The in the Middle Mama

just another mama doing her thing

Four: That was (is?) our number

I won’t be welcoming my fourth baby this spring as planned. Instead my last pregnancy has resulted in me joining a club that isn’t at all exclusive, but is very secretive.

One in four … that is how many pregnancies are believed to end in miscarriage. I knew that number long before it happened to me, but I also had a lot of thoughts about miscarriage I am ashamed to admit: “at least it was early.” and, “well she has other kids.” would be at the top.

To say I’m writing about my loss to help others would be a lie. I hope it does; I think that is the hope of all who write, that your words resonate with those who read them, but that isn’t my motivation. I knew I’d write this, I am always transcribing my life in my mind and I have been writing and rewriting the way this chapter unfolded since I first heard those deafening words, “I’m not finding a heartbeat.”

This running biography of mine often keeps me up at night, but is also the best way – perhaps the only way – I know to process my feelings. But now I am taking the story I’ve been protecting in the confines of my head and putting it on display, because I am tired of the way it bounces around in there; I am tired of fearing that it will crack a wall at the wrong moment and I’ll reveal it inappropriately, perhaps bitterly. I have come to believe that sharing my story is how I finally exhale a breath I have been holding for months. It is what feels right to me — it is how I move forward.

I began to think I had lost my baby the day Megan Markle’s opinion piece came out in the New York Times. No, her story didn’t make me paranoid; I just happened to have a check-up appointment (15 weeks) scheduled the same day. My husband and I both had the day off and as you can imagine in 2020, we had no plans. I convinced him to run a few errands with me; I needed to return a stack of clothes I had ordered before I found out I was pregnant – no sense holding on to them for a year. When we returned home, I debated cancelling my check up; we had been out all morning and I was enjoying the warmth of my home at the holidays, but I didn’t cancel – I went, and my life hasn’t been the same since.

I was the last appointment of the day and was not surprised when they were late calling me back. When the nurse finally brought me to a room, she quickly took my blood pressure and told me she was going to listen for the heartbeat. She spent a minute or two running the the doppler over my belly and said she couldn’t find it. She stated the doctor would check when he came in. To be transparent, I wasn’t concerned at this point; I assumed she was new or in a hurry to get home herself. I figured the doctor would come in and find it without a problem. He arrived shortly after she left and made it clear he wasn’t prepped for my appointment (he hadn’t reviewed any of the test results from my last visit and was scanning all the paperwork aimlessly.) He asked me questions he should have known the answers to and then proceeded to check for the heartbeat. I kept waiting to hear it and I thought I did a few times, but I guess that was just hope or even my own heartbeat as the panic set in. While I will not hide that I am not a fan of this doctor, I will give him that he really tried to find that heartbeat. He scanned and scanned and apologized for his aggressiveness before ultimately telling me, “I’m going to give it one more go and I don’t want to leave you hanging, but if we don’t find it, you can come on Monday for an ultrasound.” It was Wednesday – fucking Wednesday. The day before Thanksgiving and five days before Monday. I had been silent until this point, but when he didn’t find it on the last attempt, I couldn’t help but ask, “What does this mean? There has never been an issue finding the heartbeat in any of my other pregnancies.” He replied with, “Well obviously we will want to do an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy is viable.” And that was when I knew without a doubt (and all too late) this guy was not the doctor for me. I knew there was an ultrasound device across the hall and the fact that he was going to send me home to sit with the biggest uncertainty I had ever known was beyond what I could deal with in that moment. I was so frustrated with his response that I simply stood up, grabbed my things and left. He didn’t say anything, didn’t follow me, didn’t have the girl at the front desk follow up with me – nothing was done.

Once inside my car, I called me husband and told him what had happened. I cried the short drive to pick up my older daughters. Then I bottled up the fear, told myself everything was fine, put on a smile, and hugged my girls a little longer before putting them in their carseats.

I didn’t talk about it that night. I didn’t want my girls to hear anything and I didn’t know what to think. I did google. As much as I tried to tell myself it was a bad idea, it seemed like a better option than not doing anything. Everything I found had positive endings, but there was one small issue – all of these women who shared their stories had a reason the heartbeat wasn’t heard that I was pretty certain didn’t apply to me: 1. It is common to have hard time finding the heartbeat if the mother is overweight and, 2. It can be attributed to a tilted pelvis. I knew the first didn’t apply to me and I imagined the latter was something that you always had, not something that just happened during your fourth pregnancy. So now the doubt crept in … but even as I began to doubt, I told myself I couldn’t have miscarried; I didn’t have any cramps and there was no bleeding – outside of this appointment everything had been normal …

For five days I felt insane. I read the same info, continued to call the doctor’s office even though I knew no one was answering their phones, went back and forth in my head with “you’re being a pessimist, everything is fine.” And “you know you’re body better than anyone and this baby is no longer alive.”

