Tag: nursery

A Different Set of Arms

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Let’s face it. We’ve all been here pre-baby- you are sitting in a plane minding your own business, getting ready to sleep or work when suddenly a person toting a baby sits right next to you and you think FML.

I am now the person toting the baby and thankfully she has been a blessing as she is a great traveler, except for this last time. Livia is six months old and the hubby and I decided to take our first vacation sans baby to Puerto first Escondido, Oaxaca and had to drop her off in Mexico City with my parents.

Everything was going perfect at the airport, until we got on the plane and she just got a bout of instant fussiness. She switched from arm to arm back and forth between us, until all of a sudden a lady appeared out of nowhere and asked if she could hold her. Surprised, but in need of a much needed break, we said ok and she stood there rocking my daughter (who to everyone’s surprise, calmed down and started laughing). We were shocked.

I remember my mother telling me that sometimes babies need a different set of arms. We sat there on the plane talking to this lady for about 40 minutes and I remember thinking, god bless her. This different set of arms theory works! Babies do feel the parents’ energy and quite frankly, the hubby and I were feeling frazzled and exasperated. This lady approached us with good vibes and positive energy, and immediately turned my daughter’s mood around.

So my advise to those pre-baby travelers is, don’t be afraid to offer your help if you see parents struggling on your flight, smile, offer words of encouragement, and if you dare- offer to give them a break. You’ll probably get a polite, “no thank you,” but that will have an immediate impact on how the parents feel at that very moment in a pretty stressful situation.

Happy travels 🙂

5 of the Most Useless Baby Products

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Of course everyone is entitled to their opinion on this subject, as some things work for some parents and some things don’t. I have, however, compiled a list of my top 5 most useless baby products that I have come across with hopes that this will at the very least keep you informed and save you some much needed cash for other, more useful things- like diapers, Desitin, and swaddles.

Looks can be deceiving, so no matter how cool an object looks, research it first!

So here we go…

1. Wipe Warmer– When I first found this on Amazon, I was flabbergasted. I don’t think any parents before 2010 used a wipey warmer. My baby will not be raised having her butt cleaned with warmed wipes only to become the most demanding child in the planet. I call this the “wipey warmer” syndrome. I could already see her asking me warm her towels in the drying machine.

2. Premium Bottle Warmer– unless you are willing to wait 20 minutes for the bottle to warm while your little one is throwing an ever loving fit, then go for it. You will but wait only once. I personally prefer the old stovetop method, especially if you have a gas stove.

3. Temperature bath ducky– seriously, just stick your elbow in the water.

4. Baby Knee Pads- is your baby rollerskating? Probably not, let them figure out the crawling thing on their own, which we’ve doing for thousands of years.

5. Pacifier Wipes– Seriously.

What have you found to be the most useless baby product?

I am a Mom

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A second excerpt from 30 Days of Night… 

September 22-Day 2 I am a Mom

I woke up to the sunlight in pain and groggy- one nurse (who I did not like) had been in and out of the room giving me pain killers and trying to get me to wear a belly band. She told me I would also have to try and get up from the bed the next day. I almost had her thrown out of the room, but I was knocked out and in pain. But when I awoke, a new nurse greeted me warmly and she was awesome. Your father had spent the night in the room and was attentive and ready for action.

For some reason, I had developed an affinity for oatmeal overnight so I had breakfast ordered in and quietly ate with you father right next to me. Both grandmothers were about to show up, so I wanted to make sure I was ready to receive them and more importantly, ready to get out of bed and see you.

The friendly nurse came in and gave me a status update on your well-being. Everything was fine and you were being treated and were still hooked up to an IV so they could not give you the colostrum yet. They mentioned they would use it for that night. That was the moment she mentioned it was time for me to try and get out of bed as it was a requirement to make sure that the surgery went as it should have- so we got ready to try.

If I thought that last night’s contractions had been bad, trying to get out of bed was equally painful and brutal. It took your father and the nurse to get me upright with me screaming in pain and tears in my eyes (you will realize that I’ve cried more during these thirty days than I have in the past ten years of my life). After that painful ordeal of them basically dragging me into a wheelchair so I could go down and see you in the NICU ward, I was finally sitting down and ready to go.

