If

If someone tells me to do the opposite of what I say with my kid after I have set a clear and healthy and researched boundary one more time someone is going to get choke slammed.

You know nothing

3. You are not prepared.

No matter how much advice you get or books you read, you will trick yourself into feeling like you can maybe handle it, or even be a master at it, you are lying to yourself. Just humble yourself now, because you know nothing. There are a couple of parts to my meaning when I say this.

No matter what you do there will still be something you are Googling at three in the morning in a panic about, wondering if you need to call the Dr, or if you are just over-reacting. (You will get to that point where you are looking at pictures of used diapers and/or looking up what is normal poo, and what is not.)

You will probably be missing some seemingly integral part of baby raising. You will not have enough onesies, or not enough newborn diapers. Everyone will tell you different, and often times you end up with a ton of one thing and not enough of another. Really it's one of those things where you will burn that bridge when you get there. Just save your gift cards or some cash, just in case say your milk supply dries up and you will need formula, or you have a baby that's 9lbs at birth and growing at an alarming rate and all those cute striped 0-3 month clothes you adored don't fit after the first month. One woman one day told me that I would surely get an oversupply of blankets, because that's what everyone wants to get a newborn baby, and one man told me that I would never have enough blankets and I should buy extras right now because would always be in demand.

Babies do what they want, and tend to have different ideas about what they prefer or how they operate.

For me, I got that Cadillac of a baby tub, the bright blue bath time fun with the works extra-special model, with the whale shaped cup with holes in it for washing hair, the fancy tilt things for when your kid grows and needs different angles... for bathing... or something.

Anyway it was probably my favorite thing I got, it was adorable and super cute. I pictured myself like the lady in commercials, kneeling next to my cherub faced angel, cooing in a sea of love and bubbles, myself being about 20 lbs lighter with perfect skin and hair coiffed in an immaculate retro mom-bob, bonding with my little boy as he gazed up into my face oozing bliss and excitement in a perfect episode of adoration and thankfulness, that I, the wonderful super-mom that I am, procured this vessel of bathing, both efficient and fitting of his taste for comfortability and style.

And then when the first bath time came around, Jack screamed his head off the whole time like a damned banshee. Like I was surely trying to kill him. Like he really didn't appreciate the color blue, he really didn't like the angle, and he sure as hell didn't like the whale cup with the holes for washing his wonderful head of hair. Nope, mom, I am screaming because I am not comfortable and I definitely do not appreciate this bath time Cadillac vessel for bathing.

And as happens so often with babies you have that one sided conversation out loud while trying to figure out what on earth could be wrong, like you are trying to convince them that they are really acting a little out of hand and it's just really not appropriate behavior to be screaming for no reason, and they should appreciate how much I love this bathtub.

"Do I have the only baby that hates bath time? I was specifically told that babies love bath time."

After a heart wrenching experience and wondering if I really have to go through this every time my baby needs a bath and how long we can deal with that wonky milk-neck smell. It ended up that he much prefers baths in the sink. All you have to do is prop him up on something soft and he now cries when you stop bath time.

We as parents want the best for our kids, always, but sometimes what we think is the best really isn't. Babies will come when they are ready, babies will like one thing and not another, you can't convince them to change their minds.

Part two of this sentiment is that you will not be prepared for the feeling. How can you love a stranger so much? How can this new and foreign entity mean so much?

You will think you know what love is. You can be close to your siblings, or your parents, or your significant other, or your best friend, but you have no idea what love is.

You love this thing so much, it screams at you for hours and you feel bad.

You love this thing so much it pukes on you and shits on you and you laugh.

You love this thing so much you will exercise it's little legs for it, you will read to it and sing it songs to help it develop it's little mind.

You will brag about things like when it first held up it's head.

You will rearrange your whole life for it.

You will stay in a bad job to provide for it.

You change your sleep patterns for it.

You will give up everything important for it. Nothing is as important as it.

You will lose sleep thinking about it.

You will feel bad when you aren't around it.

You will need a break, and as soon as you hand it off, you will want it back again.

You will know that when it is uncomfortable or crying, no matter the baby knowledge someone else has, you are the only one that really knows how to soothe it.

You will spend all your money on it.

You will save all your money for it.

You will be in awe over it, that feeling of wonder will never leave.

The list goes on and on, the sacrifices and changes you will make for this little life will not compare to anything else.

