Dear Baby Bean #2, First off, I apologize if Mommy and Daddy seem a bit preoccupied. Days, weeks, and months pass by, and I realize that I haven’t so much as read you a book or sang you a song or gave you a gentle love tap through Mommy’s growing belly. I assure you: it’s…
Disclaimer: this blog post is super ranty and whiny and does not, in any way, shape, or form, represent my feelings toward my soon-to-be-born second child. I’m a little over 34 weeks into my second pregnancy, and all I have to say is this: it has been a huge struggle. My sister, my doctor, my…
To all those people who’ve said that a C-section is “easy,” I have one thing to say in response: sure, I may not have pushed a baby out of my birth canal, but getting a C-section has undoubtedly been one of the most surreal and hardest experiences of my life.
“Still breech,” my OB-GYN exclaimed, as she glided the ultrasound probe over my belly.
It’s been two weeks since my standard 32-week prenatal checkup, where — in addition to analyzing my urine, asking about my exercise and diet, and addressing any concerns about the quickly approaching birth — my doctor checked the baby’s position. If the baby were head down, then he’d be in perfect position for childbirth. If not, then we would have to make some decisions.
I woke up last Thursday morning to an Instagram direct message from my mom: an illustration of a woman cradling a newborn and sporting a slightly crescent-shaped scar across her lower belly. April is Cesarean Awareness Month, the message read.
As her daughter who delivered via cesarean section over half a year ago, my mom obviously wanted to send me a little acknowledgment and a little love.
And that message warmed my heart.
2017 was an intense year, both for the world and for me. All craziness aside, though, the year also brought me one of the greatest blessings of my life: Micah. Bringing my child into the world meant enduring countless emotional, mental, and physical changes. Emotionally, the first few months of Micah’s life were a rollercoaster….
While we prepared for our son’s arrival, Reggie and I would have long discussions about potential names, just like every other couple. But we had an added complication: what would his last name be? You see, I have something to confess: in case my extensive social media presence didn’t tip you off, I never took…
When Reggie and I married, we made a promise: while we both wanted kids, we would wait at least two or three years to get pregnant. At 24 years of age, we believed that we had ample time to enjoy marriage and one another before introducing a child into the picture.
Despite our desires, however, we constantly fielded the same question throughout our first two years of marriage: When are you two going to have kids?