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Ruby Lee’s birth. The conclusion.

November 30, 2012

I vomited for a solid 8 hours after surgery, which wasn’t really in the birth plan. But that night I was up and moving and felt ok…all things considered. You have like the worst period after a c-section of your life for weeks. I waddled to the bathroom with a nurse holding a dog pee mat under my blood maker and still made a murder mess. B was not present for this part as I’m sure he is grateful.

You can’t really stand up straight. Your abdomen is numb like forever. And if you’re lucky like me, you get a special extra burning scorpion pain in your incision when you walk. Listen, I don’t judge anyone who has a c-section by choice, but man, it seems like a sadistic choice to me. I can’t ever imagine voluntarily going through this type of pain and recovery. It’s pretty miserable. But to each his own. I’m sure a ripped open vag is no cupcake party either.

But all I wanted at this point was to see my G. I wanted him to come in and see his new sister who we talked about for months. G has a special doll that he calls his “ghosty” and we had a new “ghosty” for the baby. It was his job to give her the ghosty. And he couldn’t wait.

He shows up the next morning and RUNS into the room, scans it for the baby and THROWS the ghosty at her face. He looks very proud of himself. Watching him meet his sister was one of the best moments of my life. I knew he didn’t really know what a sister was but I also knew that this moment was one of those moments that you never forget.


And we still didn’t have a name for this little girl. B and I went back and forth and back and forth over 3 names. We couldn’t decide. My sister suggested that we have G pick the name out of a hat. I loved the idea of having G contribute to that decision. So we did it. And Ruby Lee it was. This was B’s favorite choice anyway. But if I have to hear him sing Ruby Soho around the house one more time, the bandana goes in the fire.

I KNOW you want to know the other names. Here’s the thing: If I tell you, you can’t be like “oh I really like that name better” or “you picked the best name, the others were bad”. No judgement.

The names were Ruby Lee, Lila James or Lincoln Grace. Moving on. Yes, Lincoln was the name we were torn on for months. And then a giant Oscar type blockbuster came out called LINCOLN and there was Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter (which if you ask me is a huge win FOR the name), and our midwife was like so I just delivered another Lincoln. So we’re happy with our choice. Although G keeps calling her Yincon.

There were times in the hospital that I was alone with the baby. B had to be home for G and those times were hard. I felt the depression creeping up on me. I fought it though. I tried so hard to fight it. But it felt like I was losing.

And it was finally time to go home. They let me leave a day early to be home for Thanksgiving. I was happy to be leaving, but scared to walk into my house and into my new life.

I remember walking in my house with G for the first time and not recognizing it. I remember thinking, where am I and what is this life? The reality was that everything changed so quickly that I couldn’t adjust. So I asked B this time around to make everything as normal as possible at home. Holding off on visitors, regular routines, watching Shark Tank on Friday nights and keeping a sense of normalcy. And those little things really made a difference.

And then G got sick. Very sick. And he’s still sick now with a fever, cough, the works. So we’ve had to keep them separate now for a week and it’s been awful. But I’m still here. Regular me, not PPD me. Even with my sick toddler. Even with my scorpion wound. I’m making it.

I’m breastfeeding round the clock. I’m changing a billion diapers. And it’s definitely overwhelming. But as I said before, having the knowledge of the experience I had the first time around makes this so much better and manageable. Everyone can tell you it gets better but when you’re in it for the first time, you think everyone is in a lying cult that has been formed just to trick you into believing things about babies. But now you know for yourself and it’s ok. Because it gets better.


Looking back, this all wasn’t the ideal scenario of course. But having my midwife and my doula and B there really made the experience as good as it could have been. Having that team who is there for you 100% makes all the difference. And I’m glad that I fought for a better c-section experience. I may have not gotten everything I wanted in that operating room, but maybe the next time a scared woman comes to that surgeon or hospital and asks to have the curtain lowered to see her baby being born, won’t be looked at like she’s a complete whack.  So hopefully it’s a small step in the right direction for someone in the future.