When Monday finally came, I had prepared myself for the worst. I finally got someone on the line who was willing to squeeze me in when I explained my situation. When the ultrasound tech pulled up the scan, I knew right away. She didn’t say it – but I knew. There was no flicker. I stopped watching and didn’t respond when she asked if we had ever moved my dates. That’s when she said she couldn’t find a heartbeat. That’s when she asked if I wanted her to print the scan for me; I said no. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the screen again. I was taken to a different room where a doctor I had never met before had to come in to officially tell me that my baby was dead. The baby was measuring at 12 weeks and should have been 15, so best guess was that it happened three weeks prior to my visit. The doctor explained how common this was and how it wasn’t my fault. Words that fall flat when you’re on the receiving end. He then said we had to talk about my options. There were three and in his mind there was only one that was safe. All of this was happening while Shawn waited in the car (COVID precautions meant I was alone during all medical visits) and I just couldn’t process. Ultimately the doctor said I would need surgery and that I should do it as soon as possible. If my body recognized the loss on its own I could lose too much blood. I agreed to the surgery and he told me someone from the hospital would call to schedule it shortly.

I walked to the parking lot, knowing Shawn knew – he would know by how long I was inside the office, and by my face, and by the simple fact that he didn’t get any news from me while I was in there. Part of me was relieved he would know as that meant I wouldn’t have to say it.

As we started to drive home, I received a call from the hospital saying I needed to come ASAP for a COVID test. We pulled up and a woman came out to the car and explained to me the procedure then asked a few questions. I couldn’t tell you how many, but I will never forget that one was “Are you pregnant?” I couldn’t respond. I felt I didn’t know the answer – I mean the technical answer was yes, but did it matter? I looked at Shawn and back at the woman and she knew – I watched it register on her face and she felt awful, and suddenly I felt even worse. When I think of this moment, tears sting my eyes; I imagine I will remember it like this for the rest of my life.

Shawn was permitted to come to the hospital with me, but only in the waiting room. This meant I spent hours conscious in a hospital room alone waiting for the doctor to arrive. Alone with the sad reality that the baby inside of me was no longer alive; alone with the knowing they were about to surgically remove a baby, my baby, from me – a baby I would never hold. I couldn’t get lost in this reality so I distractedly worried if Shawn was able to coordinate someone to pick up my click-list order while obsessively counting the ceiling tiles.

When my doctor finally arrived, I was proud of myself for remembering to ask for RhoGAM. I could tell he was anxious around me and perhaps felt guilty that he sent me home to live in misery the last five days – this was my first time seeing him since I walked out of that room on Thanksgiving-Eve. Our interaction went like this:

  • He explained the procedure and then asked if I wanted to have any testing done on the “remains.”
  • He went on to say that this testing is quite often very expensive.
  • I responded that this was something I would want to discuss with my husband.
  • He asked if I could call him.
  • I said he (Shawn) had my phone in the waiting room.
  • He offered to have someone go get my phone then changed his tune to say he wouldn’t recommend the testing being that this is my first loss and I had had “such great success in the past.”

Like I said: Not the doctor for me.

(I feel like I need to go on a tangent here to say that I truly regret not looking for a new doctor. My three girls were all born in Chicago and I loved my doctor there. When we returned to Michigan I began seeing a doctor I saw a few times during college because I didn’t want to take the time to look for a new OBGYN in the middle of a global pandemic. This was a mistake. I am in no way delusional in thinking this guy caused my loss, but I can confidently say he managed to make some of the worst experiences in my life more awful. I share this here to reinforce that your relationship with your doctor is important – don’t second guess switching if you’re doubting it.)

My only memory after anesthesia and before the recovery room is the song playing in the operating room: “Escape”. Waking up in recovery alone sucked. I was cold and tired and just really fucking sad. I wanted to see my husband, to hold my kids, to be anywhere but in that hospital. But they failed to administer my RhoGAM and on a day I just wanted over, everything continued to translate to more time alone in a hospital bed.

I got home late, but the big girls were kept up so I could put them in bed. I tucked them in and then came downstairs to snuggle my own mom. Here I was at 34, still wanting, needing, to cry to my mom. So I did. I didn’t talk; I just sat there with her in a silence that was so different than that of the hospital room.

I wasn’t ready to talk about the loss. I hadn’t told many people that I was expecting. Thankfully Shawn took on the task of sharing the news with our families – most who didn’t even know I was pregnant – but I still felt I needed to tell my friends who knew about the pregnancy before I put them in a position to ask me about how it was going, only to find out in an awkward response it was over. I told them in a text. For the first week that was the only form of communication I could handle. No one could hear my tears through a text and I didn’t want to have my sadness take over … I didn’t want anyone to see me through a pity lens – or even worse, for them to think I was being dramatic.

