Why? Why? Why?

I wrote the other day about how heinous it would be to have baby barf all over my face, just using pure speculation. Well, I now know that, yes, it is heinous. Totally gross.

Early this morning, as Nyla and I were watching the Royal Wedding (Kate was gorgeous!), I was feeding Nyla. Then I sat her up to burp her and indulged myself in some sweet kisses. Apparently Nyla did not like me kissing her because she barfed on me. On my face.

There is nothing more disgusting than having baby milk barf on your face. Did I clean it off immediately? No, I stood there stunned. My child just barfed on my face. It is 3:30 in the morning. Hmm.

Maybe she wasn't enjoying the Royal Wedding? Maybe she wanted to get me back for dousing her in breastmilk? Who knows? What I do know is that regurgitated breastmilk is foul.

While I stood there, baby barf on my face, Nyla just went back to sleep like nothing had happened. "Oh mom, I feel better...zzzzzzzz." Thank you, Nyla. You've made my life complete.

A Little Friendly Payback

Now before we launch into this, I did not do this on purpose. This is another one of those things that no one tells you about.

Nyla was hungry (who's surprised?) so I put her on the boob for some food. Lately I've been feeling pretty good because the breastfeeding isn't as painful as it used to be. Yes, she's eating constantly, but I think I'm getting used to it.

So Nyla is eating away and I'm watching America's Next Top Model. I looked down at her to just make sure she was doing okay. At this moment, she pulled her mouth away to take a snack break. Apparently, though, my milk was not ready to be done. I literally showered my daughter with breastmilk. Showered her. It was all over her face and neck. Think of how a human looks when you spray them with a hose in the face; now take that reaction and put it on a baby. Hilarious! She flailed her arms around and everything. I didn't know what to do! The milk wouldn't stop!

Between her squirming and my laughing, it was really difficult to get this situation under control. Finally I just had to grab one of her blankets to make it stop.

Hello, experienced mothers. How about a heads up about this stream of breastmilk? I don't know why I thought that the milk would only come out when Nyla is eating. Now I know...I must keep those nursing pads handy at all times.

Yeah, I felt bad...but then I thought that's for taking poops on your father and me! :)

But not to worry, I cleaned her up with some baby wipes and a bath is in order for tonight. Don't want our baby smelling like dried breastmilk. Gross.

That's Where I Draw the Line

Last night, our little one finally pooped. But enough about poop, let's talk about another bodily function.

After we changed her diaper, I sat down to feed her and she was a happy girl. She's always happy when she's eating! So after a few minutes, I sat her up to burp her on my shoulder. She had her head turned toward my face and so I was able to give her some sweet kisses while patting her back. She was so cute and warm, making her little cooing noises.

Kiss, kiss, kiss, then I turned my head to face forward to watch The Voice.

Good thing I did! At that moment, she totally spit up! I was a split-second away from having baby spit/barf on my lips. Bleh! That is where I draw the line! Can you imagine having baby barf in your mouth? Heinous! 

My ever-supportive husband just laughed. "Elizabeth, I would have peed my pants if she did that!" I have to admit, I would have laughed too. My total fear, though, is that I would reciprocate the barf back onto Nyla. Now wouldn't that be a sight?

16 Minutes Later...

Success! The poop has arrived! Yayyayayaya...

What have I turned into? I'm jumping up and down because my daughter pooped. Usually I'd be happy because I made it to happy hour on-time or Starbucks had a croissant. Now, my joy is revolved around my sweet girl's poops!

No doctor for us! Hooray! Now, let's see if she'll sleep....

The Return of the Q-tip

Well, homegirl hasn't gone poop in two days now. We had to give her the "massage" tonight, but this time there was no immediate response. So we'll see...

If she hasn't gone by tomorrow afternoon, it's to the doctor we go! I'm thinking that all her fussiness over the last two days is a direct reaction to her inability to go #2.

Come on, Nyla! Poop!

Trying to Satisfy Her Hunger

Holy moly, our girl likes to eat. We've all read about how my chest is about to fall off, plus how she's eating formula as well. Now to keep up with her hunger, we are adding seriously watered down rice cereal.

