Tag Archives: Parenting

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, siblings

5 Reasons Having 3 Under 4 Is Awesome and Terrifying

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

Having small children is amazing. It’s amazing if you think endless piles of laundry and cabinets being emptied out onto the floor is amazing. It’s amazing if you think snuggles all day every day and being able to make all their sadness go away is amazing. I’ll let you choose which definition you think I like more.

With three children under the age of four, I’m challenged with keeping little bodies safe, fed, clean and happy. They depend entirely on me for those things. You take for granted how easy it is to keep yourself safe, fed, clean and happy – especially if you’ve got a messy child, or a child going through a growth spurt, or a child who is too brave for his own good. Here are a few reasons I think that having three little children depending on you is difficult:

  1. Mobility. You’re always trying to keep track of who can reach what and how quickly and in what way. I’ve got a three year old daughter who basically has her run of the house. There’s pretty much nothing she can’t get to. If she’s too short, she moves a chair to give her a boost. I have an almost two year old son who is a thief. He can find pretty much anything I hide or keep out of sight. I have a two month old son who is completely immobile… for now. But the first time he rolls over? Gone are the days of sitting him on our bed while I get things done. When will he roll over? I hope I don’t find out the hard way.
  2. Car Seats. I’ve got three children in large, five-point harness car safety seats. That means I have to drive a car big enough to accommodate this. Just before we had our third, we sold my Camry (2003, baby!) and got a (large-ish) mid-size SUV, complete with captain’s seats and a third row. It is enough room to fit all three seats, and even hold another adult back there somewhere, but I’m realizing how annoying it is that not a single one of my kids can buckle themselves in. I have to strap in each and every one of them when we get in the car, including the ones in the back row. Heaven forbid I’m wearing a dress, or the neighbors get a show while I’m getting the kids in the car.
  3. Meal Time. This, all things considered, isn’t as bad as it could be. Most of the time, my big kids are great eaters. They eat what Hubby and I eat, almost without fail. My youngest is obviously not eating, but taking bottles, so he needs someone to feed it to him, unless we time it to happen right before or after. But when the rest of us sit down to eat, there are two main issues. My threenager can’t sit in her chair for more than 90 seconds at a time (We end up threatening to throw her food away. She knows she has to be finished to get up, so if she’s up, we “assume she’s finished” and tell her we’re throwing the food away) and my not-quite-two year old eats great for most of the meal, and when he’s done, his plate and the rest of the food hit the floor immediately, with no warning. Hubby and I share meal duty: one is always convincing EK to stay seated, and the other is always on the lookout for flying food/utensils from J.
  4. Lack of Self-Sufficiency. Sometimes, I take for granted how self-sufficient EK is. At 3 1/2, she usually goes to the bathroom by herself, she can dress herself, feed herself (if I make the food, of course), move herself around (with less concern about her running off) and basically entertain herself. With J, I’m still changing his diapers, dressing him (he’s at least getting more helpful with that), making sure he doesn’t run away, fall off something, or spill my favorite nail polish all over my bedroom floor (oh wait, that happened last week). And D? Well obviously at two months old I’m doing everything for him. I don’t mind – really, I don’t. But sometimes, it’s nice to go out to lunch with mygirlfriends and not have to order their food, ask them not to spill their water in their laps, and keep them from throwing the plate in the floor when they’re done. I don’t even have to take them to the potty!
  5. Bedtime. Every single one of them needs (or thinks they need) a long one-on-one with both parents at bedtime. They all also need (or think they need) to go to bed around the same time. We end up tag-teaming. We have a pretty good routine, but especially now that we’ve added a third kid with the same bedtime into the mix, we have had to get creative. Rotating through rooms, lullabies, soothing promises of tomorrow, and a little extra screen time have saved us from heartache, but also lengthened the time between family dinner and grown up freedom considerably.

My family is good crazy, needy and wonderful. Each day is an adventure, full of giggles, snuggles, messes and walking really slowly. Just surviving a day is the most hilarious, challenging, and heartwarming thing I could ever do.

mommyhood

The Day My Son Threw a Tantrum

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I know that toddlers throw tantrums. It’s a widely-known fact, at least among the parent community. Yes, I know they happen at seemingly random times, I know they happen at expected times (Oh, he wanted the chicken nuggets but now he wants the mac and cheese?) and I know that every time is inconvenient.

