This is a Christmas photo from my childhood. We have many like it both from my mom's side of the family (as pictured here) and my dad's side. I pray that my children will know, love and appreciate all their family members and make many good memories as I have.

These days it’s changed and some of our family has moved away.  Relationships sometimes have ebbed and flowed a bit and we’ve sadly said good-bye to a few loved ones who have passed on, but most of us still find chances to get together.  Since having children, I value these relationships all the more.  Watching my daughter enjoy her great aunts and uncles blesses me.  Seeing her run off and play with my cousin’s sweet 11-year-old daughter makes me smile.  These are her people.  These are my son’s people.  These are my people.

I was thinking about this over the weekend as I held my baby boy while at a family function with lots of extended family.  My great-uncle pulled out his violin and was playing “Amazing Grace.”  I’ve grown up with such fiddle music at family functions.  I looked at my boy in my arms and my daughter a little ways away playing with my dad and my heart was content.  These are our people.  Like the country song says, this is where we come from.

Just like I wrote about a while back in seeing the southern gospel legacy pass on through my husband’s family, I want this legacy of family connections to pass on to my children.  Here’s the thing about close extended families: they can drive you crazy sometimes, but they’re always there.  I have laughed with one of my second cousins about this very thing.  They drive you crazy, but when you really need something, they’re there.  When my dad’s life hung precariously in the balance a few years ago after an accident, the waiting room was packed with family from both his and my mom’s sides.  They were there for us to give us hugs, shed some tears, bring us food and whatever we needed.  They show up.

I want my children to understand this connection. I want them to enjoy the time with their extended family.  It’s important.  Family reminds you who you are and where you’ve come from.  Family reminds you that there are people who love you and will be there for you when the chips are down.  At least, that’s what family should do.  I know there are families who aren’t this way.  And I would be remiss to not mention how blessed and thankful I am to be surrounded by good people who I call relatives.  Sure there are always a few who could use some improvement, but I am blessed to have so many good people in my life.  I want my children to know them.  I want them to get excited when they see their great-uncle Norman coming with doughnuts.  I want them to dance when their great-great uncle Lowell pulls out his fiddle and plays a tune.  I want them to enjoy cuddles from their great-aunt Nancy.  I want them to run and play with their numerous cousins of varying degrees.  I want them to savor delicious desserts prepared by their great-aunts Glenda and Melanie.  I want them to buy their first cars from the car lot their great-great uncle started long before I was born (the same one, in fact, from which we got the vehicles that brought each of them home from the hospital).  I want them to have what I had growing up.  I want them to have roots.

These are the sorts of the things I thought of when I held my sleeping boy this past weekend as our family hustled and bustled around us and my great-uncle played his fiddle.  These are the thoughts I had watching my son being passed between his cousins and great-great aunts.  These are the thoughts I had as my daughter played with her cousins, and great-great aunts and uncles.  They’re not new thoughts.  I’ve had them before in watching my aunts hold my babies.  I just am reminded time and again of our blessings.  I’m reminded of my family’s legacy of connection with one another.  And I am compelled to pass this legacy on to my children.  I pray they always remain close to each other, my husband and me and their extended family.

Ideally, all moms would be able to relax on Sunday and do what they want to do.  But, that’s just not reality.  And, sadly, many moms I know have low expectations for this holiday.  However, it doesn’t take much to make moms happy.  I write this from the perspective of a mom with little ones.  In case you haven’t done any shopping, yet, or are budget strapped, here are some mostly free ideas for moms of young children this Mother’s Day.

1. Give her the gift of a nap.  Yep.  This is my number one.  I love naps.  At any given moment, I would happily fall asleep if I could.  This includes a nap sitting straight up in a chair (been there, done that).  A nap where someone else is in charge of my youngsters for a couple of hours and I actually get to lie down in bed?  Now THAT’S a wonderful gift!

2. Give her a compliment on her appearance.  When I had some upper back pain recently, I realized part of the problem could be that I’m constantly hunched over doing things like changing diapers, nursing, playing games, wiping faces, etc.  Between my hunching, my post-babies’ body (which wasn’t a stellar one to begin with) and the fact that I’m beyond overdue for a hair cut, there’s nothing about me that feels attractive 99.9% of the time.  Sometimes I’ve literally looked in the mirror and done a double-take when I find that I don’t look nearly like the exhausted, hunchbacked zombie I feel like I am.  A sincere compliment from my husband might make me roll my eyes on the outside, but it also makes me feel good on the inside.

The beautiful flowers my husband recently gave me that brightened my day and were ideal for me in that I can enjoy them for a couple of weeks but not feel pressured to plant them and keep them alive.

