friends & babies

Meet my sweet friend, Katie. We became Instagram friends back in 2013, when we were both newlyweds, and we've been friends ever since. You can follow her on IG, too: mrspugh28.

This photo was taken when she was 7 months pregnant with Parker, and I was 6 months pregnant with Bennett. Actually, I had just finished my glucose test and we met up for some Chipotle right after. Also, it was our first time meeting in real life! I can't say enough sweet things about this sweet mama, and I feel incredibly lucky to call her a friend. Social media can be kind of weird most of the time, at least, in terms of meeting people and such, but our friendship has been nothing short of sweet and fun.

Watching each other transform from wife to mother has been a real joy for the both of us, and watching our boys become real life friends has been another sweet gift.

Our boys at 3 and 4 months.

She is back in DFW, which meant that a coffee play date at the mall was long overdue. Seriously, I don't think I look this effortlessly gorgeous when I order coffee.

And, the best part? She's expecting a baby girl on Christmas Day! I was swooning over her beautiful bump all day, guys. It seriously gave me pregnancy fever all over again. I can haz all the babies? Pwease?

Basically, today's play date made me realize three things. 

1. I have beautiful friends. I don't have many friends, but the ones I do have are wonderful people who inspire me.

2. My friends make the cutest babies.

3. I want and need another baby. 

When I pass by maternity clothes, when I see beautiful pregnant bellies, and when I see my friends all getting pregnant again (which they are!), I longingly place my hand over my tummy and, every single time, I wish I was expecting again. Pregnancy is in the air, and I am just itching to be a part of it again. Now, that does not mean I am ttc at the moment. But, this pregnancy fever has just about reached its limit.

*sigh*

Love,

Mamabear

long night

It's been a long night here. Lots of crying every thirty minutes. Lots of sloppy and super quick uppies with our favorite wraps. Not to mention, I barely got all my makeup off and never got around to eating dinner either. But, you've been glued to my breast, nursing fervently, once you were able to slow down and breathe a little.

I finally gave up and tossed my shirt aside, even though the October air has brought somewhat of a chill into our home. I took your shirt off, too, and that seems to have helped just a bit. You're just now sleeping again, your little body pressed up against my arm, and I could feel your warm breaths gently escaping your tired face. 

Moments ago, maybe fifteen minutes ago, we were both crying. I gently scooped you back into my arms, fumbling with something to wrap you with, while tears poured down your face for what felt like the twentieth time. We've been doing this all day, it seems. 

Maybe, it's your second tooth finally breaking through your swollen gums, I tell myself, without ever daring to check. My fingers in your mouth would only upset you more, and my heart can't take much more of your discomfort and uncontrollable tears.

What's hard about tonight is that this is a first for us. You've only ever cried like this once before when you were a fresh newborn. None of us slept that night, but you have never given us a sleepless night after that. Nothing has made me feel as helpless as I feel when I can't soothe you immediately. All I can do is whisper in your ear, and gently rock you to and fro.

However, there is one thing I will never do. Even in the darkest and most desperate hour, I will never let you cry it out. As helpless as nights like this can make me feel, I will never ignore you. I will always listen to all of your cries, even when they make me anxious and too tired to function. 

You're everything I signed up for and more. Give me all of your tears, all of your crying, and reach for me, because I will always hold you close to my heart, especially on nights like this when you need it the most. All my dreams, my dear, they are of you.

Love,

Mamabear

baby got back // the scoop on cloth dipes

I like big butts and I can not lie

You other mamas can't deny

That when a baby walks in with an itty bitty waste

And a round thing in your face

You wanna ask about the dung, want to pull up tough

'Cause you notice that dipe was stuffed

Deep in the dipes they're wearing

I'm hooked and I can't stop staring

Oh baby!

