There was an article in the recent Women's Health magazine that said that "it's not your imagination - there really are more pregnant women out there more than ever."  With celebrity bump watch reaching new highs, it's no wonder that women all over the country get pregnant with a level of self-confidence that the estrogen high of being a mother can provide.   Think about it - when else do you see a woman unabashedly wear a tight t-shirt/bikini/sexy dress and not give a second thought to her protruding waistline?  Pregnant women are celebrated.  (As they should be.)  Being pregnant can only be outmatched by the rewards of motherhood, babies are so incredibly addictive.

Before we got married, we completed a pre-marriage counseling orientation (part of being married in a Catholic parish).  We agreed that we would have 0-2 children.  Neither one of us ever had an intention of raising an only child.  That changed during the first grueling trimester of my first pregnancy - I thought to myself that there was no way in hell I would be able to do this again.  Murf shook his head and said as soon as this one was popped out we would be working on #2.

Things changed again.  After the miscarriage, and into the second trimester with Maddie - I felt more and more healthier, and told myself I could absolutely do it again.  I was getting used to the idea of having a second child.  Right about then was when Murf started re-evaluating his opinions of the demands of parenting.  He started campaigning for having only one child.  Since then - (Madison is now 4 months old) - he has stayed his ground.  He is still onboard with keeping the kid count to only one.  When we sat down to talk about it (instead of passively making comments at each other around it) - I didn't realize how strongly I felt about it until I cried.

I'm not done.  I definitely can have more kids.

In Murf's mind, it's the hormones talking.  Or maybe it's the volume of pop culture playing into my conscious.  Everything points to having babies!!  People asking when are we going to have baby #2, our friends getting pregnant again, and hell - the people wandering about in public with their entire brood.  In all honesty, there is never a practical reason for having children.  There's hardly any practical reason to living in Northern California either - but I digress.

In some ways I feel like this sucks, because this wasn't what I signed up for.  Didn't we agree going into this that we would do 0 or 2? 

I'm pretty sure that if that if this were reversed, he would being working me pretty hard to see his point of view.  Telling me everyday about his grand plans, the same way he talks about where we will live someday, what we will own someday, etc.  If I spent that amount of energy talking about baby #2 - he would kill me.  Or at least leave me.  In this vein - I feel like some of the women I know basically worked their partners over until they knuckled under.  Whether it was to get married or have kids.  In my mind, how great is it to have partner who was participating under duress? 

And then it dawned on me.  In my mind, where we will live 15 years from now and what we will be doing is all conditional.    Maybe that's what having children was like in his mind.  Maybe it was just conditional, whereas in my mind it was a given.  Then it scared me - in his mind it's a given that we will be moving and living out his retirement years a particular way that he has completely orchestrated already?   As in, he REALLY believes this will happen (the way I REALLY believe we are just going to have more kids.)  Yipes.

So I told him that this is what we should do: I'm not going to put pressure on him, and I'd really like it if he wouldn't put any on me.  (I won't talk about having more children as long as he won't keep on his THIS THE LAST ONE campaign).  That way whatever conclusion we reach when Madison is about 14 months old - is truly our own (not some result of spousal brainwashing.)  If by then we are still at opposite mindsets, we can candidly discuss it.  It will be a better decision anyway, by then we will know how we work together as parents - what our daughter's temperment is like, and have a more realistic vision of our marriage. 

Right now, we don't even know what we don't know yet about ourselves as parents.  One thing that is true about either direction - is that you never know what you will regret in the future.  I'd like to think though, that there are more people out there that regret not having children vs. regret having children.  Sort of like, always wondering what if?

My friend Tony Gallagher stated once that when you share advice with folks that you weren't really advising at all.  Rather, you were making a small confession.

Here's some advice: for all you expecting mothers out there, should you formula feed your baby (gasp! breastfeeding nazis everywhere are going to commit acts of terrorism at my doorstep) do not buy 6 months worth from Costco *until* your baby is at least 2-3 months old.

Small Confession: Baby Madison is 5 weeks old, and has been formula fed for about 3-4 weeks now.  In the last 4 days she has become increasingly fussy which coincided with a decrease in bowel movement (as in she hasn't gone #2 in DAYS).  The main culprit is her formula.  Turns out that we should be experimenting with different formulas to figure out what jives with her digestive system.  It's possible I'm putting our baby through unnecessary trauma with this formula.  Who knows - but I currently have $200 worth of powder that Murf pre-emptively stocked at my request.  I might shoot myself.