My advice on dealing with this rule is:

1. Gather as much information as possible and then be objective.

2. Read your books because they are important. But just know you can't put everything in a book.

3. Google your poo images before hand, if at all possible.

4. Youtube videos of how to put on the baby wrap, or whatever. Keep in mind your baby might not like to ride in it.

5. Pray.

And then I stopped looking at the scale.

2. There is no normal.

At all. Ever. Where you might be on the average in one area, you won't be at all in every, and probably not any.

What I mean is your pregnancy won't be textbook all the way through, and it won't even be "What To Expect When You Are Expecting" all the way through.

Don't let anyone tell you that something isn't normal. Unless you are severely uncomfortable, things like weight gain or when your kid should start talking are almost completely arbitrary. (Unless, of course, it is completely out of scope, like your kid is not trying to communicate at five years or you gain 200lbs by your second trimester. But you being a reasonable person know what I mean, and you are of a discerning mind. Look at you, being all reasonable and smart and stuff. )

Por Ejemplo:

In the beginning of my pregnancy, I was an emotional mess, (where is all that elation supposed to be?).

No one believed me when I said that every smell, whether good or bad, was overwhelming and nauseating. I was so sensitive, I expelled more vomit than three months of all the frat boys of all the colleges in the state could muster in the same amount of time, even on anti-nausea meds. I lost a lot of weight, which got to be a bad thing. I was told I should stop doing that, and eat whatever I could keep down.

My second trimester, I gained all the weight back plus ten pounds, which, in this case if I hadn't lost the weight and just gained ten pounds at this point I would have been normal. But all of the weight gain so fast, I was literally told "Maybe you should say no next time someone offers you a brownie" by my practitioner. Not only was this hurtful, but even though I was mean, exhausted and my pelvis bone felt broken, I pushed myself to be more active than I would have liked, because the only thing that had changed was not at all my diet, but that I was more sedentary. (She didn't believe me when I told her I had not increased unhealthy and fried foods, she would have if she had seen what driving by a fast food joint did to my car's upholstery every now and then.) I went through fetal monitoring because they were afraid he would be too big.

Then I lost 10 lbs when I was supposed to be gaining like a madman because I was working out more than was prudent. I was put through a lot of stress because I was "not gaining weight when it is normal to" and had to go through constant monitoring for fetal size because they were afraid he would be too small.

Then at the end I ended up gaining twenty pounds and being just ten pounds over where I started.

In the middle of this I just stopped caring, and stop looking at the scale, and went on just what they complained at me about. I took care of myself and he was moving like normal, and everything besides that was just fine. Doctors are often obsessed with diagnostics and catching Every. Little. Thing. out of scope just in case of emergency. They focus so much on the tiny details they forget that what all those details are attached to is an individual. Often a now scared and worried individual.

My son came out normal, a little skinny, but long, and has been healthy ever since.

If you take care of yourself, your body is going to do what it was meant to do. This yoyo crap that was carefully mapped wouldn't have meant a thing if every little thing wasn't tracked on a piece of paper. What if I had lied about my pre-pregnancy weight?

Big problems in pregnancy are few and far between. Your body gives your child the best of everything and cradles it in the perfect little ecosystem guarded by the most perfect fortress nature and God can create out of our fallible bodies. It happens like that so even if you do not take care of yourself, your child will survive anyway. This is coming from someone that has a uterus that can only be compared to the rocky and infertile ground akin to that of a hill in the Danakil desert. I've suffered miscarriages, but once your body gets it's groove it's near unfuckwithable. You are a human growing machine, you make people. Your body is going to be taxed, but it's going to do the best it can whether it's in a normal range or not, or whether you like it or not.

That Being Said

1. Take medical advice with a grain of salt.

I am big on personal freedoms and respect from one person to the next, which you will hear often. That being said, Doctors and Midwives are only marginally less clueless than anyone else when it comes to your body, what's good for you and your kid. They can be trusted more than your average middle aged barista only because they have experience and/or a degree, but science and medical understanding changes so fast and everyone is so different and often times they don't take into account God or miracles, or the devil and tragedy.

Pregnancy and birth and child rearing has turned from knowledge and skill passed from woman to woman, carnal and warm and important knowledge that empowered women and mothers, to something calculated and medical and cold.

Doctors know more about anatomy, but if something bothers you that you don't understand you need to keep asking, probing, until you do. They get paid the big bucks they can explain it. A doctor is not going to have your chart memorized, but if you and your spawn are sitting in their office it should at least feel like you are the only one they are thinking about. And if it's not life or death and it's bothering you, get a second opinion. (IE: Since I was in high school doctors told me I would never be able to have children. Jokes on them, or me... Or something. But anyway you need to be able to discern when to draw a boundary because they are human too.)