  
Yesterday, my son threw a tantrum. He’s thrown one before, like his sister before him. I typically just wait a minute or two and distract him with something. But this time… this time was different.

Y’all, I’ve never seen anything like it.

When I picked J up from preschool, he ran to me, shouting, “Mommy! Mommy!” just like always. He popped on his backpack and followed me down the hall to pick up his sister. I was carrying D in his little bucket seat thing, because who wants to unsnap the kid from his car seat for a 5 minute trip into the building and back out? Anyway, as we were about to leave the building, J plopped down on the floor and said, “No!”

No? He’s never been sad to leave preschool. Not like he dislikes it or anything, but he isn’t exactly begging to stay. So I said, “We’re gonna go home to eat lunch!”

“No!”

Still no, eh, kid? “We’re gonna eat bananas and see Daddy!” (Bananas and Daddy are his favorite.)

“NO!” (Throws self onto floor, basically bashing his head against the ground.)

Bring out the big guns, Mom. I scoop him up with one hand (I’m still holding D’s carseat in the other.) and carry him out the door. He’s screaming and flailing so hard I’m losing my grip, so we plop down in the courtyard. We’d made it about 20 feet. I let him lay there and holler, then scoop him up again. At this point, EK is sweetly following behind me, carrying J’s backpack. Bless her sweet heart.

We made it another 20 feet before I almost dropped him on the asphalt. At least by now we were across the little road to the parking lot. I let him lay there another minute or two, gearing up for the next big push to the car. EK is still being her sweet self, and D is squinting in the sun, ready to be angry at a moment’s notice.

I football-hold J on my hip (he’s sideways) and haul him and D the last 20 feet to the car. He’s FREAKING OUT, tears, snot, gasping for breath between screams. At this point I’ve passed through the “These things happen” stage into the “Oh my gosh is he going to asphyxiate?!” stage. I’ve put him down next to the car, and he’s laying on the pavement on his back, screaming his head off. EK climbs in the car, I put D down, and get to work stuffing J in his seat. I offer him water (“NO!”) and a snack (“NO!”) and give up. I manhandle him into his carseat, afraid I’m hurting him because of how I’m having to hold him down. He’s planking about as hard as I’ve ever experienced (His abs must be sore!) so it takes me several minutes to get him fully strapped.

Still afraid he’s going to choke or puke, I carry a screaming D over to his side of the car and click his seat in. I close all the doors, and take a deep breath. The battle isn’t over.

I call Hubby. No answer. This is an emergency, I think. Call him again, and he picks up. Over the screaming, I shout, “J is freaking out! I need you! I don’t know what to do! I’m worried about him!” Hubby walks me through turning on the in-flight movie. Thank God for cars with TVs. I don’t use it often, but in this case I pulled out all the stops. After 4 minutes of Despicable Me, he gets quiet. Not happy, but quiet.

We pull into the driveway, and I leave the car on. I get out D, all of the bags, etc, and take them inside. Finally, I turn off the car, and start getting the kids out. As soon as I’ve unsnapped J, he starts flailing and screaming again. Onto the pavement he goes. I walk EK inside, and D is yelling (obviously) probably because it’s time for him to eat. I go back out for J, offering a squeezy pack of applesauce. He takes it, takes a sip or two while we walk inside, then throw it down. RELAPSE into banging his head on the ground. Y’all, I’m not kidding. Every time I stand him up, he flings himself onto his belly and bangs his forehead on the ground. I can’t get him to stop, so I move him to the carpet. (He still has a rug burn on his forehead.)

Finally, I remember the bananas. I managed to hand him a banana and get him to start eating it. I carry him upstairs while he’s eating the banana and get his juice from the fridge. Only then did he finally calm down (and eat a second banana). It was a grand total of about 35 minutes of doing the craziest stuff I’ve ever seen (with the 6 or 7 minute movie break in the car). Then he took a 3 hour, 45 minute nap. AND I WOKE HIM UP so he’d sleep at bedtime.

Poor guy had a hard day.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, women

Doing Life Together

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

As humans, we are made for community. God created man, and then said he needed a companion. We need each other. We have the ability to help each other, enjoy each other, and make each other better people. There are countless cliches about community and being together: “It takes a village.” and “Two heads are better than one.” and “Birds of a feather flock together.” They show just how much we are meant to be with other people.