Advice: Do not overfeed your baby.  If she's fallen asleep during feeding, let her stay asleep.  Doctors and nurses will tell you to wake your baby so that she can get extra nutrition. 

Small Confession:  Because Madison lost almost 10% of her body weight in less than 4 days (part of the reason I supplemented with formula and then eventually just went completely off the boob) - I was purposely force feeding formula down my child's throat.  The pediatrician told me that first time parents tended to be too soft and would have issues waking their child during slumber.  But the side effect is that I get to mop up spit up at least once a day.  And I dont' mean a small stream of milk drool out the corner of my baby's mouth.

I mean - I have to change my clothes/shower because I have milk/vomit in my hair, ear, on my arm, etc.  ONCE A DAY!  I have since backed down and let her just sleep.  Even if she hasn't consumed as much as I'd like.  In the last 2 days - she's only spit up once a day instead of multiple times.  And I figure I will do only one clothing change (for both of us) a day now.  Which means only one shower instead of several a day for me (which is much more manageable in our schedule.)

Advice: Stop reading books.

Small confession: For every behavior/mystery that comes with being a brand new parent - there is a book out there with some instant fix.  Happiest Baby on the Block will claim that you can magically stop your baby's crying with swaddling, white noise, and rocking.  Except my kid sleeps more easily when her arms are free and not swaddled.  Our Babies, Ourselves says that co-sleeping with your child is best for their sleep development as it nurtures your child's sense of trust and confidence in parent/child relationship and gently eases them into the world of regulating breathing during sleep.  We have no room in our master bedroom for this kind of a setup - so she has slept in a crib in her own room since the day we came home from the hospital.

This book along with others - made me feel like I was an evil, failed, half-assed mother for:

* not breastfeeding my baby
* not holding my baby at least 3 hours during each feeding (which would be roughly 18 hours at least)
* using a swing (one book called this a "neglect-o-matic")
* not talking to my child (it's hard to gently coo at a screaming baby for more than 3 syllables at a time.)
* not getting my child to calm herself down by holding her (because babies "know their mother's scent and touch.")

I get it now.  I am not a bad mother because my child wasn't calming down in an instant.  Babies will cry.  There is no magic button for that.  If there was - there wouldnt' be a need to have 100 million books out there on calming a baby.

Furthermore, what works for one baby will not necessarily work for the next.  And my baby isn't slow or behind because she doesn't weigh as much or develop according to what these DAMNED books say.

I love my child to pieces.  And although I haven't gotten that all important first true baby smile yet.  I have given her at least 100 true mommy smiles, hugs, and kisses already.

"Hi everyone! I'm here.  I just got here about 25 minutes ago."

"I love this binky.  Mommy has tried 4 different types and she finally realized that I will only take the one they gave me in the hospital, duh."

Only something as cute as a newborn could get away with this many clashing prints and colors.  A moment of peaceful sleep for Maddie...

Here is bright eyes about 45 minutes after being born.  She is all plumped up on amniotic fluid.  In 3 weeks her face has already matured to a different state - I can't believe I already feel like I miss *that* face already.  She seems so old to me now - even only after 3 weeks when I compare her to these first few hour photos.  My sister is a whiz with the Digital SLR - so I have to thank her for taking 400+ photos of my baby (her goddaughter) within the first hour of her arrival.

Since I am Vietnamese and my husband is Irish - (blond hair/blue eyed) - our baby has light reddish brown/blonde hair with muddy blue eyes.  Most of my friends' Asian/Caucasian babies were born with eyes this color (we call it blueberry eyes).  By 4-6 months their actual eye color comes in.  From day to day her eyes will change from a dark shade of grey to deep green, all the way to pale grey with flecks of brown around the pupil.  You can barely see it here in the photo.  Her skin is her father's coloring (she isn't lighter than me, rather just more pinkish/white than me.)

Murf has been a great Daddy.  As much as he coils away from other children, he has fully embraced our baby girl.  He talks to her, sings to her, helps her get to sleep, burps her, changes her diaper, consoles her when she's crying, and bathes her.  While I am mostly the primary parent, I would say that he is no slouch.  I just operate better than he does in the middle of the night on 2 hours of sleep.  The last 4 months of discomfort (with the pregnancy) already trained me to get by with 1-2 hour naps here and there in the night.  At least now I get to take a few more extra naps during the day time too (since I don't have to go back to work.)  Murf will take 1-2 of the morning feeding sessions (one of the advantages of going formula and breast at the same time) to let me get a 4 hour chunk of sleep in.