We have quite the road in front of us. But I’m told that I’m not the first person to have 2 kids in this world. So I’ll probably figure it out. Or at least blog about it.

Thanks for going on this roller coaster with me. Every.Single.One of you have been supportive in your comments and well wishes for our family. And even though you’re all internet strangers, it really helped us through all of this. So we thank you.

I do need to mention a few people specifically

First our doula. If you live in the Philadelphia area, I HIGHLY recommend that you reach out to our doula, Leslie. Because she’s a real hippie, she doesn’t have a web page. But email me and I’ll put you in touch with her. modgblog at gmail dot com. If you can have her at your birth, you are the luckiest preg in the USA.

Our midwife. You’ve heard me talk about her left and right. She’s great and was my best chance at a VBAC that I may have not been able to even try for with another doctor. For those of you unsure about using a midwife, she is more medically based than hippie based for sure. I will be seeing her for the rest of my life. (poor Ronni). Woman Wise Midwifery

My pictures. They look professional don’t they? They aren’t. But I had an amazing photographer take our pictures and make them look awesome in editing. We were going to have her at the birth but the timing didn’t work out in the end. She’s awesome and a blog reader and just a cool person. And if you want someone taking pictures of your vag, you want her to be cool.  Little Joys Photography


And life goes on. I’d love to hear your thoughts.





I vomited for a solid 8 hours after surgery, which wasn’t really in the birth plan. But that night…

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hippie stuff, Preg Stuff, Sharing

Moving forward.

November 18, 2012

So here we are.

This week has been the most emotionally trying week I can remember. I’ve moved all across the board from emotional acceptance, to complete disgust, to distrust of everyone around me, to small bits of peace. And here we are, the day before surgery.

I have to admit, sometimes ignorance really is bliss. This blog and this community is 99% blessing and 1% curse. I get so much good info from you guys on everything from your sourcing means of cereal marshmallows to labor and birth. And I knew very little about c-section options because I just didn’t think I’d have another one. But it turns out that if you are in fact faced with this path like I am, there is a way to have a better c-section. When I saw this video, for the first time, I had hope again. I highly recommend watching this video.

That is unless you’re me a week ago. I shouldn’t have watched it. Because now I know.

I decided to meet with the surgeon at the hospital who would be performing the procedure. When I asked for things like not having my arms strapped down, having the baby on my chest after she popped out and having the curtain lowered so I can see her being born, the surgeon (a woman) looked at me like I was crazy. The answers I was given were things like “the curtain only lowers so far”. Or ” the baby will be slippery and you could drop her”. I don’t think anyone has ever asked this surgeon for anything. In fact, I think her and almost all other surgeons are used to no one questioning them ever. I was told that things like this “just aren’t done”.

We talked to the midwife, we explored legalities, we talked about just not showing up for the c-section. We called a new midwifery practice in Lancaster that delivers 80% Amish. We begged and pleaded for anyone at all involved in the c section to just work with us to make it a little bit more positive and really got nothing. We explored other practices that would take someone at 41 weeks (no one). Then I went further.

I took castor oil…which I swore I’d never do again. I took evening primrose oil…which I swore I’d never do again. And you know what? Nothing worked. I mean, like not even didn’t work. Like I didn’t even fart from the castor oil. And so I took it as a sign. I really needed to begin to accept my path and start to move forward.

And up until only an hour ago were B and I crying, trying to figure out what to do. Do we just not show up? Then what? We don’t have medical care in the 41st-42nd week of pregnancy. Do I just wait until I go into labor and cross my fingers that the hospital we walk into won’t cut me open when they see my scar? What if I don’t go into labor at 42 weeks and I don’t have a doctor? Do I walk into a hospital and politely ask for a c-section by a strange doctor? And am I better off than I was before?