3. Give her some flowers.  Listen, I have a fear of plants (I admit way too much in this blog) and even I love getting flowers.  There’s just something cheerful and uplifting about a vase of fresh flowers.  They don’t have to be anything fancy.  A bouquet of fresh flowers from the grocery store are just fine.  The best kind of flowers to a gal like me are those I can enjoy in a vase for a week or two then throw out.  (This is why my wise husband brought me home some beautiful yellow roses last week instead of my favorite spring flower of tulips because he knew the tulips would cause me pressure to keep them and keep them alive.)  Other moms might like the kind they can plant and maintain.  Whatever your lady likes, go for it!

4. Give her a night off from cooking. Even better, give her the whole day off!  Whether we’re the kind of mom who cooks everything from scratch or relies on convenience food or somewhere in between the two, moms of little ones are constantly doing food prep of some sort.  We probably don’t mind most of the time, but getting a break from making three square meals plus snacks for a day is nice.  Even better is a homemade meal that we didn’t have to lift a finger for, but takeout or dinner out works, too.

5. Give her the gift of laundry.  I still keep my laundry schedule as best I can with a newborn and 3-year-old, but I also pretty much always have a load of laundry hanging over my head.  Right now, I do really, really well if I get two loads of laundry finished in one day.  More typical is one load of laundry and even that may sit in the dryer for a few hours (or overnight…).  Doing laundry for any mother is a blessing.

6. Give her the gift of a clean house.  There are all sorts of sayings about how cleaning your house when you have young children is like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos or shoveling while it’s still snowing.  And they are all true.  Any home in which young children reside could use some cleaning whether it’s putting away some toys, scrubbing toilets or vacuuming.  If I weren’t so embarrassed to do so, I’d take a photo of my living room right now and show you the help it needs, even while it’s not nearly as bad as it has been in the past.

7. Give her the gift of uninterrupted time with her children.  What moms really want (after more sleep) is more good memories with their children.  Most of us have realized that their childhoods go flying by.  Sometimes doing the above tasks and chores keeps from being able to just sit for long periods and enjoy our children.  Moms need that.  Children need that.  Take mom out of the house with the kiddos and have a picnic.  Or just let her sit for the day and play with the kiddos without having to worry about cooking or cleaning.

8. Give her gifts made with love.  A craft created by little hands just for mom that mom didn’t have anything to do with is special.  Yes, we are that easy.

9. Give her the gift of alone time.  We definitely want more memories with our kids, but we also could use some alone time to sleep, read, sleep, shop, sleep, watch television, sleep or whatever we want to do.  I’ve been almost finished with the same book for the last three months since the birth of my son.  I seriously could have the book finished at least within an hour, but finding an hour to just sit and read on any given day is impossible.  Maybe make mom’s alone time outside of home so she’s not tempted to clean or catch up on other chores.  We’re kind of crazy like that.

10. Give her the gift of appreciation.  Moms do what they do out of love.  We get up every morning and wipe noses, make lunches, play pretend, do laundry, kiss boo-boos, hug through tears and even discipline because we love our children more than anything else. But, we still need to hear thank-you sometimes.  We need to hear it from our spouses and from our children.  My husband has been good at this so our daughter is learning to as well.  Just the other night she thanked me for dinner while she was eating.  Everyone likes to be appreciated.  We moms need to know that all our hard work and sacrifices are being noticed.  We don’t do them for glory or for thanks.  We do these things for love, but being appreciated makes us feel good and helps strengthen us to keep going.

Moms really are pretty easy to do things for.  We appreciate small acts of kindness.  Most of the time we’re so busy taking care of everyone else that we don’t do much for ourselves, so when someone else does something to take care of us, we appreciate it.  We accept it as a gift.  And we enjoy it.

Happy Mother’s Day to all my fellow mamas!  You are awesome, strong women who are doing the best for your children.  May your day be filled with lots of love and laughter and, if you’re lucky, a nice, long nap!

I remember the first day I returned to my home office to work for a couple of hours while my mom watched my baby girl.  Even though my breast pump came with me and I did a pumping session whilst typing away, I felt for those couple of hours like the me I used to be and it was glorious.  During her lifetime, I’ve found a way to sort of balance it all out.  I’ve gotten breaks and chances to be a journalist.  I’ve gotten breaks and chances to be a wife.  I’ve gotten breaks and chances to be more than a mom.  Because, if all of us moms are honest, sometimes we need to be someone other than mommy.  Sometimes we need to be more than a kleenex, jungle gym, dairy cow, bottom wiper, clothes changer, laundry doer and food maker.  Sometimes we need to be a woman.  Sometimes we need to just be silent.  Sometimes we need to have a moment to think in peace.

I knew I’d deal with these feelings again when I had a second baby.  And I have.  I love my son just as completely as I love my daughter, even when he’s being high maintenance as he sometimes is.  I love him even when he’s kicking me in the arm while I’m trying to type this blog post as my daughter is distracted working on a bracelet (and never you mind that they’re both still in their pajamas and it’s almost 11 a.m.).  I’m now getting just enough sleep and have been in this mom-of-a-baby phase long enough that I’ve started to figure out who I am again.  Or trying to figure it out.

