Defending Motherhood

The term and idea of motherhood seems to have a negative connotation to it today. With the feminist movement and more expensive lifestyles, women are taking on more the once traditional roles of men. It is common now for women to have careers and work alongside their husbands. Women are fighting to have the same opportunities as men, to prove that we can do the things men do. But in doing so, women all over the world are giving up their traditional role as mothers.

Imagine if society was moving in the opposite direction. If the bearing, nurturing and raising of children was viewed as most important and men were striving to gain that equality of responsibility with women. What if the world was more focused on having and raising children instead of money, and governments strived to make that possible? But sadly, the opposite is true. Motherhood is being put away for careers and wealth. The world and us as women are actually demoting our purpose, and in doing so, we devalue ourselves.

Should it not be amazing that we have such powers as creating children, nursing and nurturing, being built in such a way that we can be the greatest mentors for the next generations? There is prodigious power in being a mother.

For myself it has been amazing to witness my body create another perfect little being, survive giving birth and not ruin my sex life, and now provide all the nutrients my little baby needs to grow strong and fat. It is so incredible to me, in fact, that I often wish my husband could experience it and know for himself. But this is not a power that men have. It is unique only to us women, and it should be cherished above all else. No other person on earth but a mother can build a greater love and connection for their child. And no one can find greater joy in doing so. This is our distinctive and perfect gift.

Before I even wanted children, the career I wanted more than any was to be a mother. My education, my future planning, even my choosing a husband all revolved around that desire. I needed an education which would allow me to work from home. I needed to find a husband who could the main provider for my family. I have held onto these traditional roles for husband wife with added respect and support for each other.

I grew up in a family with the most selfless woman as a mother. She has done nothing but serve her children, teaching us how to work, how to love, and how to improve ourselves. She was always there for us not matter what (and still is), helping each of us through our most difficult years. She is my role model now as I enter into motherhood.

I am not trying to give any negative connotation to careers for women that take them away from the home, only the increased insignificance given to motherhood. Women should not be ashamed or embarrassed by being a stay-at-home mom. That is my job right now and I can tell you it is no easy task. Motherhood is the greatest career and most important job we as women can do in our lives. For the world to continue with intelligent, kind and hardworking people, women need to be mothers.

Watching my baby change and grow and roll across the floor and grab anything she can is only the beginning of the wonders of raising a child. And I hope to be right in the middle of the action for at least the next eighteen years. In my mind there cannot be a greater joy or honor for a woman than to be a mother to her children and to those around her.

So I will defend this God-given power and ability for eternity, because that is how long motherhood lasts.

We Are Beautiful

I love my baby. I love everything about her. From her bowed legs to her double chin to her massive belly and stinky toes. As her mother I feel I have rights to say she is the cutest baby in the world! Her new tricks are sucking on her tongue like a binky, doing crunches trying to sit up, and drooling bubbles all the time. She is one chubby baby and I love it.

Wait a minute. Why are these traits considered adorable in infants and toddlers but not in adults? Having bowed legs and a double chin are not necessarily perceived as good traits to have in our generation. Somehow as our brains develop to full capacity, we also learn a fault. We learn that their is one way to look and if we or anyone differs, we judge or try to change the differences.

I understand completely how difficult it can be as a pregnant woman to feel beautiful or even sexy. Now after the pregnancy, as I recover, I know again how difficult and frustrating it can be to not have "better" body. Apparently it takes a lot longer than a couple months to lose all the weight gained during pregnancy.

This is a problem I face and I have decided to do something about it. Sure, my body's not what it used to be, but why can it not still be beautiful?

I love the artists that capture the beauty of the body. Not a "perfect" body developed by our imperfect minds, but all the different kinds of bodies in the world. Whatever the size or shape or features, these artists have unlearned the fault of judgment and show the beauty in each of our differences.

And our differences are beautiful!

I do not want my daughter to grow up wishing she had different legs or ears or nose or butt. But how do I teach her to love herself and her appearance with the world constantly bombarding us with the "perfect" look that does not even exist?