As much as I can say he's a wonderful Dad - it's hard for me to commend myself and say, "I'm a wonderful Mom."  Honestly, I think we have a lower standard for Dads than we do for Moms.  I think there is already a notion of SuperMoms out there - and we all know of these heroic women who seem to know/act/behave extraordinarily - that they have become the "norm" for what we call mother.  So any Mom who is killing herself to stay awake, feed, diaper, and play with her child is just doing her job. While a Dad who actually just interacts with their baby for more than 1 hour is considered fabulous.  I know women whose husbands refuse to change diapers and basically don't consider the children their own until they can actually walk and talk (and play).  Leaving the poor mother to do 100% of the parenting until their child reaches 2 years old or so.

That would be grounds for homicide I think, in this household. 

I am moved to tears if I stare too long at my baby.  I love her so much that I can feel my heart breaking when I think about the day I have to watch her walk away from me and go to school.  I am going to miss seeing her all small and squishy like this, as hard as it is - it's also just so wonderful just getting to know her. Sort of like how you know those first few months of dating will never be replaced.  As much as I love being married - I do miss the first few months of getting to know and falling for my husband. 

We are leaning towards having only just one child at this point (after seeing how hard this is for us, I can't imagine somehow being able to do this with a toddler to also take care of.)  Also, with the economy the way it is and the outrageous cost of living in California - I don't know if we could handle another child (well, of course we could - because there are plenty of people who make less than us that can make it work - but I like that we don't have to "struggle" and that we never fight about money.)  I am torn because I was basically raised as an only child until my sister Holly was born (I was almost 9 years old when she came).  I was a very lonely child, and I was always painfully aware of how much I wanted someone to play with and hang out with.  So while I was an only child as a kid - I at least get the benefit of not being an only child as an adult.  I have someone to share secrets with, complain about my mother to, and also someone who will be able to co-miserate/console me when our parents reach old age.

Murf on the other hand doesn't know what that's like seeing as how his whole life he has had siblings.  His mother (god bless her) popped out 4 kids in less than 5 years.  There are no baby pictures of any of his sisters - without another baby sibling in the shot as well.  Only Murf gets a solo shot here and there because he was the first.

I spend a lot of Madison's feedings, daydreaming about this topic.  Wondering about what it would be like if we had another baby.  I think I only spend about 2% of my day thinking about my body (it's usually when I'm trying to figure out what to wear - since nothing seems to fit me right.)  While I was pregnant, I was obsessed with my body - wondering what would happen to me.  Now that my skin has rebounded back and I'm not feeling as wrecked as I did in the hospital - I seemed to think more about what Maddie will look like in a week, a month, a year, 10 years? 

I can't watch the news either.  That poor little girl in Tracy would have already made me sad if I wasn't a parent.  But now I get all kinds of weepy when I think about children that get abducted, abused, and ultimately murdered.   Tracy is driving distance from the city we live in.  Which makes it literally, very close to home.  I'm welling up right now already.

This morning I took almost 45 minutes searching for something to wear.  I refuse to spend more money on maternity clothes.  I have 4 pairs of maternity jeans, 2 pairs of black stretch yoga pants, 5 knit tops, and 2 dresses.  Murf is on laundry duty as I have become too big to be able to reach the top cabinets for detergent nor is it advisable for me to be bending over to grab clothes in and out of the washer/dryer.

I hate this.  Because I can't take care of myself.  I needed clothes!  I also have crazy nesting going on in my brain - but can't handle the vaccuum cleaner up and down the stairs.  The belly keeps my balance barely in step, so carrying a vaccuum cleaner or any other large heavy awkward object becomes dangerous as I go up and down stairs.

Anyway - I finally dug up some clean yoga pants.  I hate wearing them to work however, because I usually am a dry clean only type of person at work - and now I look like a college kid between classes.... with a huge belly in front.

All day, I felt some minor discomfort going on underneath the tummy panel of my pants.  I just figured it was crumbs or something from my breakfast cereal or something.  I had to resist the urge to scratch as I remember that Murf complained how one of his co-workers was scratching and rubbing her belly non-stop while she was pregnant.  He said it was rather distracting in a negative way.  I didn't want to be a rubbing, scratching weirdo... so I resisted.

I went to the ladies room finally to investigate what was going on with my pants.  Found out I had put them on backwards, and my itchy was the tag.

I was wearing maternity yoga pants backwards, and didn't notice except for the irritation of the tag against my belly.  My belly is as big as my butt then? Or vice versa?