Last week I had a chance to be in the car by myself for a few minutes while my children were at my parents’ house before our birthday celebration.  It was just a few minutes.  I realized I could not only listen to the music of my choosing but I could turn it up.  I could sing along at the top of my lungs and not have to try and have a constant conversation with a constantly chatting 3-year-old.  For those few minutes I realized that I was still me.  And I also realized that the old, old Stacey is gone.  I’ve been replaced by Mom Stacey.  Somehow I’m OK with it.

Though being a mom drains me sometimes.  Though it sucks my energy and occasionally makes me want to run away screaming, it also makes me who I am now.  And it makes me happy.  I’d be lying if I told you I was happy every single moment of motherhood.  I’m not.  But at my very core, being a mother is now who I am.  Being with my children can also re-energize me.  Looking at their faces, meeting their needs sometimes keeps me going and moving on days when I otherwise would want to just crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.  Being strong and calm for them when I’m frustrated by things going on around us results in me feeling stronger and calmer.  It turns out that if you fake it long enough, it rubs off on you.  I want them to see me smile.  So, I keep smiling even when I don’t feel like it.  And I end up being happier in the end.  It could have to do with their sweet smiles back at me.

This time around, I know there is no going back.  I’ll never be the Stacey I was before having children.  Being a mom changes you forever.  And I will forever be their mother, no matter what.  This time around I’m not longing for that old Stacey.  I do still sometimes crave alone time.  I do still need time alone with my husband.  But, I also realize that when we are all together I feel the happiest and most complete.  This is my family.  We’re continuing on the journey my husband and I started when we got married 13-1/2 years ago.  Just as I adjusted to the title and role of wife, I have now adjusted to the title and role of mother.  It is my identity.  It won’t ever be my complete identity, but it’s a big part of me.  Right now it’s 95 percent of who I am and what I do.  But there’s still that 5 percent that’s reserved for just Stacey.  That percentage will wax and wane in the years to come, I’m sure.  That’s how life works.  For now, I’m fully embracing my role as mother.  Now it makes me who I am.

One of the blessings I'm counting this birthday is this sweet little girl who brings such joy to my life.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I know.  It ought to be a national holiday or something.  To say my bad luck has struck again might be a bit of an understatement.  We’ve had quite a few issues around here this week with problems in our house that include a major repair bill.  I’m not enthused or amused.  And, quite honestly, I’ve felt a bit mopey about it.  I had a small pity party (who has time for more than that?!) about how I have bad birthday luck and now my birthday is ruined.  Yada, yada, yada.

But, I’m giving myself some perspective as look around me.  As I look beyond the house-related issues we’re having right now.  I see a beautiful 3-year-old girl who is bright, intelligent, funny and compassionate.  I see a handsome 3-month-old baby boy who is happy, healthy, baby chatty and snuggly.  I see a furry doggy who is loyal, playful when he’s feeling better (poor guy pulled a ligament in his back a couple of weeks ago) and also snuggly.  I see evidence of a husband of 13-1/2 years who is super cute, sensitive, funny, intelligent, thoughtful and romantic.

I also see plenty of food to eat.  I see clean clothes for us to wear (mostly I’m seeing them because there is a laundry basket of folded clean laundry sitting in front of me in the living room right now).  I see a home that protects us from the elements and is filled with love.  I look beyond my walls and think of my extended family, including my in-laws, who love us and help us in so many ways.

Another beautiful blessing I'm counting is this little guy who makes my heart happy!

Sometimes life’s circumstances just plain suck.  Sometimes the timing is crummy.  Happy birthday to us!  (Did I mention my husband’s birthday is the day after mine?  Poor guy gets lumped into my birthday luck.)  But, it’s not the end of the world.  I have so very many blessings.  I have so much for which to be thankful even in the midst of a few trials.  God has provided and continues to provide for me.  He is faithful.  And those are things I need to remember and focus on this birthday. I get to choose how I want to spend this birthday (and every day).  I can spend it having a pity party and being bitter about things that are going wrong.  Or I can spend it being thankful for the abundance of blessings and things going right that I have.  I am consciously making the decision to count my blessings instead of my sorrows.  I will choose an attitude of gratitude, because life is good even when it’s not perfect.  What better birthday gift could a girl ask for?

The night we brought my son home from the hospital, I took him gently out of the car seat.  While I waited for my husband to set up the bouncy seat to put him in while we ate our very, very late dinner, I sat down on the couch.  I realized I was in my spot — in my corner.  I teared up thinking of the months of misery I’d had.  I thought of how much I prayed for him.  I thought of how much I’d loved him in spite of my misery. I thought of the hope I had that one day I’d get to do exactly what I was doing: snuggle with my baby boy.  And here he was.  He was perfect.  He was beautiful and he was more than worth all the months of misery I’d spent in that corner of the couch.  I felt like my journey was complete.

