Mom, momma, mommy, whatever you may go by….in case you haven’t been told lately, you are doing great! You are killing it, in fact! You deserve that bowl of chocolate ice cream with sprinkles, and why not add that glass of red wine as well. This act of yummy deliciousness that we treat ourselves to, is something that we should do more often than not. Let me tell you why.


I’m learning as a new mom, that “we” as moms don’t give ourselves enough credit. We are too hard on ourselves and hold ourselves to these crazy standards. We don’t give ourselves grace. Which is so crazy to me. I mean, before I was pregnant (and now) I would tell my mom how amazing she was and how she does so much for our family. Most of the time I never got a positive response back. I could tell on those days she didn’t believe it, when she should have. She was and IS the best mom ever and I wouldn’t be the mom I am today if it wasn’t for her. 


I never really understood why she didn’t believe me until now. Now that I am a mom, it’s like this weird feeling that I can’t describe. It’s as though this weird feeling has come over me, since I have had Elsie. It’s like a “pressure point” that is holding you up to some weird, crazy standard for a perfect mom. Like I’m talking Barbie mom, with the pink car and white picket fence kind of perfect. I mean, WHAT?! Why? That’s silly. But we all do it, I do it.


We all do it because we want the best for our kid(s). But that doesn’t mean we need to wear ourselves out by doing so. We also need to support each other. Let each other know that we are doing a good job. It’s nice to hear once in a while. While that is hard to do during this weird season we are living in, we can practice giving ourselves grace, by the way we talk. 


A couple weeks ago I learned this. I kept on saying that “I am trying to be a good mom,” “I am trying to be a good co-worker,” “ I am trying…” fill in the blank. This led to frustration when I would say things like that. What I didn’t realize is how I was saying it. Of course I had my family and friends telling me that I was doing great and that I was a good mom, until it finally clicked when my boss gave me tough love and said that I need to stop using the word “trying”, that you are not “trying”, instead you are “doing”. So instead of saying “I am trying to be a good mom,” I started saying, “ I am doing my best as a mom” or even better “I am a good mom.” It was amazing how a couple words changed the way I thought about myself and how it boosted my self esteem.


I guess what I am trying…I mean..doing my best to say is, we,you, myself.. We are all EXCELLENT moms. Not just now, not just yesterday or today, EVERYDAY. So the next time you are craving those french fries with chocolate shake, do it momma, you deserve it!

I am going to host a virtual “Momma Conversation”, to talk about this, how we need to boost each other up, and anything else that may come up. I will be doing this on December 28 at 7pm mountain time. To join, here is the link .


The last week of my maternity leave I had to take Elsie for her two month checkup. This was my first time taking Elsie to the doctors without my husband. He had to work. I wasn’t nervous. However, I was ready to get it over with.

The doctor told my husband at her last appointment, that at her next appointment, she would receive some of her shots. My mom and friends who have kids, have warned me that there is a good chance I may cry when she receives her shots. I figured that to be true, so I mentally prepared myself.

The morning of her doctor’s appointment, I put her in one of her new pink striped, summer dress with a yellow seahorse in the top right corner. As her mom, of course I had to look my best too. So I dressed in comfy pants, a cute top and 1920’s inspired hat to go with.

I parked in the parking lot, and followed COVID guidelines that the doctors’ office initiated. A couple questions later and Elsie and I were on our way in. 

As soon as we walked in, it didn’t take long until we were in our own room, waiting for the doctor. While we waited the nurse came in and checked her weight and height and gave me papers about what to expect at the age she was at (at that point she was a little over two months). The nurse let me know that the doctor would be in soon. It felt like time went incredibly slow as I waited for her arrival. I didn’t think I was nervous about Elsie getting her shots…but I was. The doctor finally came in and started talking about what type of shots she would be receiving today. I realized she was talking to me, but for some reason I couldn’t comprehend anything she was telling me, except the words “shots” and “she most likely will get a fever”. There it is. The most dreadful of sentences a new mom could hear. I was terrified. The doctor told me what I should expect and how to take care of her, once she got her fever. She told me, but I still felt like I had no idea what to do.

The nurse walked in soon after the doctor left, with needles, small jars full of liquid and pink, My Little Pony bandaids. Here we go. One each cute little thigh. I didn’t cry, but my heart broke as she cried and wailed, wondering why her mother would put her through this pain.

As we left the doctors office, I started to strategize and plan out how I was going to conquer the inevitable fever. I know the doctor told me how, but I still needed a mommy game plan. 