Last week, I called the nurse at her doctor's office and asked her how we could get our girl feeling full after she eats. The nurse suggested giving her 2 ounces of water in between feedings. We did that, but really it didn't seem to help. Apparently homegirl wants some substance!

Lots of our friends and family have brought up this rice cereal thing. My mom had to give my brother rice cereal this early in his life because he was eating all the time. So tonight we're adding just a little rice cereal to her bottles in hopes that she will be full enough to sleep for a while tonight. She has been sleeping so awful the last two nights, which means mommy has been sleeping awful. Bleh.

Now with adding rice cereal comes more weight gain. I'm thinking of taking our girl into the nurse's office to get her weighed this week. I'm totally curious! Last time she was weighed, it was when Nyla was 3 weeks old and she was 9lbs2oz, which is almost 2 pounds up from her birth weight!

Here's what I fear with adding the rice cereal: constipation again. I'm relatively certain that I do not want to revisit the constipation because that means we (Paul) would have to do the "massaging" technique again. And that was so much fun the first time...

For Nyla's first Easter, we went to spend the day with my family in Tualatin. What a wonderful time it was to all be together. It's amazing to see how much joy this little girl brings to everyone in the family! I always find that after spending time with our families, I miss Nyla at the end of the day because I haven't held her all day. She's always in someone else's arms...unless she poops of course. People are quick to pass the baby back when poop is involved! :)

Three generations of Togiai girls

The Importance of Nursing Pads

Yesterday, I ran out of nursing pads. I thought to myself, "oh well, I'll be fine." No, Elizabeth, you will not be fine. You will be a milky disaster actually.

We were driving back from Newport and we had to stop at the store to pick up a few things for dinner. When we got out of the car, I said to Paul, "honey, I'm sweating so much!" My whole front of my shirt was soaking wet, but only underneath my chest. It took me a quick minute to realize that I wasn't sweating. Actually I had leaked...a lot. It was like someone had sprayed me with a milk hose. I mean, it was wet, meaning there was enough milk that it soaked through a bra, tank top (with a bra liner), and a sweater. Great. And now we were in public too.

You can guess how much of a moron I looked like trying to hold my handbag at chest-height, walking through the grocery store. I was mortified! I made a bee-line for the baby section to get more nursing pads. I've never felt so ridiculous in my life, purse in front of my boobs in one hand, a big box of nursing pads in the other. It wouldn't have taken anyone long to guess what I was trying to hide.

Now that Nyla has been on a feeding frenzy for the last three days, the milk is flowing nonstop. It doesn't take long for my chest to become "engorged." That makes it sound like I have huge hot air balloons or something. Really, it just becomes really big and hard. Hahaha that sounds funny. Last night I even had to get out of bed to pump because my chest was in so much pain. Gotta get that milk out!

Lesson of the day yesterday: do not EVER run out of nursing pads. Can you imagine if that would have happened in front of my students?! I'll make sure to double-up when I head back to work.

Spoke Too Soon...

I was such a braggart yesterday, writing about how Nyla is sleeping so much at night. Lesson learned by me: do not speak so early about these wonderful occasions. Last night, Nyla did not sleep a lot. She woke up around 1 and stayed awake until 4 a.m. Three hours of watching crap infomercials and reruns of Swamp People. She was fussy for a little bit, but mostly just wide awake. Bright eyes, looking all around the room.

Here's my dilemma: how the hell do you keep an infant awake during the day so that it ensures she sleeps at night? It seems like all she wants to do is eat during the day, then go to sleep. I've put her in her swing, she smacks her lips. I put her in her vibrating chair, she smacks her lips. I play with her on her playmat, she smacks her lips. Homegirl just eats and eats and eats. Then she sleeps...during the day. At night when I feed her, she's like "thanks mom! Let's watch infomercials on the Total Pillow now."

Now I'm tired, but have half a mind to order Zumba, the Ninja, and that knife set.