Little did I know it was only about half over.  We soon found that my son was congested thanks to some issues at birth.  He didn’t have a cold, but when he laid flat, he had lots of congestion that made it hard to breathe, which made him cry and kept him awake.  His most comfortable sleeping position was propped on his Boppy.  So, I took up residence on my corner of the couch again and slept beside him in the recliner.  I planned to get him into his Pack and Play bassinet in our room within a couple of weeks.

What is that saying about best laid plans?  As his congestion was resolving, his reflux really started kicking in and again sleeping propped up was most comfortable for him.  Sleeping right beside him was also easier for me for the nights when we were awake all night long.  I only had to get up to change his diaper.  We were both exhausted.  It was rough.  I even began to make the joke in the evening that I was getting ready for recliner instead of getting ready for bed.  Over Easter weekend we even came up with an explanation for our 3-year-old as to why the Easter Bunny left the baskets and hidden eggs in the dining room instead of the living room where I was sleeping.

My corner of the couch where I have spent the last six months of my life.

Finally, as I mentioned in my last blog post, we figured out how to help his reflux.  It’s involved some medicine for him and diet modifications for me.  In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a whole new baby who is much happier and feeling better.  I was able to get him down for naps in his crib.  Last weekend I decided he was ready to sleep in his crib at night.  We’d tried a few times in the past putting him down in his Pack and Play and his crib and those times always ended in him screaming and us back in the living room.  I was pretty sure that he was feeling well enough that we’d be able to make the transition to the crib at night this time.

As I went to bed last Thursday night, I realized it was probably our last night of sleeping on the couch together.  I was excited to think of sleeping in my bed again.  I longed for my bed. Once or twice I cried out of frustration.  Sometimes when I had gone into the bedroom to change clothes or gather laundry, I would look longingly at the bed and think of laying down.  Occasionally I’d lay on the living room floor just to remember what it felt like to lay down.  Having been through all of this, I was surprised that the thought of no longer sleeping on the couch beside him also made me a bit sad.  For six months I’d lived in the corner of this couch.  Six months is a long time.  My journey had been a difficult one, but it’d been a good one because I had my beautiful baby boy. Even though I longed for my bed, I somehow had enjoyed the time Drake and I spent on the couch together at night, even through the tears (both his and mine) and frustration of him not feeling well.  I had enjoyed being able to just open my eyes and see him.

But, I knew the time was right for change.  He was feeling better and he was now moving enough that he’d slide down in his Boppy and wake me up a couple of times at night fussing because he needed to be readjusted.  As we got ready for bed last Friday and I prayed for strength to make it through our first real night of crib “training,” I told my husband about my feelings and how I was a bit sad.  He’d spent the first couple of weeks when he was off work sleeping in the living room with us.  He didn’t fully understand my feelings, but he respected them.

Our first night went well.  I sincerely thought I might miss the couch a little, but being able to sleep in bed again made me glad.  It definitely lessened my feelings of missing the couch. I was happy to feel my bed once again.  I was happy that my little dude was happy in his crib.  Sure, he woke up a bit more often.  He needed some extra snuggles.  Every night since that one, he’s made more and more progress and is getting much closer to sleeping as long in his crib at night as he was in his Boppy on the couch beside me.

As for me, I’m enjoying being in bed again. I miss seeing my little dude the second I open my eyes and look his way.  But, I listen for him.  I hear him.  I love him.  And I know he’s resting better; we both are.  I get the added bonus of opening my eyes to see my husband once again.  We sometimes get to chat a bit before falling asleep at night.  (And some nights we don’t because Drake has kept me up too late.)  I also have had three mornings of still being in bed when Lexiana woke up and getting to snuggle with her for a few minutes in bed with me before getting up for the day.  Precious moments!

I still sit in my corner of the couch.  The Boppy is still in place.  Drake naps in it sometimes and hangs out in it sometimes.  I still sit in that corner of the couch to nurse during the day. But, it’s not totally the same.  I’m not melded to it like I have been for the last six months.  My journey is moving forward.  And for that, I’m grateful.

1. Not all babies are the same.  I mentioned this before, but I can’t say it enough.  Lexiana loved the bouncy seat.  Drake doesn’t like it.  Lexiana didn’t like the swing so much.  Drake loves it.  Lexiana couldn’t sleep when someone was holding her.  Sometimes Drake will only sleep when someone is holding him.

2. Just when you think you couldn’t possible be any more exhausted, you realize you can.  I’ve had plenty of times when I thought if I were any more exhausted I’d be dead.  And then Drake spent the night crying and I got only two hours of sleep before Lexiana was up and ready for the day to start.

3. Dealing with reflux in a baby stinks.  My daughter had other issues.  My son has mild reflux and it stinks.  I feel a huge compassion for parents who have babies with more severe reflux.