The best solution I could come up with was to change myself. Not my appearance in anyway, but my own mind. I have to change the way I see myself. I have to stare at my own stretch-marked legs and tell myself they are beautiful until I finally believe it. I have to ignore the alarms that go off in my head, pointing out the gut I still have from my giant pregnant belly and instead think of how wonderful it is to fit in all my shirts again. I need to believe my husband every time he tells me how good I look and especially when he tells me I am sexy. Even with my giant butt and thick ankles and extra skin on my stomach, I need to learn to love my body, to think of myself as beautiful.

Children listen, but mostly they watch. And if I can show (and tell) my baby Elli as she grows that I love my body with its "imperfections", then she will learn to love hers as well.

I know she will be just as beautiful in twenty years as she is now, and I hope to teach her to believe that. I hope that all women learn that they are beautiful. Stretch marks and love handles are the aftermaths of love and sacrifice, of bearing our children into this world. Therefore these features are some of the most beautiful in the world, and should never be discredited, especially by ourselves.

Beginnings of Motherhood

The last couple of weeks of pregnancy and the last month since Elli was born have been laborious (haha) and amazing. I had so many false labors slowly dilating me to a 4 by the time I reached the hospital that we expected her to come a couple weeks before she actually did. And get this, she was induced. She was stubborn. And finally born. :)
I think the best way to describe everything that happened is through pictures, so here's me getting induced:

I have to mention how wonderful my husband was. When the real pain started he was there encouraging me the entire time, even if it didn't do much. Nothing really helped with the pain so it's not that he wasn't very good at helping. He was amazing.

As soon as my water broke, the contractions became unendurable. Truly the worst pain I have ever felt (and I've done some pretty crazy things). So I didn't hesitate long in asking for an epidural. In fact, I highly recommend them. The only problem was that I had to endure a few more contractions that were worse than the last before the epidural kicked in. But oh, was it a relief. God sure loves us.

I didn't push for very long but she was a bigger baby (8 lbs 7 oz) and her head tore me pretty bad. But I didn't care too much (probably because I couldn't feel it), I was too absorbed. It seemed to happen so quickly that for awhile I couldn't believe that she was mine. For the first couple days it felt like I was babysitting another's child. And I had to nurse that child because I happen to have milk. But I did have that mother's intuition that everyone talks about almost immediately. For the first time in my life I was completely confident in taking care of a baby. I knew what to do and I learned quickly what she liked me to do. And all this without study. Mostly I just knew to hold her close against my skin.

I had a mirror to watch my own progress. It didn't feel like I was pushing very much (due to the epidural, I couldn't feel anything, really, except some pressure) but suddenly my midwife told me to stop and I saw that the head was out. I watched as the rest of her body slid out easily and the midwife then placed her on my stomach. I was in shock that she was already out that I hardly noticed anything except her purple complexion and her warmth. Later did I realize that she had been very messy.

She didn't cry much. Before she was mauled by the nurses to clean her and clear her throat she gave one small cry and stuck out her bottom lip as far as it would go. I felt a moment of joy at this, knowing that she was just fine, that she was breathing. And we'll just say that everyone was forgotten. I did acknowledge Eman for a moment to share our surprised and happy faces, but I was so absorbed in Elli that I had forgotten everyone there. My sisters Shelley and Marni were there as well as my mom and Eman's mom, a few nurses to help, some onlooking spectators (more nurses), and my midwife. Elli was rubbed up and down with towels to clean her, then covered in blankets while my midwife cleaned out her throat and mouth. But all I felt was the umbilical chord still trailing from inside and a warm little body laying quiet and comfortable on my deflated stomach. I held her head in one hand and her little bum in the other. After a minute or so Eman was given the scissors to cut the chord, and unlike I had heard, there was no blood splattering.