In the world of moms, there has been much talk recently of having or finding your “mom group”. Frequently that group is labelled a “tribe”. Tribe is an old word that’s making a reappearance in our culture. It makes me think of a bunch of people literally living together, in huts within a few hundred feet of each other, nomads even. Webster defines tribe as “a group of people that includes many families and relatives who have the same language, customs, and beliefs”.

Well, that’s really what it is, right? People living together, in similar stages of life, in at least semi-close proximity, surviving the trenches of parenting and doing life together. And – thank goodness! – those people I’ve got! My tribe won’t bat an eye when I call to ask about a weird-looking poop, or with questions about how to deal with my preschooler’s attitude. My tribe will come over to help us escape the rainy day (week!) boredom or meet us at the park to get the blues out of our systems. My tribe doesn’t think I’m a bad mom when we’re having Chick-fil-A for the fourth time this week.

It’s not always easy to find your tribe, but once you’ve got it, it’s a relief. It’s a great feeling to have someone you can chat with while the crazy swirls around you. It’s nice to be totally real, unaffected, and just plain relaxed around someone. Those people may be few and far between. Those people may be those you least expect. But be brave – strike up conversations, seek out those around you. Find your tribe. You were made to be a part of one.

mommyhood, random thoughts

Babysitters: Are You a Micro-Manager From Afar or Do You Enjoy Your Outing?

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Because I’m in the hospital with my brand new, sweet, second son (Baby D says, “Hey there!”) here’s one I wrote a little while ago!

I can be one of two things when it comes to leaving my kiddos with someone… I can be a micro-managing crazy person with a list of a hundred guidelines (read: requirements) or I can just be the trusting mom who says, “Have fun!”

My slightly-OCD tendency is to overdo it. I get worked up, setting out pajamas and sippy cups (already put together, because no babysitter ever knows how to figure that mess out) and favorite blankets. I want to write where every single item in the house can be found, a list of healthy, mom-approved foods that I know my kids will eat (and when they’re allowed to eat them), how to work the TV so that they can watch an allotted 22-minute educational show, and a detailed bedtime routine that must be strictly followed. I want to leave numbers for the closest ten people, and I want to check my phone every two minutes while I’m gone.

But let’s be honest: would that be a nice outing for me? Probably not. I’d be miserable, wondering whether or not everyone kept to my schedule, and looking at my phone every two minutes is just rude, whether I’m out with the girls or with Hubby.

The alternative to this, for me, is the opposite end of the spectrum. I just say, “Bye!” and leave it in the probably-capable hands of my babysitter. They’ll call if they need anything, right? It’s just about relinquishing my control into someone else’s hands, and in the case of my children, it’s tough.

I remember that on my 3 year old’s first day of preschool, I was so nervous. She was crying when we left (Doesn’t every kid cry on their first day of leaving Mom and Dad? No? Just tell me they do.) and I was worried all morning that there would be some need that she’d have that they wouldn’t notice, or couldn’t help her with. Not that I had chosen a preschool that I wasn’t comfortable with or anything like that. I just felt like Mama knows best, ya know?

But now that I’m pregnant with my third, I’ve become a little less crazed about it. When I take my daughter to school, I make sure her bags are packed with everything she could possibly need (yeah, I still do it) and I hug her, kiss her, and run out. I’m a little more confident.  I don’t write a big list for a babysitter, either. I offer some tips on getting them to eat dinner (It’s all about options!) or to make bedtime go more smoothly (Don’t try to do it too early!), but then I kiss those tiny angels, apply my lip gloss, and get the hell outta dodge. I mean, Mama needs a night out, right? (Side note: I am guilty of often hiring a  babysitter after my kids bedtime, so that there are no transitional issues. My 1 1:2 year old sometimes tries to squeeze out the door with me, or I can hear him hollering as I get in the car. Breaks a mama’s heart, so I avoid it where I can.)

Letting go is hard, no matter what the situation, how long you might be letting go for, and into whose hands your leaving the precious ones. How do you cope deal prepare to leave your kiddos with someone else?