Admit it. That was fun to read...har har har ;)

There's a million resources to help parents embark on their cloth diapering journey, but I still get asked everyday how we do it in our household (which I don't mind and always welcome!). I was that mom, too, always messaging my veteran cloth dipe friends to see how they did things. I even took a Cloth Diaper 101 class, but still felt nervous, ill-equipped, and skeptical. Like, even though we made up our minds to cloth, and even though I was swooning over the cute prints, I was still legit worried that I would screw it up. I compare my feelings about cloth diapering for the first time to breastfeeding for the first time; I loved the idea, and looked forward to it very much, but I was nervous as heck when it finally came time to try it.

Truth be told, Bennett could've started cloth sooner than at one month when we started. JJ would hold up a cloth dipe and say that he thinks Bennett can fit them now, and I would mutter, "no, no, he needs to get chunkier," but my husband was right. Of course, looking back, I feel pretty silly now because cloth diapering is easier than I could've ever imagined. And, it's true what the other moms say about the fluff addiction. I have over 50 dipes, and I still "window shop" on Etsy and hyena cart. Seriously, what is my life...

Okay, so, I took a poll on Facebook when I was still pregnant to see which diapers my friends preferred. Cost was a HUGE factor in our final decision. A lot of people hated on pocket diapers because they hate stuffing, but a handful of mamas I respect and look up to suggested Sunbaby pockets. Sunbaby dipes are made in China, but after using them myself, I have to agree with my other Sunbaby mama friends in that the quality holds up very well to American made diapers, which is roughly a $350 difference in savings if you go with China made.

Don't be that person who lectures people about buying things from China. At the time, it was the best choice for my family. With the money saved, I was able to invest in wraps for babywearing. And, I do my part in helping small American businesses. The money I spend on hybrid fitteds on Etsy and Hyena Cart will shock you, but they are worth every damn penny. More importantly, I would rather see my friends buying what they can afford through Sunbaby than seeing them not cloth diapering at all, so shush. Sunbaby pockets are our base stash and we love them. If you order from them, get the blended inserts. Do it. After several washes, they get super soft and absorbent (make sure you at least have double the inserts per dipe...the more the better). Also, my stash is equally split between size 1 and size 2 dipes. The size 2 is for chunkier babes, but we rarely notice much of a difference since they're all one size dipes with adjustable snaps.

Once we got the hang of those, I kind of went crazy on adding hybrid fitteds to our stash. If some of this cloth dipe lingo is confusing, maybe this and this will help. But, really quick:

From Fluff Love University

“The most common cloth diaper. A pocket diaper is a cover and a fleece/or suede lining that has an opening to stuff in an insert of your choice. Pockets allow you to choose the absorbency.”

 
From Kelly's Closet

“A pocket style diaper has a pocket opening between the outer waterproof shell (or cover) and the inner layer that touches baby’s skin. You can place the absorbent material (insert) inside this pocket opening. The pocket style diapers are the most popular style of cloth diapers and don’t require any additional covers. A pocket diaper may be one-size or available in sized options and may have natural or synthetic fibers. Available in both snaps and Velcro closure.”

 
From LittleBoppers

“It is a fitted diaper that has a hidden body layer of poly fleece, sandwiched between the outer print and the inner velour. This layer of poly fleece helps the diaper to be more effective. Liquid hits the fleece layer and is deflected back into the absorbent inner, soaking up into the rest of the soaker pad and inner velour instead of just saturating the middle and immediately needing a change. The hybrid fitted is still a “fitted” diaper, meaning it is breathable and it isn’t totally waterproof. It would require the use of a cover to be considered waterproof. Many folks like to use these coverless around the house because they are more water-resistant than a regular fitted. They are not as waterproof as AIOs or AI2s made with PUL, but they are more breathable than them.”

We've gone to bed with hybrid fitteds without any problems, so far. When Bennett gets older and pees more, I'm sure we will invest in wool covers if need be. I have friends who only do fitted dipes with wool covers, and they swear by them. I'm told that wool covers are practically bulletproof, so there's that.

My local cloth dipe shop sells wool covers and here's what they have to say about it.