  • It took me a full week to say that I had lost the baby out loud. Which I unfortunately did while emotionally vomiting on my boss (who didn’t know I was pregnant).
  • It was also a full week before I could bring myself to use goo gone to remove the sticky residue left from the monitors and IV tape.
  • Two weeks to be able to have a conversation (and only thorough text) with my sister-in-law.
  • Two weeks to find the motivation to run again.
  • A month to start writing this post, only to realize I wasn’t there yet.
  • Six weeks to pack up the shirts I ordered for an announcement.
  • And who knows how long to stop resting my hand on my stomach …

I can’t speak for what life is like for others following a miscarraige, but for me it’s a crap shoot. Some days I’m truly okay; some I think I am okay only to have a moment I feel I can’t dig my way out of. Some days it feels so overwhelming, and some days are just good. On those good days, I don’t feel sadness until I realize I didn’t feel it, and then I feel the guilt – the guilt that life is still moving forward even though this child I hoped for, wanted, expected will never experience any of it.

Since the loss, I have found that I benchmark everything to this pregnancy. I am constantly measuring time against it. When I hear someone else is expecting, my first reaction is excitement for them, but then I immediately find I am calculating what would have been the age gap between our children – wondering if I will imagine my unborn baby every time I see theirs. This pregnancy is my new frame of reference. It is no longer, before I had kids, or when I had two, or when I had three; from here on out I imagine it will be before I understood this loss and after. While I know as time goes on, my thoughts will bring me here less and less, I know there will always be moments that bring me back to this pregnancy and what should have been.

When I sit with “what should have been” the feelings are overwhelming. The disappointment, sadness, anger, grief …

Grief – the fucking grief – it just creeps in, and if you don’t address it, I have found it has the power to strip life of the good moments all together. I have always been able to dismiss my emotions because I know that whatever I am feeling there are others who are feeling it more intensely. Through this experience, I have come to know this is not how to approach grief; this is not how you heal. My loss doesn’t take away from someone else’s, nor theirs from mine. Loss is loss; grief is grief. We should all be given the grace to deal with our emotions in a way that works for us.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t come with a weight – processing our emotions. It feels selfish to admit that I am angry about this loss, but I am so angry. I am angry because I was sick, so sick this pregnancy, and I missed out on so much. Shawn had to carry our family for months because I was vomiting around the clock. I could barely muster up energy to spend time with my brother when I hadn’t seen him in years. I sacrificed time with my kids to lay in bed – and I knew all of this in the moments I was missing, but I told myself it was worth the tradeoff, I was growing a human; we were completing our family. Only now there is no baby. I missed out on time – on moments – and for nothing.

Admitting that feels too honest, but here’s the thing, feelings can coexist. My anger hasn’t translated to me being an angry person. It has not come at the expense of my happiness over other things just as my sadness over my own loss has not impacted my ability to be happy for friends who are expecting.

All my realizations of suppressing my emotions illuminated the stigma of miscarriage for me. You know what makes losing a baby even more difficult? Pretending you didn’t. Actively avoiding talking about such a loss is fucking exhausting. We are conditioned to believe that it is our fault when this happens or that we shouldn’t talk about it out of fear we will scare others, make them uncomfortable, make them sad. But what we’re doing when we don’t talk about it is isolating women when they’re their most vulnerable.

I have lived my life in fear of pregnancy – and I imagine this is true for many women. When you start having sex, you’re terrified to get pregnant; when you start trying, you’r terrified it will never happen; and when it does happen, you’re terrified something will go wrong. But then it didn’t. I never faced an unplanned pregnancy, and babies one, two, and three all arrived healthy. By pregnancy four, I didn’t worry – I even declined the genetic testing for the first time – and this haunts me; all of the unknowns haunt me.

But even knowing why wouldn’t change one thing: I will never meet my baby. It is a hard reality that I must face, and I must face it now. I don’t have the luxury of time to process all of these emotions. I am staring down 35. We will quickly need to decide if we want to try again. If we’re ready to face the heartbreak should it happen again. Which makes me ask myself: How can I plan to have another baby, or even admit that I want one, without it seeming like I am just replacing the life of a baby I still feel like I am waiting to meet?

The truth is, I don’t know. But in the meantime, I will keep writing and keep reading the stories of others, because what I do know, is at a time when I didn’t have the strength to share this, I found validation in my feelings through reading the words of strangers. It was through their strength I realized I was not alone. And in an attempt to bring this mess of thoughts full circle, I will end with this, I wrote for this for me, for my baby I will never see grow, but also in hopes some of these words will find their way to those who are in the throws of these emotions and that they help them feel less alone.