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, parenting fails, women

He Will Come Through

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

 After a particularly difficult day with my three-year-old (that wasn’t helped by a fussy one-and-a-half-year-old who thinks it’s time to learn how to throw a proper tantrum), it was finally bedtime, and I was exhausted. I could tell the kids had had enough of me, and I had had enough of them. I hate those days that I haven’t done my best. I wasn’t the best mom to them. I didn’t use the kindest words or have the most patience – or honestly, much patience at all. The fun things I planned seemed to go awry almost immediately. Meals I prepared weren’t liked. The way I tried to fix problems didn’t work. Everything just… sucked.

After my son was down in his crib, I went into my daughter’s room. I said, “You know that I love you, right?” Head nods… with a smile, even! “You know that even when I’m angry or I’m sad, I still love you?” More nodding and smiling… then a jump into my arms.

Y’all, I couldn’t buy that forgiveness. I couldn’t buy that redemption from my difficult, beloved daughter at the end of a crappy day. I melted, tears dripping into her hair, thankful beyond words for the most perfect example of “forgive and forget”. She reminded me that though I fail, I’m still her mama, and she still wants and needs my love.

Just like her forgiveness, I also needed forgiveness for a failed day. My sin was so heavy, weighing on my mind and my heart, and my guilt was even worse. I needed a forgiving Father to smile and nod and tell me He still loved me, too. I hit my knees at the end of that day, begging Him to drag me out of the rut I couldn’t get out of on my own, begging for a reset of my attitude. He comes through, y’all. If you let Him, He comes through. It’s not easy, and often, it’s not pretty. But He comes through.

food, food, home, mommyhood, random thoughts

Why We HAVE to Buy a New Espresso Machine

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Naturally, as a parent, I need some caffeine. Hubby and I are constantly feeding our addictions. We wouldn’t survive a moment without it. So we have a percolator, a Keurig, a French press, and an espresso machine. And a grinder, of course. Between these things, we usually manage to survive on our coffee intake without having to go out and get it from somewhere (although we have a few choice places around here we like to go if, you know, we’re already out).

But recently, our beloved espresso machine is doing this thing… It’s like it wants to explode a little. We aren’t overfilling it, or letting it run out of water or letting it run too long. Truly, I think the machine is just old. It’s about 20 years old and we are the third owners (all in our family – it’s not from Craig’s List or anything). But anyway, it’s put a serious kink in our routine. 

 We like to have a cup of coffee, or even two, in the morning, and then about lunchtime we like another little punch. This is usually in the form of a beverage from the espresso machine. Hubby typically likes a straight up shot (or four). He likes to do the least amount of sipping with the most amount of power. I go back and forth… I like regular espresso, but I also like to make fancy drinks or iced lattes when it’s hot. This blast to push us through the afternoon is crucial. If we don’t get it, we don’t get anything done during naptime (like gardening, bill paying or house cleaning) and we are in terrible moods the rest of the evening. If Hubby has to go into work late, it takes another round of caffeine shots. It’s like a vaccination against tiredness. 

 So, in light of our addiction, our broken espresso machine, and our upcoming addition to the family, we pretty much know that we’re going to need a hasty replacement or else we are IN FOR IT when Baby D gets here and is waking us up at all hours of the night. I know we’d survive, but I don’t think I’d remember anything. I use caffeine as a motivator, an encourager, a Rememberall (a little HP reference for those of you fellow nerds), a communicator (often I let it speak for me), and a peacekeeper. I’m less annoyed, more able to function and generally happier if I’ve got a little caffeine flowing through my veins. Okay, fine. It does sound like I have a problem.

faith, mommyhood, random thoughts, women

I Sweat the Small Stuff.

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I think I’ve written about this before. In any case, this (insert the title here) has always been true for me. Detail-oriented, follow-through-with-everything Whitney has stressed over little things her entire life. I know some of you others feel that way, too. Which is why this particular situation and my resulting feelings might be for you, too.

Sometimes, I think the Lord speaks to you through the most random people.

Like the other day, someone commented on my post about our “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad evening“. She basically said this: we can handle big things like we’re ninjas (I loved that!), but when it comes to a pile up of small things, we may just go insane.

Too right she is.