From Nappy Shoppe 

“Wool is no longer just your grandmother’s fiber. If the word wool conjures up images of hot, itchy, hard-to-care-for garments, then you are in for a pleasant surprise. This versatile fiber is making a huge comeback as more and more people realize that sometimes going low-tech can be a delightful diversion from the age of synthetics. You’ll be amazed at the variety of soft, functional, and convenient wool diaper covers that are just waiting to adorn your baby. Warning: you may be on the brink of a new addiction!”

On their site, they state that wool is antibacterial, self-cleansing, breathable, odor-resistant, and fire-retardant.

Currently, we just have pockets and hybrid fitteds, with a few hybrid AI2s here and there. I do laundry about every 3-4 days when I have anywhere from 18-24ish dirty dipes, and this is what laundry day typically looks like.

For a wash routine, check out what the experts have to say on the Fluff Love University site or ask to join Fluff Love & CD Science on Facebook. As for me, I do a regular wash with half a scoop of Tide or Gain, because we have a basic washer and dryer without a pre-rinse option, and I do it with hot water. Then, I do another wash with hot water on extra heavy with a full scoop of Tide or Gain, plus a scoop of Borax and a capful of Gain scent boosters. Afterwards, I throw them all in the dryer and we're done! Also, save yourself and your dipes and don't use homemade detergents and here is why. For more, go here.

A word about disposable wipes...they're annoying and awkward. After two months of awkwardly holding dirty wipes, I decided to look into cloth wipes. It was such a "duh" moment, you guys, I mean really. There's nothing more gross or annoying than holding a poopy wipe after you've already tossed the dipe in the wet bag. With cloth wipes, I just stuff it in the dipe and throw them both in the wet bag. I do, however, remove inserts from my pockets first, which really isn't as gross as it sounds. I find that doing it right after the diaper change works best vs. right before starting a load.

While you shouldn't use homemade detergents for washing, you can totally make your own cloth wipe solution (there IS a silver lining, I promise)! I just looked on Pinterest and Google until I found a recipe I wanted to try. 

My solution consists of:

- a cup of water

- a tablespoon of Dr. Bronner's Castile Liquid Soap

- a couple drops of EO

I currently use Dr. Bronner's Tea Tree Castile Liquid Soap, because tea tree has anti-fungal properties and I really like the smell. I add a couple drops of peppermint EO because it makes it smell even better. Also, I'll add just a little bit more water to coat my wipes evenly, and then I remove the excess liquid and store in a container. This solution works for 24 wipes, and I use 48, so double this recipe. I ordered my wipes from TooshieWipes on Etsy. For outings, we use a smaller sized wet bag that can hold about 5 dipes, give or take, and I have a small tupperware container for my cloth wipes. We don't do anything special; it's THAT easy, guys. Since I don't need a trash can, I can virtually change diapers everywhere and anywhere.

You can find wet bags anywhere, but I got mine from Nappy Shoppe, and you can order it online here.

My favorite diapers are pockets and hybrid fitteds. Here's a list of all my favorite things:

Diapers:

AppleCheeks

WAHM hybrid fitteds on Etsy and hyena cart

Inserts:

AppleCheeks 3 ply bamboo

Well, that's it! I hope this was helpful. Cloth diapering just got a whole lot easier, cuter, and you're doing Mother Nature a huge favor! Not to mention, your wallet! Happy cloth diapering, y'all! <3

Love,

Mamabear

breastfeeding blues

"Let's go somewhere else. I think it's time to go."

"But, I just started feeding him. He needs to eat."

"No, I think we should leave now. Come on."

"Does breastfeeding bother you?"

This went on for a few more minutes, until my grandmother finally admitted that it did indeed bother her that I was nursing in public...without a cover. As we awkwardly made our way back to the car, Bennett still latched to my boob, and my grandmother red in the face, I politely asked her again if she was that bothered by me breastfeeding without a cover.

"Yes. Yes, it does bother me. In all the years that I've birthed babies and raised them, I have never witnessed anyone shamelessly take out their breast to nurse, especially in public."

"Well, the Pope says it's okay to breastfeed without a cover."

"You can only use that card, if you go to church and you don't."

"Okay." 

"Everything everyone has said about you is right. You breastfeed in public because you like the attention — not because you need to feed your baby."

