Motherhood : A World of Pain

Look what I made!*

10 months of blood, sweat and tears all wrapped up into one cute bundle! (no that's not a typo, they are lying to you
it's 10 months, not 9)

It's true, I've officially spawned and popped out a brown half Bangladeshi-half Salvadoran baby boy!* Zakir Aristides Alvarado was born on Sunday, March 29 at 1:44 am after 24 hours of labor and 2 hours of pushing. All I have to say is thank all that is holy in this world for epidurals because I really feel like my contractions would have sent me spiraling into madness before it was all over. I had no contractions before that, none of that Braxton Hicks stuff, nothing, just suddenly early Saturday morning BOOM they rolled in and kicked labor into high gear.

So let me be clear, pregnancy sucked pain-wise, especially at the end. For me, dragging an extra 38 pounds of weight almost exclusively on my belly, especially on my 5'2 frame was a non stop world of severe discomfort. My lower abs felt swollen. It hurt so much that I would actually feel dizzy. At night, I could hardly turn over in bed. My feet went missing. It wasn't fun to say the least. Sure the moving baby was cool, but that sort of got overshadowed by the fact that my entire body felt like a massive liability. Plus I couldn't even power-waddle anymore.

And I KNEW labor would be bad, hell everyone knows that. Funny enough though because of the epidural, labor wasn't that bad. Contractions (before the epidural) felt like that scene from The Return of Jedi where the evil Emperor tried to murder Luke Skywalker via writhing convulsions with jets of electricity from the dark side of the force while Darth Vader looked on. I was Luke Skywalker, labor was Emperor Palpatine

See: Labor

Funny enough though, labor and pregnancy weren't even the worst parts. Oh no, no, no. Post pardum made labor and pregnancy look like fun memories. For example, my kid split me in half. It's quite alright. You see, women are complete bad asses and have been split in half or straight up killed by pregnancy from the beginning of time, so it's really no big deal. You just need to get stitched back together, that's all. Oh yea, and you can't sit for a week...or go to the bathroom too successfully. Also the day after labor, the pain of the stitches, plus the trauma of labor on my body gave me uncontrollable shakes. Did I mention that I had to take care of a newborn whose sole sustenance and needs can really be addressed by his mom? Oh yes, in this state I was breastfeeding. Now let me tell you something about breastfeeding....

Oh how precious!

So in movies and in photos breastfeeding looks like a wonderful and beautiful bonding experience where the mother gazes upon her beautiful pride and joy and they join in mother/baby nursing bliss.
They need to revise this image to show a mother shrieking in horror and pain as a baby piranha chomps towards her helpless chest.

If you have nursed and that has not been your experience then congratulations, I hate and envy you. But my beautiful bouncing Bangladoran baby basically went slaughterhouse buffet on my chest. How come no one tells you these things? My guess is so that the human race continues to perpetuate itself based on the willful ignorance we throw at unsuspecting mothers to be.

Seriously, breastfeeding has been the most painful experience of them all. It has been worse than labor for me. WORSE THAN LABOR. Let that sink in.

When my kid whines one day that I don't love him because I won't let him borrow the car, I will simply start shouting "BLOODY NIPPLES!!!" at him. Because, seriously, what the hell. Isn't breastfeeding supposed to be natural? The best and perfect choice for your growing love bug? Why is it a hellish descent into non stop nipple torture? In the middle of the night, when both Zakir and I were wailing, him because he was hungry and me because my bloody chest couldn't take anymore piranha like sucking, I swear I half expected Pinhead from Hellraiser to make an appearance and gloat at my punishment for all my sins. My biggest question is seriously, when the hell does all the hurting stop?

Never, it never stops MWAHAHAHAHA

From what I can gather, never really. Because though it's hard to be sleep deprived when your kid is a baby, at least then they are cuddled up on your chest being all cute and chubby. When they are teenagers and you just had a blow out fight, I'm sure all you can think is why can't they be that chubby little innocent baby again. Nipple torture and all. Or when they are in their 20's and they haven't returned your phone call and you are convinced they're dead, starving, passed out in a gutter somewhere, the thought of that baby curled up in your arms may seem like the best time ever. 