After Nyla finally went to bed at 4 a.m., did she sleep for a lengthy time? No. She woke up at 6 a.m. and has been awake since. Like right now, she's crying and smacking her lips while in her swing. Call me Mother of the Year for writing my blog instead of attending to her. But mama needs a break. Just a few minutes, and maybe it'll tire her out with all that crying. Maybe, just maybe, she'll fall asleep! Is that too much to hope for? Keeping my fingers crossed...

Good morning Nyla.

It's Amazing What Sleep Can Do

I'm going to knock on wood about this, but for the last few nights, our girl has been sleeping more than 2 hours at a time! Hooray! Last night, she slept for FIVE HOURS STRAIGHT. It's indescribable how wonderful that feels as a mother, which is so funny, seeing that just over a month ago, five hours wouldn't have been near enough! But nowadays, five hours is like sleeping for three days! Love it!

Aside from the awesome sleeping at night, yesterday was uneventful as far as Nyla goes. Well, it was until bathtime! Nyla now loves to pee on her father when he is changing her diaper. Last night, Paul was in charge of getting her undressed while I filled her tub. Even though he had just changed her diaper, she still unleashed the pee on him. This is the second time in 24 hours that she's done this to him. Inside, I laughed...a lot.

Lastly, we have found the best diaper for keeping Nyla's poops in! (Here I go, talking about poop...again) Pampers are the best, hands down. Not the Snugglers Pampers, just the regular ol' Pampers with Sesame Street characters on the front. Nyla has had some serious blowouts in the last two days, and these actually stayed IN the diaper instead of all over her clothes! Yay! You know what the diapers don't keep in though? The smell! Holy cannoli, her poops have started to smell and it is funky. Thankfully we have a Diaper Genie for our trash can and it keeps most of the aromas in! Whew!

Hungry Like A Wolf

The Samoan side of our Nyla is coming out. For the last day and a half, she has been eating nonstop. We're talking close to every hour of the day. Every. Single. Hour.

Now I am breastfeeding, so you can guess what this feeding frenzy is doing to my chest. It doesn't matter how many cold compresses I do, how much Lansinoh I use, how many breast pads I put on--it's painful. It was fine the first ten feedings; now my chest feels like it's going to fall off.

I know that breast milk is best for our girl, but I have to have a break sometimes. So we also bottlefeed her with gentle formula. But still, breastfeeding for 30 minutes and on average 3oz of formula, she's still hungry. And now it's affecting her nap time, which means it's affecting mommy's nap time!

Usually after she ate, she would slip into a food coma for two hours or so. Now, if she sleeps for more than 30 minutes, it's a good break. But she wakes up fussy because she's hungry again! Yikes!

The nurse says that she's going through a growth spurt and that in a day or two, she'll be back to regular feedings. Believe me, my chest cannot wait for her to be back to eating like a normal baby and not some food-ravaged wolf.

For you new mothers, we've found the Gerber Gentle Start formula is easiest on Nyla's tummy. We've tried the Similac and Infamil formulas and both made it really hard for her to poop. (There I go talking about poop again.)

She's hungry.

Like Father, Like Daughter

In the words of Nyla's Godfather Tim, "Nyla, let me tell you about God and the IRS." We'll address the latter topic first.

After seeing how much we owe to the government for taxes, I'm excited that not only do we have a wonderful babygirl, we also have a major deduction for tax season next year. YES!

Onto the first topic now. This past weekend, we were in Milton-Freewater for Nyla's dedication to God and the church. This was really important to us, as we wanted to start her on her journey toward faith and believing in something bigger than ourselves. Our families gathered together, some traveling hours just to witness our girl at her dedication.We stood before our minister, who was the same man who performed our marriage, and with Nyla's godfathers Rick and Tim, we had her blessed and dedicated to God. What a beautiful and wonderful experience for all of us.

But of course, Nyla couldn't let this occasion go by without putting her own signature stamp of approval on the whole occasion. She had gas. Bad gas.

Picture this: Paul is cradling Nyla, who is gently cooing in his arms. Doug (our minister) is standing in front of us gazing down at her. I'm gently caressing Nyla's head and smiling. Rick and Tim are standing next to us, also caught in the moment. Our families are looking on in awed silence.