The transition to parenthood was easier and less drastic than we expected it to be. Perhaps it was because we knew what to expect: a lot of crying, a lot of feeding, a lot of cuddling and changing of diapers. Or maybe it was because we loved her so much that none of these things bothered us. And it turned out that she was a happier baby than we expected. Once we get her to sleep at night (which can often prove more difficult) she will sleep up to 7 hours. And sometimes she wakes only because she wants to be close. She sleeps in the bed with us about half of the time.

We've already seen many smiles from her, though they have almost always been in her sleep. What she dreams is the greatest mystery to us, expect for when she is sleep-sucking her own lips. But we cannot imagine what makes her smile or laugh in her sleep that doesn't when she's awake.

Yes, we went hiking as soon as I was walking comfortably. My mom warned me and she was right. The next morning I felt like I had climbed up Squawstruck again.

Suffice it to say that we love our baby Elli. Everything about her is sweet, from her awareness to her heartbreaking little cries. Sometimes it's hard to be a mom. Sometimes I'm exhausted and stressed and frustrated, but these are always forgotten when she's sleeping on my chest or when she's sucking for dear life or when she's looking at my eyes when I'm speaking or singing, as if she's listening. Or when I pull her into bed with us when she's crying and she instantly falls asleep in between us.

We didn't know it at the time but getting pregnant into just a month of marriage was the greatest blessing we could ask for. We love Elli too much to regret anything. We are honored to have been chosen as parents for her. And we will do our best to be just the parents she needs, just as she knew exactly who needed her.

First Trimester

Enlarged.

It’s strange. Not what

it used to be. Don’t you see?

It’s different. They’re

bigger.

Wasted.

I can’t get up. And ready.

I feel gross. I don’t

want to move. I’m

too tired.

Choking.

Again and again it

comes out. I can’t do

it, I’ll throw up

and die.

Second Trimester

It’s a baby!

We see it moving

in my still tiny tummy.

Wait, not it―look.

It’s a she.

Pressure

on my bladder.

I relieve it all,

but then I sneeze and

pee again.

A twitch.

It was her, you

feel it? You put your

head on my stomach

and she kicks.

Third Trimester

Burning

in my chest from

spices and meat and---

even water gives

me heartburn.

Hours

of close contractions.

Maybe tonight? We

wait for days,

for weeks.

Not bad,

the Pitocin works

slowly. But my water

breaks and the pain is

abominable.

Birth

She’s here.

On my chest,

purple and messy,

mauled by hands

and towels.

A cry

says she’s ok,

falling quiet after

thrusting out her

bottom lip.

In shock

I don’t know whether

to cry or laugh.

I only stare in awe at

my baby girl.

Week 39

Week 39! I've already had a few false labors so hopefully baby comes this week!

Not a Good Excuse

This week's been a tough one. I've cried three times, picked on my wonderful husband, and complained more than I should. You know you married the right man when he still loves you after a week like this.

I'd like to blame my emotions on being pregnant, and though I do believe it plays a part, I don't think it's a good enough excuse. When I was younger (back when I had a menstrual cycle) I remember constantly hearing of the stereotype that women are always emotional and cranky during their periods. I didn't want to fall into that mold so I tried hard to act normally and happy. And it worked! Mostly. I was able to better control my anger, that's for sure, but there are always times when I cry for no reason other than to release stress.

Throughout pregnancy so far I have let out quite a lot of the stress which comes from all the changes the body goes through and anticipation of birth. I've cried over nausea, over stretch marks, over soreness, over exhaustion, and especially over pushing out a baby. It can be hard to take for anyone, even with a relatively easy pregnancy like mine.

Yet I still have no excuse to be cranky towards others, especially my husband. Though he's not carrying the baby, he still has his own load. He carries responsibility to finish school, to earn an income, to take care of his family, to be loving, and yet he does even more than this. He comforts me when I need it, he takes the blame when I'm upset, and he listens to my every woe. I couldn't ask for more of him, but of myself.

Pregnancy has made me more selfish, in a way. It's such a unique condition to women that I constantly have the unconscious thought towards men that they don't understand what I'm going through. I've judged my own husband before I could even let him try.

