Archive for February, 2013

How our country’s maternity leave laws really let me down.

I really don’t know how to approach this blog post. Because there’s far too much to say and I want to say it with all my passion and I fear that it won’t come across like it should, like I mean for it to. So just know this, what I’m writing about I’m writing about with so much of my passion and so much of my energy. Because this is important. This is real important stuff.


America’s laws about what first time parents are entitled to as far as working and paid and unpaid and how much time, how much precious time you get with your new, adorable blobs SUCK. They suck so hard.

I spent the majority of my maternity leave sobbing and sobbing and yelling and sobbing and curled into a protective orb around my baby. Counting down the days until I had to pass her off to someone else to care for her. She was 13 freakin’ weeks old, such a little nugget with no words yet and no sense of why that person that grew her for almost 10 months and fed her from her body wasn’t there for 9 hours a day, 5 days a week.

I’ve already wrote about it so I’ll try not to get into it all again…but it was heartbreaking.

If Alex and I ever have another little baby, which I think is in the cards now…because we can’t imagine doing all this just once, we’re already prepared for me to take at least 6 months off of work completely to bond and love and hoard that new baby.

ANYWAY, the info graphic here presents just an iota of what people need to know about how insufficient our country is with its maternity/paternity leave standards. Please take the time to create an account and sign this White House petition.

It’s important. Really important.

February 27, 2013 at 7:17 am Leave a comment

Sometimes things happen and everything changes

This is a post about someone coming into my office, saying a handful of words that essentially pulled the rug out from underneath me and changed so much.

I know longer have an office with a bunch of people (some I like…some I never really did) that I go to everyday where I used to perform a job. A job that consisted of clicking and scrolling and list making and phone calling and lots of stuff like that.

I learned a few things this week:

1) Your relationship with your immediate supervisor is way more important than the quality of work you do.

2) Severance checks are kind of boss. I wanted to rage quit a week and a half ago…glad I waited it out. 

3) Sometimes you’re afraid to make the big decisions and it requires someone else to make them for you. This is maddening and a huge relief at the same time.

So I’m here, at home with Olive. It’s everything I wanted since having her and then some. I’m going to look for another office job because collecting unemployment requires you to and I’m going to attempt to do some badass creative things that I hope turn into some money. It doesn’t have to be as much money as I was making at the office…just more than nothing. Shhh, don’t tell my father I said that.

I was let go on a Tuesday and the following day Alex drove to Alabama for his aunt’s funeral, her husband passed the week before and he needed to be there for his family. Which means I’ve been alone with Olive for five…one, two, three, four, FIVE days by myself.


I got what I wanted…time with my daughter. And I’m getting lots and lots of Olive, in her purest, rawest forms. We’ve had explosive diapers at IKEA, more spit up for me, the dog, or the cat to possibly calculate, and several minutes of “crying it out.”

Crying it out…it kind of makes me go to a dark place. This girl, she’s waged war on all naps and just doesn’t like to take them. She never has. But after spending so many hours with a little human you need some time to yourself and 15 minute increments every 3-4 hours just doesn’t really cut it. So yesterday I plopped her down in her crib and just let her scream for 10 minutes…like SCREAM. Screaming that made me feel like I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. Screaming that made me kind of angry after the first 6 minutes. And screaming that eventually made her tired enough to sleep for a straight 30 minutes. And then she was up and smiling and forgot how I was the worst mom in the world and cooed and giggled and scrunched up her face and told me I was her favorite mom in the whole world.

Time with Olive. It’s all I’ve ever wanted since she came out of me in that bath tub that one time.


And I’ve got all the time in the world right now and I’m breathing her in and trying to not let her down. Am I doing it right Olive?

February 24, 2013 at 11:15 am Leave a comment

Shhh, this is a whisper post

Screen shot 2013-02-09 at 9.47.24 PM

Olive is an eater. Not that we’re surprised, both her parents can put down some serious food without batting an eye.

On my first week back to work I was pumping 15-16 ounces of pure, liquid gold during every work day. I remember picking her up from “school” the very first day and learned she drank exactly how much I had pumped that day. I felt kind of awesome.

Then the real stress of being back at work kicked in and my supply started to poop out. I am currently getting anywhere from 9-12 ounces during a work day. I’ll pump 3-4 times a day. And boy is it FUN.

And because Olive has an appetite the size of forever I’ll come home, feed her off my boob, immediately pump off the excess, feed her off my boob before bed, stay up an extra few hours and pump more. Then sometimes I will even set the alarm for the middle of the night for a time she wouldn’t be up feeding so I can pump more. And if I still don’t have the longed for 15 ounces for that day I’ll pump one more time before work, after feeding her from the boob of course.

It’s a lot of freakin’ work.

Alex finally convinced me that giving her ONE (JUST ONE) bottle of formula before she goes to bed isn’t the end of the world. It’s just another source of food to sustain our growing chunk-a-lump.

Writing this post makes it more real, and in turn, makes me feel more guilty. But liberated. But guilty. OH THE GUILT. dammit.

I wanted to be the mom that fed her baby seamlessly for an entire year (at least) with just breast milk. But it didn’t happen…and that’s ok.


Shhhh. Sometimes I feed my baby formula at night. Shhhh.

February 9, 2013 at 6:05 pm 4 comments


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