"Welcome, everyone."

This is when Nyla decided to begin her stream of farting. And being the fruit of her father's loins, this was not a silent fart. I wouldn't describe it as thunderous, but it made a definite echoing noise that reverberated throughout the church. And this was not the only odiferous gift she gave to us; she farted the entire ceremony.

With a baby farting, it's really hard to concentrate and not laugh out loud. I felt like a 12-year-old boy, so juvenile for laughing at her gas. But it was funny, and it was memorable.

 This weekend means more to Paul and I than our families will ever know. Special shout-out to our families: thank you for being with us this weekend. We love you and will see you again soon!

Our minister Doug, Tim, me, Paul, Nyla (farting I'm sure), Rick

Someone Quiet Her Down

You know what? I feel like I've been lied to by all parents in the past. Parents say, "Oh that's okay that that kid is crying. I don't even hear it anymore! You'll understand when you're a parent, Elizabeth"

Lie.

Today, Paul and I went to Wal-Mart just to peruse the aisles of cheap goods, which I love. The Wal-Mart that is next to our house in Lincoln City is not the nicest, but the one here by my in-laws house is really nice! It's the "Super" Wal-Mart, so you know it's ritzy. Usually it's a peaceful  walk around the entire store for me, but not today. Not at all.

We first encountered the grandmother and grandchild around the DVD section of the store. The granddaughter was screaming and crying at the top of her lungs. I thought to myself, "Elizabeth, you're a parent now. Your child cries. This is no big deal."

We then ran into the screaming spawn of Satan (the granddaughter) again in the kid's clothes aisles. And again in the grocery section. This was getting ridiculous. The child was crying nonstop. Not just regular, whiny cry. This was the hardcore, all-out cry...the one that dries out the child's throat so they end up choking and coughing type of cry. Not cute. If that wasn't enough, when we were checking out in one of the 47 lines at Wal-Mart, where does the grandmother decide she wants to check out with her devilish granddaughter? Right next to us. Thank you, passive grandmother who did nothing to quiet your hyena. You have ruined my trip to Wal-Mart.

Two things:

1. If my child ever decides that she wants to act up like this in public and throw a massive fit (which I know she will), I will not subject everyone else in that store to her crying/whining/complaining/being irritating. I will just take homegirl and put her in the car and head home to deal with her.

2. No matter how hard I tried today, I could not tune out the crying child. It was a ghastly noise from this girl; I even stooped down to her level because when the little girl caught my eye, I felt the need to give her a look of disgust at her behavior. You know, "the look" that all mothers have. The look that says, "you know what, you're acting like a moron." I know I'm not  the girl's parent, but was the grandmother doing anything? No.

I feel that if I look close enough and pay attention, people (even strangers) can teach me life lessons. For example, this grandmother taught me that trying to pretend that nothing is wrong when the kid with you is screaming bloody murder is not the answer. She should have done what other mothers do: give the girl a reason to cry and then head home.

Never Say Never

You've all seen these women and you know they're mothers. You know, walking around in public in their ratty sweatpants and sweatshirt (that don't match), no makeup, dark circles around their eyes, and hair all jacked up; they look like they just rolled out of bed and left the house. When I was younger up until about March 14th, I thought to myself, "I will never be one of those women." Paul and I would be out and I would tell him, "Paul, I promise I won't become one of those women. Never ever!" I would even tell myself I will always make the effort to get dressed and put mascara on.

This morning changed everything, and I am ashamed to admit, I have become one of "those" women. I have photographic proof!

I woke up with a wicked craving for a cup of coffee. Nyla had just eaten and was happily in La-La Land so I thought, load her up! I'm off to Starbucks without any thought as to what I was wearing or what I looked like. I put on a sweatshirt and packed the girl up in her car seat and off we went.