4. Babies require patience.  Lots and lots and lots of patience.  I try to remind myself of this when I want to scream things like, “Stop crying and nurse already!”  Or “Go to sleep!”  So instead I do things like make shushing noises and sing lullabies.  And when I can’t manage that, I just shut my trap.

5. Going anywhere takes a lot of effort.  Going anywhere on time feels like a major undertaking.  I travel with lots of stuff in tow, even with a second baby.  While I’d like to say I’ve downsized from the first time around, the truth is I haven’t.  In fact, my diaper bag now includes items for my 3-year-old as well.  When she was a baby, I didn’t carry coloring books and portable toilet seats with us.  Getting all of us ready to get out the door to go anywhere is a major undertaking and major accomplishment.  If we get there on time, I’m pretty sure I deserve some sort of award.

This is how my son has slept the most and the best. After 11-1/2 weeks, we're finally getting him happy in his crib, but it's still a work in progress.

6. Not sleeping in your bed for three months can really wear on you.  While my daughter had her own issues in figuring out how to use her tongue to suck, she was a good sleeper.  She slept first in her pack-and-play in our room and then in her crib in her room starting at 3 months.  My son, thanks first to extra congestion after his delivery and then to his reflux, is not a good sleeper.  He just starting sleeping in his crib over the weekend and he’s not sleeping in there nearly as long as he was sleeping in the Boppy on the couch beside me.  We’ll get there, I hope, because sleeping in a recliner is far from as comfortable as my bed.

7. Baby cuddles are sweet and should be enjoyed for no other reason than just to cuddle.  I had trouble getting cuddle time with my daughter.  Like I said she wouldn’t fall asleep in our arms.  I also had to put her down quite a bit so I could pump milk for her.  This time around, I get lots more cuddles because our little dude is cuddly and because I’m nursing him.  I really enjoy them.  I just have to remember to cuddle sometimes just because baby cuddles are good for the soul and not just because I’m trying to get him to sleep or feed him.

8. Babies create lots of laundry.  This is not different this time around.  I had lots of laundry last time; I have lots of laundry this time.  Before I had kids I always figured the laundry was for the baby.  I’ve since realized that my laundry also increases when I get covered in spit-up and diaper blowouts.  Fun stuff…  (And let’s not pretend that I change my shirt every single time I get a teeny bit of spit-up on me, especially if I’m not leaving the house any time soon.)

9. Showers taken when other responsible adults are around are like mini spa days.  I love my Saturday morning hot shower when my husband is home and making sure that the kiddos are fine.  For 20 glorious minutes, I enjoy warm water cascading over me and nobody talking to me, crying for me or needing me to do something.  It’s divine.

10. Trips anywhere alone are like mini vacations.  This includes grocery shopping and doctor’s visits.  I’ve been disappointed before when my doctor or dentist gets me in fast enough that I don’t have time to sit in the waiting room and read my book.  Times have changed.

11. Toothless baby smiles make your heart melt — even when it’s 2 a.m. and you’ve not been asleep since 7 a.m. the day before. It’s hard to stay mad, upset or any other negative emotion when you’re getting a toothless baby smile.

12. You can come up with all sorts of systems for how things work best.  For example, we learned pretty quickly that this little dude needs to be held more to go to sleep.  My husband tests when Drake is ready to be laid down by lifting his arm and seeing if it stays completely limp when he gently drops it.  My test in the middle of the night has sometimes been when the sniffing from my exhausted tear-fest no longer makes him jump.  Whatever works.

13. You are desperate to hear from other mothers of newborns.  I have a small network of moms I enjoy talking with who have kiddos the same age as mine.  We talk about shots, exhaustion, bottle size, diaper brands and more.  It helps me to know I’m not alone in my worries and frustrations.

14. On the flip side, unwanted advice from non-parents or those who haven’t had a baby for decades does not go over well.  It’s a great way to annoy a new mom.  And, honestly, we get tired of hearing how much we should enjoy these days because they go so fast.  Having a 3-1/2-year-old, I’ve already learned this lesson a bit.  However, there are most definitely parts of having a newborn that I don’t enjoy and won’t miss. There are way more parts I do enjoy and will miss, but I don’t enjoy every single moment and can get tired of the suggestion that I should.

15. Hormones and exhaustion can combine in negative ways.  I don’t mean to be grumpy, weepy or irritable.  It just happens.  And for that I’m sorry.

16. Mommy brain is real.  We fully intend to remember what we were talking about or supposed to be doing and then we just don’t. This happens from being exhausted and from being interrupted so frequently.

17. Babies smell good.  I feel like I knew this before, but I almost forget it.  I think of Frank Barone, the grandpa on the old TV show “Everybody Loves Raymond.”  He’d come in and smell his grandchildren’s heads and claim to be taking in their youth.  I get that.  Sometimes I smell Drake’s head and just try to suck in that smell.  He won’t smell like a new baby forever.  It’s a special smell.