Since my husband was at work, I didn’t want to worry him. I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle my first “mommy challenge”…which consisted of help from my parents. I called my mom and dad to pick me up some children’s Tylenol as well as lunch from McDonalds, because I was hungry. I could have ran to the store by myself with Elsie, but I knew she wasn’t going to be up for that idea, so this seemed like the best plan.

It was around noon, when Elsie got the dreaded fever. Even though I knew all I had to do was give her a drop or so of the medicine my parents brought over, I was freaking out a little bit. I called my mom almost in tears to ask what to do. Thankfully, I have the best mom in the world, and she was able to calm me down and gave me step by step instructions. I followed her instructions, gave Elsie the medicine and we both lay down on the couch and took a nap.

As Elsie lay on my stomach sleeping, it was the most peace I have ever felt. I felt so at ease listening to her snore. It was very relaxing.

When she woke up, there was a huge smile on her face, and I knew that her fever had gone away. It was the best feeling ever.

My husband came home later that evening and I told him all about how Elsie and I survived her first fever.

Being a mom is terrifying. It is also very exhilarating and full of so much love, you don’t even know what to do with it all, but to keep loving your baby even more.

While I was pregnant, I remember my mom asking me if I planned on using disposable diapers or cloth diapers. At the time I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to use. She continued to tell me that when I was a baby, my parents used cloth diapers on me for a week…if that. My mom noted that it was a very messy process that resulted in my parents switching over to disposable diapers. Mom ended up using the cloth diapers that she had as dust rags.

Quick side note, I was born in the 90’s, so cloth diapers back then were way different than they are today and a lot less messy.

Before I was pregnant, one of my good friends bought cloth diapers for her little girl. I was curious what they looked like, and how much of a pain it really was to use them. When I walked into her nursery, my friend opened the dresser drawer and immediately my eyes grew wide, as I glanced over all the colors and patterns. She pulled one out and showed me how they work. Honestly, it didn’t seem as bad as I thought.

Fast forward to my pregnancy, a couple weeks after my conversation with my mom and I started wondering if cloth diapers was the route my husband and I should take. We started to do the math and watch YouTube videos on how to use and clean cloth diapers. I would have gone to a class, but because my pregnancy was during the pandemic, I had to research it myself. My husband and I did some rough calculations comparing cloth diapers vs. disposable diapers and it looked like it would save us money. See what we came up with, at the end of this article.

Here is what I have learned and experienced since using cloth diapers. I love fashion and accessorizing, so the patterns and different colors was one of the first things I noticed. They have patterns for boys and for girls. On the diapers are buttons that allow you to change the size of the diaper; so that the diapers can grow along with your baby. On the back of the diaper is a pocket that holds an interchangeable cloth pad. The idea is to change the cloth pad out once the baby has peed in the diaper. At first when I started using them, I didn’t really realize that you could use the cloth diaper longer, unless the baby has soiled it. So now for each diaper I change the pad out once, before putting my daughter in a new cloth diaper. I’ve noticed that I don’t need to change the pad very often, because the pads are very absorbent. There are a lot of options when it comes to picking out cloth diapers, but my favorite ones are Alva Baby brand. They seem to be well made and have a variety of colors and patterns to choose from.

Another tip, that I couldn’t find while searching and watching YouTube videos, was when to start using them after your baby is born. My good friend, the same one that showed me what cloth diapers looked like for the first time, started putting cloth diapers on her daughter after one month. That way you are not adding more stress to your plate on trying to figure one more thing out as a new mom. So that’s what I did. It worked out smoothly. We used disposable diapers until our daughter was 4 to 5 weeks old. However, we still have a box of disposable diapers in the nursery that we keep on hand for emergencies. If we plan on going somewhere, I stick them in my diaper bag just in case.

To make washing easy, my husband and I purchased a cloth liner for our diaper pail, so when it is time to wash the cloth diapers, you dump the diapers out of the bag and throw the bag in with them. I make sure to set my washing machine to heavy soil and cold wash, just to make sure everything gets clean.

I’m extremely happy my friend showed me the cloth diapers that she purchased for her little girl. The diapers are so cute, they have saved my husband and me money, and most importantly they make my daughter’s butt look even cuter!

The following is a very rough estimate of the cost of disposable versus cloth diapers.  Assuming a slightly optimistic potty training age of 24 months, that the baby starts out using eight diapers a day, and the number of diapers used per day decreases linearly over the 24 months until the point of being potty trained, a baby would need just over 3,000 diapers.  Laundry costs vary depending on the type of machine and the cost of utilities in a given location; a laundry cost of $0.50 is assumed.  Total laundry cost for cloth diapers is calculated as 3,000 diapers / 18 diapers per load * $0.50 per load.


