Great Googly Moogly! 2017 has already come and gone.

Happy Almost New Year! Full disclaimer: I'm about to throw all sorts of cliches your way, so be forewarned and feel free to skip this post if you're the type to chronically eye-roll.


I have a kid! I know, I'm 7 months late to my own self-realization. It still hasn't settled. I'm sort of letting it ride out as slowly as possible. I like feeling the baby bliss; I haven't come down off of my first-time mom pedestal. Travis and I still look at each other at random moments throughout the day and proclaim "Were parents! We made a thing!" we might be total weirdos, but there is something to be said about creating a life with your best friend that never really loses it's cool factor.

This year was a whirlwind. I was pregnant for the vast majority of it; and man was that an experience. Pregnancy itself was a very humbling experience. I had zero control over my body (which made me crazy, literally) and I was finally forced to take a deep breath, and trust that God could more than handle the whole 'creating a life' situation (spoiler alert: he did just fine.) I had my bout with Gestational Diabetes; and have to say that was probably the worst part of it all. Trying to keep my sugars in check was a tedious hour to hour, day by day, chore. BUT in hindsight, I know it was just divine intervention, making sure I kept a balanced diet that didn't consist of Mexican food all day, every day. After all was said and done, myself and the baby were both really healthy throughout - and I couldn't have asked for a smoother first pregnancy experience.


The birthing process, however, was a little that I hated the whole thing. I know, I know. It's supposed to be beautiful - you should feel like a glittery mermaid; full of light and rainbows and all the fuzzy feels and natural highs the world could offer. That was not the case for me. Long story short: I was told I had very low fluid, was induced, waited 7 hours in a closet-sized triage room before I was even taken to my actual room (which, due to occupancy, was the last remaining one available, and so small, Travis had to go home to sleep for our entire stay.) I was put into awful positions to push, where I was given no say, even though I kept telling them I was really uncomfortable - I was snapped at, after my placenta wouldn't come out soon enough for the doctor (who wanted to be done with me) and was trying to carve it out like I was a freaking jack-o-lantern. The whole thing was just not my cup of tea; and needless to say if we ever decide to have another, I will be doing my research.

That being said; I am still 100% give me all the epidurals. I will never, ever want to have my kid at home in my bath tub. That may be spot on for some amazing, strong ass women - but it's not so great for someone who is already high strung AF, and so full of anxiety at any given moment she could implode. You have to know yourself, and own what works best for you with confidence. Don't get me wrong, I fully support the intimacy of birth - whatever your journey may be, I commend you. My journey just happens to be a medicated one, where I feel little to no pain, and can sleep through labor.


Honestly, I wouldn't change a thing. Cliches be damned. Once she was placed on my chest, all Trav and I could do was stare at her, stare at each other, then stare at her again. We didn't cry, but I don't think we said a word to each other for a solid ten minutes. I will always remember being in such a haze when I was done, and feeling like a total warrior. The first picture we ever got of her was in her dads arms, while he gazed at her in total awe. It is my favorite picture to date.

Now here we are, 7 months in. Every month more phenomenal than we could have ever imagined. Being parents has put our priorities on auto-pilot. Our instincts for the most part work in sync with each other - I know when he needs a pep talk, he knows when I need a moment to recharge. We both know when we need time to reconnect. There are also plenty of days that seem never ending; where I have wanted to kill him in his sleep, and he has been tempted to put out a want ad for a new, much nicer, girlfriend. Let me just say, sleep deprivation is not to be taken lightly.


I am so thankful for every second of growth this year has provided. The best and most humbling moments have included becoming a mom. It’s bittersweet watching your babies thrive - half of you selfishly wants to keep them little forever, and the other half can’t wait to see what they learn from you tomorrow. Here’s to feeling each half as big as we can, for as long as we’re able.

2018, I'm ready for ya!