When something big happens, something really important or truly difficult, I ninja up, call upon my people to help or pray, roll up my sleeves and get through it. But if a hundred little tiny things go wrong during a regular old day, when I can’t pinpoint the problem or put my finger on the exact thing that’s frustrating me, I start to go bonkers. I mean it. Bonkers. I want to fly off the handle. Sometimes I do. But who does that benefit? No one. Not me, certainly. Not my kids, who didn’t really do anything besides act their ages. Not Hubby, who is as patient with and kind to me as any human alive could be.

When I read her comment, it was like I got a tap on the shoulder: Hey, she’s talking about YOU. I’ve typically been cool under pressure, and able to handle a lot of stress when it’s put on my shoulders. But BOY do I ever sweat the small stuff. And as a mom, that’s the biggest recurring piece of advice I hear… Don’t sweat the small stuff. Enjoy the little moments. You’ll miss this. Don’t worry about the accidents and messes. Well, that’s all well and fine to say, and for me to nod and smile about. But when he spills the third meal on the floor I just cleaned, add some pee-pee in her panties, hear from the babysitter who’s cancelling and ruining my date night, and then I can’t even give my kids a bath without the entire bathroom (and myself) being soaked? I’m done. I AM DONE.

Any one of those things is a little thing. It falls into the category of “small stuff”. I’m sure I’d think several of those things are funny in a few days when they haven’t happened in a while. But altogether, piled on in the same day, it overwhelms me in a way I can’t accurately describe. I’m immediately ready to throw in the urine-covered towel, and tell Hubby I’m going on date night alone. I’d like to say that my first response is to call for help, to lean on the One who is always ready to hear my cry and give me exactly what I need. But how often is He my last resort? I call on Him for big things, for important things, for scary things. But for the little stuff? Nah – I think I can handle it myself.

Well, I can’t. I need peace. I need rest. I need help. I need love to flow out of me. I can only find those things in one place: the arms of Jesus. And there’s good news! He’s ready and waiting to accept me with open arms, and give me what I need.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, women

I’m an Extroverted Person, But an Introverted Mama.

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus! 

 All of my life, I have loved to be with people. I’m not a loner in any way… I like spending time with people, talking on the phone, building relationships, and getting to know people. It energizes me and makes me happy. I’m a typical extrovert in just about every way; that’s part of what made me a successful teacher. I assumed it would be the same way for me as a mom.

Not so.

Since becoming a mom, I have given more of myself to a person (and then multiple people) than I ever thought possible. All day long I meet the needs of others. I am touched. I am jumped on. I am talked to, cried for, shouted at, and called for. I wipe noses, bottoms, hands and mouths. I dole out hugs and kisses. I toss rubber balls, race little cars, pretend to drink tea and eat cake, and locate missing loveys. While often it does energize me, I do truly enjoy it, and I adore my children, I’ve realized I need “me time” in a way I never have before.

By nap time most days, I am ready to clock out. I have been needed and touched and talked to all I can stand. I put those darlings down for their naps, and want to run away. I’m no longer looking for phone calls to make or friends to invite over while my kids sleep. I’m not wanting to run errands to find a person to talk to. I either want to crawl in the bed or climb in the shower so that I’m truly and sincerely alone. If you’ve ever seen the movie Date Night with Tina Fey, she tells her husband (Steve Carrell) about her amazing fantasy:

If anything, I fantasize sometimes about being alone. There are times when I’ve just thought about, on my worst day, just, you know, leaving our house and just going someplace, like checking into a hotel and just being in a quiet room by myself. Just sitting in a quiet, air-conditioned room, sitting down, eating my lunch, with no one touching me, drinking a Diet Sprite, by myself. Look, I just want to have one day that doesn’t depend on how everyone else’s day goes.

I’ve been joking recently about this with Hubby. I’ll just say, “Diet Sprite”, and he knows I’m referencing my desire to tag out and be alone for a while. When J is pulling on my pants so much that they’re falling down, and EK is shouting from across the house that she needs to poopy, and all I’m doing is trying to fix lunch so they don’t have hunger meltdowns, I fantasize about the very same thing: being alone, in a quiet air-conditioned room. Except change that Diet Sprite to an enormous glass of wine.

So after giving and pouring, day in and day out, I’ve gone from someone who desires company and conversation all day and all night to someone who has a new appreciation for solitude. A cup of tea by myself is a treat the likes of which I haven’t fully appreciated until now. I still love to be with people, and thrive in social situations; my friends and family can certainly tell you that. But my desires have changed as my lifestyle has changed. My entire personality has shifted, and I’ve never been more okay with it.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, siblings

When am I not a “new mom” anymore?