The Cost of Disposable Diapers

Cost per Diaper: $0.19

Total Cost: $570.00


The Cost of Cloth Diapers

Cost for 18 Cloth Diapers: $113.37

Cost for Laundry: $83.33

Total Cost: $196.70


Dollar Difference: $370.30

Percent Difference: 65%

My plan was to have a natural birth and to breastfeed Elsie. As you know from my last blog post, a natural birth wasn’t the case. 

While I was pregnant, and even before I knew I was pregnant, people would ask me if I planned on breastfeeding. I always said, “that’s the plan,” and went about my day. I never thought twice about it. 

When I was at the hospital, the nurse showed me how to hold Elsie and my breast so that I could feed her. I remember being a little bit nervous and exhausted from previous events; adding one more task seemed impossible. Turns out, the nurse thought I was doing a really good job, in fact, she said I was natural at it…until later that night. 

I remember that evening, like it was yesterday. Elsie started to get hungry. I went about the normal steps with breastfeeding, but it seemed like nothing was working. She just kept on crying and getting more and more angry. I called for the nurse to help. The nurse came in and made it clear that the reason my daughter was being fussy, was because she was used to the formula that was given to her while I was in the ICU. She also brought with her a small plastic, orange syringe. I recall giving her a strange look as she explained what the plan was with the small tool. The syringe was to help with my nursing by filling it up with formula and then placing drops of the liquid on my nipple. Seemed easy enough. Elsie seemed to like that plan and started to suckle. The nurse directed me to use the syringe for a couple days, just until my milk came in. This new routine was working well, until we left the hospital and I had to feed her on my own. 

The hospital gave me a couple of syringes to take home. My plan was to just keep doing what I was doing. Fill the small tool with formula, put small droplets on my nipple while Elsie nursed. Easy. Once again, I was wrong. I was really wrong. I felt like I was wrestling with a hungry bear. Her hands would wave all over the place, while her face turned cherry red as she tried to find the source of her food. When she did latch on, she would suck and suck, but would come off still feeling hungry, so I would make her a bottle. It felt like feeding was turning into a dreadful task, and that is not what I wanted.

A week went by, and my husband, Elsie, and I went to the hospital to visit the lactation nurse. I mentioned to her how I was struggling with nursing Elsie. She told me to try breastfeeding first, then give her a bottle, and finally use the breast pump. This new routine sounded like it was a lot, but I was going to try anything to breastfeed my daughter.

A couple days went by trying out this new way of feeding. Our feeding started to turn into almost an hour, and before I knew it, it was time to feed her again. I could tell Elsie was becoming worn out and irritated with this new routine and so was I. I started to realize that nursing my daughter, something I had taken for granted, was not going to happen. That new realization would bring back memories of her birth story and how I wasn’t able to give birth naturally. Now, yet another “mom experience” taken away from me. I felt like what happened during my C-section was the reason I was not producing milk. To this day I am still not sure if that is the case. My doctor said it’s a possibility, but even she doesn’t know for sure.

I am extremely lucky to have such a wonderful husband. Shane has supported me through everything during our six years of being together, and the almost three years of being married. He reminded me that even though I couldn’t breastfeed, he still thought I was a great mom. I obviously knew this, but it was just good to hear that my number one supporter thought I was being a good mom and trying everything I could.

I ended up switching to just feeding Elsie with Similac, their Pro-Advance version, that is supposed to be their formula closest to breast milk.

Since my whole exploration of trying to get my milk to come in, I did try the breast pump a couple more times, just to see. I ended up getting less than one once. Of course, it was a little bit upsetting, but I am taking each day as it comes, as this new way of feeding becomes Elsie’s and my new normal.

Fast forward to today, and I am extremely happy with formula feeding and I can tell Elsie is too. I wish I knew what I know now, when people would ask me even before I was pregnant if I planned on breastfeeding. If I could answer that question now, I would say that we shouldn’t put so much pressure on moms to be an “Instagram mom”, meaning everything has gone and is going perfectly. From the birth, feeding, raising a kid, and everything in between. Instead we should support our new moms and current moms; because, trust me, they are doing their best and working hard to make that “candid” picture look good.

My husband and I found out we were going to be parents in October 2019. I can’t tell you how excited we both were. We could not wait to start planning for our baby’s arrival.

Planning for parenthood comes with many stresses, but it also brings joy in celebrating with loved ones and sharing the exciting news with our friends and family.

