The First Time I Thought I Was Having Maddy.

I'm going to be completely frank here when I say that I tend to overreact. I know, it's completely shocking, but I do.

And apparently other moms at this stage in the game do as well, so for me to sit here and panic the other night I'm told is normal. Finally.

Facebook knows what happened. Twitter doesn't. Somehow fitting my saga into 140 characters would just not suffice and I'm not one to do that (1/3) or twitlonger bologna.

So you want to know what happened? Gotchya. Obviously I've really hyped this up so hopefully you're entertained.

It's close to my bed time and I'm feeling grimey. I had a subway ride and sat in the seat since my feet were so swollen. Seat smelled like piss which is always my fear whenever I'm on the Market Frankford Line. Anyway. I came home, got in the shower, nuked myself until I decided I should save a whale or two and just go to bed. I'm always greeted by my cat the minute I pull my shower curtain back. Zombs is obsessive with licking the shower curtain lately. Somewhere between him jumping up on the ledge of the bathtub to lick the curtain and me drying off, he decided to scratch my foot because why not!?

I'm so immune to Zombie scratching me in a playful way that I'm almost completely unphased when his daggers get me. This was one of those moments. But Zombie is like a dog so once I shut the light off in the bathroom and headed into my bedroom, he followed, ran ahead of me and jumped up on the bed looking all cute - to which I could not resist petting him and loving him.

There I was, sitting on my leg, wrapped in my robe petting my cat. Two minutes later Zombie decided biting was a more fun option to which I said "Forget you!" and decided to get dressed. That's when I noticed a brown "spot" on my bed. Holy shit. It's blood. It's f*cking blood! I touched it. Jesus Christ. It's wet, fresh blood. I start panicking when I notice another spot. Oh my God. All I can think of is who's bleeding?! Is it me? Is it my vagina? Is it my baby coming out? Is this labor? Was that my mucus plug? Is my cat bleeding? All no. Where the hell did this blood come from? I'm running to the bathroom - nothing. I'm checking Zombie for cuts - nothing. I'm calling her baby daddy crying, Googling the shit out of things (all of which are only showing spotting in the first trimester and not last) and just ultimately freaking out because at this point I don't even know what number to call and it's 10:30pm and I'm certain I don't want to spend the night in the ER.

Finally, I stand in front of my full length mirror and start inspecting and that's when I flex my heel (which I cannot see without said mirror because of my Maddy belly growth) and see a speck of blood start to appear. Are you kidding me? It was all from that cat scratch in the bathroom maybe 20 minutes ago. So I know I have to call Maddy's dad back.

I know I have to tell him I'm a crazy person and that it's nothing to do with labor.

That it's a cat scratch.

On the plus side, he handled my franticness very well - completely calm and reserved and said "If we have to go to the hospital tonight so be it" and didn't make too much fun of me when I finally came clean about where the mystery blood came from.

So there you have it. My first time thinking I was having a kid and it turns out to be a cat scratch. Now you have a glimpse of what my other half has to deal with on a daily basis. Poor guy! These stories are only going to get better; I'm calling it now... Stay tuned!

Baby 101 & Done

I woke up Maddy's not-so-morning-needs-eight-full-hours-of-sleep Dad this morning for a baby class. Parenting 101 or First Time Parents. Whatever the title was. This time I was feeling a lot more confident than that Breastfeeding class I attended. Not only did I have the other half responsible for our little one alongside of me, but I knew where I was going, the whole intro process... I was ready.

First issue - getting Dad out of bed. 

Second issue - "We have to take pillows to the class" But all his pillows suck and we were both kind of embarrassed. (We left them in the car)

Third issue - it was starting to snow and we were taking my car. Awesome.

We get to the class and we're both exhausted. I'm thinking "This will be great - If I don't fall asleep." We do the intros, which are always done by the women as the men sit there and get introduced by the woman. Your name, person who is with you, where you're delivering and your due date. I'm the only one in the class to not address my support person as their husband. He is my baby's father. The looks come my way. We smile back at the faces staring at us and are welcomed to the class.

First part is pretty standard - where the bathrooms are, the exits in case of emergency and oh my God, she brought us Dunkin Donuts. Don't mind if I do. Then we kick it into high gear starting with contractions and different birthing methods and then, 15 minutes before lunch watching a woman squirt out her kid. We do a breathing exercise next on these mats on the floor. Maddy's Dad makes me laugh so hard that I'm convinced that's what contractions feel like. Just as long as I don't pee my pants.

We get an hour break for lunch where we head across the street to the Ale House and I down a chicken parm sandwich almost as fast as he eats his open faced Reuben. But I want ice cream and we have 20 minutes to kill. Chick-Fil-A it is. Yes, it's still snowing. Yes, I am that girl that eats ice cream whenever. Screw that summertime only, nonsense!

Round 2 starts out in the birthing center. We've seen this place two months ago after I got woozy at work and needed to be checked out to make sure everything was okay but it was nice to revisit. We check out the L&D room and then the recovery room, see where our beloved family will be camping out waiting until they play the Lullaby music over the hospital loudspeakers to announce a new baby has been born (it's the cutest thing ever!) and then where the OR is for any C-sections. This is my favorite part because it makes me want to jump in the bed and say "Let's do this thing!" but I'm also overly anxious to meet my daughter and with 10 weeks to go it feels like forever.