But to put things into perspective, mother octopuses eat their own arms for sustenance as they incubate their eggs, and are so tired from the ordeal that as soon as they leave their lair after birth they get promptly eaten by predators since they are unable to defend themselves.

So I guess it's not so bad, I haven't had to eat my arms yet. Breastfeeding still hurts, but Zakir has already gained 1 pound since birth and it's only been 2 weeks. Oh yea and I have a kid that's my kid and my favorite person in the world forever and he's here because of me.*

I have that.

MINE...ALL MINE (for now)

* After my husband's protestations upon me reading the article to him, I am obliged to say that he had something to do with making the baby too. He got to do the fun parts.

Pre-Daddy Blog: Lessons in Hormones and Crazy Town

Some words on pre-daddydom by Tate H.

Are you getting EXCITED!  This is the typical female greeting these days for all of the females in my life that are associates of my wife Hannah and our baby boy Steven due on May 31.  My response is the obligatory smile and YEAH! That goes along with these types of generally casual exchanges regarding a monumental change in life.  The fact is that there is a good deal more than excitement involved with the unknown mission that is to come.  Currently I have found a new appreciation for the absence and emptiness that will be soon be filled by a new person in my life.  Parents that have already embarked on this adventure often offer a good deal of variety in their accounts of these days and the fact that the hard part is yet to come is a truth they rarely spare.  As a man who operates in a very logical and methodical way I am optimistic and ultimately feeling strong that this kid will find a solid home to rest and grow.  The kid is not what I worry about.

Living with a pregnant woman in the last couple of months of the baby making process is something that is not taught in school or amongst peers in any useful way.  I have leaned on a couple of old dads that gave me some words of wisdom that have helped to carry me.  One thing that I have surrendered to is that Hannah is at this point doing the large majority of the work and bearing more of a burden than washing clothes, cleaning dishes and running errands could ever match.  With this approach, the simple rules of roommate etiquette are effectively awarded a pass for my wife while at the same time my efforts to comfort and clean are generally regarded as the bear minimum of my contribution.  The second item of wisdom is that my wife’s roller coaster emotions are not personal even though they may be directed at me.  In large part having a woman rely on me as their primary beacon of sanity can at times be overwhelming depending on my own emotional state.  Reframing this as an honor and sacred duty helps me to get through what would otherwise simply be a nightmare.  It is a relief to know that it is normal for a pregnant woman to go from cartoonish joy to rage in a period of an hour or so.  It is also a relief to invariably hear that I will get my more stable wife back after her body has allowed the baby to be born.

Making a phone call and venting my mental process to another vetted ‘dad’ makes all the difference and usually renews my approach.  It always improves on what I have come up with on my own.

So as of now Hannah and I are enjoying the last little stupid spoiling that a person without a drooling poop goblin can enjoy.  Dinner at Whole foods throwing the trash away and strolling out the door hands free into the Atlanta spring evening.  Spontaneous plans to go and have coffee with a friend and not have to schedule a sitter.  Staring at the wall and embracing the sheer boredom of the emptiness that I have for so long took for granted.  Looking forward to a person who will soon be more than a figment of my imagination.

Poop by the Trimester

I’m full of shit. No seriously. Today I’m literally full of shit. Welcome to the wonderful world of pregnancy in which your pooping habits completely change and you have no idea what’s normal. Don’t poop for days on end? Kinda normal. Have to make runs to the bathroom because you’re pooping too much just a few days later? Kinda normal. Your poop becoming bright orange, green or even blue? Kinda Normal.

This is this shit they don’t tell you about. Again. Literally.

Your first trimester you’re lucky if you can poop at all and if you are pooping its probably because of your vitamins and its coming out way too suddenly for anyone’s enjoyment. On top of this your diet changes and your new intake of fresh veggies and fruits means a color change in your poop. This can be drastic and weird and (if you’re me at least) you’ll really want to take a picture to send to someone and like… is this normal?! Answer: Yup, kinda normal.

