A Baby Story…

For some odd reason I didn’t consider writing out Roma’s birth story. Since I was having a scheduled cesarean it didn’t feel like there was much to tell other than I went in, they numbed me and then a few cuts and badda bing badda boom we had a BABY!! Thankfully I have awesome friends who remind me that no matter how a baby comes into this world, the story and adventure is still unique and wonderful.

The night before my c-section Hector and I told Eliana we were taking her out for a special farewell dinner. We had spent that whole weekend saying goodbye to our current family dynamic and opening up the door for the new one that was coming. It wasn’t a sad celebration, but we wanted her to understand that it wasn’t just going to be the three of us anymore. That another addition was coming and that she had big responsibilities ahead of her.

We ended up at BJ’s because anything worth celebrating or saying farewell to deserves pizookie! (If you don’t know what I’m talking about I am so so sorry). Oddly, I was calm and full of peace the whole night. We put her to bed knowing it would be our last time the concept of just the three of us existed. It was bittersweet. We read a story, said our prayers and then said goodnight.

The next morning I got up, showered, shaved my legs, straightened my hair, put on makeup and glitter lotion (yes, sparkly glitter lotion all over my belly) and headed to the hospital. I thought at some point I’d be wigging out. But as was my experience with natural labor during E’s birth I had hit that focused, inner-calm-mentality. I was ready. I was going to do this. And I would stop thinking about the giant ass needle that would soon penetrate my spine.

We checked in, signed a billion papers and then kicked it for two hours. My sister showed up in just enough time to provide comic relief via music since my Dr. was thirty minutes late. Every minute that ticked by after my originally scheduled 11:30am appt was another minute I should’ve been closer to being done, but was unfortunately just sitting in a hospital gown waiting… and waiting… and waiting. The needle growing larger by the second.

Finally, when my Dr. showed I had to be ready. It was now or never. My anesthesiologist joked about running away… little did he know how much I actually wanted to.

As they wheeled me into the bright white operating room, with that wonderful fresh sterile scent all I could think about was the bug bite I found on my butt that morning and whether or not the anesthesiologist would be able to see it when I turned onto my side. I even considered putting cover up on it, but thought a dark creamy spot would look more awkward than a red irritated dot. Plus, I’m sure he had seen worse butts. Or hoping he had seen worse butts. The likelihood was high, right?

So there we were. A dozen bodies running about this bright white room with absolutely no concern that they would be cutting several layers deep into my abdomen and then pulling out a baby. I mean we went into the room as a team of 12 and would be exiting with one extra! They all seemed so calm, chill and routine. I wanted to scream. Make sure none of them had been drinking the night before. Ask my Dr. if she was sure she was prepared to do this. Continue reading “A Baby Story…”

Advertisements

Roma. Roma? Roma!

Our second daughter Roma Eve Perea was born on Monday, July 15th, 2013 weighing in at 7lbs 6oz and 19in long. Just a wee little one in comparison to Eliana! And I’d like to make a statement to the random guy in the parking lot at Home Depot who yelled at me across several cars and said, “It’s a Boy!”… well it looks like you were wrong.

And in the best way possible. Because Eliana is now blessed with the wonderful responsibility of having a little sister and this relationship couldn’t thrill me more. I have an older sister–14 months older–so we are really close. Growing up we fought like cats and dogs, but five seconds later we were the best of friends. These days we rarely fight if at all. She’s been my protector, my best friend, my teacher and a secondary mother. I wouldn’t change or give up our relationship for anything. She’s the best. And for that reason alone I had hoped for a girl this go around. Someone Eliana could confide in, learn from and be best friends with. I’m ecstatic to watch the two of them grow up. It’s going to be awesome.

So back when we named our first born, we explained how important the process was for us and everything we considered when choosing. For our second born this was no different, but this name holds special meaning to us. It’s a bit unconventional and might throw some people off from our usual focus of Spanish names, but we think it fits well next to Eliana and I’m stoked that we discovered it.

Continue reading “Roma. Roma? Roma!”

Mourning Motherhood

I’m roughly five months away from giving birth to our second child and although that still seems very far away, I know that I will go to bed tonight and wake up tomorrow and the day will be upon me.

That’s how quickly time passes.

In lieu of this new addition, I recently told a group of my girlfriends that I feel like I’m mourning the loss of my first child and I mean that in the most figurative way. Life with E these past two years and three months has been emotional, overbearing, joyful, exquisite, challenging and rewarding. She was my first and we’ve learned so much together on this road of parent/child and I know that I’m about to rock her world and my own.

Doing things with her now at this age is easy. It’s fun. It’s manageable. But in July my focus will change, my responsibilities will be doubled and my freedom will be squelched, until I learn to adjust to a whole new life.

I know I can do it. I know it will be hard. I know it’s what I want. It’s just the acknowledgement of the change that is equal parts exciting and intimidating.

Eliana has become my best bud, my partner in crime, my eyes to a world that’s 30 inches tall. She’s the only reason worth waking up in the morning before 7am. Pancakes taste sweeter, butterflies are more enchanting, and reading is no longer a selfish pleasure. I look at her and I see half of me and half of her father. A product of love so wonderful that I can only imagine she will be a force to reckon with in the world and I don’t hope, I know she will accomplish great things.

Continue reading “Mourning Motherhood”