Fast forward to March, where my mother, grandmother and I were planning a baby shower for my husband and our baby girl sheduled for April. The theme was going to be ice cream, because her nursery will be covered in images of this sweet treat (I picked this theme because I was craving it at the time).

March was also the month that COVID-19 started to become a real issue in Colorado. I’ll be honest and say that at the time I wasn’t very concerned about the virus. I thought this crisis would go away in a week or two and everything would be fine. Honestly, looking back at that time, I was probably in denial. I didn’t want to think about what the pandemic would mean for myself and our baby.

My denial remained as the pandemic got worse. I thought everything would remain the same. I was wrong. Things did start to change…and they started to change quickly.

In mid-March, I went to one of many check-ups. The appointment was to check my glucose levels. The next day, I received a call from the hospital. I needed to come back in for a three-hour gestational test, because my test results were worrisome. My heart dropped to my stomach. I called my doctor’s office just to make sure this wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t.

That same day, I received an email from St. Mary’s Hospital saying  the virus was causing the cancellation of all pregnancy classes until further notice. My heart sank deeper. As a first time parent, I was really counting on these classes about pregnancy and breastfeeding.

As a visual learner, these classes felt like a “safety net” to me.

The next day I drove myself to St. Mary’s Hospital, right when they opened at 7:00 am. This was my first experience going to a medical building during the pandeminc (besides my doctor’s office), so I wasn’t sure what to except.

I was already nervous for the results that would determine if I had gestational diabetes. I did not want to contract the COVID-19 virus. I felt like going to the hospital was probably one of the worst places to go as a pregnant woman.

When I walked in the front doors I was immediately greeted by two nurses wearing masks. The first one asked if I had any respiratory issues and if I was feeling well. I told her I felt fine. The next nurse took my temperature. I was cleared. I sanitized my hands and walked upstairs.

After nervously scrolling through my phone in the waiting area, I was finally called-in and poked for the first time. I had three more to go, while waiting an hour in between each one. It was a stressful waiting experience. I wasn’t just waiting for the testing to be over and to get my results. I was also carefully watching other people as they came to the office , staring them down, making sure they didn’t sit next to me. Normally I am a friendly person and wouldn’t mind, but because of the circumstances I was very uneasy.

The testing was finally done, and I was back in the safety of my own house. After washing my hands, I received my results and it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulder. I was cleared.

A few more days went by, and there were more challenges. My mom, grandma and I decided to not have a baby shower, but instead wait until the baby is born. I was bummed, but I also didn’t want to get my family or my friends sick, so I knew it was the right decision.

I’m sure you are thinking to yourself, “why didn’t you just do a virtual baby shower”, I thought about it, but it wouldn’t have been the same. A virtual shower probably would have been less stress on my husband and I as we prepare for our baby’s arrival, but I still want the human connection, so waiting it is.

I now feel like a year has already gone by since this virus started. I try to take it day by day and keep a positive attitude, but as I watch the news and social media, I find myself overthinking, stressing about what other “bad” or “challenging” news I’ll face  as I prepare for childbirth in June.

A friend of mine recently posted that he may not be able to be in the room with his girlfriend as she gives birth. The virus might keep him out. That made my heart sink, It also made me angry, frustrated and scared. I can’t imagine going through childbirth without my husband in the room.

My doctor reassured me that he can be there.  However, I don’t feel reassured, and as this virus gets worse, how many other things am I going to have to be “reassured” on before I feel at ease.

Will I feel at ease before she is born? After? I’m not sure. What I do know is that planning for a newborn in this “new world” is challenging, scary, and frightening and it’s something I’m sure no new mother was planning for either.

God bless my family, my doctor and the people in my life who are supporting me, my husband, and our baby,  so we can be strong and wise parents for our daughter.


I made it to week 40 of my pregnancy. I had a suspicion that my daughter would be late, but at the same time hoping she would have already been here.

My last doctors appointment was during that week, and I was prepared to talk about getting induced. When I arrived, my doctor already scheduled my induction and was telling me what to expect. My induction was the next day. I was extremely excited and nervous all at the same time. I remember looking over at my husband and noticing his facial expression was the same as mine, excited but weary of the unknown. Weary, because we were both unsure how my labor and delivery would look during this pandemic.

The next day approached quickly, and all I could do to keep myself from worrying and overthinking about what would happen that day, was to continuously say a prayer over and over again. 

We walked in the hospital with our masks on. Before we went up to the maternity ward, we were greeted by two nurses, who took our temperatures, marked our hands with a green “x” and told  us where to go. Shane and I walked into our room, where we would end up living for the next couple of days.

