I am so tired. I’ve been wanting to write for weeks now, been trying to write for weeks now, but I’m so tired. Tired and hungry. So when I get a few moments to myself I usually spend them eating. I’m typing this on my phone while rocking Little E.

I’m so lucky that Big E is such a good kid. He’s grown up so much in the last couple months and I couldn’t be more proud of the boy he’s becoming. Little E is a handful – instead of nursing every 4ish hours like his big brother did, this little guy is a snacker. He nurses for about 10 minutes… every hour and a half or so. Sometimes less and even less often, sometimes up to two or even three hours. I’m buried in never-ending laundry and dishes and diapers. I have to plan ahead in order to shower.

I don’t remember the last time I was so happy.

Let me tell you the story about how our Little E joined us and turned ours into a family of four…

WARNING: This is a birth story. A REAL birth story, and while I’m going to try not to overshare I’m also not going to sugarcoat anything. There will be talk of blood and my lady parts. Continue at your own risk.

I woke up at about 3:30 the morning of Friday, May 2 to a mild contraction. I’d been having somewhat uncomfortable Bracton Hicks contractions so I wasn’t sure if it was the real thing, so I let my husband continue to sleep (especially since he’d only been home from work for a few hours). But at about 4:30 am I had some bloody show and I knew it was the real thing, so I gently woke P up to let him know what was happening.

Since the contractions were still fairly short and far apart (and Big E was sleeping peacefully), we went back to sleep to get as much rest as possible. By about 7:00 am though, the contractions had basically stopped. But, I know my body and I had a regular checkup scheduled with my midwife for that day anyway so I chose not to go into work. I went back to sleep for a little while and we went to my appointment at the regular time… and by then my contractions were getting a little more regular but still fairly short and at least 30 minutes apart. I told the girls at the front desk (with whom I’m on a first-name basis with now, by the way) that I was having contractions so they could gove my midwife and her nurse a heads up.

I don’t think my midwife believed me though, because when she checked to see if I was dilated I was at a solid 3 cm and the look of shock on her face was priceless. She continued with her regular check-up, then asked me about something we had previously discussed: “stripping,” or as she prefers to call it, “cervical stimulation.” We’d discussed it because my level of discomfort was so incredibly high and I was just so ready to have this baby. We went ahead with the, um, stimulation, then she sent us on our way with the advice to “go have sex.” That last part totally didn’t happen because we needed some things from the store and by the time that was done, I was hungry and then…

Almost nine months has passed now, so details are a little fuzzy, but my contractions were getting longer, more intense and more frequent very quickly. At this point I was text messaging my midwife, who was telling me to wait to go to the hospital until they were closer together.


I know my body, I told myself. We need to go now.

So we did.

And thank GOD. Because, as you’ll read in the next part of this story (coming soon!) we didn’t have much time to spare.

E Mamahood

My Little E is growing up. Crawling and standing and trying to walk. Learning to clap. Wearing 2-piece pajamas.

It makes me so sad. He is MY BABY. And soon he will no longer be considered a baby but a toddler, and then I won’t have a baby anymore.


And don’t even get me started on Big E. He’s just so… big. He starts preschool this fall and even though it’s still, like, 8 months away I’m still having a pretty hard time with it. Wasn’t he just a baby yesterday?


Sigh. I mean, the one baby thing he was holding on to is gone (diapers) and now he’s just this… boy. This hilarious, smart, active, speaking in full sentences, making jokes BOY.

Time. It goes by so quickly. The days drag on forever sometimes but the weeks, months, years… they’re gone before you know it and all of a sudden your baby is wiping your kisses off his cheek and you’re left wondering when your heart grew legs and jumped out of your body wearing Spiderman rain boots.

E Mamahood

12042013My son feels his emotions with such intensity that, if you’re not careful, you’ll start to feel them as well. When he is sad, you can see his heart breaking. When he is happy, he is on top of the world and I sweartogod you could see that grin from the moon. And when he’s angry? It’s E vs. The World, and The World better watch its back.

He is so much like me in this way, it’s a little unnerving. In many ways, I hope he stays this way and grows to be a man who is honest about and open with him feelings because I believe that is such a refreshing trait in anyone, but especially in a man, a husband and a father.

But at the same time, it scares me for him. As a person who feels everything very strongly, as a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve, I know first hand the heartache that comes with that. Because while the highs are so high and so beautiful,  the lows are so very, very low, and dark, and ugly.

And as his mother, that scares me because I want nothing less than for him to hurt… because if he feels like I do, his hurt will cut deep. Even now when he is sad I wish I could take the pain away and heal his little heart. I want him to go through life with a carefree heart and soul… not a heavy one.

E Mamahood

Today, we’re hosting a party for our son’s second birthday. (His birthday isn’t until Tuesday, but you try throwing a birthday party two days before Thanksgiving.)

It’s hard to believe he’s gone from this…


To this…


Happy birthday, my love, my heart. I hope your day today brings you nothing but joy and happiness (and limited amounts of sugar). Let’s party!