"If it bothers you that much, we don't need to meetup anymore. I won't stop feeding him openly, and it looks like it'll never stop offending all of you."

This went on the entire ride home, and our voices got louder, too. I kept looking at Bennett, trying to hold myself together, because every word that came out of my grandmother's mouth cut me deeper, and I felt sure that I was breaking and falling, right before my baby's eyes. But, I can't break. I have to be strong for my baby, and I have to be strong for myself. I know in her heart, she didn't really mean all the hurtful things she was saying. I know she's getting a lot of pressure from other family members who have issues with me, but this is where we are.

My sister, who was driving, is pregnant with her first baby. When my family first found out about her pregnancy, to say that they were livid would be an understatement. Yet, I put myself out on the line for her and my unborn niece. I severed all ties with anyone who thought negatively about her situation. I was alone and depressed during the remainder of my pregnancy, all because I stood up for my sister. I have to accept that not everyone is a fighter, though. Some people keep the peace by trying to make everyone happy, and I have to be okay with that. 

Personally, I've never been one to look away or ignore someone blatantly being rude, saying something uneducated, and/or putting down another person. I have enough empathy to go around for everyone in the world, and then some. That's just a huge part of having an INFJ personality type, and it's taxing. Rewarding, but oh-so taxing like you wouldn't believe.

Anyway, I sat there as my grandmother accused me of being a narcissistic exhibitionist, wishing someone could stand up for me, save me, and enlighten my grandma. Because breastfeeding without a cover is NOT a cry for attention. Breastfeeding without a cover is NOT an expression of sexuality or narcissism. Breastfeeding without a cover is NOT a crusade that's out to make everyone uncomfortable and feel less than in any way.

I'll tell you what, though, breastfeeding without a cover is liberating. Breastfeeding without a cover is the most natural way I can provide for my baby who, by the way, knows absolutely nothing about your preconceived notions on sexuality. Breastfeeding without a cover is comfortable for me and my baby. Breastfeeding without a cover is protected by the law (at least, where I live). Breastfeeding without a cover is how my child is programmed to eat, just like the millions of babies that came before our time. 

Let's get something straight: I don't care how you feed your baby. It's one thing if you come to me asking for advice and/or support, but if you're minding your own business, feeding your baby how you see fit, that's none of my business. When I openly nurse without a cover, that is not an invitation to criticize and shame me, just as a mother bottle-feeding or a nursing with a cover isn't an invitation to judge. And, you know what, if breastfeeding without a cover makes me a narcissistic exhibitionist in the wrong, then I really really don't care to be right. In my heart, I know that I am doing what is best for me and my baby. Nobody could ever convince me otherwise, and I will not subscribe to the mentality that I need to make other people comfortable when I feed my hungry child.

Breastfeeding isn't about you. Breastfeeding is about me and my baby. Stop making it about your issues. Stop projecting your insecurities, your embarrassment, and your idea of sexuality unto others. I'm not asking all moms to join me in breastfeeding without a cover, because there's no one size fits all solution to anything, especially when it concerns parenting. 

"You could at least cover up or go to the bathroom. That's all I ask."

Actually, that's a lot to ask. Nevermind the fact that my baby has a tongue-tie and our breastfeeding journey was challenging. Nevermind the fact that I am still helping my baby get a better latch each time we breastfeed. Nevermind the fact that a cover makes us hot and uncomfortable, or the fact that public restrooms gross me out and smell bad. Let's start with the fact that breastfeeding isn't something to be ashamed of. Let's start with the fact that breastfeeding is between a mom and her baby. Let's start with the fact that my baby has a right to eat comfortably like anyone else enjoying their meal without a napkin over their heads.

Also, what's gross to me is when people sexualize breastfeeding. Do you realize what the implications mean? I'm trying to nourish my baby, and there are people who feel embarrassed because they think boobs are for sex. Like, no. I'm using my boobs to feed my child. How that makes you feel is entirely on you. I'm not thinking about sex or sexuality when I'm feeding my child, and it concerns me that some people jump to that conclusion at all.