While sitting in the drive-thru, I looked in my rearview mirror. Big mistake. No makeup on, which isn't really the issue. I then looked at my hair. Hello, bird's nest. I let my eyes roam downward. I had left the house in a sweatshirt and my pajama pants. Not any pajama pants, my leopard print pajama pants with a screaming red Oklahoma sweatshirt. And to top everything off, I didn't put on regular shoes--I was wearing house slippers!

Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute.

I have become become one of those women. The ones that everyone else looks at pitifully. What else can I do but laugh? I couldn't stop laughing at myself! I had actually left the security of my house in this outfit! People in public would see me! People could be eating and could have potentially spit out their food at the sight of my glory!

I would try and say that I'll never let this happen again, but I think I've learned my lesson. I *hope* this won't happen again, but no promises, people. No promises.

Reality Setting In

Everyday, I am so thankful for my Nyla being here in our life. I feel like we waited for her forever, not just in terms of the nine months of pregnancy, but I have wanted a baby for years. When Paul and I met, I knew he was the man I was going to make a family with and when we got married, we wanted a baby ASAP. It took us about a year to get pregnant, and now she is finally here. Life is good.

There are times though, like last night, where I am frustrated with this newfound life I now lead. I don't feel frustrated when she's pooping all over me, not when she's barfing on Paul, not when she's sleeping like an angel. My frustration comes (most of the time) in the middle of the night when she's crying or being fussy.

I don't actually remember the last time that I slept through the night. It was long before Nyla was born; I'll estimate the last time that I got a good night's sleep at when I was probably four months pregnant. Being pregnant and not sleeping was one thing because it's just me that I was dealing with. But now, not pregnant and still not sleeping, my reality is setting in.

Last night, for the umpteenth night in a row, Nyla was up every hour or so. I do the night shift because Paul works during the day, and this works for us for now. But last night, I felt myself becoming really frustrated with my life. I miss my old life. That's the honest truth. I miss my sleep; every new parent feels like this, I know. I see pictures of my family and friends going out for happy hour or just to coffee, and I miss being able to do that. I miss me.

Magazines and books tell you to anticipate this feeling of loss of self; what they leave out is that this feeling can sometimes be overwhelming. Last night, my frustration overflowed into tears. I love my Nyla terribly, but this being a parent thing is a lot more emotionally difficult than I thought. As a new parent, not only are Paul and I dealing with this abundance of love for this teacup human, we also are dealing with a total loss of individuality. And this loss is something that I am struggling with. I'm not ashamed of feeling this way because I know that I'm not alone.

I wish I could bypass this stage of emotional struggle. I wish that I could just turn off the narcissitic side of me because I know that it's just not important anymore. But that's hard to deal with. In terms of my life now, I am not as important as someone else. And a majority of the time, that's beyond fine with me. I love being a devoted parent to Nyla. I love changing her poop diapers. I love the fact that I worry about someone else more than myself. But that little voice, little memory of what my life used to be creeps in from time to time, and I get sad. I get frustrated.

What got me through last night is the realization that most of my frustration is being compounded by the lack of sleep. Yes, sometimes I struggle emotionally with being a parent, and it doesn't help that I'm not sleeping either.

But this is the life that I have wanted and have waited for. I feel better now having gotten this off of my chest. Now I need to go get my squirmy little turkey and snuggle.  That's something that always makes me feel better.

The Blowout 2011

This is what my life has come to.

Nyla has been constipated for the last few days, so obviously we have tried everything to relieve her...hello, did you read the last post? Well today, I received the fruits of our labor. Well, I wouldn't exactly call it "fruits"...

Let me set the scene. I'm sitting on the couch with a lovely quilt made by my Aunt Tere Sue wrapped around my legs. My Nyla is resting in my arms, just making her cooing noises and being adorable. "Khloe and Lamar" is on the TV. Life is pretty sweet at this moment. All is well. And then, the blowout.

In the span of five seconds, the scene went from serene to disgusting. All of our tummy rubbing, bathing, prune juice feeding, "massaging", water drinking for Nyla came flowing out all at once. While Nyla was sitting in my arms, she unleashed the poop. It. Was. Everywhere.

EVERYWHERE.