Then you hit the second trimester and all of a sudden you can eat with impunity because the nausea has worn off and you find yourself gorging on an entire box of fruit loops in one weekend (yes, I totally did this). Come Monday, your poop has turned a nuclear green and you might be wondering if you need to go to the hospital… or is this something normal? I’m not sure if its normal but it’s certainly not unexpected. Apparently when you eat a shit ton (not literally this time) of dyes you’re poop will turn a weird shade of green.

Then you get chastised by your midwife for gaining 13 pounds in 6 weeks and you cut out the fruit loops and the breads and all the sugar and you eat loads of veggies and stuff with fiber and the shit that comes out of you is just… well.. black. Its as if you colon hasn’t been cleaned out in months and the forthcoming sludge is hard as a brick, FEELS like a brick as it comes out of your anus and has the color (and the smell) of death. Don’t even get me started on farts…

I am capable of stinking my husband out of a room these days. Beyond that, I am capable of stinking MYSELF out of a room these days. My own farts don’t even smell right to me! Is this normal?! Yup, kinda normal.

Now I’ve entered into the third trimester and my little in utero man has decided to hang out on my intestines. I can now eat with impunity, am eating healthy but my poop can only come out when he’s not got his wee little feet wrapped up in my colon. What does that mean? Oh that means when I do poop I have to flush at least twice because I’m afraid my own logs will clog the toilet. I had no idea that my little body could make such girthy logs.. is that normal? Apparently it’s not completely unheard of and it’s certainly kinda normal.

Pretty much anything that comes out… as long as it comes out eventually.. is relatively normal. Black and yellow, green or slightly putrid white? Yup kinda normal.

Lesson 3: Empathy is Necessary

I realize that having a kid will probably be harder than the making of one; in that, raising a kid will be an 18-year thing (if not longer) and the making of one takes nine months. I also realize that after I pop the kid out my life will drastically change- there will be another human thing crying at me all the time and it will probably kinda suck at communication seeing all it can do is yell at me when he’s uncomfortable…

But please, for the love of all things holy, do not invalidate my pregnancy pain, crazy or changes by saying it is only going to get worse. That does not help me, it’s rude and it makes me want to punch you in the face a little. Are you confused? Let me give you a couple of examples:

When complaining to a colleague the other day about my inability to get comfortable in bed and therefore not get much sleep they replied, “you think it’s bad now, wait until you have that kid!” …. Long pause of silence while I look at the person with hateful eyes then ensues. Another example: once I was talking about how I just wanted to go home and have some alone time with my husband and the response was “better get all that in now because it’s gonna be impossible once you have that baby.” …. Again, long pause ensues while I secretly want to hit them in face. Then there was that one time when walking into a room I hear the words, “Oh man, you have put on some weight!”

Let me tell you guys something- making a kid is hard. When you’ve never done it before it is full of a lot of uncertainty and fear and wondering if what you felt and feel is normal or crazy or if you’re already killing a kid that hasn’t even made it out yet. I have NO idea what I’m doing. In fact, I’ve lost two kids in utero before this one so the fear of doing this whole “pregnancy thing” wrong is pretty real for me.

I’ve never been so tired in my life. My boobs are changing and I’m hormonal. SO hormonal in fact that last week my husband held me while I sobbed and told me I was still pretty and people did actually like me. I haven’t had this much emotional crazy since pre-medication days and that is scary. SCARY. Sometimes, the need for a milkshake has been so overwhelming that I sobbed on the way home after denying myself one. It is intense. So instead of telling me that its only going to get worse, for god sake, just tell me it’s okay to feel this way and tell me I’m doing a good job.