You wouldn't sign something without reading it, you shouldn't let someone else control your body and experience or child without understanding it. Don't let someone take your knowledge and power just because they have a stethoscope on their neck, but don't be an asshole about it either. You and your medical provider/midwife should be a wonder-team of baby delivering badassery. If you feel like you are missing superpowers, fix it or move on. This is America, and all though we are behind other developed countries when it comes to mother and baby ideals, we have the right to working with someone that works well with us.

You will surely feel like your body is not yours to control anymore, an alien has invaded it and it's going to be just about the cutest little parasite that was ever to wear a onesie. Your body and your life are going to change roles, make sure you have a good foundation of support.

The start

Just...Fyi... This blog isn't going to be cutesy, or sweet, I am too much of an asshole to be that way with anyone but my widdle tough guy turtle squish face. Be you warned. This blog will be something I wish someone had put together for me to read. Slowly I'll take you from the beginning of this wonky rollercoaster to where we are now. Believe you me, having a kid is a rollercoaster ride, but just when you think you are cresting that major hill, anticipating that drop for some release it just keeps on climbing until you are pretty sure this wonky rollercoaster ride is one you won't make it off of.

There are certain rules that are going to be laid out for you here that I will definitely add to as we move along. These truths I have come to hold self evident through the beginning of my surprise pregnancy and until now.

To catch you up Travis and I have made it through my pregnancy with Jack, and counting the collective days since he was born on Nov. 3rd, and we haven't killed him, and he hasn't killed us. Surprisingly it takes a lot to actually die from lack of sleep.

When I first found out I was pregnant I was in Las Vegas. Comically enough I was in the City of Sin and I felt like doing nothing but sitting in my room. I had no definable reason for feeling so crappy but I felt bloated and weird and tired. I figured I was just having a hard time dealing with everything that was going on in my life and maybe I was starting my period... which was supposed to be there a while ago but my periods were always crazy so it never mattered for me to mark it on a calendar because my body was never a punctual sort of behaving body like you hear about in places like the Young Adult section of Borders or the MTV. It was ok though because Vegas wasn't really my bag, I like to play cards but not for money, I rarely stay awake long enough to feel drunk, the food was good but not worth the wait it took to get in most places and I am not much for walking aimlessly or chatting up transvestites on the sidewalk.

It was when we were driving back to Phoenix, AZ over the Hoover Dam, sitting in the obnoxious traffic reading aloud from the website "Texts From Last Night" that it hit me that I might be pregnant. I don't know if it was the crappy fast food chicken strips I had kept down or reading about the drunken mishaps of college girls and boys my age but it hit me. I waited a couple more days before taking a test but didn't smoke or drink at all just in case. I finally was convinced after a late night of work when there were only a couple girls I knew left in the building. We took a break from the cubes to run to Walgreen's. I remember peeing on the stick thinking nothing of it, I was wondering what I was going to order from the Chinese food restaurant I was going to be visiting later that evening.

I remember holding the test eye level to read the tiny letters, it was one of those expensive digital ones, and it said PREGNANT in all caps.

I peed on the other one in the pack (it's cute they come in multiples). PREGNANT. Gaining in hysteria I peed on the other brands we had bought, PREGNANT, I would have peed on my cell phone if it would have given me a negative reading.

I remember when I waited a couple more days and avoided Travis at all costs. Up until this point he and I had had one rocky relationship. We had seven years under our belts of offs and ons, a six month break here, a year here, a retry here, a drunken I miss you phone call and back together there, we just couldn't seem to get rid of each other. For the previous months we were just "Taking It Slow" and only speaking to each other rarely, dating, trying again and it was going fabulous.

I was scared shitless. When I called him over he knew immediately I was acting weird and kept pressing for what was going on even through all my fake smiling. I told him I had something big, real big to tell him. And he looked scared, got wide eyed and asked meekly, like he was about to get burned after he posed his question, if I had herpes.

I laughed and got serious, said no, and told him that I was pregnant. Before he could answer I blurted IFYOUDONTWANTTOBEHERETHROUGHTHISITSFINEJUSTTELL

MENOWSOICANPREPAREDON'TWORRYICANDO ITALONEJUSTTELLME- and he interrupted and said "That's it? I am so glad you don't have herpes."

And gave me a hug and reaffirmed that it would be fine, and we would be ok.

So then we started on this crazy ride, and fuck if we didn't have one damn bit of an idea of how hard it would be.