Every question led to another question. Every uncertainty wasn’t just an uncertainty. It was the life of our baby. And my life. But my life does involve this birth experience and it’s something I’ll remember forever. Although this piece was becoming smaller and smaller.

I felt like I was going to wake up tomorrow, someone was going to place me into a car, then place me onto a table, then tie me down and cut my baby out. I know it sounds dramatic, but all choice had been taken away from me. I had no say anymore in how my baby would come into this world and it’s devastating to accept. To know that I wouldn’t even be able to hold my baby after she was born and that I wouldn’t be able to witness her birth.

And as B and I sat together, crying tears of uncertainty, wondering how we got here…this comment came in from the blog. (as a side, I have read every single one of them and I’m proud to say that each and every one of them was positive, supportive and encouraging. But this one came at the right time and said the right things to move us forward.)

MODG, I am hoping and praying that, as today is the day before your “go day,” you are feeling super excited about meeting your baby girl, and even a sense of peace and contentment about the way she may arrive. I truly hope you feel encouraged and supported in your decisions. I too (like so many of your readers), share your desire of looking to natural remedies and ways of living, and I too shared your feelings of loss when I went through the experience of a c-section. Reading through all of the stories shared by your readers, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness for all of us. So many of us have had to feel the disappointment of our passions not lining up with the hand we’re dealt during the birthing process. For me, who had this whole plan of natural birth, I also felt shame for the decisions I made (epidural) and even pissed off for the smart decisions my midwife made on my/my child’s behalf (c-section). When I allow myself to be honest with myself (and you), it was a really difficult blow to my sense of identity after I “failed” in childbirth. Why? I hate that some of us who have been saved by medical interventions have to feel like we failed! It is true that our bodies are meant for natural birthing. But it is also true that many, many women and babies did not, and still do not, survive the natural birthing process. It is no surprise that during this time we are all living, may of us will continue to experience c-sections. And you have been such an inspiration to us by seeking out a VBAC, including me who is also hoping for one, because it is good for us all to explore all of our safe options. But even more than that, I want you to know what a POSITIVE example you have been to us over the past week. Thank you for doing the small things, like just mentioning your openness to an epidural. Some of us make it through without one. And some of us don’t—dude, that shit hurts!!! And some of us are so legalistic with our hippiness that we want an epidural so freaking bad but our pride gets in  our way. And, thank you for doing the big things. Like proving you understand when to trust your medical professional’s advice and do what is best for you and your unborn daughter. Because you do have choices you could explore. You could choose not to show up tomorrow and ignore your midwife’s preferences. You could chose to be so set in your desire for a VBAC that you decide not to go to a hospital and labor in the bathtub and fulfill your hopes of being like the chicken and egg in your picture (that was so funny). In a nutshell, you could chose to sacrifice you and your daughter’s best interests. And let’s be honest, this happens in the natural community sometimes. So thank you so much—you are truly doing good work right now and showing us all what it really means to be a good mom.-Beth

And after that, B and I knew what we had to do. We have to move forward. We had to trust our midwife and we had to do what she is saying is best for us. Whether or not I will ever fully agree to how we got here or if it could have been different, we are here now. And in this place, hours before her birth, I need to find that peace. For her and for us.

I am sure that I will struggle still with acceptance. But I will do the best I can.

You won’t hear from me again until our baby is here. But I will post from the hospital to let you know that we are ok and share some pictures. Follow me on facebook as well. It’s my go to way to do a quick outreach to you guys.

Our family thanks you for your support. Everyone should be so lucky to have thousands of anonymous strangers routing for them.

With love,

A, B & G (and future baby girl)

So here we are. This week has been the most emotionally trying week I can remember. I’ve moved all…

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hippie stuff, Preg Stuff, Sharing, You think you know but you have no idea

The hand we’ve been dealt and the struggle to accept it.

November 15, 2012

This will be a very difficult post for me to write. Because when I put it down in words, it’s real.