So, where does that leave me? I can tell you that I've done things I'm not proud of, which my grandmother kept bringing up, and I'll give her that. But, I'll be damned if anyone tries to lump parenting/breastfeeding in that same category. I will never be ashamed to nourish my child, and whether or not I use a cover is my prerogative. As for now, I will continue to breastfeed without a cover because I don't feel gross, ashamed, or sorry about it. I saw someone on Facebook say that nursing moms shouldn't take their breast out until baby is all set to go and ready to latch. Look, lady, I don't know what planet you live on, but if I don't have my breast ready first, my baby will get angry and start crying. I'll pass on the fussiness and crying, and risk someone seeing a little nipple here and there, because having my breast out first is the fastest way to get my baby to latch, which means less time trying to put it in my baby's mouth, which means less time having my breast exposed altogether. A nipple is a nipple is a nipple. Nipple, nipple, NIPPLE, nipple, n-i-p-p-l-e; we all have 'em.

I will distance myself from anyone who doesn't want to see me breastfeed. I have no other choice. Again, I'm not asking all the bf mamas to join me in this. I'm just saying that I don't need that kind of negativity in my life. I will never compromise how I want to parent, especially when it concerns breastfeeding, and when it involves people who don't have to live with the consequences of my choices. I don't even care what my husband thinks. I only care about my baby. I sound like a broken record, I'm sure, but in case there's any confusion, let me just say that I give 0 fucks about how anyone thinks I should breastfeed. If you think it's disgusting, if you think it's immodest, and if it makes you lose sleep, please chuck it in the trash where I left my fucks.

I'm not fighting just for me. I am fighting for my baby, and that will never end. Between your discomfort and my baby, my baby wins. Always. So, don't even try to fight me on this. I. Will. Never. Stop. Fighting. For. My. Baby. This is how we like to nurse, so without a cover it is. It's been said before, but if this bothers you, by all means, I can help you find the bathroom where you can finish your meal. In fact, I'm always babywearing, so I can also lend you a wrap to cover your eyes, too. Let me know what works best for you, then we'll have a real discussion about this issue. Until then...

Happy breastfeeding, y'all. I don't even see nipple, do you?

motherhood uncensored // the birth of bennett

What I am about to share with the world is the most intimate part of my life, but a moment that I feel needs to be shared because I am tired of motherhood being censored. When I was about four months pregnant, there was a beautiful post going around about the censorship of birth, and I was appreciative that there were people out there willing to share such an honest glimpse at birth. The rawness of the photos was the most appealing to me. This birth story is two months overdue, but I feel like I needed the time to think, meditate, and find the courage to begin. So, here it goes.

At 5 pm on Sunday, November 23, 2014, I checked into Labor and Delivery at Medical City Dallas. Yes, I was previously planning a freebirth. Yes, I knew the pros and cons of inducing. Yes, I still support homebirths. But, after everything was said and done, I could not go another night of choking on my own bile in the middle of the night. So, induction it was. I wasn't given Cytotec until 9 pm, so things were moving pretty slow at this point. It wasn't until midnight when I had my first contraction. 

This is when things got interesting, finally! I was given some kind of pain med (no idea what it's called) to help me sleep through the contractions, and to say that I was high would be an understatement. Uncontrollable laughter, ridiculous snorting, and hallucinations! Oh, my! After 15-20 minutes of that nonsense, I slept oh-so well, for which I was incredibly grateful for. By midnight, I started to progress and those contractions started to wake me out of my heavily-drug induced nap. Meanwhile, a baby was being born right next door to me, and the mother's screams would creep into my own thoughts, digging its way under my skin. This was my moment of doubt, weakness, and fear. It's not everyday that I internalize another person's experience, but there I was doing just that.

All the fears and "horror stories" used to scare new moms clouded me all at once. And, most of the time, those things aren't shared with bad intentions. I really do believe people mean well and that their advice comes from a good place. But, I almost feel like people spend more time emphasizing the fear and scary aspects of birth, rather than giving empowerment and beauty and equal standing; in my experience, it was definitely both.