Your father gingerly wheeled me out of the room, both of our excitement evident as we made our way through the hallway to the 8th floor- until your father decided to use me as a bumper car and ram me into the elevator door. I remember cussing him to the end of the world because of the uncontrollable pain, but now I laugh at the thought.

We finally got to see you and my heart was so full, it almost exploded. That was when they handed you over to me so I could try and see if I could breastfeed you. Sure enough, the moment you were in arms I instinctively put you towards me breast and you latched on with no issues. I remember giving myself another mental high-five and a pat on the back. Your father was also pretty impressed and I was so proud.

It was you and me and our little moment.

Once we were finished, we went back upstairs as you still had to be monitored. Both grandmas were already in the room and smiling. My mother brought you the cutest white teddy bear with balloons and lollypops, and I immediately thought I wanted one.

We finalized all the paperwork to where your name read Livia Isabella Jackson. Why Livia? It was a strong name, one fit for queens. Livia had been the third wife of emperor Augustus of Rome and considered one of the strongest women in Roman history. My name, Alexandra, was strong and literally meant “Defender of Mankind.” I felt you needed something equally mighty. Despite being tiny at birth, you were small, but strong. Why Isabella? Your father and I fell in love with that name since the very beginning. We had thought about names even before I got pregnant and the name Isabella kept sticking. Plus it was an added bonus that we could call you Bella. Truth be told, your father has liked that name since he saw the movie Twilight.

We spent the day chatting and going over last night’s events. Family called, pictures were taken, and we rejoiced in the fact of your birth. It was a pretty quiet day as I was not ready to receive other visitors, but it was nice to have people that loved you there. It takes a village, and I was beginning to see that.

I still had colostrum I wanted to pump out for you, so I took another try at the pump and rocked on. I pumped out about 18 CCs and had it sent over to the NICU ward for you. Your father cheered me on as he helped me get the pump parts together and sat with me- he was like my pumping cheerleader.

That night I slept soundly and was excited for you to be discharged and in the room with us. I was a Mom.

 

The Day you were Born

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An excerpt from the First 30 Days of Night… 

Day 1- September 21 The Day you were Born 

I remember getting the call at 6am on Wednesday from the labor and delivery ward at Texas Children’s Pavilion for Women letting me know that the bed was ready for your arrival.

I was so nervous that I told them I was going to be there in 20 minutes- yeah right. My mom, your father, and I rolled into the hospital at 7:30am, Starbucks in-hand. We let my uncle (the cardiologist) know, because he’s been at my side ever since I was born and when I diagnosed with Leukemia when I was 7, so of course he was going to be there.

We were actually supposed to be there the day before, but apparently there had been an emergency at the hospital, everyone decided to have a C-Section that night and there was a baby born in an elevator. Clearly, it was not time for you to come.

Once we got there, I was escorted into the waiting area with my mom while your father parked the car (he refused to valet, despite our several objections- more on this later). The nurses came in to receive me and noted that coffee in my right hand and told me I had about 15 minutes to down it. Apparently it is not every day a mother about to go into labor comes in with her Grande cup of Pike’s Place Roast.

I was escorted into the “laboring room,” which silently scared the hell out of me, but I never showed it. Especially when I saw a huge fitness ball on the corner and I remember thinking… “What the hell are they expecting me to do with this thing?” The nurse told me it was for laboring. I actually ended up bouncing on that ball and it felt pretty good when I felt the contractions at their strongest.

The two nurses that were assigned to me were wonderful and super sweet, in addition to being very patient the entire time. After running all the tests and diagnostics, it was time for me to be induced. The inducement process started at 9am and when that first contraction came, I thought I was going to keel over and die. Little did I know this was nothing, just the start, and it was about to go down. I was given some sedatives to minimize the pain, but you were extremely responsive and ready to get out.

Finally, my water broke at 1:30pm. I felt a pop inside me and I remember thinking, “I read about this in some Facebook feed.” I decided to make the announcement and sure enough, I was right. So there I was, laboring with pain medication and you were just reluctant to come out. Once I received the epidural, I felt nothing and decided to use my time to nap until you were ready.

I remember being woken up several times by the nurses to re-position the monitors on my stomach and several concerned whispers. In the midst of my nap, I remember my uncle telling my mom that you were going to end up being delivered a C-Section (which was not my plan). The doctor has told me at your 28 week appointment that only one person could be in the operating room if you resulted in a C-Section delivery. With my uncle having saved my life when he was the one who diagnosed me with Leukemia, and my fiancee, your father, who I love with my heart, both there- it was a heart-wrenching decision to make, which I had not even thought about making because I had decided to deliver you naturally due to this specific reason.

