Moments of Musing

I’m a formula-feeding mama.

Filed Under: fed is best, motherhood //

Yesterday was one of Seb’s routine doctor’s visits. “He grew really nicely this last month,” the nurse told us. We smiled and the doctor (my and my brother’s pediatrician growing up!) chimed in, “You’re doing a great job, parents.” “We’re trying our best,” I said. “Well, you’re doing great.”

It might sound silly but in that moment I felt really proud. Feeding, growth and development are always on my mind. When I got pregnant I knew I wanted to try breastfeeding. It wasn’t something done, and if so-spoken about, in my family so I didn’t know much about it. Aside from the fact that I wanted to do it. I viewed it as THE be all-end all of feeding. (Kind of how I viewed natural birth…and we all know God had different plans about that.) The preferred method. How to best bond with my baby.

There’s been so much literature going around about its benefits and there’s a relatively modern movement surrounding it and its acceptance in public places. I read about it and I was happy to eventually know I was producing towards the end of my pregnancy. One less thing to worry about, I thought to myself. 

I was ready to take it on! Except when I wasn’t. For me, latching wasn’t the problem–it was the excruciating pain. Sebastian was in tears wanting to be fed, and I was in tears because of the pain and my inability to withstand it. I googled about the pain and read it could last weeks but then would subside. How horrible, I thought, it would be to resent this process and feeding my baby, though. And so we had just been home from the hospital for a few hours at that point when I yelled/cried/told my husband, “PLEASE JUST GO BUY FORMULA!” It seems dramatic… but that’s what happened.

And that’s how and why we started formula feeding and pumping…until I eventually stopped. Cue the guilt. For all of it. But you know what? I’ve since come to embrace formula-feeding. It gives me so much more freedom, involves my husband more, does not hurt me, and does not make me resent feeding my baby in any way whatsoever. 

I’m confident that Seb and I are bonding just as much as we would have and quite frankly as much as we possibly can. Plus, as my husband put it: there’s so much more to being a good mom and parent than breastfeeding. I gave up coffee and restricted my diet during pregnancy to be as healthy as possible. I try to wake up in the middle of the night for feedings to spend some time with Seb then since I work. We read to him, listen to classical music with him, play with him and practice developmental exercises with him. We limit his exposure to electronic devices and he doesn’t really watch TV.  

These days, I no longer care what people (see: mainly other moms) think when I pour formula into his bottle in public. All I know is he’s happy, loved beyond measure, well fed and growing… and really, that’s all I could ask for. We’re all just trying to be the best for our kids and there are, in fact, a lot of different ways to be the “best” for them. Your parenting decisions are yours. Just as ours are ours… And we’re pretty proud of them so far. 🙂


A birth story of sorts

Filed Under: Baby L, birth story, motherhood //

If you are expecting intimate details of Sebastian’s birth, I’m sorry to disappoint… that’s not what you’ll be reading here. In an age where many personal tidbits are shared over the Internet, this year I am making it a goal to try my best to limit how much personal information I share, while still being open and honest on here. So that’s what this “birth story” will be. Open and honest, but not intimate. 

During my pregnancy, my husband, Tim, and I attended birth classes. We read our recommended readings and practiced breathing techniques. We prepared for a natural birth. While I was very aware of the possibility of C-section, I kind of pushed it out of my mind. 


To be honest, I was not prepared to not deliver my baby naturally. I did not want a C-section. In fact, I did not even want an epidural. I did not want to be induced but  decided we’d figure that out when the time came based on how many days I’d gone past my due date, if so. 

In my head, the best birth was an as-natural-as-can-be (in a hospital, anyway) birth. But when my water broke after contractions had stopped, I had to be induced. When hours later, my doctor told me a C-section was most likely and my contractions were hurting, I asked for an epidural (“Why put up with the excruciating pain if I wasn’t going to driver naturally?,” I thought). When 15+ hours had passed since my water broke and Sebastian still had not descended, I was prepped for a C-section. On top of it all, nurses couldn’t find my veins for IVs, the external contraction monitors wouldn’t work well on me, and I got pink eye while in labor…

Basically, nothing had gone as planned. It was a lot to take in. Honestly, though, we were so excited that I still remained upbeat and overjoyed. I was in a pretty great mood throughout the day. 
Until I was being wheeled into the operating room and (temporarily) away from Tim (to be prepped). I broke down, admitting through tears, “I’m scared.” I was feeling so many emotions with not much time to process any of them. 

I was so exhausted from the day and the anesthesia that I almost fell asleep on the operating table. “WAKE UP! You’re going to be a mom in 15 minutes!,” my doctor excitedly yelled. As they were operating, I found out my ab muscles were (a bit too?) strong (yay?) and that the baby’s umbilical cord was wrapped twice around his neck. Maybe, the doctor said, that’s why he wouldn’t descend. 

And then, he was born. The temporary baby blues eventually followed (post to come) but in those first moments and days, I felt on top of the world. All that mattered then was that he was alive and healthy, here, and ours. That’s what mattered most. I birthed our baby boy whom I’d carried, nurtured and already loved and took care of for 40 weeks. Eventually I realized, there’s nothing unnatural about that. 