By 3 am, I was given the epidural which was uneventful, for a lack of better words. The lack of eventfulness went against every preconceived thought I had about getting one. Like, really, getting the epidural was the most underwhelming and insignificant part of my whole experience. Truth be told, the IV in my hand hurt 100 mores than the epi — who knew? And even with the epi, I did feel those life-changing contractions. With every toe-curling ache, I knew I was getting closer and closer to meeting the love of my life. So, I don't want to hear anyone telling me otherwise (don't be that person); I felt them.  Also, it felt like I traded in one kind of pain for another. Maybe it's just me, but extreme numbness and immobility were painful in their own right, and something I never could have prepared myself for. There were times when I wished I never got it, because the tingling in my legs drove me mad. Then, there were times when I was glad I wasn't feeling the full force of those lip-quivering-stop-you-in-your-tracks contractions. All in all, the epidural and I have a love/hate relationship.

When 6 am rolled around, I was about 4-5 cm dilated and irritated. Plain and simple, everything irritated the heck out of me. Where was the calm birthing goddess I always dreamed I'd be? Where the hell was she? She might have been locked in the storage closet along with my birth pool and old birth plan, but that's neither here nor there. I'm not interested in people telling me that things would have been different had I homebirthed like I originally planned, or if I went to a birthing center instead. All I'm going to say on the matter is that I would've done all those things and more had I been in a position to be able to. During this time, my sister was doing my hair and makeup (something I would have been able to do myself if I wasn't hooked up to machines every which way). Funny thing, the nurse said my blood pressure was the highest at this point in time; I guess you can say that I don't like other people doing my hair and makeup. Bwahahaha. #divaproblems amirite?

She did a fantastic job, though, and I feel like a jerk for giving her the stink eye all the while she was trying to do me a favor. When lunch time snuck up on us, things were getting serious because that's when the nurses started having me push. Yeah, about that...

I asked for the labor bar, even though I couldn't hold myself up. The nurse kept fighting me on it, but when someone tells you to act like you're pooping, I'm sorry (not sorry) but you can't exactly mimic that while lying down flat on your back. She was right about not being able to hold myself up, but try I did. The nurse would tell me to push, walk away to check on stuff, then scold me for pushing without her. Hey, the body wants what it wants. I pushed with or without her, because my body told me to. This went on for two more hours, and it was more tiring to for me to push on demand (on her terms, no less), than it was when I went with the natural flow of my body.

After all that, I went from 6 cm to 9½ cm dilated within a 30 minute window. Of course, I didn't know that that was what was happening to me. I just knew something was different. even if I couldn't put my finger on it. I just felt this overwhelming sense like I couldn't go on (with the pushing and groaning), only that's exactly what I needed to do. My husband and sister said that I became dead weight. When I told the nurses that I felt like he was going to come out very soon, they shrugged me off a few times, because "first time moms don't progress THAT quickly," they kept saying. It wasn't until sweat was dripping from my forehead, tears pouring down my face, and my whole body shaking with the force of all the drugs, and a baby trying to descend down the birth canal, that the nurses decided it was a good time to finally confirm that I was indeed 9½ cm dilated. Let me just say, I've never had a more satisfying "I told you so" moment. The nurses were so baffled that they called in backup to double check and confirm what I already knew.

I know a lot of this sounds scary and "bad" — I get it, I do. But, this was about the time when I started to see the beauty in childbirth, too. In the midst of all this chaos, I would look up at my husband to see tears quietly escaping his tired eyes. He was in a place where sympathy and excitement rarely meet, except on this one occasion. Sympathy because he didn't know how to help me, he was just sorry that he couldn't take any of the pain away. Excitement because he knew that I had to undergo this painful transformation in order for him to become the father he always dreamed he'd be. And, that last part is a magical feeling that lights a spark in your soul; the love you begin to reserve for your child touches every nook and cranny of your soul, even the darkest corners. And, I saw this happening before my eyes. I saw it in the way my husband held my hand, and I saw it in the way he looked right back at me. The beauty is that he was seeing this transformation unfold before him, as well, and the synchronization of our love was the highlight of our entire relationship.