So I was completely shocked when the attending doctor came in and spoke to me in a serious, but friendly tone. You were going to be delivered via C-Section immediately.

It wasn’t even two minutes when an entire staff of nurses trotted in to prep me, I was told to call your father because he had gone to get something to eat, and my uncle was putting on his scrubs. I was on the verge of tears  as it was not even five minutes after I called your father and he told me was parking that I was being rolled into the O.R.

I remember bright blue and green overhead lights, the anesthesiologist behind me trying to coax me to relax, my uncle closely examining the incision being made so I wouldn’t get butchered, and my doctor rushing in because he had just left his shift (but returned, because he is the best), and me staring at the ceiling with a million thoughts running across my mind, tears in my eyes. I felt pressure from the other side of the curtain, some prodding, but no pain. This went on for about ten minutes.

Finally, you were pulled out of me, raised for two seconds atop of the curtain and taken to the neonatal station next to my bed. You were a tiny little baby at 5lbs and 15 ounces, 18 inches long born at 8:32pm. The neonatal team wanted to make sure you were healthy, and that is one I had your father called in. I remember him coming into the room with a surgical mask on, and thinking what pretty blue eyes the doctor had (keep in mind I was under a lot of sedation) and it took me a second to realize it was actually your father under that mask. He was teary eyed, but I could see his eyes smiling down on me.

I was so happy to see him and even more ecstatic when they handed you to us, all bundled up, after they had your screenings done. You were so small and born with a little bit of jaundice, so you had to be taken to the NICU for a couple of nights until it cleared up.

I was rolled out of the OR and back into the laboring room until my room was ready, in complete disbelief to what had happened, but so ready to have you in my arms again. That is when the breastfeeding pump was rolled my way. With all the wires and cups sticking out from the device, I had no idea how to use it (I never took a class, thinking I would just wing it), and the nurse said you needed to get my colostrum to help wash away your jaundice, so it would be better that I get to it.

Being the resilient woman that I am, I was determined to have you home by the time I was discharged so I hooked myself up to this strange looking machine and pumped away. I felt like a cow. I pumped out 15CC of colostrum and put the cap back on the little tube. When the nurse came back in, she was astonished as it was enough for three to four feedings. I recall feeling pride in my coma-induced state and giving myself a mental high-five.

I do not remember much of what happened after that as the anesthesiologist gave me some pretty strong stuff, but I do know I dreamed of you.

Frida’s Nursery

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As a professional female executive, I’ve been wanting to write a blog for the longest time, except I would find excuse after excuse not to- I am too busy, I have too much work, I am too tired. To be honest, the problem was content. I had so many ideas and so many things I wanted to yell out to the world, but it was disorganized and really did not hold any true meaning to anyone, but myself.

Blogging is about relating, telling a story, organizing your thoughts into one clear message, something you want to say or express in a consistent basis. For the last three years, I have not been consistent in any way, shape, or form in my life. In the last three years, I have moved into three different homes, gone through a divorce, worked in two different companies, got engaged, found out I was pregnant, and gave birth to a beautiful red-headed daughter, Livia. For the first time in a very long time, I feel consistent.

I felt the need to start writing when Livia was born and I was on maternity leave. I thought, why not record my thoughts so she can read them, learn from them, or just have something to look back on when she is older? This time, content rushed through my head, but the message was clear. Using my daughter as my inspiration, I wanted to write about being a professional mother (cliche-sounding, I know), my experiences with my family, while including my Mexican heritage, and also find a way to relate to women like myself- ambitious and hard-working mothers who have gone through hardships, and want to be the best they can be for their family.

At this point, I needed a name for my blog, my product,  my message. My mother helped me come up with the name “Frida” while visiting her in Mexico. I could not have thought of a more perfect example of a strong, independent woman that portrayed my culture. I, however, felt like I still needed something else. Just today I came up with Frida’s Nursery. if you think about it, a nursery is a place where children are raised, a habitat for plants and animals, and a place of growth. Frida’s Nursery stuck and here we are, ready to take on a project I have been wanting to embark on for a long time.

To my daughter… “I love you more than my own skin.”
-Frida Khalo 

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