It’s so easy in our lack of communal culture to resist empathy and separate ourselves by reminding those that hurt that “it could always be worse.” That mentality is not helpful- at least it isn’t for me. It lacks empathy and it’s the easy way out. I implore the audience at large to remain present through the discomfort and blubbering of weird pregnancy symptoms and validate the current feelings of fear and pain and weirdness. Encourage the pregnant, the sick or those just having a bad day and create a community, even if in passing, that is based in empathy and compassion instead of separation and annoying comparisons. Kthanksbye.

Lesson 2: A Story of Baby Stuff

Hey corporate America, baby for sale!

Apparently, my baby is a totally pro-Capitalism and he hasn’t even officially joined us on this planet yet. That’s the thought that ran through my head when I first walked into the huge baby stuff store. I mean, I’ve been to stores like this before when I bought things for other pregnant people. But this was my first time here being knocked up myself. Knocked up, lost and totally confused as I stumbled into the terrifying world of babydom. 

My vision of what babydom looks like

Luckily I had a wonderful family member who had two kids of her own who guided my way. The worker behind the counter handed me a coupon book and a gun scanner thing, where you go around shooting every baby thing your consumer heart desires to put onto a baby registry. With my baby stuff-buying gun I was off, setting off section by section to get my baby as much crap as possible.

Now I need to point out that I have never been a girl who enjoys shopping. Maybe it's because I’ve always been broke, so high prices made me want to break into hives.  Still, running around a store makes me get hot flashes, there is SO much STUFF out there, and companies want to make sure that I make it MY stuff, because stuff man, we need to have as much stuff as possible. Comedian George Carlin has a great piece on this that sums up my thoughts perfectly.

Back to the Baby Store, the hot flashes and sweaty pits were already starting as I looked on at the endless array of bottle choices. This one is shaped exactly like that one, but it prevents your baby from being gassy. This other bottle is a preferred brand but it had like 5 pieces that needs to be washed separately every single time you use it so that baby accidentally doesn’t get a bacterial infection from you neglecting to disinfect everything perfectly. Way to go you terrible mother, I’m calling child services.

Why does everybody gotta be so judge-y though

Aisle after aisle, so many options. So many things I never even fathomed existed, baby wipe warmers, weird squiggly shaped block stuff your baby can lie on that’ll help them stop crying, strollers with 2692761 features, parts and pieces. Shields to stick on your baby's private parts to guard you from urine attacks (I was going to use a chemists face shield myself, sort of like the kind they had in Breaking Bad, but Babies R Us didn’t have any).

As my gun beeped away I kept thinking, who the hell needs all this?  Women have been raising babies successfully since before the Ice Age, and they didn’t have ergonomic chew toys (unless a Sabretooth tiger bone counts). Does baby really need an ergonomic chew toy? Well the kid may come up to me one day and say “Mom I’m in therapy and I have a massive overbite, all because you didn’t get me an ergonomic chew toy, thanks mom”. 

sorry kid

This consumer culture is insane. Seriously, the baby does not need all this shit. I don’t need all this shit. Babies need hugs, kisses, tons of diapers, food and attention. Obviously I don’t know what I’m talking about because I haven’t given birth yet, so once the kid comes out I will be drowning in regret for not getting those baby butt warmers.  But I didn’t have all that stuff as a baby, neither did my sister. And I personally think my mom did an amazing job raising us to survive into adulthood  (go Mom!).  Honestly, my baby would be happy sleeping in a box, like they do in Finland, and frankly it would have a lower chance of dying of SIDs if I did that instead (seriously, Finland has one of the lowest infant mortality rates in the world and their babies sleep in boxes).

So in conclusion, yes I have a baby registry, I agree with getting a high chair and obviously a car seat, and tons of books because I want my kid to be literate and smarter than everyone else’s kids.  Ha, that’s not gonna happen because I didn’t buy it a multifaceted baby mobile that blinks in scientifically selected colors that costs $500 and will stimulate them to become an Einstein one day. Coz you know, Einstein totally had one of those. 

His Theory of Relativity had nothing to do with overpriced baby stimulation

Oh well, I’m just trying my best here, I guess baby will just have to be happy with his box and tons of hugs. Ergonomic chew toys be damned.

-S. Nadia Hussain