27 February 2008


I am the baby of my family. 28 years old, and I'm still considered the baby. Adding to my baby complex is the fact that I married a man 13 years my senior. So for the past several years, I've been longing for the glorious day when I would turn 30. Certainly, I won't be considered a baby once I become a thirty-something.

My desire to be older is what caused me to leap for joy when I recently noticed my first strands of gray hair. I walked through my daily routine wearing my gray hair with pride and showing it to anyone who would look...gray hair being a sign of age and wisdom.

This attitude toward my gray hair continued for about a month until they became unruly. The gray strands would not do what they were told. No matter how much I brushed them, moussed them, sprayed them and cursed them, they stood straight up! Eventually I had to pluck my gray hair for vanity's sake. It was a sad day for me to see this link to maturity destroyed.

But then I started to think about what it means to be 28. To be the twenty-something trophy wife in a room full of forty-somethings. It's freaking fantastic! Why would I want to rush the inevitable and hope for old age to come sooner? Why go quietly into the night? I won't! I will rejoice in my youthfulness and encourage the baby comments I used to dread! I will pluck and color my hair to hide any sign of advancing age and hold on to 28 as long as I can! I will delight in today's miracles and forget about tomorrow's troubles...30 can wait!

"So go away cobwebs, dust go to sleep. I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep."

25 February 2008


I should begin my first blog by saying, "I hate to be wrong." Most people would agree with that statement, but I hate to be wrong to an extreme. I will go to any length to prove how right I am...even if it turns out I prove myself to be wrong. At least I'll be right about how wrong I am.

That said, I recently had a baby. A beautiful, perfect baby boy. A baby boy who is the source of exceptional joy and contentment...and a whole lotta pain.

My journey to motherhood began 10 months ago with a plastic stick covered in pee...not the most dignified beginning, but my pee soaked bathroom was immediately forgotten when that wonderful stick read "pregnant". I was overjoyed. That which I had hoped for and dreamed of for so long was finally coming true. I was going to have a baby!

It took about a week for the realization of that statement to hit home. What had I gotten myself into?! I was going to have a baby?! Pregnancy involves puking and blood draws and people becoming way too familiar with my midsection and all this leads to a 14cm head pushing through a 10cm opening!! What if I couldn't hack it? What if I failed? What if ...?

Adding to my fear of the unknown was my overwhelming fear of needles. I hate needles. I cringe at the thought of a blood draw or a shot. I close my eyes when t.v. shows have junkies shooting up. And the greatest source of pain relief during labor involves somebody sticking a freaking needle into my spine! Right! How could I ever agree to an epidural? How could I get through labor without one?

Since I hate to be wrong, I never said I WOULDN'T get an epidural, I just said I would wait to make my decision until I felt the pain of labor. (But I was pretty sure I could handle the pain without it). Fast forward nine months. I've been in labor all day. The pain has increased to what I told the nurse was a nine on a scale to ten. No big deal...I'm okay...just give me some pain killer in my IV please. Perfect.

7:30 am. Big problem. Pain so intense I will certainly die from it is tearing through my body. Can't breathe. Can't think. Nurse comes to check on me. First word from my mouth: epidural. That's right: my labor pain trumped my fear of needles! At that point, I would have been happy if they had stuck 100 needles up and down my back if they would only make the pain go away.

The doctor came to administer the epidural and 30 minutes later I was in paradise! I managed to give birth without screaming obscenities at my husband like you see in every movie involving childbirth. The birth of my son was not a pain-free experience, but after the epidural, it became a beautiful one. A life changing experience that will forever be one of my favorite moments.

I never thought I'd get an epidural, but thankfully I never said I wouldn't.

After all, I hate to be wrong.