My two babies together. I struggle with mommy guilt often and want only the best for both of them. (Photo by Catherine Hatton)

18. Mommy guilt is real.  This isn’t something I had to learn anew.  It’s something I’ve had from the moment I became a mom and I continue to struggle with it.  I worry that I’m not doing enough for either child at any given time.  I worry that I’m not making Drake do tummy time enough or playing enough games with Lexiana.  I worry if I leave them with their grandparents for a few hours to do something like see a movie with my husband that I shouldn’t be leaving them at all.  I am good at mommy guilt.

19. Diaper changing time is sometimes the highlight of my day.  I remember with my daughter that our times when she was on the changing table were some of my favorite. She’d baby talk to me.  She’d smile at me and look into my eyes.  My son is the same way.  Sometimes, in fact, we’ve been in the middle of really rough nights when his reflux is acting up and I’ll go to change his diaper and he’ll settle down and “talk” to me and smile at me. The changing table is sort of a magical place with my babies.

20. The rewards are worth it.  Just when I think I can’t possibly have the energy to go on another moment or just when I am so incredibly ready to give up, then I look down at Drake’s precious little face and remember that he depends on me so very completely for everything right now.  He needs me.  I’m irreplaceable to him (and to his big sister).  And I love them both so completely.  That love gives me the extra energy I need to press on and take care of their needs.  (Some prayer for strength goes a long way, too!)  Getting rewarded with baby smiles and coos makes my heart swoon and re-energizes me enough to keep going.  It’s motherhood: long hours, crummy pay and tremendous rewards.

A couple of days after Easter, I was at Target and picked up a bag of the mini Cadbury, candy-coated eggs called for in this recipe. After the holiday, of course, they were on sale and I couldn’t stop thinking about these cookies.  When my sister-in-law called and invited us to come hang out with them at their campsite over the weekend for a bit, I knew I had my perfect excuse for baking cookies.

My daughter and I made the dough together.  We baked them the next day.  My whole family fell in love.  To be honest, next time around I won’t add the Cadbury eggs.  I know that sounds blasphemous, but I think white chocolate chips and MAYBE some milk chocolate chips will do the trick just fine.  The cookie dough itself is also quite yummy.  My husband prefers it to my usual chocolate chip cookie dough, which is the Nestle Tollhouse recipe.

I’ve modified the recipe just a bit from its original form.  If you want to use the Cadbury eggs, you can.  You use a whole bag and very roughly chop them (I put them in a zip-top bag and beat them with my rolling pin). You can add in a bag (or half bag, whatever you like) of milk chocolate chips if you want.  But, for those who love white chocolate or are looking for an IC friendly cookie recipe, go with just the white chocolate chips.

White chocolate chip cookies
Adapted from “What’s Cooking with Ruthie”

Ingredients

1 cup butter, softened
1-1/2 cup white sugar
3/4 cup brown sugar
3 eggs
3 tsp vanilla
3-1/2 cup flour
1-1/2 tsp. salt
1-1/2 tsp. baking soda
1-1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 package white chocolate chips

Directions

1. Cream the butter and sugars together.
2. Add the eggs and vanilla; mix well.
3. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, salt, baking soda and baking powder.
4. Gradually add the flour mixture into the butter and sugar mixture and mix well.
5. Stir in the chocolate chips.
6. Drop by the tablespoonful onto ungreased baking sheets and bake at 350-degrees for 10 to 12 minutes, until the edges are slightly browned.

I can’t tell you exactly how many cookies I ended up with, but they filled two gallon sized zip-top bags.  This recipe makes lots of cookies, which is good, because they don’t last long!

First, I’m proud that nursing is working for my son and me.  I’ve shared before my many mixed emotions about having to exclusively pump milk for my now 3-year-old.  Forming a working nursing relationship with my son has been precious to me, even during the times when I’m exhausted and seriously doubting my decision to nurse.  (I’d wager every nursing mother has had those moments and powered through them.)  However, I don’t feel like I have to nurse my son in front of everyone to be proud that nursing is working for us.  It’s our own private journey we’ve taken together.  Sure, at home I nurse him in front of my 3-year-old and my husband.  I’ve nursed discreetly a couple of times in front of my mom, but that’s where I draw the line.  If anyone else is at our house I go to another room with the door closed.  Here’s the important message why: I do this for my own comfort.  My OWN comfort.  I think my extended family would be supportive should I stay in the living room or wherever and nurse Drake.  However, I’m not comfortable that way, even with a nursing cover.  For now, at just over two months in, I find the nursing cover almost creates more trouble than help.  I need to see him and what he’s doing still.  I would be too uncomfortable to nurse sans cover in front of others for my own modesty reasons and just plain comfort.  (I should point out that my own modesty includes not showing my breasts, cleavage or even bare belly.)  And so, my boy and I head off on our own during feeding times.

