The Magic of a Haircut

I feel totally beautiful today.  Trust me, this is not something I say or feel about myself very often.  I just got home from my hair stylist with a fresh new look that I couldn't be happier with.  Yes, I even cried on the way home (but let's be real, I cry a lot these days).  Somehow Dolcie, my stylist, knows exactly what I need and she executes perfectly every time.  Today what I needed was just to feel good about myself.  I left feeling that way, $50 poorer, but totally worth it!

The last time I felt beautiful was when I was pregnant.  I loved the look of my full, round belly.  I loved the cute new maternity tops I bought and the cropped maternity jeans.  I don't know if I had the "pregnancy glow," but I sure felt like I did.  I walked around proudly, picking shirts that hugged my belly instead of trying to cover it up. 

These days, I rarely feel beautiful.  If I'm being fully honest, most days I feel like crap.  I'm not happy with how I look physically.  I find my body downright depressing.  To top it off, after giving birth I was left with a generous gut and the most horrific stretch marks on my belly (imagine a child took a fat purple marker and started drawing lines everywhere . . . yes, purple).  Really it just seems cruel to have the physical evidence of having had a baby, yet no baby.  I'm reminded of this every time I look in the mirror.

Today, though, I am going to celebrate feeling beautiful!  I know the feeling will fade away in a day or two (or even in a few hours when the cute hairstyle starts to droop and frizz . . . please Mike get home before then!), but I'm going to try to hold on to it for as long as I can.  Maybe this feeling is just a sign that I need to get a haircut more often . . .

Tomorrow the pampering continues with a pedicure in the company of one of my best friends.  Ahh, spring break, I love you.

 P.S.  This post is NOT an attempt to fish for compliments.  Other people telling me I look nice is not nearly as satisfying as feeling it myself.  :)

Two Types of Recovery

After Tessa's loss, I found myself dealing with two totally different types of healing: emotional and physical. I often thought, "Isn't it enough to have to deal with the death of your baby?" Recovering from delivery was painful, but then having to deal with things like pumping made it just that much harder.

While Tessa was in the NICU I kept up with pumping every couple hours because we thought we would eventually be taking her home. After her death, I had to continue pumping, slowly decreasing over a week or so as to not become engorged. The hospital was nice enough to let us borrow a hospital grade pump (a service they provide to all moms with babies in the NICU). I do feel grateful it only took a little over a week for my milk supply to pretty much dry up, but at the time it was just one more painful reminder that I didn't have my baby. Nearly ever time I pumped, I would find myself in tears thinking that this is just not how it's supposed to be. I'd fill up bottles, but have nothing to do with them. In fact, they are still in the freezer. I suppose I should get rid of them, but that feels strange for some reason.

Overall, it took my body about five weeks to recover from the birth, yet I still am carrying some of the extra weight. Shedding those extra pounds has just been another hurdle that's been difficult to overcome. I guess I just have to keep reminding myself that everything takes time . . . the physical healing is done (with the exception of losing some more weight) and the emotional healing will take longer (probably forever). Only choice is to keep going . . .

Birth Announcement

From the very beginning, Mike and I both had a strong feeling we were going to have a baby girl. Our due date was August 12, but on August 18th when our little one didn't seem to want to come out, our doctor decided to induce labor. Straight from the appointment, I was checked into Labor and Delivery. Mike and I were standing outside the hallway to our room as it was being prepped for us and the framed picture outside our door confirmed what we had always believed . . . we were having a girl! The picture was of a little bunny. We looked at one another and smiled, our excitement and nerves overflowing. We had talked about names for boys and girls, but we knew if we had a girl we wanted her middle name to be Bunny (after Mike's grandmother Bernice, who was always called Bunny). The picture on the wall was a little sign. :)

I'd like to introduce you to Tessa Bunny Walton
Born Friday, August 19, 2011 at 9:13 AM
6 pounds, 7 ounces
19.5 inches long
Perfect . . .
Getting a bath
Snuggling with mom in the nursery
Safely cradled in dad's hands

Flexing her muscles, to show us she was being strong

Our family of three

An Identity Crisis

I struggle a bit with my identity as a mom. I absolutely consider myself a mom, yet . . . do I wake up at night to a crying baby longing to be comforted and fed? No. Do I change dirty diapers and warm up bottles? No. Do I get to stare at my beautiful baby every day feeling like she's growing up too fast? No. Do I get to post monthly picture updates and descriptions of the new milestones she's reaching? No. How do I answer when people ask, "Do you have any children?" If I say, "Yes, " I am stuck with the inevitable, awkward conversation that follows. If I say, "No," am I denying her existence? For these reasons I find myself in a bit of an identity crisis.

I found myself wanting to write about Tessa the other day. I kept thinking to myself, "Why do I want to do that?" Do I want sympathy? Am I writing as a way to remember her? Is it a method of grieving? Will sharing the things I've been going through be cathartic? I couldn't quite figure it out. I even asked Mike what he thought of me writing about this whole experience and writing about Tessa on this blog. He said he didn't mind, but he also asked why I felt the need to share these things publicly. I didn't really have an answer. I've been mulling over those questions for the last week or so. Not until tonight did I realize one of the reasons I feel like writing about her and writing about our experiences in this kind of a forum. I desperately want to feel like a mom. I can stay out as late as I want, I can drink wine, I can go shopping when I feel like going shopping, and I can sleep when I feel like sleeping . . . to some of you that may sound like heaven. Yes, it is pretty awesome, but I'd gladly trade it all (and more) to wake up at 1 AM and 3 AM and 5AM, to clean up after the diaper blow out, and to do all of the wonderful things that most parents get to do.

So maybe this is my way of proving it, my way of feeling like I have some connection to the rest of you who call yourselves moms and get to post updates and pictures. And because pretty much every mom I know sends out a birth announcement introducing their bundle of joy, that will be my next post . . . an introduction to the most amazing little human I have ever met, Tessa, my daughter.