Glorious Mommyhood

I've been perfecting this entry over a period of time - trying to come up with the perfect way to convey all of the exciting newness of becoming a mother. Looking back on my last post, it's so funny to read about how I imagined everything would be compared to how it actually was. If you've caught any of my five-a-day pictures of Roman, you already know that I love this little bundle of grossness. I love the dirty diapers, the constant flow of vomit, the hunger screams, the tired tantrums, and the every-hour feedings when all I want to do is get four straight hours of sleep. I know! It sounds like a healthy batch of sarcasm, but really - he's the best. But just so we're clear here [David], this will be the one and only miracle I push out.

To recap my journey so far: at my 38 week appointment, my mid-wife told me that I had no choice but to be induced within the next few days because of my blood pressure. I wasn't preeclamptic at that moment, but I was clearly on my way. So we were scheduled to arrive at the hospital on Sunday night. Unfortunately, this meant that I would forgo the natural water birth I had always dreamed of and that I really had little say on whether or not I'd have an epidural. Apparently, my blood pressure would be too high not to have one (they were right). My labor was exactly like the Alien picture I featured in my last post; complete with painful screams, tears, and a team of people holding me down while baby Roman violently forced his way out. I was lucky enough to have a short labor of 10 hours, with a grand total of 15 minutes of pushing. Those 15 minutes of pushing, however, were accompanied by a panic attack set off by a surge of back pain brought on when my mid-wife rolled me from my side to my back right after she told me I was ready to push. Whoever said epidurals make you completely numb (or told me so, anyway) was a liar. It made me feel heavy and tired, but I still felt the contractions and still wanted to die. Fast forward through a fever, a BP of 157, specialists rolling in crash carts, hooking up an EKG machine, covering this claustrophobic, crazy person's whole face with an oxygen mask, and you have the birth of beautiful, flawless 8 lbs 9 oz baby Roman.

Many of my labor fears went unmet including tearing or having to have an episiotomy. My mid-wife was spectacular. I'd definitely recommend getting one, even if you intend on having a hospital birth. No doctor is going to massage your perineum. At least not without a sizable bribe. Anyway. We stayed for a few days, enjoyed a few visitors, and returned home to a glorious unknown to start being parents.

The first few days were met with complete uncertainty. Thank God my mother was here with us because it was a real struggle navigating breastfeeding and circumcision wounds. Admittedly, I couldn't bring myself to change one dirty diaper until his little areas healed. It was physically painful even being within earshot during his changing. Apparently, the hospital we were at wasn't up with current wound care practices and we could have avoided painful diaper changes with a circumcision wrap. I'd say "next time", but...you know. Over the next several weeks, we were blessed to be in the company of our mothers. It's a never ending cycle for them. Though we've finally settled in to a rhythm that's comfortable, it was suddenly strange to be on our own without any help. How do other people do it?

There's a lot to look forward to in the upcoming months. At the moment, I'm concentrating on establishing a schedule that Roman can rely on when I return to work, maintaining my epic GPA (which I say as I'm currently procrastinating on a paper due in five and a half hours), and losing weight. At seven weeks postpartum, I've lost 29 lbs! This week I'll be trying my hand at Burn Boot Camp after I get my IUD (assurance that there won't be any additional Hindmans to this family). While I've only got 4 more lbs to go until my pre-pregnancy weight, I'd like to lose about 30 more in order to get rid of this belly pooch. There's nothing like carrying around a 12 lb baby up the stairs to remind you that you are terribly out of shape. If nothing else, a little nip/tuck never hurt anyone, right? Only 3 more weeks of maternity leave left before I have to stop enjoying these 3 and 6 am feedings. Again, only partial sarcasm intended.

Thanks for the continued support and offers for babysitting! Roman's 2 month appointment (WHAT??) is right around the corner, which daddy gladly agreed to take him to because mommy can't handle shots! Continue following the ridiculously fast growth of baby Roman by following me on Facebook (Samantha Hindman) or Instagram (@godstronggirl).

xoxo

How to hate pregnancy like a boss featuring hashtags

Holy 9 weeks!

Now that I'm approaching the end, I can't deny how strangely manageable these past seven months have been. But I'm also afraid that these easy breezy, beautiful (#covergirl) months come at the expense of 24 hours (or more) of hell. They say you forget...but I'll believe it when I see it.

In the beginning of my pregnancy, I suffered from nausea that persuaded me to avoid consuming most anything, but I was (and have been) fortunate enough to lack vomiting as a symptom of my changing body. In the middle, I was able to eat more, but experienced a smattering of two-second heartburn and backaches (the only real symptom I could have done without) coupled with severe irritability and a lack of patience. (Poor David.) Currently, I'm experiencing this feeling of HUGENESS, as if I could fall forward (or pass out from walking up the stairs) at any minute...and I pretty much look forward to any amount of time that my body gets to be horizontal. I don't want to do much of anything, but there is still so much to do. And did I mention the stretch marks? #thestruggle, am I right?

Speaking of stretch marks, I know some women who are so proud of their lil' miracle and are happy to share pictures of their bellies complete with phrases like "these are my victory stripes". #putyourshirtdown. I have a serious complex about the fact that my stomach currently looks like scene out of a pitiful slasher movie. In fact, for a majority of my pregnancy, I've associated pregnancy with this:

I should admit that I actually broke down at work one day because I was disgusted by being able to see Roman move inside me. #world'sworstpregnantwoman

I should also probably admit that on the flip side, I am incredibly satisfied with how AWESOME my hair has become since getting pregnant. Let's be honest, it's fanfrickintastic. #world'smostvainpregnantwoman

It's hard to fathom the degree of change awaiting me in these upcoming weeks. Often, I find myself overjoyed at the prospect of Roman's arrival; knowing that he was created from the unimaginably blissful relationship that I have with my spectacular husband. {--Can I just interrupt this thought process to truly appreciate how amazing David has been? I don't think I could have made it without having him around to tolerate my complaining or avidly admiring my gross body everyday or (literally) picking me up because I'm too heavy to get up off the floor/couch/bed/car/anywhere by myself? #world'sneediestwife--} Other times, however, I'm overwhelmed with fear and anxiety; nervous about how I'll be able to handle mom/wife/scholar/employee at once and still maintain some level of normalcy. I fluctuate between being content and being erratic on the daily. #acutebipolardisorder

Maybe things will get better once he gets here...or at least once he gets on a normal sleep schedule. Or maybe I'll be your average middle class MILF who tucks a flask between her bra and breast pad in case of "emergencies". #priorities. I'm kidding. Please don't call child services.

I feel obligated to thank everyone who has had the...pleasure...of dealing with me in any fashion since I've been pregnant. It has been a roller coaster of ridiculousness that I don't intend to repeat any time soon - if ever. You guys rock. #appreciate. Look for pictures on my facebook page by clicking the link or button to the right!