You may have noticed that Wednesday afternoon, I closed the comments on the last post. It wasn’t because there were offensive comments or any problem at all. It was because your comments were so thoughtful and encouraging…telling me that I could do it and that you had a great vbac and I will too. Every one of them became an unintentional stab in the heart.

Wednesday afternoon we found out that unless I go into spontaneous labor all on my own, I would be having a c-section Monday morning.

It was devastating.

My cervix is still very high, closed and hard. And it turns out I’m less effaced than was let on (to give me a positive sense of hope and take some of my anxiety away). But for someone who is approaching 41 weeks, this means that probably something is going on. Either the head is too big or in a bad position to put enough pressure on the cervix to open it up,  a cord is holding the baby up or there is a ton of floaty fluids in there. In a non VBAC type birth, this is no big thing. Cervix doesn’t mean much. You just wait it out or get induced or whatever. However, with a VBAC your cervix has to be sort of ready to go before any sort of induction. And like many of you pointed out, induction with a VBAC is a touchy thing. And inducing a cervix like mine would be long. Like days long, making it dangerous.

And B and I got that news on Wednesday and B and I and the midwife cried together in her office.

We cried for the loss of something that I had hoped for since the day that G was born. And the thing we talked about and read about and learned all about for 9 months. We cried about the potential I had to deal with postpartum depression again after a disappointment like this. Because in all likely hood, a VBAC now just wasn’t in the cards for me.

And I’ve been mourning this loss now since yesterday and really struggling with coming to grips with never having a birth like my body was meant to. And never having that experience that was so important to me…to feel like my body isn’t broken and it can’t do what it’s meant to.


Now here’s where I talk to you about this. I’m talking to you who doesn’t understand this sort of mourning or pain. I’m talking to myself circa 2005 who would have been like, “I don’t get it, what’s the big deal?” Here’s the thing…You don’t have to understand. You don’t have to feel what I feel. But I ask you to respect it.

I don’t understand people who enjoy running a marathon. I don’t understand 80% of religion. I don’t understand golf. But I respect it.  And try to respect that people have desires, goals and interests that are totally in conflict with mine. Including people who have many scheduled and elective c-sections. I know that there is a path that led us all to the choices that we make. I am not you. You are not me. But what I ask is that you understand that in my life, given my life experiences, and what I hold important to me, this was everything.

Many years ago I suffered from horrible back pain. I saw 230 doctors. No one could diagnose me. They wanted me to have surgery at 24 years old. After years of pain, I solved my problem without medication and learned about the mental side of pain. I have interstitial cystits. After years of pills, I solved my problem with baking soda. After not being able to diagnose G’s allergies for months, a naturopath told me through muscle testing that it was wheat, soy and dairy…it was. All of these things have put me on the path that I’m on.

I believe that our bodies and brains do so much more than we know. I believe that modern medicine can save lives and thank the universe that we have it. But I think we don’t know enough yet. And all I wanted was to have this baby the way nature intended it. I did not want it surgically cut out of me. I wanted to feel my body tell me when it’s time to push this baby out. I wanted the baby to get all of the  magic vagina juice that it gets on the way out. I wanted the cord to stop pulsing on it’s own before we cut it. I wanted B to catch that baby and all of us cry with how amazing that all was and the miracle that we experienced. I tell you all of this so again, you don’t have to completely relate to how I feel but simply so you can respect it.

In the last 24 hours I’ve cried a lot. And I’m trying so hard to remember that at the end of this I will have a healthy baby and that really is what matters. But for those of you who know about postpartum depression, sometimes it’s not all that matters. If you can’t look at your baby and love your baby the way you should, the devastation wins. I am terrified to go through this again. So afraid that I will go into an operating room, come out and be handed a baby. And I’ll wonder why I’m babysitting after surgery. Because that’s what it feels like.