Be patient, Mama

Filed Under: motherhood //

A few days ago on a night when Seb was waking up more frequently than usual, my patience had thinned. I was exhausted and really did not want my sleep to be disturbed–again. It’s tough not being able to sleep a full night and then having to wake up and go to work for a full day. Every day. 
My husband noticed and he took over because that’s what great partners do–they pick up the slack or swoop in as needed. The next morning I was sad that I had been impatient. I felt selfish and quite frankly, like a bad mom. I often wake up every night with him so I could spend more time with him since I work so I felt guilty that I hadn’t. I hugged and kissed on him lots the next day because I always want him to know that he is so, so loved. Loved beyond measure of time and words. 
Fast forward a couple of evenings and he started babbling “Mamamama!” My heart felt like it could burst. He kept repeating it, sometimes just once. “Mama.” It’s a word I’d longed to hear. It’s a role I’ve wanted ever since I could remember. And here I am, fortunate enough to be his mama. Disrupted sleep and all. 
Then, a few nights ago, we spent the night apart from my husband so he could do some things around our home. I put Seb to sleep; changed his diapers; and did both of his feedings on my own. This time, I was almost surprised at how patient and energized I was during each feeding. My mama self showed. up. 
Basically, I think we each have to be patient and understanding with motherhood but also, and maybe especially, with ourselves. We’re human and we have needs, too. I’ve found when I’m patient with myself then I can be a better, more present and less stressed mom. I don’t have to be perfect–that’s unattainable–I just have to try my best for him and know that sometimes MY best won’t be THE best. And that’s okay. My love is always at its best, and that goes a long way.

Our baby’s Internet presence

Filed Under: Baby L, motherhood //


It’s still kind of bizarre to me that we live in a social-media age. I can only imagine what it will be like in years from now. That being said, I do post to social media regularly (though I still sometimes wish I could delete all accounts, I’d have too much FOMO). When it comes to our baby, however, I do think more deeply about it and I’m much more aware and intentional about what I post. 

Deciding whether to share our child(ren) on the Internet is a rather unique dilemma our generation, and those to come, have to deal with. It’s of little surprise that many parents choose to do so since so much is shared on the World Wide Web. In fact, 92 percent of children have an online presence by age 2. 

My husband and I have chosen to limit our baby’s internet presence. That means while you’ll find photos of him on the Internet, you won’t find many (see just one or two) of him alone publicly. And while you’ll see a posted photo on my Facebook every now and again if you’re my Facebook friend, a few days after it’s posted the album is made private. 

Will our “plan” change as he gets older? Possibly. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, though. For now this what we have and have decided not to share. 

What my husband and I have shared:

• Our baby’s name (post-birth)
• Photos of our baby and us on Instagram; otherwise his face is hidden
• Monthly progress photos (without specific milestones)

What we haven’t shared:
• Birth story
• Body (weight and length) stats 
• My letter to him when I went back to work after maternity leave
• Our baby’s birth weight/length
• Bath time photos
• Naked photos
• Milestone monthly photos 


There are lots of personal reasons parents have when making this decision. Key word: personal. This decision is a very personal one and what my husband and I have decided might not work for you or be what you want to do. That’s fine. It’s our decision and no one else’s, just as your decision is yours and no one else’s. 

We believe most of what we don’t share should be kept private because though he is just a baby, he deserves his privacy, too. Plus, there are too many creeps out there. 

Time is a thief (AND a giver)

Filed Under: motherhood, perspective //

Recently, I was folding the baby’s laundry as he sat and played on the sofa in his room. Above him was a frame, which held some of his ultrasounds and hospital birth momentos. 

It got me thinking.

About how precious time is. And how it seemingly flies by. It takes moments quickly with regard for how we feel. Time goes on, as much as we sometimes might not want it to. We can’t press pause or rewind. We can’t truly relive the best times of our life. Once they happen, they become memories. We can only remember them. 
In these ways, time is a thief. 
But on the flip side, time also takes its “time.” There are moments we wish we could skip but there they are, happening as they should for one reason or another. Then there moments that we have looked forward to and have wanted to have more than anything before. Finally, there are treasured memories–that we can look back on to see how far we’ve come, to reflect on how we’ve felt and to enable us to grow as people. 
In these ways, time is a giver. 

So while I was a bit sad in the moment seeing my now 6-month baby sitting below his fetus and newborn memories, a feeling of gratefulness swept over me. Yes, I feel as though my pregnancy and his newborn days went by in a blink. 

But I remember how I felt in those moments and how at ease I felt with how time was progressing. How anxious and excited I was at becoming a mom. How I sometimes wanted time to speed up. And how happy I am to have him here, siting and playing idly by while I do housework. 

So here we are. Life is happening. We might not be able to pause or rewind it but we can press play and live in the present. And realize that the very presence we are living in a gift–that time has given us.