Tag Archives: life

Four Months

My Little Love, 

Someone asked me yesterday if I wished I had waited to have you. I will never wish that. Why would I wish to have waited for this sense of distinction in my life? You have given my life more meaning, you make my life more fulfilling, and you give me more happiness than anything else ever can or will. Your father and I love you more than you could possibly know, and you won’t know or understand just how much until you have a child of your own, it’s a love that can only be understood by a parent.



I spent nine months counting down the days until you came, and I was both ready and totally unprepared at the same time. I don’t think anyone is ever really prepared for how much they can love; I never knew I had the capacity to love anything so intensely or so achingly.  It’s the most profound kind of love, the kind that instantly makes you a better person. How can I afford the luxury of selfishness when this tiny, adorable little person is depending on me? You have made me a real live grown up, and you have given me whole arsenal of insight and common sense that can only come from being a responsible parent.

I think always have a portion of my brain dedicated to the thought of where you are and what you’re doing, and the constant hope that you are happy and doing well will be embedded within me forever. You are my motivation, inspiration, my therapy, and my own personal narcotic; anytime I have a thought laced with Evelyn I feel a surge of happiness. I can’t thank you enough for the dimension that being your mother has added to my life. 



Always remember, I love you. I love every bit of you from the ends of your wild hair to the tips of your dainty little feet. I love you even when I’m changing a particularly messy diaper, even when you’re giving me that warning that you’re about to cry, that warning in the form of protruding lower lip, and especially when you wake up from your nap and smile at me making me giggle, because it’s just so great that you can giggle back at me.






Saturday night spit-up

I have been a parent for eighty days and during those eighty days I have spent about eighty minutes away from Evelyn. I exaggerate of course, but not too much. Since I’ve been a parent I’ve been to one movie and have gone out to dinner one time, that’s two nights out in two and a half months. Before Evelyn was born, Jay and I either had people over or went out just about every Friday and Saturday night, and even sometimes on Thursdays or Sundays too. 

When I was pregnant, Jay and I would talk about how hard it was going to be to stay in so much; neither of us are homebodies, we’re both quite the opposite. We talked about how we were going to miss going to the movies once a week and how it was going to be hard to not be able to hang out with our friends every weekend. We knew we weren’t going to be able to do these things so often anymore, not only because we had to physically care for the baby, but because we would have to start saving more money as well.

Luckily, we’ve always been smart about our finances, so we knew that change wouldn’t be too difficult. What we didn’t expect was that it would be so easy to stay home so much. Why spend ten dollars or more on a movie ticket when you can entertain your very own baby so she smiles at you? Why go to a bar or club and small that hairy guy’s body odor all night when you can smell the sweet smell of your baby’s neck? Why go out and end up having to take care of your drunk friend when you can take care of the Most Adorable Baby in the World? Why clean up that drunk person’s throw up when you can instead clean your baby’s spit up?



I think some of our friends have this misconception about being a parent because we’re so young. I think some of them feel bad for us because we don’t have certain freedoms anymore, and it bothers me a lot. I hate that some of them think of  my daughter as a cute little burden. My daughter is the greatest thing in my life, no amount of missed nights out could change that. I’m sure as she gets older it will be a lot easier for me to leave her, but right now I’m perfectly content with going another eighty days with two nights out. 

Evelyn Aubrey



I’ll spare many of the details, but Saturday evening I began to get strong contractions, and by just after midnight we were on our way to the hospital. Twenty-four hours later, at 12:58am, Evelyn Aubrey M. was born. She’s beautiful: 7 pounds, 8 ounces, 20 inches long, and a full head of hair. So much hair, it shocked the nurses-really. She looks just like her dad, even down to her hair style.

It took that long because we had to keep slowing down the process because she was getting “stressed”. I would be stressed too if there was a noose in the form of an umbilical cord wrapped around my neck three times. It made for a lot of pain, but once she was here, I barely remembered any of it. I’ll try not to hold the long labor over her head the rest of her life. 

She share’s the birthday of her Godfather, Jay’s cousin Brian, as well as my cousin’s baby (who she named Evan). He was born 22 hours after her, which I’m sure she’ll hang over his head all of their lives.

We spent the first 36 hours of her life in the hospital. We had so many people waiting to see her, I’m sure it kind of annoyed the nurses. They came in two at a time for the next hours or so, before the nurses cut us off so she could feed off of her mother’s ever-expanding endowments. As I spent that first night at the hospital with her, (we weren’t able to get a private room so Jay couldn’t stay with us) I couldn’t stop looking at her, even though I hadn’t slept more than two hours in almost 48 hours, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with her there. She looks just like her dad, it’s strange. Jay got there as early as they would allow the next morning, and a more visitors arrived soon after. We brought her home the next day, we couldn’t wait to get out of there, especially Jay who hated leaving us those first two nights.

Now, it’s almost surreal. You spend nine months counting down the days, and you’re both ready and totally unprepared at the same time. Then she arrives and you know that no matter what, you’re going to do the best you can, because that tiny human is depending on you. It’s the scariest, most wonderful feeling. I already feel like a completely different person.

I love

that I’m in the only position that can be in where you can’t wait for the most physically painful experience of your life to happen already.


