Its amazing what happens in a year

So looking back on this time last, I was huge and pregnant with DS. We were counting down the days until he was born, and we were worried about the future. What had we gotten ourselves into, how were we able to take care of a new innocent baby. The army had turned Hubby down, and we were struggling to get by.

I was willing to scarfice anything to give Buggy a happy healthy life. And sacrafice we did, with tears and fear. Then Hubby got his new job, we moved, I got to be a stay at home mom. We have enough each paycheck to pay all the bills and then some, we have health insurance, we are settled.

This time last year, I was afraid of the future. This time next year, hopefully I'll be proud of the past. And expecting another little bundle of joy!

Well hello there TTC#2

So Hubby and I have been talking about giving it ago for baby number 2. (actually its been on the to-do list since December when I stopped taking birth control) and we were honestly suprised when my lovely periods were drawn out 30, 40, 50! days apart. So into the doctor's office I went.

He took one look at my blood results (which were not to pretty) and told me I am suffering from a thing called PCOS, or Polycystic ovary syndrome. Basically here are the main symptoms:
Acne.
Weight gain and trouble losing weight.
Extra hair on the face and body. Often women get thicker and darker facial hair and more hair on the chest, belly, and back.
Thinning hair on the scalp.
Irregular periods. Often women with PCOS have fewer than nine periods a year. Some women have no periods. Others have very heavy bleeding.
Fertility problems. Many women with PCOS have trouble getting pregnant (infertility).
Depression.
Most women with PCOS grow many small cysts on their ovaries. That is why it is called polycystic ovary syndrome. The cysts are not harmful, but lead to hormone imbalances.
* from http://women.webmd.com/tc/polycystic-ovary-syndrome-pcos-topic-overview

Basically my body is not creating the hormones needed to ovulate, which as any junior highschooler will tell you, is a very important part of baby making. My body is producing extra hair (gross I know) I am border line diabetic, and I need to look those jelly rolls I was talking about.

I am trying to look on the bright side, at least i know what the heck is going on in my body, I have one beautiful baby boy whom I love with my whole heart, and all hope is not lost in giving him a brother or sister. My doctor is hoping to see us knocked up with in the year. I am taking metifomin to help kick start my body. It will happen.

People are already asking us when we are going to start trying for another one, i dont know if that is a key mark of your baby turning one: "Hey H and N, when ya going to pop out another one since it was so easy for you the first time" Um... let me get right on that.

Then there are the people who say that God makes everything perfect and if and when the time is right it will happen. Ok, but if its flooding and there is a boat, wouldnt you want to hop in it?? I understand that he controls everything, but sometimes modern science can help it along. I think they think because Buggy was so easy to have that every other baby will be that way. He was just a miracle. A huge blessing, and a lucky accident. One I am so thankful for!

At least hubby is understanding and willing to do what ever he needs to help us become a family of 4. And i love him all the more for it!

of life, love, muffin tops and a handle on it all!

It goes without saying that motherhood is amazing. Its a wonderful adventure of crazy hormones that take over you life for longer then nine months, no longer having a clean house, piles of dirty diapers, and constantly having your heart outside of your body. I wouldnt change being a mommy for anything. It is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

However, the challenge of feeling sexy and disirable as a mom is alot harder then i ever imagined. Dont get me wrong, there are moments that I find my self feeling like a MILF, but most of the time I feel more like a cow, or at least a rather large goat. My husband is amazing, he will take one look at my fat stretchmarked, saggy boobed body and still enjoy our love making time. I am sure I will look back in years to come and realize that my monsterous body really truely isnt as bad as I think, but for now I look in the mirror and want to gag.

My new ritual is to try to embrace the muffin top, while I have no intention of keeping my jelly rolls, love handles or flower pot boobs, I am learning to love them (uh huh) while they are around. I am trying hard to work my good assets, like who would have thought that these taataas would look so nice in that shirt with this bra? or my eyes will pop with this makeup, and I still have that post pregnancy shine in my hair. I am trying hard to get out of the rut of sitting around in my pjs. I shower everyday and take time to do the things that make me feel sexy, even if my hunny bunny doesnt notice. There is no shame in shaving your legs, lathering yourself in post shower lotion, air drying on the bed while ready a cosmo, and then jumping up the moment the baby wakes up.