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

I spend a lot of time reading advice for new moms, or reading things for new parents. Still, even expecting baby #3, I’m doing this. It must be because I know that I haven’t done everything perfectly. It must be because I’m still new at having a three-year-old. It must be because I’m fairly new to having two kids. I’ll be new to having a third kid (in two months). There’s always something we’re going to be new at. Can you really be a seasoned mom at everything? 

 Whether you’re a new mom because you just delivered your first, or you’re a long-time mom who has a few adult children, there’s always something to remind you you haven’t done everything yet. Taking your first vacation as a family of four can be as brand new (and difficult) as the day you brought your first home from the hospital. Moving your toddler to a big boy bed can be like having a newborn again who won’t sleep through the night. First middle school dance, first high school prom, and first college formal sound similar, but require different tools (and feelings) in your mama arsenal. Even doing the same thing with each of your children can be like night and day. Sending a child to college is different with every child, since they’re all going off to different schools in different locations in different situations. Marrying off a daughter feels different than marrying off a son, so if you’ve done one, you might be new at the other. Sending off or marrying off your oldest is a totally different experience, I’m sure, than doing so with your youngest.

This year, my big thing I was new at was being a stay at home mom. I’ve been learning every day (every.single.day.) how to walk in this role effectively, gracefully, and comfortably. This is a big one for me. I identified a lot as a working mom for my first two years of motherhood. I had friends who did it that I could get advice from and vent to about things. I had the best of all possible situations, because my daughter (and then my son) stayed home with Daddy. There were still frustrations, sad things, and hard things about not being home with them. And, there were also great things about it.

Sorry I’m not sorry I just wrote that.

There were things like missing the tantrums, not being super stressed about missed naps, not seeing them get their shots at the doctor, or being able to kiss the sick kid on the head, and go to work, instead of dread a fussy day of remembering to give doses of Tylenol on time. I loved having a purpose outside of the home. I still do. I work part-time now (roughly 5-8 hours a week outside the home and several more inside) and I love having that outlet, that reason to leave the house, and the fact that I have the best of both worlds: a job that I love, and the opportunity to spend tons of time with my kids.

But the newness of being a SAHM hasn’t worn off. My kids are always entering new phases in their development, and I’m always catching up and learning the newest thing they do. My daughter is potty-training. One can NEVER be an expert at potty-training. That mess is REAL, y’all (emphasis on mess). My son has learned to climb up and down and all over everything, even in ways my daughter still doesn’t care to do. It’s taken baby-proofing and knowing where he is at all times to a whole other level (think never being alone because I have to be watching him). I’m still new at it. I’ll probably feel, for a little while, new at having a newborn, because breastfeeding, sleep cycles, teething, and growth patterns are different with every baby, and I’m sure the third baby won’t have as much of my undivided attention as even my second one did. It’s just the nature of the beast – no pun intended.

When you feel like you’re new at something, it’s okay. You’ll figure it out. It’s in your nature to find the best way somehow. We’re built for it. You have some motherly instincts, down in there somewhere – sometimes I really felt like I was digging to find mine. But I love my kids. And that makes me a good mom, no matter what stage of mothering I’m in.

mommyhood, pregnancy, women

8 Ways to Prepare Yourself for Delivery

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Delivering a baby is the biggest, most important, most intimidating thing you might ever do. If you’re a newbie at it (and even if you’re not) there are a few things you can do to help the day (or night) go more smoothly. And since I’m gearing up to have a third go at it in July, it’s good for me to go back over it. Here are some tips based on my personal experience with my two kiddos.