Last part is where it gets real. Pain medication, what happens if you need a C-section, positioning of the baby. This is where I learned the most. And where I decided this baby better come out of my vagina. Yes, I seriously just said that. Seriously. We jump on the mat for another 15 minute exercise where we practicing positioning for pushing (without actually pushing) and I get a little tailbone massage to demonstrate what to do if I'm having labor pains. Suggestion for next class: It's not just the tailbone that needs a massage. Homegirl would have preferred the shoulders and mid-back, too, but whatever!

Class dismissed. We survived with minimal laughing and more maturity than I thought we would have. Nothing felt better though, then kicking off the shoes and taking a nap on the couch with the cat after class.  With that, I've completed all my classes and now the only thing left to do is wait until I can start Mommy101 -- a real life experience no class will ever prepare me for!

10 Weeks Feels Like 10 Years,

Boobies, Party of One.

When my insurance company told me they would front all but 10% of the bill for any of the baby classes I was looking to take, I thought - sign me up! First one on the list: Breastfeeding 101.

Right off the bat, I'm thinking there's no way I'm going to be mature enough for this. Sure, I have boobs (well, now I do anyway) but there was something so weird about sitting around after a 10 hour day at work and watching videos of women breast feeding. Was this even the right thing for me to do or did I want to do it because my mother and sister had?

The class had the option of bringing along a significant other. No way did I want to share this moment with Maddy's Daddy. But as the day got closer, I got a little nervous about showing up somewhere solo. Would people be judging me for being a single mom? I mean, would they know? 

But the day came and like most things related to becoming a parent, you have to put your child's needs first and just "man up." So I walked into the wrong building. Oops. And then trekked across the parking lot in the polar vortex unzipping my jacket halfway through my 1000 foot voyage because I was already sweating. Hormones… real cute. I showed up as one of the last to arrive and out of breath. Seriously, I feel like that's my "thing" during pregnancy.

I scanned the room. Clutch. Only parking available was in the front row. More scanning - everyone has their partner with them. Great. And wait… why did they all have dolls? No one mentioned anything about bringing a doll. I snuck over to my seat and got out my phone. "I'm the only one here alone" was the text I feverishly sent "Baby Dad" before the class began. Luckily one other couple was late so I had about 10 seconds to demand there be ice cream in the freezer before I got home around 9pm. Done.

I skimmed over the 15 sheets of handouts and the first thing I read was "Graze your nipple against your baby's nose" Stop it, right now, hospital. You're drunk. I started to chuckle. What the hell was I about to get myself into? Then the class started. Everyone seemed to ask a decent amount of questions and it wasn't too painfully awkward. And NO you don't all whip out the nip and show the other women in the room (you'd honestly be surprised how many of my friends asked me this!). The woman crying about banana sandwiches and how important breast feeding was to her I probably could have done without -- mostly because I lack self control when other people are overly emotional; myself not included. At the end of the class I was glad I went. I have some literature to catch up on, that's for sure. I do recommend that people go to these classes because it gives you the opportunity to figure out what works for you and what doesn't. No two pregnancies are alike.

That all being said, there was mint chocolate chip waiting for me in the freezer when I got home and a baby dad who asked questions I was able to answer. He seemed proud of me for paying attention & with the choice I will be making to attempt having my kid latch onto my boobies. Hashtag, educated.

Missing My Cute B-cup Bras,

Meet the Mom.

Hi all,

I'm the mom behind this blog. You can call me mom if you're into the freaky stuff, but most people just call me Kaela. Or K (I think this is sometimes because people forget how to spell my name and don't want to offend me with a "y" instead of an "e")

Anyway. I am pregnant with a baby that was totally unplanned by my former (very good-looking, irresistibly charming) co-worker whom I am no longer "dating" but figuring out what "co-parenting" is and will be with him. We're having a girl. We decided on a name the minute we found out. Like literally, that minute. If she were a boy, it would have been Dad's pick. Girl was mine. We will tell Madilynn all about how wonderful her mom was for naming her something so pretty when she's like 5 and feels like bragging about how cool I am to her friends. That happens, right? No? Ok, great!

I am in my mid-20s, which is behind the curveball on baby-making. I only know of a lot of people much younger than me squirting out kids. Most of the people older are on their like.. 3rd or 4th. Kudos. I want to have more kids after Madilynn one day, too. But that may change if my doctor keeps informing me about the possibilities of what could happen during labor. I know they have to tell me but really, it took me this long to come to terms with shitting myself -- let's not push it with the tearing saga. #ICant

I work in marketing and social media consumes my life so if you want to see pictures of my baby bump or read quick 140 character blurbs about preggo life, I'm an open book. I'll tell you all about it and maybe even sometimes too much about it. I also like my cat. My former boss says that he bets me $1000 once Maddy's born, I won't take pictures of my dear cat, Zombie. I am waiting to receive that $1000 at my baby shower. Just kidding. Kind of.

Anyway, I look forward to sharing this journey with anyone who will read it. Am I being like Snooki and talking about my baby bump? Sure, maybe. But at least it's going to be more realistic than that damn $15 First Time Mom's book I bought off eBay. I only read up to the second trimester and I'm approaching the third so if this all goes to shit -- well, you know why.

Dreaming of Wearing Pre-Pregnancy Clothes Again Soon,