Kedzie Ryan by the year

When I try to recall life before your arrival it isn’t easy. It’s hard to believe we are just shy of three years before you entered this world – it seems like a lifetime ago that I was pregnant with you. Every year I tell myself to write down your story before I lose any of the details, and every year comes and goes without me writing stories for you or your sisters.

Now you may be our middle child, but when it comes to the calendar year, you’re first – so this here is my first go at sharing your birth story. My intent is to update this post as the years go on. Perhaps we’ll make a tradition of reading it on your birthday.

To go back a beat before your arrival, I will tell you that I vividly remember taking the test that told me I was going to be a Mama again. We had essentially been trying since we had Palmer – we wanted kids close in age. Anyway, I woke up early because I didn’t want to disappoint your dad if it was negative. I took the test and as soon as I saw it was positive I grabbed the letter board from the mantle to make a quick sign.

Not sure why I didn’t include your big sis in this photo … but this is how I told Dad. He got up to go to the bathroom and when he came back, Palmer was holding this.

He didn’t believe me at first, but was super excited when he realized I wasn’t joking. (Note: I have never and would never joke about a pregnancy.)

This was all in May. It was actually Mother’s Day morning when I found out I was pregnant with you – best Mother’s Day gift to date! In the months that followed, we had a lot of fun coming up with ways to share our excitement about your upcoming arrival.

We had a family trip planned in June to visit Uncle Cale so we handed out free drink tickets on the plane – from you! (Great Grandma was so excited for a drink she nearly missed the announcement.)

We told most of my friends with “alcoholic” cotton candy.

The broader announcement was made at Palmer’s first fiesta and much later on Instagram.

When I originally did the math and realized I would be having a January baby, my goal was to go as long as I could before having you so I could get your birthday as far away from Christmas as possible. Your big sis arrived right on her due date, so I was optimistic you would as well. That said, I also wanted to guarantee I wouldn’t be going beyond my due date. My pregnancy with you was quite exhausting. Something with the way you were positioned had it so I could barely walk – I had to go to physical therapy three times a week, which was such an adjustment from running throughout my previous pregnancy.

This was the last bump pic I took before your arrival.

This led to a conversation with Dr. Kelsey in which he said he would induce me on my due date – hallelujah! I started planning for you to arrive on January 22 – getting my induction scheduled was not easy, but then you had plans of your own …

On the morning of January 17, I woke up and told your Dad, “I think we’re having a baby today.” The plan was for Ammy and Papou to come to town to watch Palmer while we were at the hospital. I called Ammy to let her know I thought I was in labor. This is what I remember from that day:

  • I worked all day (from home) knowing I was in labor and did my best to wrap things up.
  • I snuck in a mani-pedi; I remember Papou calling me while I was at the salon and asking if they could just come tomorrow. (Something about his dogs – shocking, I know!) I told him that was fine, but that they may miss your arrival.
  • Dad went to work at the office because he had a dentist appointment after work.
  • There were several points during that evening that Dad asked if we needed to have Emily come watch Palmer so we could head to the hospital.
  • I sent Dad out to get me poutine from the Chicago Dinner with jalapeños and a chocolate chip cookie dough shake – I joked that the jalapeños would surely send me into labor if I wasn’t already.
  • Ammy and Papou arrived around 10:30 p.m. We had already put Palmer to bed and Papou buzzed waking her up. After they got there, I went back and forth on whether or not I needed to go to the hospital. I chatted with them and thought I may have some time …

Then I went to the bathroom and knew time was up. I called for Dad and he immediately took our bags down to the car. We headed to the hospital and I insisted we park and that I could walk with him into triage.

Things moved quickly from here. I was now certain I was in labor and I was certain you were coming any minute. I will never forget how seriously the women in triage took me this time versus when I arrived with Palmer.

My memories once we were at the hospital are as follows:

  • I could barely sign the paperwork to be admitted; I was just stabbing at the documents and literally putting holes in them with the pen.
  • They took me back quickly and checked me; I believe I heard them say I was at an eight and I was taken straight to labor and delivery.
  • At this point I started to cry. I knew I wasn’t getting an epidural. They assured me they could try so they cleared the room and started attempting to put the needle in. After what seemed like minutes, but was really probably seconds, I let them know there was no time. Thankfully someone went and got your Dad. Without an epidural, I was about to meet you – all EIGHT pounds three ounces of you.

Delivering a baby without an epidural is NO JOKE. There was a lot of yelling. I literally didn’t think it was possible that I was going to survive pushing you out – I felt I was splitting in two. The nurses kept telling me to push and I kept telling them no – bearing down and doing the opposite. After a lot of screaming and a few very PAINFUL pushes you were here!