Another aspect of motherhood very few people will tell you about is post baby love making. Wow. Ever since we got to pink lines, our time in between the sheets has been out of this world. I figured the moment we had baby, our love life would hit the fan. I will admit that there are many a night we kiss then roll over and lights out, however, we try to turn up the heat at least once a week, and it keeps hubby and I on the same page. We are more in sync with each other, life, and parenting.

While I by no means have a handle on every bit of this crazy roller coster, I enjoy it, I see the fun in it, and though I dont always feel like a hot mama covered in baby drool, I know that I am. I am a confident woman, and that alone makes me the object of the only man's desire that I demand. And as long as that stays the same, I guess the only muffin top he will be having is mine!

Pregnancy of the young and uninsured II

Now the next step in getting insured through the state is a trip into the dreaded welfare office. Let me tell you this, it was no fun at all! I was raised with money, and it was the most humbling thing I have done, ever. After sitting for hours waiting to get called back, I was finally seated with my “case worker” who proceeded to treat me as if I was a unwedded teen mother, and whom had no idea that *gasp* sex would cause a baby! So I was humiliated, embarrassed and upset.

They ran all of our information, and no surprise, we qualified. I have taken many tests in my life, but that is one I hope and pray I never pass again. Anyhow, they wanted me to go to this clinic where they sent most of the people on welfare. (I still shutter) but this clinic was notorious for not so good care, and most of the doctors main language was Spanish. They also wanted me to take a class on prenatal, infant and child care, called first steps. An amazing program, but when you passed a certain education level it truly seems dumbed down and childish. So I went to Hastings and bought “what to expect when you are expecting” and “pea in the pod” two books that got me through nine months.

I asked to be transferred to a different doctor, and they happily agreed, so the moment I left the office, upset, embarrassed, but secretly glad to have insurance, I called the doctors office. They set me up for an ultrasound and then two weeks later I was seeing my doctor for the first time. I was ecstatic.

The welfare office also pushed me in the direction of WIC. And quite honestly, I have no clue what I would have done without that program. I will forever be grateful for all the help they gave us, both though my pregnancy and afterwards. So much, that I am hoping to work with them someday. They treated me with respect and understanding, plus the help they gave was appreciated.

Through out my pregnancy, and even now, the way a young mother is treated still upsets me. I think there are so many girls who get knocked up and they have no desire to give up their age. Take 16 and pregnant and Teen Mom from MTV, those girls are in high school and getting pregnant. They are immature, irresponsible and so unready to be parents. They also don’t have the solid support of a good man. I think a lot of people in our society take that and apply it to anyone who looks under the age of 25. I think being a good mom has no age limit. My sister in law was in her teens when she found out she was expecting my niece, and now is happily married to the daddy, and has two under two and she isn’t even 20 yet, but she is one of the best moms I know. Another gal I know is a few months younger then me, and the moment she turned 21, decided to live like a 21 year old, not a mother. There is so much you give up the moment you find out you are expecting, unexpectedly or not.

I will never ever be able to go out and party, I will not just leave town, and I can not sleep all day. And you know what, I have no desire to. Ok maybe sleep all day… but I know its not even an option. I love being a mom and I live with no regrets. My son is my whole world, and I can honestly say I can not imagine my world without him. So I might be young, and I might make mistakes as a mother and person but I am trying my best and taking care of the child that God has in trusted to me. And you know what, I think I do a pretty ok job.

Pregnancy of the young and uninsured

When I was a little girl, when ever I was asked what I wanted to be when I drew up, my first reply was always a mommy. I always knew that was what I was suppose to be. Fast forward 20 year, yes only 20, and there I was starting my adventure as a mom.