Now, in come all the randoms. I was so ready to push him out that I started to have tunnel vision. Really, it wasn't until a random man with a thick European accent, and blinding white lab coat, held my hand when I realized my room was now completely full of strangers. Now, get this, that random guy holding my hand? He wiped the sweat from my brow, as he told me that he was sorry that my epidural wasn't administered correctly (whatever the hell that means), on top of the discovery that nobody replaced my epi bag god knows when. I'll never know what all he meant, because I was lost in my own little world of pain. Pain. Unimaginable pain consumed me. I remember trying to find my OB in the sea of unfamiliar faces, but he didn't show up until the 11th hour. Of course. Don't get me wrong, I love my OB to pieces. I just needed him there sooner, because I felt so alone, even with the hundred people checking up on me.

So, I was stuck at 9½ cm for close to two hours. When my OB finally graced us with his presence, he confirmed that Baby Bigley was stuck right behind my pelvic bone. This explained why all my pushing amounted to nothing, and why I was secretly wishing for a c-section. Apparently, with him being sunny-side up and turned at an angle, all my pushing only shoved him right behind the pelvic bone even more. At one point, one of the nurses whispered, "I don't know why you're being so loud. It shouldn't hurt that much." And, while she said this under her breath as she rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time, I heard every last word like it was a knife to my raging hormonal heart, only it made me furious more than it made me sad. It mattered not what she or anyone else thought, because this was the moment that I surrendered myself to my body with everything in me.

P.S. I drank water, despite their stupid rules. I regret nothing. I couldn't have done it without water, so I'm thankful that my husband put my needs above some silly hospital policy. Every drop of water that graced my cracked lips was a big help in giving me the strength I needed to push.

With the aid of forceps and an episiotomy, Bennett Watson Bigley was welcomed earthside at 3:55 pm at 6lbs and 11oz. It was the single-most beautiful moment in my life, and the oxytocin rush I so badly looked forward to finally washed over me, humbling me and sobering me like nothing else before. Even as I was being stitched up, I felt no pain. Even though I was in excruciating my-body-is-going-to-split kind of pain moments before, it was almost like it didn't even happen, only it did. I want to relive that moment forever, always. 

That is how beautiful and amazing giving birth was. It was so rich in oxytocin that I find myself wanting to give birth again and again — pains and all. I had never been so drunk on love and empowerment, it's crazy. How could I feel so drunk on love and happiness, yet feel so sober all at once? I don't know. I chalk it up to the fact that the love a mother has for her child is the purest and most beautiful kind of love there is — and cue the waterworks as I type this. Even though I'm still recovering from the forceps and episiotomy, even though my body isn't completely healed, I am healed. As a daughter, as a sister, as a wife, and as a person who walks this earth, I am healed. And, I owe it to the day I gave birth to a sweet little bundle of innocence I like to call my son.

There are things in my life I am not entirely proud of, regret, and feel sorry about; being a mother is not one of those things, nor will it ever be. I will always be unapologetic when it concerns my journey as a mother. For this reason, I share my birth photos. Vagina, nipples, and all. Birth is slowly, but surely, becoming normalized. There will always be people who are offended by x, y, and z, and that's really not my problem. Referring back to the original post that inspired me, I kept asking myself what was holding me back from being one of those people sharing their uncensored birth experiences. Why do I have to sit back and admire others, while secretly wishing I could be brave like them? The moment I stopped caring what others think, I became free.

I did communicate with my husband about sharing these images, but it was more out of courtesy than for permission. That being said, enjoy or don't enjoy! I don't care. My experience was beautiful, and I have the pictures to prove it. If you want a sugar-coated synopsis of birth, I'm sure the media can lend a hand. As for me, I'll be over here, sharing uncensored pieces of my journey as a mother, because birth is beautiful and it makes the world go round. Between the censorship of birth and the celebration of it, I will always choose to celebrate it.

"Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming." — Oscar Wilde