There is no guarantee that this will happen, but going down this path again makes it almost impossible to not compare it to G’s birth experience. And yes, there is even a chance that before Monday I could go into labor on my own. And I’ve been dealing with walking the line of continuing to “try” with interventions and deal with the stress and disappointment of that world versus accepting the cards I’ve been dealt and trying to make peace with it. It’s not easy.

I haven’t given up though. I’ve had more acupuncture, chiropractic and positive thinking than any white girl this side of the Atlantic. But honestly, my hope is low. I’m sort of walking through the motions now to feel like I did what I could and not have regrets.

I’m sad. I’m struggling. I’m defeated.

But I wanted to share this with all of you in hopes that we try to understand each other more. Our differences make us interesting and that’s how we learn. This post wasn’t so Jane in Oklahoma cancels her scheduled C section because she is so enlightened now. It’s so Jane stops judging Judy who wants a natural birth and Judy stops judging Jane.

I thought about keeping the comments closed on this post, but I think it’s important to discuss in a respectful way.

Thanks for going on this journey with me. I know it’s to teach me something. I just don’t know what that is yet.






This will be a very difficult post for me to write. Because when I put it down in words,…

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hippie stuff, Not Pleased, Preg Stuff

Sure, I’ll walk you through my week of crazy. What else do I have to do at 4am?

November 14, 2012

It’s 4am. East coast time. A time where no one should be awake that doesn’t have a screaming baby or a screaming uterus. I have neither so far.

Because I’m tricky, you probably think I’m all zen about this whole birth thing now. You know, with that last touching baby letter that I wrote and everything. Don’t get me wrong, I meant it all. But am I totally surrendering to what could be in store for my vagina and/or my uterus? No. In fact, I’m currently at peak crazy. I’m considering holing up in my closet like a cat about to give birth. I think it would be best for everyone.

Let me take you through this week.

Wednesday: Find out that I’m effaced and not dilated. Act happy about this.

Thursday: Walk the mall. Twice. Make a deal with myself that I can not go into a store until this task is complete. Go into a store. Buy a sweater. Feel better about life and the world.

Friday: Cry. All day. Why why why? Waiting every morning for lots of poop. That’s what they tell me is the start. Think that “this is it” at every braxton hicks. It’s not. Curse out B in my head for not understanding anything ever. Drink 3 gallons of red raspberry leaf tea.

Saturday: Stare at the wall all day. Break out the ol’ hypnobabies (which I swore I’d never do again). Pretend to be more zen. Convince myself that my baby was waiting for me to be zen. REALLY try to be zen. Tell everyone how zen I am. Scream at people I’M SO ZEN YOU ASSHOLE.

Sunday: Go on a nature walk with G and B. Feel better for the first time in days. Don’t cry for the first time in days. Feel happy with my family and life. Maybe starting to feel zen? Acupressure the shit out of my feet and legs.

Monday: Go on a walk in the park alone. Sit by a tree. Talk to myself as I walk about the birth. Cry about nothing. Tell myself that “it’s ok if it isn’t perfect”. Meet up with my doula later who tells me “I’m the most zen she’s seen me” SEE I’M F-ING ZEN!

this is really from my walk. I took a picture to be all “this is my PATH”. I need my brain back.

Tuesday: Wake up crying. I’m zen, I should have had the baby. Have acupuncture with a white girl. She shoots electricity through the needles. Not really buying it. Wish she was Asian. Then find a lady bug in the bathroom. Convinced that it’s our baby with a message for us. Won’t let B kill it. This makes great sense to me.

just in case you thought I was kidding. xoxo bug.


Wednesday 3am: I’m awake. Telling my cervix to OPEN OPEN OPEN. I don’t think it’s listening. Can’t sleep. B is snoring. He doesn’t understand anything ever. Midwife appointment today. Time to overthink and stress about it. Time to beat myself up for stressing. Time to think “amanda this baby is not going to come if you keep stressing”. Stress about that thought. Eat cereal.