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After delivery family photo ❤

1. The Hospital Bag. This can be as important as you make it. Here’s my experience: I packed too much for EK. I packed too much for J. I’m considering not packing one this time. Ha! I’m kidding, but a little bit serious. I haven’t ever showered at the hospital (how much nicer is your shower at home, right?) so I haven’t used anything but the toothbrush, chapstick, and my glasses (I typically wear contacts) in the toiletries department. I wore a light robe, nursing tank, and stretchy shorts (think high school basketball shorts) when I got to my room. I used the hospital’s everything for the baby: diapers, wipes, nose sucker (what’s that thing even called, am I right?), blankets (with the exception of a muslin swaddle I brought), and hat. Everything is kinda covered in new baby fluids (read: pee, meconium, spit up, colostrum, etc.) so you don’t truly need an outfit until the “going home outfit” you picked out. Speaking of that outfit… if you’re like me and you have big babies, or if you don’t know what you’ll get because it’s your first, then pick one in newborn size and one in three month size. J couldn’t fit in most of his newborn clothes even though he was just hours old. Because hospital food is “eh” and nursing burns one million calories an hour, I packed a few non-perishable snacks (Luna bars/Larabars, crackers, etc) and bottles of water, my pillow, and my laptop. This is crucial because I want to stream Netflix while I’m not sleeping, am I right? And one last thing: pack an empty bag inside your bag so you can fill it up with hospital freebies like diapers, wipes, maxi pads, nose sucker, etc. They’ll give you more of all of those before you head out.

2. The car seat. I know, this seems like a no-brainer, but go ahead and install it in your car. That way, you don’t have to think about it when your water breaks. It won’t even be on the radar. And you don’t want to be reading the manual to figure out what LATCH is sitting in the hospital parking lot. (Side note: neither does your partner.)

3. Ask for all the drinks and ice you want while you’re in labor. For me, I was excited beyond belief by the perfectly crunchy pellet ice at my hospital, and the fact that I could drink Coca-Cola up until I started pushing. Someone (I’m sorry, dear nurses) would come by to… ahem… empty my bladder whenever I was feeling like I needed to go. And as dry as the hospital is, I was drinking a ton.

4. It’s gonna be messy. For me, it wasn’t as bad as I’ve heard it could be, but either way you and whoever else attends the actual birth will probably get sweaty at the very least. The lights are bright, the tension can be high, and at least one of you is working! You’re probably wearing a hospital gown, but bring a change of clothes for Daddy, too, because it could get a little messy. Especially if you’re like I was with your first, and you’re a little nervous to be there by yourself and you’d like him to stay with you.

5. Rest. Don’t try to do too much during your hospital stay. Keep to the bed as best you can, especially the first few hours. I know that after having J,  I popped up, my adrenaline kicked in, and I wanted to go, go, go. But if you have an epidural, or if you have some tearing (It’s okay! I tore and I lived through it!) you’ll not want to overestimate yourself. The first three or four times you need to go to the bathroom, use someone (Dad, nurse, anyone!) to help you to and from the toilet. You may be a little lightheaded.

6. Make sure you actually need to go to the hospital in the first place. Always call your doctor before you head to the hospital. I’ve had several friends with “false” labor and “pre” labor who show up at the hospital and get sent home, or sent to the mall to walk, or whatever. Your contractions have to be pretty long and pretty close together before they’ll want to keep you, and even then if you aren’t dilated at all, they might still send you away. That being said, if your water breaks, GO!

7. Get on the same page with Daddy before you start labor. It’s always nice to know what he’s up for and what he isn’t. Some dads don’t want to see it all happen, and in the heat of the moment isn’t a good time to find out. Ask him beforehand whether he’d like to sit by your head and hold your hand, or if he’d like to be a more in-depth part of what’s going on. If he’s gonna hit the floor at the sight of blood, maybe holding your hand (or the waiting room, ha!) is the best place. Hubby and I didn’t talk about it before, but he ended up being a big part of my having a successful labor/delivery with EK, and so he was very involved again the second time. Bless him for not knowing how much of a part until the actual day. Give your Dad the choice and a heads up – just because it’s a nice thing to do.

8. Do those Kegels! It’s never too late. Any amount of Kegels is better than zero. I think it also helps you learn how to push. A cousin of mine told me that during her first child’s delivery, she pushed the wrong way for over an hour. Talk about a lot of effort and pain for no gain. Kegels help you familiarize yourself with the muscles you’ll be using to have the baby, in addition to their normal benefits (getting back to normal more quickly, etc).

Well, there are eight of my most helpful tips for preparing for your delivery! If you’re expecting, good luck with your pregnancy, labor and delivery! If you aren’t, log this for when you are – it might help you out! If you’ve been through it once, or twice, or many times, do you have anything to add?