Second, random strangers are not invited to be part of my breastfeeding experience.  I long ago had to get over the judging looks I’d sometimes get in giving my daughter a bottle when we were in public.  At first I wanted to scream at those people that I was giving her breastmilk.  I wanted to scream even louder that they should mind their own business and just be happy I’m feeding my child.  I’ve told you before I have no problem with formula-feeding moms.  We all do what is best for our babies and keeping them fed is most important no matter how we do it.  I worked through those feelings last time and I’ll be darned if they are going to creep up this time.  My choice is to either nurse in the car, which I’ve done a couple of times, or to pump and take milk with me.

My son getting his very first bottle of pumped milk from my husband last month. He gets a few such bottles a week and some of them are in lieu of nursing in public.

And I know that pumping and taking a bottle gets some moms in a tizzy.  They decry the torture of the breast pump.  As someone who has logged hours upon hours upon hours upon hours hooked to a breast pump, I can say I’ve never found it torturous.  In fact, the pump has been kinder to me than my baby.  It never turns its head away while still attached to me.  It never gets mad and bites down.  It just stays attached and keeps a steady rhythm.

They also decry supply issues.  These are the same kind of women who would say that you can’t build and maintain a milk supply with a breast pump.  They irritated me last time around, too.  I have the proof that’s possible since my daughter got breast milk from me via a pump and bottle for her entire first year and just beyond.  Yes.  It can be done.  I know that right now my milk supply isn’t completely established, so I have to be careful.  Supply is established at 12 weeks; I’ll hit 10 weeks tomorrow.  I know these things even more so based on my previous experience.  Because of that, I’m careful about pumping and making sure that if I miss a feeding from the tap with my little man that I’m pumping enough around that feeding to make up for it so my supply doesn’t suffer.  Just last week, for example, my husband and I had a chance t go to dinner and a movie.  I took my pump along with the car adapter and we parked behind the movie theater so I could pump before we went in because it was right around the time Drake was getting a bottle at home from my mom.  This time around I’ve pumped extra milk to have a bit of a stash built up, so I’d daresay that pumping has actually helped me build and increase my supply in conjunction with nursing. And it gives me a bit of a cushion to know I have milk for my son in case something happens and we need it in a pinch.

The other benefit to giving my son a bottle is that feeding him goes faster.  He takes a bottle in 10 minutes.  With nursing, he takes twice that or more by taking at least 10 minutes per side.  Having 20 minutes to sit anywhere in public is often a challenge.  So, I’m more comfortable with a bottle. So far he’s had a bottle at church, two restaurants and two doctor’s appointments.  He’s not minded.  He’s had a chance to actually get his fill before we had to switch activities and I’ve pumped within an hour at most of each of these bottles.  We’re both happier.

Third, and most importantly, this makes me most comfortable and at ease so it benefits my baby the most.  We’re both more relaxed.  I know how I’d feel nursing in public.  The thought of it makes me feel antsy.  That’s never a good feeling to associate with nursing and it’s sure not helpful to my son who picks up on my emotions and reacts to them.

To say that I don’t support breastfeeding because I don’t nurse in public is offensive and downright incorrect.  I have proven that I support breastfeeding by tying myself to a pump for a year to make sure my daughter got breastmilk.  I have proven it by allowing my son to latch on and use my breasts for sustenance when, quite frankly, sometimes I’d rather be doing something else like sleeping.  It’s not about me,though.  It’s about my children getting breastmilk.  I’m happy to provide that for them.

What I support most is feeding babies however works best and is most comfortable for them and their mommies.  For some that’s with formula, for some it’s with pumped milk through a bottle, for some it’s nursing directly at the breast and for some it’s a combination.  For me, I am most comfortable giving a bottle in public or going to the car.  For nursing moms who are comfortable nursing in public, go for it.  I don’t have an issue with anyone else nursing in public.  I just know that it’s not for me and I don’t feel I should be chastised for that.  I am not keeping nursing on the back burner by not nursing in public.  Seeing me nurse in the middle of the mall is not going to change anyone’s mind about breastfeeding just as seeing political posts on my Facebook News Feed is not going to change my mind about my own political views.  I don’t owe it to society to nurse in public.  It’s not going to further advance breastfeeding.  I only owe it to my baby to make sure he’s fed.  And I will chose to do that in a way that feels most comfortable to me.

When I had my daughter, I was induced into labor that lasted 24 hours.  I’m not giving lots of detail, but it was a long and extra miserable labor.  This time around, I really wanted to avoid being induced again.  But, my baby boy didn’t feel like coming, so we scheduled an induction the day after my due date.  This labor was completely different.  Of course there was still misery involved.  Nobody goes through childbirth without misery.  However, I had an incredibly compassionate and helpful nurse who made a huge difference.  I had a shorter labor at only nine hours and I had an epidural that worked.  In fact, when the epidural was put in, it was the best I’d felt in months.  The last trimester of my pregnancy involved lots and lots of pain.  I could have kissed the doctor!