We hadn’t been trying to have a baby, but we were not stopping it either. I had been Mrs. L for 6 weeks and was feeling off. My best friend at the time was expecting, and I was seeing myself reflected in her own experiences. So, on the night of November 1^st, 2008 my world was changed upside down. On my home from work, I swung into Walmart, quickly walked to the “family planning” section, grabbed a three pack of First Response, because there was no way in hell I wanted to make a second trip in, and quickly rushed to the counter. Of course, none of the self check out lines were working, so I timidly placed my bright pink box of pee sticks on the counter. I had to go through the line with the most talkative checker, who looked me over in my work clothes of dress slacks and a black shirt, her eyes darting to my left hand, then to my belly.

“Your first?”

I just nodded, and explained that I didn’t know yet, but my husband and I were excited. Not that it was any of her business. I found out that buying pregnancy tests are a lot like buying tampons or condoms, you want to get through with it as soon as possible and stick those puppies in a big dark bag, and for the moment of seconds they are out and exposed to the public you feel as if every eye in the place is on them, and you.

Well when I got home that night, I decided to wait for hubby. He wasn’t happy I spent the money we didn’t have on pregnancy tests, but after a rare fight, I squatted on the pot, and then had the longest two minuets of my life. Slowly but surely, two pink lines popped up. We stared in disbelief, we were going to be parents. The joy and excitement soon gave way to worry and fear as we ran the gantlet of emotions that most new parents have to go through, but for us, we were in the bracket of young American’s who didn’t have insurance, made minimum wage and had lived paycheck to paycheck. How in heavens name were we going to bring a innocent life into this world and care for him or her. Love we could give abundantly, but diapers and food and all the rest of the world, we couldn’t.

Hubby’s mom told me to get on state provided health insurance, something I never thought I would have to do, but it was necessary, so I made my way to the first stages of that process. I had to have a state approved proof of being knocked up. So into Planned parenthood I went. I have never felt ashamed of the fact that my husband and I made a baby, but it was still embarrassing telling them I needed a pregnancy test. They led me to the back room, and I was full of mixed emotions, the main one was what if I really wasn’t pregnant, I would be devastated. I already loved that little body growing inside me. The nurse asked me all sorts of questions, was I sexually active (um no, I just think I am in the family way miraculously) have I slept with a new partner in the last month? (no pretty sure my husband of a month would KILL me) have I ever been pregnant before? (nope, that is why I am freaking out!) so I peed in yet another cup, something I would soon get use too, the nurse came back and told me I was expecting a bundle of joy. The next words out of her mouth floored me, Do I want to keep it?

I looked her in the eye and told her that I already was in love. And we were keeping him.

Lucky numbers

Some people have them, some people don’t. I defiantly think I fall into the category of having them. I was born on 9/ 5 at 5:59 am, I was 5lbs 9 oz. we were in room 19 on the 5^th floor. We were there for nine days.

I don’t necessarily believe in luck. I think life happens and you make you own. What ever you want to call it, luck, charma, God’s will, what ever, it is all about what you make of it. Life will throw you curve balls and you have to swing, you either hit a homerun and become the hero of your team, or you swing and miss. Either way, at least you can say you swung.

That being said, the validity of my lucky numbers hit me when I turned 9, my mom said I could get my ears pierced. I remember walking into the mall in California, and thinking, “gee I am the luckiest girl ever!” Since that moment, it has never failed me, and so far has climaxed to the point that when I was 19, I met my amazing husband who live 5 doors down from me. 9 months later we moved in together, 5 months later we were married. Then the amazing 9 months of pregnancy hit. Now, I am sitting here and my baby boy is nine months old, and I couldn’t be any happier!

I was born and raised on army bases, born and bred in Church, and I am a God fearing, gun shooting, jean wearing, c-sectioned, broken boob formula feeding, husband loving, baby cuddling, BAMF MILF. I stand by what I believe, and I believe what I know. Some people might call me a redneck, and it’s a name I will wear proudly. There is no shame in still having Christmas lights on your house, even though its almost May, right? I have a ford in my drive way, a shot gun in my closet, and a freedom I will fight to defend. And in all things, I know I am extremely lucky.