Up her back, up the front, in her toes, on my pants, on the quilt, and absolutely everywhere in the diaper. There was no trace of white diaper at all, not even on the little securing pieces you use to attach the diaper.

I don't think I've ever moved as fast as I did to get up off the couch. For being super grossed out, I moved like an agile cat, over the coffee table and into the room to the changing table. Obviously, it was time for an immediate bath.

After she was cleaned up and back to smelling like a gentle and innocent baby, I thought to myself, "Elizabeth, this is what your life has come to." And yes, that is the truth. I find myself worrying about my daughter's bowel movements more than anything these days. Really? Is this parenting? Worrying about baby poop? It is for us right now. One day, I'm sure we will worry about other things. This week, though, is all about Nyla's movements.

PS: While writing this blog, Nyla barfed all over Paul. No, I'm not kidding.

That Was...Graphic.

And here's the reality of parenthood. Paul and I had an experience last night that launched us directly into being a mother and father. If we thought we were parents before last night, we were wrong. Last night's event was our first introduction into doing whatever it takes to help our baby Nyla.

To preface this, just be warned: it's gross. If you don't like bodily fluids, do not read further.

Our sweet thing is an eater. She likes to eat all the time. We're talking every two hours, if not more. In order to keep up with her (and to salvage any remnants of my chest), we introduced formula into her diet a week or so ago. Little did we know that bringing in formula meant bringing on constipation. Constipation plus an infant equals fussy girl.

Last week, I called our doctor and spoke with his nurse. She suggested adding some watered down prune juice into her bottle to get things moving. We did this, and success! We had a poop! (Sidenote: I refuse to call it a "stool." That makes me think of a literal stool-three legged chair for cow milking.) We continued to give Nyla some prune juice in her bottles, but I was uncomfortable with how this might be affecting her stomach having something other than milk in her.

When we went in for her three-week checkup, the doctor told me that there is a little procedure that we can do at home to help relieve her that doesn't involve prune juice. "Oh great, doctor! What do we do?"

"Well, you'll need to put vaseline on the tip of a Qtip and massage her anus."

I need to do what?

Apparently we need to teach Nyla to take poops...or at least teach her body to do it naturally. And this is done by massaging her with a Qtip. Huh.

After a few hours of fussiness last night, Paul and I gave in. We were going to do the Qtip procedure. After many deep breaths, Paul was the bigger parent and volunteered to do this to our daughter. Now you don't need to insert the Qtip very far, but the thought of sticking anything foreign into any place on our daughter is frightening.

I won't go into details of the whole happening, but Nyla was a trooper. There was one part though that doctor failed to inform us of; when the anus is massaged, it doesn't just get the process going--it starts it instantly. As Paul was finishing up the "massage," I started telling him "oh I hope this works Paul. She's been so..." and it was at this moment that projectile poop started a-flowin'! And I mean everywhere. Um, hello doctor?! How about a heads up about this little experience?

I always thought that when something like this would happen, I would be dry heaving and totally grossed out. While I was the latter, I just sucked it up and cleaned up our girl...and her changing table...and the floor.

Being a parent is pretty gross sometimes, I guess. But the look of instant relief on Nyla's face made the whole scenario worth it. Now here's hoping we don't need to do that little thing again...ever. I do mean ever, ever.

PS: the word "anus" is on my list of words that I hate. Bleh.

Do Not Be Fooled

Oh Nyla, you're a tricky one...especially in the middle of the night.

For the first few days of Nyla's life, we had her figured out: she smacks her lips, she's hungry, we feed her, she falls asleep. Like clockwork.

That is no longer the case. The first three steps are the same (smack, hungry, feed), but now she likes to be a trickster. She'll close her eyes, even let her mouth loll open like she's sleeping. This is the point where I feel accomplished and excited because now Mommy will be able to go to sleep! I gently hoist myself off the couch, calmly and smoothly walk over to her crib, and take deep breaths before "the transfer." This is the move where I try to transfer her from my arms down into her crib without her waking up. "The transfer" is the key to a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.