In all honestly, not having an epidural was the best and worst thing. It was so painful, but it also meant I didn’t have to wait for the epidural to wear off. I couldn’t get over how fast you came. It was 11:39 when they took me to labor and delivery and you arrived just 26 minutes later.

That’s one of those things I recall when I think about that day – I always remember that you were born on a Wednesday, except you weren’t. You were born at 12:05 a.m., so it was Thursday, a detail I have to remind myself of. I am fairly confident I stayed up all night with you – snuggling and feeding you every two hours.

The next day – correction – that day, (see that’s what happens when you’re born at 12:05 a.m.) Ammy and Papou brought Palmer to meet you at the hospital.

And then we went home to start our life as a family of FOUR!

top tips for travel with tiny ones

First off, don’t! Totally kidding – we’ve always traveled with our kids and overall every experience has been positive.

Truly, the first thing I’ve learned isn’t groundbreaking and you’ve probably heard it before – different things work at different ages. (I’m sure I’ll have to continually update this as my kids get older, but I’ll share what I’ve found that works with the ages I’ve experienced thus far.)

Take it from someone who hates flying and has dealt with motion sickness her entire life, flying with young kids really is quite easy – and shockingly I say this having just completed my first flight with kids sans my husband!

In the interest of full disclosure, I will admit upfront that I am an “all rules are out the window” when on the plane kinda mama. (Give them that third candy bar as long as they sit silently in their seat.)

True or false: Kids require so much stuff?

False! As parents we tend to overthink and quite often this leads to overpacking … we attempt to anticipate every potential need our child might have on the airplane and at our destination – this is great, until you realize you’ve paid a fee for an excessively heavy bag and lugged a ton of sh*t to and from your destination that you never used.

So what is it that you really need? Great question – while I can’t answer it for you, I can hopefully help you determine what to pack. Think about the following:

  • Will you be traveling by car at any point? If the answer is no – you are lucky because you can avoid the car seat hassle altogether! If public transit is an option for you, I highly recommend utilizing it. While it can take a little bit longer, you’ll be forced to pack less. If you will need to travel with car seats, refer to my hacks below:
    • If your child is still in an infant car seat, bring it to the gate. Having the seat in the airport can be critical if you’re traveling without another adult – especially if your child is not yet able to sit up on their own. If your flight isn’t full, most airlines will allow you to bring it on to use in a seat (at no charge) and if not, you can easily gate check it.
    • If you have a larger car seat, and you’re paying for a seat for your child (for most airlines this means your kid is over the age of 2), invest in a travel belt to attach the car seat to your carry-on bag. You may wonder why I don’t recommend just checking the larger car seats and my reasons are as follows:
      • it makes it easier to contain your child
      • it provides them with a sense of familiarity/comfort
      • children are safer in their car seat than they are sitting in an airplane seat designed for an adult
    • Investing in the kids car seat travel belt also allows you to pull your child and can allow you to skip gate checking your stroller. I linked ours above (legit like $10), and it is one of my favorite hacks to date.
  • Will your destination necessitate a stroller or can you get away with having them walk and/or wearing your baby? When making this decision be sure to consider the following:
    • What is the temperature where you’re traveling? Too hot or too cold and wearing your baby anytime you want to go out can be uncomfortable for both you and them. 
    • What are your plans at your destination? Perhaps you’re visiting friends/family – do they have anything you can borrow? If you plan to do a lot of walking – hello amusement parks – you’ll definitely want to bring a stroller.
    • Last summer we went to Virginia with the girls to visit Busch Gardens and Water Country U.S.A. Prior to the trip, I made the decision to buy a new (more travel friendly) stroller. In the city, our every day stroller is the UPPAbaby Vista; for travel I prefer to use the UPPAbaby G-LINK stroller. Our girls love sitting side-by-side in this one, and it is compact enough (for a double) to easily be put into and removed from a trunk. (Bonus: It looks like they’ve released a newer model since I purchased, and it’s cheaper!) If you do own, or decide to purchase any of the UPPAbaby items, be sure to purchase their travel bags as well. Purchasing the travel bags ensures your products are protected by UPPAbaby.
  • Where are you staying? Whenever possible I recommend staying in a rental house or condo over a hotel room. Here’s why:
    • Having a washer and dryer on vacation is amazing! Some of you may disagree and say the last thing you want to do while you’re supposed to be relaxing is laundry, but having a W/D means you can pack less and not return home with a suitcase full of dirty clothes. Seriously, how nice is it to not come home to a full day of laundry?
    • Having segregated spaces is so much better than being in a hotel room when traveling with kids. During the trip to Virginia I mentioned above I made the mistake of renting a hotel room. While the resort was nice and the walkability great, we were stuck in the hotel room in silence any time we needed the girls to nap. Having just one hotel room also meant their bedtime was our bedtime.
    • Having the option to eat in even one meal a day can be a real budget saver. Eating breakfast, lunch and dinner out can add up quickly!
    • As if those reasons aren’t enough to have you hopping on AirBnB – renting a house/condo is often cheaper than a hotel.
    • Check with the host about what you can send to the house ahead of time – thank you, Amazon! Whenever possible, I always ship consumables to our destination. While you can typically avoid packing these items, shipping them to your destination saves you time on running out to a store for diapers or pouches.
      • You’ll also want to check with your host on any additional accommodations they offer. (i.e., pack’n’plays, highchairs)
  • “I have to pack toys!” No, no you don’t! Think about it, how often have you given your child a gift to only have them more interested in the box or bag it came in? Anything can be a “toy” – most kids find excitement in all the things that come along with air travel. Hello opening and closing the tray table 2,347 times throughout the three hour flight. That’s not to say I don’t pack any sources of entertainment, I just limit them to items that can fit in the diaper bag:
    • iPad/tablet – Just be sure it is charged and you have downloaded games or movies that your child can play when not on WiFi. And don’t forget the headphones.
    • Grab and go coloring/sticker books. You can pick these up at Target or Michael’s for $1. Just opening the packaging alone keeps the kids occupied.
    • Mess free markers.
    • Play doh, silly puddy, or dare I say it slime.
  • If you’re really feeling like rocking the mom game, you can wrap these items, then ration them out during the flight/trip.

