Welcome to my blog. This is where I express my life as a new mom, my obsession with biscuits, my love for fitness, travel and all things life. Hope you enjoy!

The Good, The Bad, The Pregnant

The Good, The Bad, The Pregnant

This is definitely one for the books. It was an experience that I will never, ever forget. So, buckle up - this is long and a bit dramatic, but oh so real. 


I won't bore you with the fun details of making a baby, but it was a journey that took almost a year to make happen. A stressful, long, fun and tiring year. The pressure the you, society, family and friends put on yourself to take that next journey into becoming a family, is insane. But, alas! We got pregnant! Side note: if you're trying to have a baby...try a fun vacation, no work, laughter and all the drinks...that helps (insert creepy winky face emoji here). Quick background here; I was never the woman who dreamed of her wedding, that white picket fence life; no, I dreamt about a corner office with a sick ass view. The vacations that corner office could provide and the feeling of walking into a meeting with all men and showing them...I'm a boss lady, so get in line. That was success. Don't get me wrong - I still 100% love love love that feeling. But, things have changed a bit. Fast forward to 4 years of marriage and here we begin...


So, here we are...I'm pregnant (yay!). First 15 weeks of that was pure hell. I literally didn't think I could go on another day. I would be on conference calls, place myself on mute to run to the bathroom to throw up. Awful. Then, I would have to gather my thoughts, turn the boss lady back on and pretend I wasn't just dry heaving in my downstairs bathroom. I began fainting on airplanes. It was so bad that I had to be carried off by 3 flight attendants and rushed straight into the doctor's office. It took 3 times before the doctor. was like, "no ma'am! No more flying!" I began eating like a 13yr old boy, bagel bites and pizza rolls (ahh..that was the life) - let's be honest...I was pretty pathetic. After those 15 weeks, I entered the blissful stage of pregnancy...the one where you feel unstoppable, you're showing so you look all cute, but you're like...oh hey! Ya, I'm pregnant and I can wear heels, lift weights, sleep, put makeup on, clean my house and rule the entire world - please and thank you! I did all of that. ALL. OF. IT. Then comes the dreaded 3rd trimester. Keep in mind, this is 100% my experience. You could've loved every second of it (in which I would call you a liar - sorry, but not really). This is where shit gets real. Like, real real. 


Surpise! Gameday

and Pregnant

People thought it was suspicious that I wasn't drinking during a tailgate, their suspicions were correct. I was downing water and popping Zofran. 

At 32 weeks pregnant I started feeling a lot of pain, but after you Google for 16 hrs and self diagnosis yourself, I was 100% convinced it was Braxton Hicks (the period-like, fake you out kind of contractions). So, I didn't do anything...just would hurl over in pain and breathe it through. I mean, I've never been pregnant before so how in the world was I supposed to know that wasn't "normal". Also, if you've ever been pregnant you'll go to the doctors office with like 15 pages of notes (if you didn't...uhh, ya, me either), you go through that list and start spewing off each weird, strange thing that is happening. The conclusion the Dr says at the very end..."You should stop reading Google and every pregnancy is different". You're like: 1. Well, if I can't read Google how am I supposed to live? 2. Then what is the purpose of your job? I digress, which is a common theme for me these days.

Funfetti cake for the craving win

Funfetti cake for the craving win

So, after my lovely husband was like.."ya, um - I don't think these pains are normal, we should call the doctor." Lo and behold, Mr. Rodriguez should become an OB, because he knew what was up (clap, clap). Shortly after being probed (which, I'll use that lovely term instead of what I really called it with my best friend, but if you're dying to know...fisting). I was told, "you're going into labor and that's not good". Nothing like throwing a pregnant lady into straight panic mode, more than saying "that's not good". Shortly after that, I was admitted into the hospital. I was pumped full of steroids, some weird liquid to stop the contractions and observed for 2 days. Those 2 days felt like an eternity. Then you have these super excited DR's rolling into your room being like "oh wow, we might have a baby today". Another thing you shouldn't tell a pregnant lady - who expected to have the baby in 8 weeks. 8 WEEKS! There was so much I still needed to do. Luckily, we kept that nugget in my belly and I had a follow up 3 days later with my mid-wife. 

Here we are 3 days later and I'm like...we got this, baby is in the belly and we are smooth sailing. Man, was I wrong. They do this weird tummy measurement thing to match it up against the size of your stomach and the number of weeks you are (ex: if you are 33 weeks pregnant, your belly should measure 33cm's - give or take 1-2 cm's.). I was 32 weeks pregnant and measuring 28cm's - that threw the entire office into a tizzy. Again, I was told "this is not good". I was immediately rushed into ultrasound room and they measured every. single. thing. Baby girl was measuring extremely small for the timing and my fluid dropped to the danger zone and my placenta was a grade 3 (basically, my placenta died quicker than it was supposed to and no longer giving nutrients to the babe). I became this insane, crazed maniac and started breathing at a rapid speed...after being calmed down by Roberto, we figured out the game plan. I was put on bed rest, only allowed to work 4hrs a day and had to go into their office 2x a week, for testing. All of this was extremely hard, if you know me, you know that I cannot sit still. I'm always moving, getting things done and love working (why, am I so insane?). I would have family call me on the reg saying "you really need to sit down", my best friend would have her husband call me and yell at me, this is how you know you're a nut job (that's me!). 


Now begins the long drawn out process of being poked, probed and checked 2x a week, hearing "you need to be prepared to have a baby, at any minute". Something I wasn't mentally ready for, but had to quickly adapt to. The Midwives and the doctor's were phenomenal in this situation, but if I've learned anything, throughout my past experiences...its that doctors have to strip emotion away from any of their "news" - this was something hard to accept. Now, I told you this will be dramatic, because; well, I'm super dramatic (if you know me, this is not news to you).  I knew I was in good hands and that this practice delivers thousands of babies yearly. After 4weeks of touch and go, we were given those kind words "ready to have a baby...tomorrow?" With a gasp, eyes bulging from my face, I said "ready as I'll ever be, there is no turning back now!" However, to get the full picture of this situation, I need to tell you about this doctor. He's a short, goofy guy, he never sat down and would pace the entire room at all times. Sometimes, he would be starring out the window and you almost didn't want to interrupt him because you thought he was so close to saying something extremely profound, but then he would turn around scratch his head and be like.."um, ya - you good?" It was so bizzare, never really making eye contact but you knew...if he got into this profession it had to be for the babies, right?

Let me know if you want to hear about Mila's Birth story (in comments!)


Bitch-Which, Please

Bitch-Which, Please