The thing is, he may not be able to comprehend exactly, but he does try. And in trying he doesn't judge my actions or words. He trusts in what I tell him and how I feel. He believes me when I say I'm exhausted or sore or that I gag when I brush my teeth, even if he doesn't understand how. He doesn't complain if I don't do the dishes for a week or if I forget the laundry or if I waste half the day sleeping.

I believe pregnancy skews our minds a bit. It brings such a focus on ourselves, our feelings, our appearance, our worries, that we think our problems are the only ones, that I'm the only one suffering. And with that sort of thinking it's quite difficult to have empathy towards others, especially those we are closest to because we are closest to them.

Even at 36 weeks pregnant as I am today, closer than ever to giving birth which often terrifies me, I vow to change my attitude. It may be difficult, but my husband deserves it for all he has done for me and continues to do for me. I trust through his actions and words that he will always love me and be there for me, and I want to make it as joyful as I can for him to do so. I want him and the world to know how wonderful he is and how much I love him.

I also encourage others to see what your husbands are doing for you and your family daily and show them the appreciation and love they deserve.

Nobody's perfect, but I will always love you, Eman.

Surprise Pregnancy

Today I am exactly 34 weeks pregnant (or for those who speak months, almost 8). This will be my and my husband's first child (girl!) EVER, so we know very little besides what we have observed in others and learned thus far.

We were married less than a year ago in July and I was pregnant a month later, though we still didn't know for two months after. I had birth control, afterall, with a 99.5% effectiveness, but it only took a month to beat those odds.

My husband was nervous, I was anxious, and our families were baffled. They thought we were joking when we first shared the news. There were multiple double-takes before anyone believed us and our very serious faces.

Though once the shock was over everyone was ecstatic with the transformation.

And boy (or girl) did I transform.

Not only did my suddenly enlarged and ever-growing breasts make cleavage impossible to hide or keep from dropping every crumb in between, but my belly jumped from zero to 60 in size, constantly bouncing off everything I came close to, like riding Piglet's balloon (if you've seen the original Winnie the Pooh's I grew up with). Suddenly everything became more difficult, from sitting, to sleeping, to bending, to walking, and even breathing. Every move I make seems to leave me panting.

But not only was my outward appearance affected.

From the beginning my nose decided I would have allergies for nine months straight. Brushing my teeth often made me gag and want to throw up. I became a no-blanket naked sleeper to escape burning up at night. My brain lost its will to process or remember simple things. And eventually I had to resort to prune juice everyday to keep my bathroom time regular.

While all these things (and more) are quite on the downside of being pregnant, there have also been truly amazing changes as well that, though they seem fewer, do tend to overthrow the kingdom.

For one thing, I never get tired of feeling my baby move. It is the strangest and most fascinating to feel her kick or push or roll around inside my giant belly. I love to imagine her swimming around in the dark, feeling me laugh and talk and walk and breathe, and her reactions to it. I poke her sometimes when she's sticking out a limb and she'll move or poke back. I'm constantly telling my husband to look at and feel my belly. I just cannot get used to it. It's too awesome!

Imagining the time when we have a baby girl has transformed me into the nestiest of nesters. Every adorable thing I could think of making for my little girl I have tried. So far it's been a hat, a skirt, a dress, some booties and sandals, a bracelet, a headband, and more. I'm still working on a soft warm blanket she probably won't need until winter. But I can't help it. I want to make everything!

Sometimes I think I'm a little crazy. But I thought that before I was pregnant so it's probably not a symptom.

Anywho, here's a glimpse of my changing life. I'm taking my mom's place, or stepping into her giant shoes that fit me now like mine would fit a barbie. I sure have a long way to go before I catch up to her, but this is the start. I didn't exactly choose it so soon, but I never intended to stop it once it started.

I am ever ecstatic and proud to soon be a mom.

Here's my ecstatic face.

This is me at 25 weeks pregnant.