But let’s just call a spade a spade and admit what we all already know … when it comes to any kind of transit, SNACKING = SURVIVAL.

For infants be prepared to nurse or give a bottle during takeoff and landing. Even if your baby isn’t a fan of pacifiers, I recommend bringing one to help with ear popping. Our oldest never took a pacifier, but would use one on the flight as a distraction when she was complaining of aching ears.

For those older kiddos

  • Don’t forget their favorite water bottle – scratch that, don’t forget a water bottle that doesn’t leak!
  • Try filling a bead organization box with a variety of snacks. Your kids will be amused with the smorgasbord and having to decide the order in which they’ll consume things will also be an activity for them.
  • Suckers. If there was ever a time to let your child have a sucker (or three, because as I said earlier, there are no rules on an airplane,) it is now. Not only can these help with those popping ears, they can also keep your kids quiet!
  • Our girls also love flying because they know they’ll be able to order an orange juice from the flight attendant. We don’t typically allow juice, so they see this an additional treat.

Something to consider … rentals

Full transparency, I am including this idea solely because I want you all to know it’s out there (if you didn’t already). I have zero experience with renting strollers, car seats, or even pack’n’plays when on vacation. That said, in what I have seen in terms of pricing, it doesn’t seem to be all that cost effective. On my most recent trip to Florida, I purchased a pack’n’play at our destination for $50. From what my limited research told me, it would have been more expensive to rent one for the four nights I was there.

So what am I forgetting mamas? Drop me a note on how you survive travel with kids. I am always looking for new hacks!

My Favorite PinkBlush Maternity Pieces

Feeling good while you’re pregnant can definitely be a struggle, but looking good doesn’t have to be! I know women have varying opinions on being pregnant – some adore every day while others immediately begin the countdown until their body is theirs again. Per usual, I fall somewhere in the middle. Don’t get me wrong, there are days I am completely over it, but for the most part I find a balance between appreciating the beautiful parts and knowing the less desirable aspects will pass as quickly as they came.

Throughout all my pregnancies, my favorite way to distract myself from the not so glamourous parts of pregnancy (ya know – morning sickness, stretch marks, insomnia), is to build a maternity wardrobe that has me excited about getting dressed each day! Cue PinkBlush Maternity. They were the first site I stumbled upon when I found out I was pregnant with Palmer and I’ve added new Pink Blush pieces to my collection with each subsequent pregnancy. One pregnancy style I hadn’t tried until now was the romper. My hesitation was that it wouldn’t fit correctly, but last week PinkBlush gifted me this piece and I’m obsessed!

  • umm – HELLO pockets!
  • 29 weeks and counting

Have you worn a maternity romper? Drop me how you’d style this one for fall in the comments below.

As far as maternity clothes go, I have found that PinkBlush has the widest selection of quality items that continue to wear well after repeated washes. Additionally, I love that a lot of their pieces can be worn postpartum and they even have nursing-friendly options. Keep scrolling for additional PinkBlush pieces I wear on repeat!

Legitimately one of my favorite maternity pieces ever is this grey bell-sleeve top.