I’ve always been pretty well-endowed in the chest area, not that I enjoyed it all the time. I played basketball in high school, and let me tell you running around with two 34Cs is no picnic, and neither is getting elbowed in the chesticles when going in for a layup. I used to have to wear two sports bras to cushion the frequent blows and keep the two in place.

That was before I was pregnant, and if I thought C’s were bad, imagine how I feel now. On a recent trip to purchase more suitable support, the sales girl told me I was lucky to have such big boobs and a smallish frame. I smiled, I would by lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the compliment. Then she asked me if they were real. I must’ve given her a look, because she immediately took it back and apologized. I assured her that I was okay, and told her they were real, products of genetics and pregnancy. Apparently she had been so enthralled with my bosoms that she hadn’t noticed my expanding uterus. She congratulated me and then proceeded to tell me about her plans to get implants.

This girl must’ve appreciated the commission I was giving her, so much so she decided to give me her life story in exchange. She told me about how she’d always wanted them done, and she’d had the chance before. Apparently her parents offered to get them for her when she graduated high school, but she decided to get her nose done first. Now they wouldn’t pay for them because they were paying her college tuition, so she decided to get a job to save up for them herself “I almost have enough now, but I’m debating about whether to get Cs or Ds” she told me. Now, this girl was tiny, and her current breast size was no bigger than your average teenage boy. I couldn’t imagine her small frame with boobs as big a mine, or maybe I was concentrating too hard on not looking at her nose, but before I could stop myself, I asked “Aren’t you afraid of having back problems?” I was surprised that she hadn’t been asked this before, and she obviously hadn’t consulted with a plastic surgeon yet, no doctor in his right mind would put D’s on a girl this small.  “Why, do you?” she asked. I told her that yes, I did, big knockers didn’t come without some sacrifice.

While I paid for my items (one of which was the first DD I’ve ever bought) we talked a little more about it. We both spoke about the things we wished we could wear, but couldn’t quite pull off. Then she looked at me like I was a crazy person when I told her I would consider a reduction of they were any bigger. As I left, I told her to go with the Cs if anything, and I looked at her like she was a crazy person when she told me that maybe she would get her chin done first. I’ve never really considered plastic surgery before, but I guess she had considered it enough for the both of us. 

Sympathetic Vomiter

Great way to start my day. I was babysitting the adorable wonder Elijah, when he spit up his morning bottle of milk. For those of you who may not know, milk vomit isn’t the greatest aroma. So, while cleaning it up, I add more to the mess. Hopefully my day doesn’t continue this way. 

Unexpected Homecoming

If you’ve read this you know that I moved out of my parent’s house soon after high school. I did this for two reasons: I’ve always been independent that way and because I could afford it. Well, since my uterus has been occupied by a growing being, the plan has been to move into a bigger place for the three of us. It looks like we found that place. What’s unexpected is that there are a few more people living with us: I’m moving back in with my parents. Jay and I have dealt with a few lifestyle changes already and we’re both prepared for more to come, but I really didn’t anticipate this one. 

I guess this development began on Friday. Jay and I have been searching for a bigger place for a while now, and it’s been challenging both because of our standards and the current market in Orange County. We finally found a great place and even if it was a little outside our preferred area. It had all the amenities we wanted without having to live next to a drug dealer or become some to pay rent. Well, after dealing with the ridiculous management for almost a month (if that was how they treated prospective residents, imagine how they treated you when you moved in), Friday we decided to take the $150 loss from our deposit and get out while we still could. That’s when my parents offered us their spare room. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me, but my mother being the mother she is, had been planning it all along. Anyway, she’s asking Jay and I while I’m thinking “Yeah, okay, thanks but no thanks.” I guess that’s why I almost choked on an almond when Jay brought it up later. 

After a lot of discussion, we decided that the benefits of moving in with them would outweigh any reservations we may have. First, we would be saving almost two thousand dollars a month on rent and utilities, and that’s before accounting for food. That’s a lot to consider, especially since I’m still maintaining a full course schedule. I’m sure when the baby comes sustaining a full time job, a full time school schedule, and being a full time mom will be nearly impossible. This way, I can stay in school (which has been a priority for us since day one) and still work part-time without going into debt. The next reason also has to do with money. Jay and I have always planned to buy a run-down condo and fix it to our liking as soon as we could. I think we both let that idea go or at least put it off into the distance when we found out about the baby. This way, that dream is more of a possibility. Finally, Jay and I have not raised any children, my parents have raised four, I think we can only benefit from having them around for support. I still feared that we’d grow to depend on my parents too much, but I think what Jay said is right: I’m far too determined to let that happen. The room is big (far bigger than most of the “master” bedrooms in the apartments we’ve looked at), but I don’t think it’s big enough to keep us comfortable once the baby is bigger.

Of course I’ll need time to adjust to not having my own place anymore, especially since I’m home so much more now. I’m happy to have such accommodating parents, they’ve been great about everything. They love Jay and vice versa. That’s probably why he’s been gungho since the idea was brought up, that and he was worried that since he works so much now, he didn’t want me home alone in my pregnant state. I guess I can be thankful, the more I think about it, this seems more like a blessing than the cockamamie idea I thought it was when I first heard it. Wish us luck on the move!