is high,' they would agree, 'but you should be fine - just continue to monitor the numbers and let us know if it reaches x/x' (which it would the following day, only to receive identical 'advice.'

Thursday, May 8th, I was a ball of jittery nerves. knowing my visit with my primary ob-gyn was the following morning at 7:30, I did my best to mentally prep myself for another visit to the hospital the following day. sure enough, my doc agreed that yes, my gestational hypertension warranted induction, and that I should go straight to the hospital. not ten minutes later, I received a call that the hospital beds were full and there was no room for me, and to try again at 5 or 6pm that evening. this was at 8 am. adrenaline and anxiety now on full max, I was clueless of how to spend my last day of adult independence, off of work, yet not yet a mother. somehow - I survived it.

6:30pm, my husband and I finally reported to the hospital. 43 hours and 4 different drugs/attempts at induction, I finally delivered my little guy. that's nearly two fucking days. while I was in active labor mode for only 3 hours, (or at least 3 hours that drugs didn't help), I was already done with the stiff ass robot hospital bed, IV hookups, ass flaunting hospital gown and bips/beeps/bops of the various monitors hooked up to me and my stomach. a few hiccups in the process of delivery, I wound up with an infection and bout of hemorrhaging, which resulted in even more IVs and antiobiotics for me and the little guy once he finally joined the world.

i'll spare you all the ugly facts of what the hell happens in childbirth, pre/during/post. but let's just say my body can handle a hell of a lot more sci-fi blood and gore like shit than I ever anticipated. for some reason, I always thought I'd have to have a C-section, and while recovery would be more of a bitch - it seemed like the easy way out in that I would be spared all the push and shove, sweat and tears of a natural child birth. this wasn't the case for me, thank god in retrospect, but part of me still feels like I cheated. after I delivered, I repeatedly apologized to the staff of nurses/doctors for 'being such a wimp.' I took all of the drugs. all of them. every iv drip - which I'm pretty sure was my first 'trip' in my 30+ years. within seconds of administration, I was drowsy, blacking in and out of consciousness, forgetting who I was and where I was. I flashed back to 611a Wisconsin street in Oshkosh - the haunted drafty apartment of my senior year in college. trailer 25 in Wisconsin dells where I spent my 22nd summer. 503 north state street in argyle, where I grew up from 4th grade onward. 5214 north damen avenue, apartment 3 , my first shelter in Chicago 8 summers past. and then, no wait - was I having a baby? or was that just a dream. it didn't seem like I was having a baby - I'd been in this gown and uncomfortable bed for ages already. when would I be able to eat chipotle? I was so hungry. induction prohibits you from eating until delivery, so 2 days without substance got to be a bit trying. no - shit, I was having a baby. the pain was real, that's why I was tripping. I was on drugs. right. I'm married and I'm about to be a mom. ok, then.

and then the first round of drugs wore off. the epidural and following pain pills got the job done - (I have NO idea how the granola/hippie moms can truck through the natural births - seriously, I have no idea. this shit hurt more than the tattoo covering the left side of my rib cage, and I thought that was my maxed out pain tolerance - nope). but these drugs were not as magical as whatever narcotic coursed through my veins to get through the third induction trial.

like I said, 43 hours later, little H.R.S joined the world. my heart stopped when they told me, 'here he is' and I heard none of the reported first breath cries. 'why isn't he crying?' I insisted - and then like clockwork, there was a squeal, my husband cut the tube to his lifeline in my stomach and they put this little tiny beautiful man on my bare chest. I sobbed like a little baby, tinier and more helpless than the real puny infant on my upper chesst. and felt really, really tired. subdued. nearly numb. I learned later it was because of all the blood I had lost. not to mention the empty stomach - both from not eating and the projectile bile/water vomiting my poor husband got to stand in as a casualty for the past few hours. he was a good sport, to say the least.

this was on mother's day, 1:43 pm. we were finally released from the hospital two days later, on Tuesday, may 13th, around 4pm. that's 4 fucking days, flapping my ass around in a nasty ass gown and struggling to stay sane without more than 2 hours of sleep each night. doctors of all specialties (obs, peds, labs), nurses, lactation consultants, nurse assistants, food deliveries (that shit is nasty, btw - so glad I finally got my chipotle - twice), etc. - not to mention the guests/family/friends, the three of us never got any sleep. we foolishly thought that our arrival home would bring a more relaxed bout of sleep/comfort.

well, I didn't have to wear the nasty gowns any more. and I did get a non remote controlled bed - but to little use. apparently, little tiny men need to eat on a 2 hour schedule. after each 15 min to an hour long feeding, they then require multiple diaper changes ('oh, he peed through his diaper AND onesie? even the swaddle?), (oh, that sounds like a poopie, shit - we just changed him!), to cottage cheese throw ups, Houdini broken swaddle grips, (seriously, how'd he get out of that?!), to crying and crying and crying - just because he can and it's 3am. (did you try the side swing? maybe I can rock him? SHUSH HIM! womb sounds?  here, give him my boob again. WHY OH WHY IS HE STILL AN ANGRY TOMATO MAN? CAN'T WE JUST GET SOME SLEEP? please???)