Recently bought this PinkBlush red and white checkered kimono – perfect for all things fall!
  • I wore this white lace PinkBlush dress for my maternity photos in 2016 // photo credit: Meg Darket Photography
  • photo credit: Meg Darket Photography

Terrible photo quality, but this was the first PinkBlush maternity dress I purchased (and my first bump shot)! This piece is still in my maternity rotation; it’s perfect for all stages of pregnancy and pairs well with a blazer (in any color) for the office.

  • Halloween 2017 – Pregnant with Kedz
  • September 2019 – same dress, pregnant with baby girl no. 3
These leggings from PinkBlush are fleece lined and a necessity for any mamas having a winter baby.
  • This off-the-shoulder dress is so versatile
  • These pics are from the same day, but I often throw this dress on with tennis shoes and rock a top knot for a super casual look.

Stay tuned – I will be sure to update this post as I come across more photos in PinkBlush pieces. I am standing up in a wedding in November and purchased my bridesmaid dress from PinkBlush – I can’t wait to show you all what the finished look on that day turns out to be!

back in the swim of things

eagerly awaiting their turn to get in the pool!

I don’t remember learning how to swim, but then again, I don’t remember not knowing how to swim either. I’ve always been comfortable around water, I grew up with a pool and then moved into a house on a lake, but my swimming skills are far from professional! I knew long before I became a parent that I wanted my kids to not simply be comfortable in the water, but to be confident!

Living in Chicago, the Lake Michigan temperatures are not often conducive to swimming, and residential pools are hard to come by. This is where Goldfish Swim School came into play; when Palmer was just over four months we decided to enroll her in the Mini 1 lessons, and much to our relief, she LOVED it! We attended lessons for several months, and sadly made the decision to take a break from our Friday evening swim dates shortly after I found out we were having another baby (Kedzie).

  • LOOK at that squish – this is Palmer at one of her first Goldfish lessons (February 2017)
  • Luke and Palmer
  • SO happy!

Once Kedzie arrived and we settled into a new routine, we decided we should get Palmer back in the pool! Friends of ours suggested we take a class through the park district, and we tried, but the insanely large class size made for a student to teacher ratio I wasn’t comfortable with. The class size, coupled with the fact that the only time offered was Saturday mornings, led to us only attending four sessions in the three months we were enrolled.

We knew we didn’t want to keep Palmer away from the water for long, and we knew we wanted to get her back to swimming at Goldfish, but we decided to wait until Kedzie was old enough to attend lessons as well. Then life got in the way and we didn’t get the girls enrolled until Kedzie was just over one. (I already imagine the day Kedz will guilt me with, “You started Palmer in lessons waaayyyy before me.”) In February we began taking the girls to Goldfish Swim School in Roscoe Village. I was given the option to enroll Palmer in the Mini 2 class (parent accompanies the child) which Kedzie would be in, or bump her up to the Mini 3 (child swims with their coach – no parent in the pool).

fish out of water

I decided Palmer had enough practice with the Mini 2 activities, and that the Mini 3 would be better for her growth. What I didn’t anticipate was it being so difficult to get her into the pool. To be honest, I am not sure she even touched the water during the first lesson. I felt awful. Here we were doing something that she had historically loved and she was in hysterics begging me not to leave her and insisting she didn’t want to swim. I didn’t know what to do – on the one hand I knew if she got in the pool she would love it, but on the other, this was my baby crying and reaching out for me. Ultimately I sat on the side of the pool and consistently urged Palmer to sit and observe if she wasn’t going to participate.

Now I would be completely remiss if I didn’t highlight right here and now that every member of the staff was so willing to help. No one made me feel judged, and in fact everyone assured me this was completely normal. When I spoke to the pool supervisor, Andrew, I asked if I should just walk away or what the best way was to handle the situation. He offered the insight that this was completely normal for week one, and perhaps the following week it would be best if I dropped Palmer off and then got out of her line of sight.

The following week, I took Andrew’s advice (and sweetened the deal with an ice cream bribe, because #momlife,) and Palmer did so much better! She has continued to progress week-over-week, she asks me every day if she is going to see Pedro (her coach). What’s more? Just this last week when I picked her up, Pedro shared that she executed on every task he gave her during the class!

testing the waters

If you would have asked me prior to our return to the pool, I would have said I was more anxious about how Kedzie’s experience would go than Palmer’s. Having never taken formal lessons, and never having been in an indoor pool, I had no idea what Kedz’s reaction would be to the classroom environment. However, her Mini 2 experience has been completely positive! While she is not as advanced as some of the other fish and is unable to complete all of the tasks, we’re modifying them to what she is capable of, and she is just happy to be in the water! In the 8 weeks Kedz has been taking lessons, we’ve already noticed:

  • Her kicks are stronger
  • She’s excellent at cleaning up (a skill we’re hoping will transfer outside of the pool)
  • She has less angst about floating on her back

all-in-all it’s a splashing good time

We’re so happy to be back in the pool, and love that Goldfish is our swim home! The girls look forward to their lessons every week, and Palmer is borderline obsessed with her Goldfish ribbon collection – she insists upon showing it off to anyone who visits!