And here we are.

If there is a positive out of this situation, it’s that I’m convinced that all the interventions I did at home last time with my first pregnancy had zero shmero to do with my water breaking early. Because this baby is all PSH you’re not getting rid of me that easily.

This has been the most mentally challenging week of my life. That’s probably not true. But I’m saying it. I mean I am literally zoey zen at a damn tree in the woods one minute and regular brain freak Amanda the next minute sobbing into a bowl of nutella. I know that’s the story with pregnancy but this is certainly something my friends.

It’s sort of like when you are just starting to date that guy and you want him to call and you’re like “ok if I don’t stare at the phone, he’ll call” “and if I just act busy and blowdry my hair, he’ll call” “and then I have to just squeeze my voodoo doll with his face on it really tight and he’ll call”. You see what I’m saying. You’re brain gets wonked. You’ll do anything to create a scenario which you have no control over.

And that’s where I am. MODG vs Control. Where is Janet Jackson when you need her?

We have until Monday. Monday is my last day. How do I surrender to all of this? Birth is an experience that I’ve wanted to have my whole life. The kind of birth where you work hard and cry and scream and then it’s completely amazing and totally worth it because you are holding your baby and YOU DID IT. The kind of birth that doesn’t end in depression and scars.

But as the hippies tell me, all of this is to teach me something. And I need to be the willow in the wind (I mean can you get more hippie than that sentence?)

I find out today if I’m dilated and can have membranes swept. Life feels like it’s standing still.

Send me more nutella.


It’s 4am. East coast time. A time where no one should be awake that doesn’t have a screaming baby…

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hippie stuff, Innapropriate, Preg Stuff, Sharing, Vom stuff, You think you know but you have no idea

I say “vag” 30 times in this post and “Olsen twin” 4 times. Also I mspainted private parts. You’re warned.

November 7, 2012

I definitely took for granted last time that I didn’t have to go through the waitandsee bullshit of pregnancy. My water broke early and we were off. No, I don’t want that again, but this waiting and seeing is nonsense.

So today I had a midwife appointment and I let her “check me”. I originally said that is something I wouldn’t do. It’s not a reliable means of finding out if or when you are in labor. Or even if it will happen soon. But my situation is different. If my cervix doesn’t get off it’s lazy asshole and do SOMETHING soon, it’s c section time. So we checked.

And I didn’t sleep last night because of it. And I couldn’t eat breakfast. Because holycervixface, this is a big deal. And I was like B, are you nervous? And he’s like, about what? And I’m like, punch in your neck.

The poor midwife is like straight up *nervous* to stick her hand in my vag because I’m in tears and B is staring her down like, you better say something good or my life will be misery for 2 weeks. This was also the very first time her and my vagina met. So there were pleasantries exchanged like, nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you, etc.

So she checks.

And she’s making faces.

And she’s digging around.

And she’s like What’s that?


And she’s like, oh it’s nothing.

And she’s like ok. You’re 80% effaced but not dilated.

And she’s trying desperately to stick a finger in the cervix hole but it’s closed up tight.

So for those of you who don’t know (I didn’t). Effaced means that your cervix is getting thinner and softer. Dilation is when the tiny hole in your cervix starts to open up shop. I read that in pregnant women your cervix looks and feels like lips.

So this is what I picture my cervix to look like now. Warning, this is very graphic and accurate.

You know, like Olsen twin duck face lips. NOT opening.

What we need is this:

So that’s what we’re working on. Visualization of blow up dolls and the like. I read it or something.

The super good news is that worse case scenario, I will be induced on the 19th. But my midwife is confident that I will go into labor before then on my own. But she said “don’t quote me on the blog”. So I’m not quoting her on the blog. I’m just quoting her saying don’t quote me. Which I think is ok and allowed. Also yes, she reads the blog. I know….

