A tiny human put me in my place...and into a bathrobe for 3 months straight

There I was: in my twenties and convinced that I'd never let a baby rule my life. Not that I didn't want children eventually; I always expected to have one or two kids someday. But until then, I was a free spirit who came and went as I pleased. A moderate to heavy social drinker still trying to live the college lifestyle after the fact. A fun gal who didn't yet have too many "adult" responsibilities, other than paying my rent and trudging through the frequent hangovers in order to make it to work the next day. A person who secretly rolled her eyes whenever a friend couldn't go out or make it to a party because their kid needed a nap. I was that smug jerk who thought that when the time does come for having kids, I could avoid the life-altering part of that scenario and remain who I was and continue to live my life how I saw fit. Yes, I had it all worked out in my mind ahead of time. 

Boy, was I a pompous idiot. I mean, a huge asshole right here, that's me! Don't worry, the universe told me to go fuck myself and threw me several curveballs right in the cooter, so stay tuned. 

Even though I was pretty sure I'd have kids, I was in no rush. I was never the person anxious to start spawning immediately after I got married. I liked my freedom. I liked sleeping in on the weekends. I liked taking trips. I liked going out to the bars and going out to dinner. I liked to online shop whenever I felt like it. I loved not having to worry about anyone but myself.

My general plan had been to start trying to get pregnant when I turned 30, right after the hubs and I took a trip to Key West to celebrate my 30th birthday. The trip to Key West came and went, and so did the plan for getting pregnant at 30 years old. Like I said before, I was in no rush and I felt no urgent desire to get knocked up. We had our hands full with pets and a house that required a lot of time and energy. Turns out, it wasn't until I turned 32 that I came to realization I was two years behind on my original timeline of getting pregnant, so we figured we should finally get this baby train rolling. 

My takeaway at this point: 

• getting pregnant was much harder than I thought it would be. For a majority of my adult life, one of the bigger fears I had was to accidentally get knocked up. Twelve years of Catholic school with no real useful sex education during that time resulted in my naive impression that the possibility of becoming pregnant existed EACH AND EVERY TIME I had sex. This is not true, obviously, and when I was ready to start trying, I figured it would happen in a nanosecond. Nope, not even close. First, my body had to get back to a "natural state" without birth control and my cycles needed to regulate. My advice: if you're on birth control for any extended period of time (I was on the pill for eleven years), you should probably plan to go off the sauce about a year before you want to start trying to get pregnant. And speaking of which...
• going off birth control gave me a chance to really learn about my body during my cycle. I'm pretty sure in the eleven years I was on the pill, the amount of times I actually ovulated could be counted on two hands. When I stopped birth control, I discovered that my cycle lasted longer than a month and ovulation for me was fucking uncomfortable. I really got in touch with my ovaries, let me tell you. 

Long story short, after spending almost a year trying to regulate my cycle sans birth control and after suffering two miscarriages (a topic for another post), I finally conceived, carried and gave birth via c-section to our son at the "advanced maternal age" of 35. Pure, unadulterated bliss? Um, not exactly. Not at first, anyway. More to come on that.

My goal for this blog is to share my life experiences in general but specifically focusing on my trials and errors in parenthood, including getting pregnant, losing pregnancies, staying pregnant, birthing that tiny human and keeping that tiny human alive. Reading articles and blog posts about the shitpiles I was wading through at the time was a major coping skill for me, particularly when I had my miscarriages. I hope I can do the same for someone else by putting my two cents out into the universe and hopefully provide reassurance, comfort or just some useful information to people who find themselves where I was/am. Plus, as of right now, I'm home all day (in my bathrobe!) with an infant who doesn't do much except eat, shit, cry and sleep. What else am I gonna do...dishes? Laundry? Cleaning? Ha, yeah right. (Fuck, I need to do all those things.) 

I must admit, I haven't had good follow-through in the past with blogs, but I'm hoping to keep this updated on a fairly regular basis.