“You’re beautiful baby from the outside in.
Chase your dreams but always know the road that’ll lead you home again.
Go on, take on this whole world.
But to me you know you’ll always be, my little girl.”
Here we go again
As most of my followers probably know I gave birth to my son Kendrick three weeks ago. He’s perfect in almost every way - except he only has one kidney. It’s currently not functioning at it’s full capacity and will likely require corrective surgery. Unfortunately, his specialist isn’t in our insurance network and they are refusing him care because we can’t put up the down payment for his treatment. I tried other specialists but we’re basically at a stand still - it’s the same problem with all of them - they’re all not covered and we can’t get a referral due to issues with his coverage.
I can’t work right now because I have to spend my time taking him to doctors and hospitals AND I can’t exactly afford daycare for him so we’re really tight for money. Between the hospital bills he already has, our normal utility expenses and being down to one income, I honestly don’t know what to do. I can’t get any assistance for food or formula for him because my fiance makes too much money. We’re poor, just not poor enough.
So I hate to ask for handouts or help, I’m too much of a prideful person but it’s not just about me anymore. I have to make sure my son will be okay too. I took the donate button off my blog, PayPal was taking a lot of money from the donations i was getting, so if you’d like to help us out, my email is firstname.lastname@example.org - you can send it there. Also keep us in your thoughts.
Anyone who donates I will find something to give you in return but right now I have nothing to give. Anything helps, it’s all appreciated. And if you can’t donate, share and we’ll hopefully figure it out. I’ll probably be starting a gofundme, but I’ve heard something about a percentage being taken off for the website or smth idk, I have to do some research, but anything helps. Thanks for reading, Kendrick thanks you!
“ Do you know how life changes when a young couple decides to become young parents? Do they think it boils down to adding more commitments and costs? Or do you already know about the emotional toll and everything it entails? Here’s a story that elucidates it all.
“We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her partner are thinking of "starting a family.” “We’re taking a survey,” she says half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”
“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
“I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.”
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.
I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, “What if that had been MY child?” That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.
That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.
That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.
My daughter’s relationship with her partner will change, but not in the way she thinks.
I wish she could understand how much more you can love someone who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with their child.
I think she should know that she will fall in love with them again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret it,” I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter’s hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. “
> please stop crying.
> Omg I’m so nervous.
> if you’d stop putting your hand in your mouth, my nipple could go in there.
> no one’s staring…
> yes they are – she’s screaming her head off.
> should I try to use a blanket to cover?
> ugh, I can’t see what I’m doing now!
> ugh, why did you unlatch?!
What mothers do NOT think while breastfeeding in public.
> let me lure in all the unfaithful, sinful husbands with my leaking, milk-filled breasts 😈
Things to do for next baby or for someone else's first baby
I have been thinking about things I could have done to make having a newborn easier. This is what I’ve come up with.
1. Don’t freak out if breastfeeding is difficult and the baby struggles. STAY CALM. I’m not certain how much of Wyatt’s bfing struggles came from me being so worked up and stressed out about it. I gave up after 1.5 days of struggling and started pumping and exclusively bottle feeding.
Side note: this was not the end of the world. When he got a little older (two weeks later) and his suck reflex got stronger (we gave a paci and I think that helped a lot), he had ZERO ISSUES going back to the boob.
2. Start pumping in the hospital. They have some amazing pumps there, and it really sets you up for success.
3. Pump AFTER you feed the baby. Ten minutes on each side for the baby, and then pump for 10 minutes.
4. Double pump. Get one of those bras that lets you pump hands free. Other than cutting your pumping time in HALF, you also get more milk if you pump tandem.
5. Bring a moby wrap to the hospital. Do skin to skin in the bed while wearing the baby. The nurses come in so frequently that you don’t actually get to sleep, you stand a better chance of relaxing if the baby is wrapped to you.
6. Have a feeding plan for when you get home. Alternate between you and your SO at night if possible. This was my favorite advantage to pumping bottles. Now that he’s back on the boob exclusively, I only ask my husband to take over a nighttime feeding if it’s like…a dire situation.
7. Buy 1,000 bottles of gas drops. Literally 1,000. And then repeat with gripe water.
8. Remember how everyone laughed at you for making “too many” frozen casseroles and breakfast burritos? Tell them to suck your dick, and make even more next time.
9. When people come to visit, make them do a load of dishes or switch out the laundry. Yes, really. No one comes to hold the baby without doing a chore. I think women downplay the amount of healing you’ll need to do, and that’s me talking after a relatively smooth vaginal delivery with minor tearing. You will bleed like GODDAMN STUCK PIG for atleast 4-6 weeks. And it’s not like a period. It is a WOUND. You are recovering. Do not haul around laundry baskets or stand on your feet to do dishes unless you absolutely have to.
10. Keep the squirt bottle from the hospital to clean your who-ha. They give you one to squirt water on to your vagina after you pee or poop because you can’t wipe you poor mangled vajay.
11. Take as many of the mesh underwear as you can stuff into your hospital bag. You will ruin whatever underwear you put on for the first 2-3 weeks postpartum. Get a pack of depends disposable underwear.
12. This is gross and I’m sorry. But get a trash can for the bathroom with a lid that CLOSES SHUT. The stuff coming out of you on those postpartum pads really stinks. I had a lidded trash can that fit into a cabinet with a door that closed. And the bathroom still had an odor if we didn’t change the trash out every two days.
13. Do not overestimate your ability to hold your pee. Your pelvic floor muscles are FUCKED. If you have to pee, DO NOT wait. You WILL pee on the floor, and that will trigger your postpartum hormones, and you will end up crying in the shower while your significant other cleans your urine off the floor because you can’t bend down to do it yourself. Or so I’ve heard.
14. Hold your baby as much as you want. Do not let people tell you that you’re going to “spoil” your child. Tell them to fuck right off, you can blame it on your hormones later.
15. Lastly, let people help you. I’m not sure why but I had moments where I felt like I shouldn’t need the help. False. FALSE.
Motherhood met me young. Some may see that as a failure. I don’t. I have fully surrendered and succumbed to motherhood, letting it wash over me and smooth out all my jagged edges and shape my unruly parts. It’s healed me in ways I never knew I needed healing, and it all started with those two pink lines.
Being a Young Mom Does Not Make Me a Failure, Lexi Behrndt
Has anyone ever tried baby sign language? I’m tempted to give it a go, because from everything I heard so far, it’s awesome. Babies tend to be more content, because they have a way of communicating their needs very early on - even earlier than their first successes at verbal language. And it doesn’t seem to be that hard. Just looking over some sheets, I memorized already a lot and I would primarily use it to cover basic needs.