But I’m feeling more positive and trying to stay that way for these reasons:

1) My water so far has not spontaneously ruptured. I’m a beaver dam for waters. Literally.

2) Effacement is good. It means stuff is happening and it makes me feel like I’m not broken.

3) I don’t have this looming imminent c-section threat hanging over my head anymore. No I don’t WANT to be induced, but I’ll take it if I have to.

4) I have an Olsen twin in my vag.

It’s getting close and I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m ready. Also a snow storm is coming. So Yoshe was probably waiting for that. Just to make things interesting.

Also my doula muscle tested me for baby names. Oh you don’t know what this is? It’s when you hold stuff and they see how your muscles respond. I held paper with baby names written on them. Apparently she HATES 2 of the names, LOVES 2 and won’t murder us in our sleep over 1 of them. Hippies are the best.

Ok there you go friends.

I will keep you posted. Almost go time.

Love to you and your Olsen.


PS Please start calling your vag an Olsen.




I definitely took for granted last time that I didn’t have to go through the waitandsee bullshit of pregnancy.…

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Awesome things, babies, Eating Innapropriately, Halloween, hippie stuff, Preg Stuff, Sharing, Stuff I like

You’re invited to my last pregnant moments in a dress. I photoshopped out my nipples. You’re welcome.

October 7, 2012

Yesterday was the last warm day in Philadelphia for a long long time. I consider this the sun setting on my freedom. However yesterday was happy for another reason because IT WAS THE DAY OF MAH SPRANKLE.



Yes you are correct. You see glitter pumpkins and candy. I could have died in a corner covered in crumbs and been happy. But I know you do not give 7 shits about my cupcakes. You want to see what I wore. Because I only made the biggest deal about it since that stupid Kardashian shoe club.

That is me. In the grass. In my slutty preg outfit. Complete with outie belly button and nipples photshopped out. My body looks like the face of a surprised asian girl. And you can’t see the shoes but they are leopard flats. To be fair to fashion, I started the day out in black leather ankle booties. That lasted 30 seconds. Literally. I came in and threw on those flats right away.

In terms of my rental dresses, I ended up returning the blue and the red and keeping the gray and the green. Which one got the final rose, was a last minute call. But I’m happy with my choice. I liked that my boobs weren’t in everyone’s face. And I’m proud of that gigando bump. Although I was asked if I was having twins. I chose not to choke her though.

The jewelry was a tough call. I rented a bunch from Rent the Runway with mah points. I wore none of it. Instead I got this gem from Bauble Bar. Their jewelry is cute and not expensive. Although it’s not ALL like super Kate Middleton quality. It’s more like Nicki Minaj quality. Which I’m ok with.

The sprinkle itself was great. We kept it really small and only invited people who I really wanted to be there. Also I have 7 friends total. So that idea worked out great. But my favorite part of the shower was my regular strength friends colliding with my hippie friends. I’ll show you some of the differences.


Non hippie gift.

Handmade hippie gifts.

Yes, I cried. 30 times. The hippies also gave me more cloth diapers and handmade jewelry with Yoshe’s birthstone and a card detailing the  magical powers that the stones will give us. Everyone was really jealous that they didn’t have hippie friends of their own.

We also painted onesies.

Non hippie onesie.


Hippie onesie.


Really, I can’t lose.

And now some more pictures just because I’ll never look like this again. EVER. Note to shower attendees: pictures here were chosen solely based on how good I looked in them.


Scrubs for G! Do you die? Get them here

And yes, this also made me cry. Because of the matching onesie that says “You make me happy when skies are gray”. (secret: B cried too when he saw it). Get it here

And that’s it friends. My last “thing”  until Yoshe shows her face in my lady parts. The countdown is on. We are at 5 weeks as of today. Thanks for virtually attending mah sprankle. Your presence did not go unnoticed.


massive modg

this also happened.


Yesterday was the last warm day in Philadelphia for a long long time. I consider this the sun setting…

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