As I entered the hospital, I was sitting at three centimeters. I got to our room and the nurse gave me my medicine to help with the induction; I was at a six by the end of the day. I felt like the first day was a success and thought for sure by the next day I would be having Elsie naturally just like I had intended. Well, my body had other plans…

That evening the nurse was instructed by my doctor to give me Pitocin to help with my contractions. The nurse kept increasing the dosage until I was at the highest recommended amount. As the evening turned into the middle of the night, I started to get a high fever and Elsie’s heart rate was going up as well. The nurse decided to stop the Pitocin and gave me Tylenol to bring my fever down and Elsie’s heart rate down. 

The next morning I felt great and was ready to meet my baby girl! But, like I said before my body had other plans.  

The day lingered on, and still no progress on my dilation. I was still sitting at a six. A few hours went by and my doctor came in to check to see where I was at and told me I was at an eight. I was so excited! I only had two more to go, and I would be having my baby girl naturally. To help me get further along, my doctor decided to put me back on Pitocin. A couple hours went by and I started to get a fever again, and Elsie’s heart rate was going up once again. The nurse came back in and gave me Tylenol. I slowly went to sleep and took the best nap I have ever taken. When I woke up is when my dream of giving birth naturally was crushed and turned into a bad nightmare.

I was woken up by the rustle of my blankets on my hospital bed and my concerned doctor. She told me that I have an infection in my uterus.I believe she called it Chorioamnionitis, which basically meant that my uterus wasn’t working properly. This is why I was having those fevers and still sitting at an eight. With tears in her eyes, because she knew how badly I wanted to have a natural birth, she also told me that we were going to have an emergency C-section. At that moment my heart went to the pit of my stomach, eyes swelled up with tears, and a huge lump formed in my throat. It was all I could do not to start crying at that moment. 

Before I went into the operating room, Shane and I said a prayer. We walked solemnly to the operating room with the nurse. My doctor informed me that the procedure should only take eight to ten minutes and then I would have my baby girl in my arms. Well mine took about three hours.

Elsie arrived at 4:45pm healthy and beautiful. I knew that I would only be there for a couple more minutes to get my placenta out and then I would be done. The doctor told me that I would feel a little bit of pressure. Which I had expected, except the pressure seemed to get more and more intense. As the pain increased the anesthesiologist kept giving me all sorts of medicine to help the pain go away. It wasn’t working. At one point I threw up. The last thing I remember is Shane being asked to leave and a breathing mask being put over my face.

I woke up at almost eight in the evening, to what seemed like tons of people in the room. I remember yelling for Shane. I noticed, as I was trying to wake up, him coming over to me. I was in the recovery room. While trying to keep my eyes open, one of the nurses brought Elsie over to me so that I could try and breast feed her. As I was feeding Elsie and trying to stay awake, the nurses asked me what seemed like thousands of questions. One of them informed me that I would not be able to stay in the room that night with Elsie and Shane, instead they wanted me to spend the night in the ICU to make sure I was recovering okay from my surgery. 

Early the next morning I was able to see my daughter and my husband. I was extremely excited to see them and to see my parents. They called me the night before to see how I was doing, and planned their visit to come and meet their new granddaughter. Well because of COVID and the confusing wording on the hospital’s website, my parents were not allowed to come and visit us like they thought would. Once again another moment of my pregnancy that was robbed, due to COVID.

The next couple of days in the hospital seemed like it lasted forever. It felt like a month went by. Shane, Elsie and I were released from the hospital, after being there for four days. We were finally able to start living our new life with our gorgeous baby girl.

Fast forward to now, Elsie is almost two months and I still think about that evening in the hospital when I had my C-section. At my post-op, one of the midwives who was in the operating room, explained what happened that day during my surgery. She told me that I had a hemorrhage and lost three quarts of blood, and I had to have a blood transfusion. She said that having an infection in my uterus made it even harder during the surgery. I was told I had the “perfect storm”, that everything that happened to me, normally does not happen. 

There are days that I really struggle. I feel like I didn’t even have her, and the C-section was an easy way out. I feel angry and frustrated at times, because I feel like I failed for some reason, even though Elsie and I are perfectly healthy. My birth experience was scary and traumatic for not only me, but for my husband as well.

Each day I feel better,stronger, and healthier. I thank God every day for letting Elsie and I both come out of that surgery alive and healthy. I might have had the “perfect storm”, but now I have something that makes the storm seem a little bit more distant… my beautiful daughter Elsie.