Nyla no longer stays asleep during "the transfer." It's like she has little sensors all over her body that tell her "hold up! Mommy is not holding me anymore; it is time to wake up." At first, I thought to myself Elizabeth, you need to just swaddle/cuddle/snuggle her a little longer; that way she will definitely be asleep. This worked for a night or two, but our Nyla must be a little genius because she figured that out.  (Okay, not a genius, just smarter than her mother...that may or may not be saying much)

Last night, there was no hope for her sleeping through "the transfer." So I put up my white flag and surrendered...Nyla and I slept on the couch together. To be honest, it was wonderful, and if it wouldn't give her a total dependency complex, I'd do it every night for the next year. It was just too sweet having our little one sleeping/snoring/grunting on my chest.

There is also an upside to late night wake-ups; last night, we were able to watch WWE, something I haven't done since college. The Rock was on the show last night, and while he addressed the millions (AND MILLIONS!) of his fans on TV from the ring, I was whispering to Nyla "we like him. The Rock is the best." She farted on me while I was telling her this; that must have been her signal of agreement.

Back to the moral of this post, new parents beware--even when you think your child is asleep, they're not. And they're probably not even close to being asleep.  Just give in, find something entertaining on TV and relax; you could be there awhile.

3.5 Weeks

Has it really been three and a half weeks? It seems like just yesterday I was confined to a hospital bed with my compression socks on my feet trying to control the swelling. I was huge, I was miserable, and I was ready for it all to be said and done with. While in the hospital, I honestly felt that Paul and I were ready for this baby. Yes, I was scared, but I was ready. We were ready. Finally, after 30 hours of Pitocin (for inducing) and finally a C-section, she was here. Who would've thought our lives would be changed like this?

As a married couple with no kids, we were anticipating sleepless nights, a loss of freedoms, and a giant love added to our lives when we started our family. Never did we think it would be like this. It's wonderful, it's frustrating, it's unbelievable. There are not enough books in the world to prepare you for having a newborn baby in your home.If you would have asked me, even a year ago, if this is where my life would be at this time, I would have laughed at you. But alas, here we are: 29-year-olds with a baby girl running our lives. And we love it! But believe me, we were unprepared. Yes, we read the books. Yes, we took the classes (although we left early). Yes, we set up her room and had all the baby stuff you need. Even when we thought we had everything, we were unprepared for what was really going to happen when a baby came home with us.

Case in point for our unpreparedness: Nyla likes to play a little game with me when I go to change her diaper. When I hear (or smell) that she has left me a little surprise in her diaper, I give her 10 minutes to finish up her business and also give me time to ensure that she's done. I take her to the changing table, start to clean her up and change the diaper. This is about the moment where Nyla completes her joke on Mommy and continues said business all over the table. So what has started out as a run of the mill diaper change has now turned into an all-out scramble to cover everything up and keep it from getting everywhere. If I look at her at the right moment, I swear she has a look of complete satisfaction on her face. And this isn't something that has only happened once; this is a regular occurrence at diaper time. I'm thinking I must get faster at this diaper change business...

As a new mom and dad, all her little sounds and cries are completely new and foreign to us. We have figured out the "change my diaper" cry and the "I just want to whine" cry. But what's up with all the crying in between? The "I'm crying for no reason" cry? She also is the noisiest sleeping baby. I thought babies were supposed to be precious and quiet when they sleep? Nyla grunts and groans and whimpers in her sleep all the time. I must admit-it's adorable.

What has been lost in our lives is the sense of self. No longer am I just Elizabeth; I am Nyla's mom. The things I want to do (like take a shower first thing in the morning) are not important anymore. If it comes between snuggling with Nyla or changing out of my pajamas, I'm on the couch cuddled up with our girl. This, of course, means that I haven't worn regular "day" clothes in weeks. Getting dressed, doing my hair, eating at regular times, taking showers, putting on make-up, running errands-all things that have taken a backseat to Nylaboo.

Even with all the changes, all the sacrifices we have made and will make in the future, all the out-of-diaper poops, life is good. Real good. Good beyond words. Who would've thought it would be like this?