you get the idea. and as I type this, the little man's not even two full weeks old. I didn't even touch on the frustration/fears we had for another potential hospital visit due to the little guy's touch of jaundice and weight loss. 3 doc visits later, he's on the right track, finally back over his birth weight and skin pink as a piglet's. (even more scarlet when it comes time to a diaper change - this dude's got a temper and kicks/punches to put Jackie Chan to shame).

i'll admit I had a brush of the baby blues, too. whether it was hormonal, the abundance of aches and pains, or due to lack of sleep (I maybe average 3-4 hours on a good night, rarely consecutive), I don't know. but i think it's finally getting better. I laughed a few times today. (which oh my god, don't laugh TOO hard - women who have had children - you know what I'm talking about - laughing, sneezing = woops). I find myself enjoying washing dishes or sneaking away to switch the laundry. (I got to listen to my ipod for 3 whole songs today and was never more thrilled! it was like I was a normal person!) although the most important lesson I've learned to date is the utmost importance of getting outside. I made the mistake of feeling pressured to stay in and tend to the draining boob man for 2.5 days at one point and was ready to cut a bitch. hard. let's just say i was never more soothed/ecstatic for an excuse to go to walgreen's. the fact that it was 70+ degrees outside, and I had just spent the last 8+ months on house arrest due to the arctic 'polar vortex' made me a weeee bit restless, as you can imagine.

it's funny - the simple things you take for granted when you have freedom. like, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner. and then, washing/cleaning up after breakfast, lunch and dinner. brushing your teeth. taking a shower. these are all now luxuries in the sassana household. so when we have days like today where we also snuck in a walk to the park, laundry, assembly of even more baby accessories (tummy time anyone?), you begin to feel like wonder woman or super man. for all of you who have been so awesome to check in via text, phone calls or email to receive no response - I hope you realize I do truly love you all for it and appreciate it - but even drafting a 30 second text takes time I no longer have, and chances are I didn't even see your message until the following day. the fact that I've been able to vent and draft this half assed blog the last 20-30 minutes is monumental in itself. although I am kind of kicking myself for not using the time to take a much needed nap instead.

I don't know how mommies do it. the pregnancies, the deliveries, the childcare - especially the stay at home mommies who don't go to work with multiple kids. I found myself day dreaming of editing a powerpoint, creating agendas and leading meetings yesterday evening. I actually MISSED work. not the office, per say, but the act of actually working. using my brain instead of being on autopilot. feeling confident in my abilities and actually accomplishing things. I suppose I am accomplishing things with my little guy, but this is all brand new turf/territory for me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss knowing what the heck I was doing. again, like taking (all of the) drugs during the delivery process, it almost feels like I'm cheating (or will be) when I go back to work. instead of putting in the hard time with mr. s, i'll be escaping to the office where it's easier than tending to the pooping/peeing/puking/sucking machine. like I'm being a wimp again. kudos to you, moms. I really don't know how you do it. although some say, it does get easier. . .

I guess in the last 11 days I've learned a few things.

being a mommy means putting yourself last. getting pissed, puked and shat on on a daily basis. never sleeping. waiting to eat your first bite of sushi in 9 months until the little piglet is done with his
'surprise! I'm still hungry! you didn't think I'd actually let you eat dinner, did you?'  hour + long suckle. not having a beer. not drinking more than one cup of coffee per day ( I learned that lesson the hard way the other day). peeing with the door open. forgetting about your appearance. who has time for make-up/brushing your hair when there's a little milk man in the house? knowing your body will never really be your body again - at least not for a while. and being ok with that. my tummy will probably never be the same. I weigh more than I ever did before pregnancy. but you know what? I have this odd sense of entitlement/ownership/confidence that I never had before I was pregnant.

yes, my stomach is not flat or even tight in the slightest. it's a bit doughy. it has some salmon squiggles on it. but the curves my body holds now - in my torso, my hips, my ass, my chest - they're somehow so natural and beautiful that I feel this earthly maternal confidence I never possessed before. like I earned them. I'm not about to strap on some tight ass miniskirt any time soon, and I may only have a few outfits that I can comfortably squeeze into (or have quick access to flinging out either breast on 15 second demand), but I don't care. sexy is having spit-up on your boob and being 100% completely ok with it. the circles under my eyes from sleep deprivation are hidden by the motherly glow of my cheeks. the way I naturally cradle my 6 and a half pound son. the growing confidence that yes, I can take care of another human being, and it will make a much, much better person out of me.

gazing into his wide, crazy buggy blue eyes. smelling the odors of his wastes and the sweetness of his innocent flesh. getting punched in the tit. stroking his brown, soft hair. feeling my heart wrench with every sob and shriek. and loving the hell out of him.

that's being a mommy.

but I was a fool if I ever thought I had the slightest clue of what this meant before he came along. the biological ticking of my mommy clock, 'I want a baby', that urge never gave me the slightest clue of what was coming to me. it's a new journey. it has caused me a lot of tears, pain, tests in patience, sadness, but most importantly joy. even when masked by all the tribulations, I love this little man. more than I knew I could love another soul.

I only hope that I can instill the beliefs, education, morals, open mindedness and awesomeness in him that will make him a person a million times better than I could ever strive to be.

that's being a mommy. i love my little sweet h.r.s.

(now if only the little shit would let me get some sleep).