Introducing the newest addition to our family…. Grace Girl! Here she is being a precious newborn. Here she is peeing on her daddy during a photoshoot. I will write up her birth story to share at another time… maybe when I have a bit more distance from it. For now, though, suffice it to say it was a humbling experience reminding me that, as they say, “it rains on everyone.” *** I am immensely grateful to have a beautiful, healthy baby girl! I felt so much joy when they first laid her on my stomach. Stay tuned for a future post on what I’m doing to help Warrior Girl with the transition to big sisterhood. It is certainly a huge change for her.  …
Warrior Girl is 2 years and 3 months old now, and as I prepare for her sister’s upcoming birth, (did I mention we’re having a GIRL?!?) memories of Warrior Girl’s birth are fresh on my mind. It was one of the most incredible days of my life, because it was the day I met my daughter and the day I became a mother. But in addition to that, part of what was incredible was the actual process of giving birth. Reader beware: the story below contains talk of cervix, dilation, etc. Oh, and one F-bomb. Because birth is messy, people. Turn back now if you don’t want the details. *** My water broke at 11:30 pm on August 4th. It was the full-on gush that happens frequently in movies and much less frequently in real life. I was suddenly confronted with many of my fears about giving birth and remember vividly thinking What have I gotten myself into? I laid in bed that night analyzing every cramp and twinge, waiting for labor to start. Was that a contraction? What the hell does a contraction even feel like? I got a…
Disclosure: some of the links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Thanks for supporting Home In Wonderland! When I was nearing time to give birth to Warrior Girl, they were going to induce me because labor hadn’t started some 12 hours after my water broke. Consequently, they had me lying in the bed hooked up to a fetal monitor. Nurses kept coming in to adjust things and check me, looking rushed and somewhat concerned. I hated it. I wasn’t even technically in labor, but I felt every little cramp and pain lying in that bed. Fortunately, I went into labor literally moments before they were about to induce me. Once they determined I didn’t have to be induced, I was out of bed like a rocket, power walking the halls like “I’m in labor ya’ll!” Some hours later, I was in the bathtub feeling calm and serene when I suddenly vomited multiple times in a row and felt overwhelmed with an energy that tore through me and made me feel…
I was 25 when I became a mother. Within moments, my reality changed. I am no longer the main character, the protagonist. I am no longer center stage. Each new generation comes (so it seems) and feels they know better, they are smarter, they won’t make the same mistakes as the previous generations. The future is in their hands. And once, I was important, I knew better, I was smarter, my future was limitless. But that is not now. I (hopefully) have many years ahead of me, but the world’s future is in the hands of my daughter, and the children of my friends and sisters, children who will certainly feel themselves to be much clearer of vision, much surer of foot. It’s not a bad thing. It is not a bad thing to become a supporting character after a lifetime of being Number One. A small death, perhaps. But I have been resurrected a Mother. **** *I want to note that for me, this transformation has been positive and humbling. I do not mean that my identity or self-hood has become subsumed into this “motherhood” role. I am myself as…