I was excited to welcome my baby boy into the world, but when he was laid on my chest, he was blue. And by blue, I mean blue all over — like a Smurf. He wasn’t crying or making noise.  The nurse quickly whisked him away.  For three minutes he didn’t breathe at all.  A Code Pink was called and all sorts of medical staff rushed in to help.  He got a CPAP with oxygen.  My doctor kept reassuring me that this was normal and not to worry.  I just laid there and prayed and cried.  For so many months I had been so miserable myself but so grateful that my baby boy was healthy and unaffected.  And then here he was and things weren’t going well.  I wished it were still me.  Finally after 20 minutes he was completely breathing on his own and we heard his first strong cry.  I have never been so happy to hear a cry as I was in that moment.

I got to hold Drake for a couple of minutes before he had to go to the NICU for observation for a couple of hours.  I wasn’t allowed to go with him and had to stay in the delivery room for my own recovery for an hour.  With both of our births, my husband and I had talked ahead of time that he was to stay with the baby should anything go wrong.  So, he headed to the NICU with Drake.  I was left processing what happened and being thankful that all seemed to be well with our boy at last.  I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to do the hour or so of skin-t0-skin and try nursing our little guy right away like is standard at our hospital.  I worried that yet again I’d be in for failure when it come to nursing a baby at the breast.

But, within a couple of hours, we were all settled into our hospital room together.  Drake had gotten some formula through a feeding tube in the NICU, but after that, he latched fine.  For the first time, I was finding out what it was like to have a baby who could figure out breastfeeding.

My beautiful boy has made our family complete. We are blessed! (Photo by Catherine Hatton)

In the weeks since, I’m happy to say that I’ve been able to continue to nurse him.  We had a learning curve, but it wasn’t too steep.  We figured it out together.  He’s now in a pretty decent sort of schedule.  The first two weeks were the most challenging because he wanted to eat so very often, but now we’re settled into a routine and pattern.  And we’ve even been able to bottle feed him with pumped milk when needed.  I have all my old pumping supplies still, but my pump was worn out.  I was able to get a new one through my insurance company.  It is sort of an old friend.  The sounds are familiar.  Washing pump parts is familiar.  Putting Post-It notes on milk bottles in the fridge to track when they were pumped and must be used is familiar.  But, it’s so much easier organizing milk and washing pump parts when I’m only pumping a bit by choice.  I feel blessed to have the best of both worlds right now.  I can nurse him most of the time but I have milk for bottles so I can relax about going to see a movie with my husband once in a while or to a doctor’s appointment and leave him with grandparents.

I think Drake and I are getting to know one another even better.  It’s difficult at first because we don’t know each other.  I had to learn what would soothe him, how he likes to sleep and when he’s in the mood to play or sleep.  Now I know that he’s best soothed by patting his back and snuggling him kangaroo style.  I know he likes to sleep slightly propped up.  I know when he makes a certain fussy face that he’s really just sleepy and need to snuggle.  I’ve learned that he’s definitely a snuggler and likes to be held and cuddled lots more than his big sister did.  I’ve learned to identify when his tummy is bothering him and worked with his pediatrician to figure out a reflux issue he has.

Photo by Catherine Hatton

Through it all, though, I’m doing my best to suck it all in.  We definitely have challenging times, but everyday I try to make sure I just stop to enjoy the good parts of having a newborn.  I try to enjoy a snuggle for no other reason than to snuggle — not just because I need him to eat or sleep, but because I want to snuggle and enjoy him.  My heart melts looking into his dark eyes.  I re-energize when he gives me a smile.  These are sweet, precious moments that I’ll never have again.  I don’t want to miss them.  My daughter’s first six weeks were much harder for various reasons.  I’m not sure that I really got to just enjoy her in those early days.  I’m sucking in all I can right now, especially because I now have the perspective of knowing how very fast it goes.  After all, I just blinked a couple of times and ended up with a preschooler and now another tiny baby.

Life is good around here.  I feel so incredibly much better.  In fact, I felt better during my recovery from childbirth than I did in the last month of my pregnancy.  In the early days we were extra blessed with church family bringing in some meals for us and our parents doing extra things as well like bringing food and even cleaning our house.  We continue to be surrounded by love and support as we expand our family and I couldn’t be more thankful or more blessed.

I’m typing this ahead of time not knowing exactly when this baby will arrive, but with my due date approaching next week, I know it will be soon.  And, so, I tell you that I will be away for a bit adjusting to our new life.  I will update at the very least on my Facebook page within a week or so after he’s born to let you know that we’re doing fine.

I thank you for reading.  I thank you for encouraging me as a mom and a writer.  I look forward to sharing more with you about my journey through parenthood as it continues and I become a mama to two kiddos.