We’re so excited to continue to watch our girls progress in the pool, and can’t wait to see them in the lake this summer!

Thank you Goldfish Swim School for sponsoring this post.

Fit4Mom – An Honest Review From A Second Time Mama

This past October, I was contacted about becoming a social media ambassador for Fit4Mom Chicago. Now as the title reads, this is an “honest review,” so I am inclined to tell you that I had never heard of Fit4Mom. However, the words “Stroller Strides” basically jumped off the page as I imagined myself pushing my littles alongside all those Mamas I would pass in front of the Diversey Driving Range.

You see, I have been living in Chicago for over five years now and in this time I have made three friends; two have since moved out of state. I have spent the majority of the last three years pregnant, nursing, and caring for two little girls (while maintaining a full-time job outside of the home), and it saddens me to say that I have failed miserably at making any “mom friends.” So as one may imagine, I was quick to reply to Caitlin (my Fit4Mom contact) to let her know I was definitely interested. I mean this was a no brainer, not only would I be able to work on my fitness, and meet new moms – I could bring my kids! Why is that a benefit you ask? Well it would mean that I would’t have to pay a sitter, or worse, negotiate with my husband to have this “me” time.

Unfortunately, the class times for Stroller Strides did not align with my daily work schedule. But, Caitlin was able to save the day with an offer to join the upcoming “Body Back Mini Session.” I wasn’t one hundred precent certain on what this would entail, but I was one hundred percent committed to finding out!

For those of you following along on Instagram, you know that I anxiously posted from the parking lot of the Drucker Center prior to attending my first class. Like I mentioned, I was itching to get out and socialize with other moms, but had failed miserably in my previous attempts. Couple this with the nerves I was feeling about the class in general and I was one key turn short of heading back home and hopping on my treadmill. My thoughts went something like this:

  • Would I be able to keep up?
  • Would I pee myself?
  • Would people be nice?
  • Let’s be honest, I am going to pee myself …
  • Will this even be a workout?
  • Will these black pants hide the pee?

You get the idea! (And as I have already stated, and reiterated, this is an honest review so I must tell you that “yes” would be an accurate response to all of the above questions.)

My first Saturday Morning Sweat Session with Fit4Mom

I will have to admit, walking into the Drucker Center for the first time had me a little confused. It felt more like I was entering a middle school gymnasium for my little sister’s basketball game than preparing for a workout. And I won’t lie, the bathrooms are just shy of terrible. But, as you can see above, the spaces in which the Body Back classes took place had a fabulous dance studio charm. The exposed brick, mirrored walls, and overall industrial feel ironically humanized the place. The parking situation is also something to take note of – easy in and out is not frequently found in the city!

While Fit4Mom has multiple locations throughout Chicago (and the U.S.), each class I attended took place at the Drucker Center and was led by either Carrie or Ivette – the positive energy these ladies brought to class week over week was unparalleled to anything I have ever experienced. The classes were a good size (between 6-12 mamas), and the HIIT style workouts made the hour pass by quickly. Every session essentially kicked off with an icebreaker in the form of a question of the day which initiated a dialogue amongst the moms that carried throughout the class. Finally, a class where I felt as thought I was amongst peers!

The instructors were dialed in on the needs of each attendee; continuously offering modifications and making notes of any ailments people were experiencing to help ensure everyone was getting the workout they needed! And let me just say, I was feeling these workouts for days after each class! Classes varied from circuits to fun holiday themes (e.g., “Planksgiving”, Christmas tree decorating).

I think we can say these aren’t the presents my daughters would have in mind!

Aside from creating a fun environment, the instructors were truly determined to help each of us in anyway they could. When Carrie noticed that I was consistently running out of the classroom to pee anytime we did jumping jacks, she quietly approached me and asked if it would be okay to share some pelvic floor specialist recommendations with me – she sent me a list that very night!

What I am trying to get at was not only was this a class for moms, it was a class led by moms. This wasn’t Orange Theory or Studio Three – this was a place where a group of moms could come together to support one another in their goal to better themselves. There was no judgement on where you were at in your journey, just appreciation that we all had a common goal of doing something to not only improve our physical health, but also our mental health.

It is often all too easy to forget that you were someone before you were someone’s mom; and all too often, if we can even remember that person, we don’t think she deserves any attention. That couldn’t be further from the truth! Fit4Mom was just what I needed to get out of my own head, and my own house, to work on me a couple hours a week.

Thank you FIT4MOM for sponsoring this post.