Baby Mama Drama Pt. 1

*The first in a series of drama for the mama

“At first I thought I was trippin’, but my vision gettin’ clearer. You movin that thang around as if you practice in the mirror…”

:Sigh, as inappropriate as this song is, it is often what I think of when I walk down the stairs. Or up the stairs. Or when I  try to squeeze my new hips into my size 1 skinny jeans. Let’s just say I stretched the skinny out of those suckers.

Things are just moving around without my consent.

There are a lot of changes that you experience as a new mom. For starters, after having your hoo-ha seen, and examined on a very regular basis during pregnancy, and then, well, giving birth, there is a newfound appreciation for your body. It’s like, Gumby, and you’re frickin happy that God designed us to…err..snap back if you will.

And so while I am appreciating my mother’s body, I am confused as to what to do with alla this. I gained 45 pounds total during my pregnancy. 4 months later, I have lost 37 of those pounds. Even though that’s the bulk of my weight, somethin’ just ain’t right. For starters, my feet. My second toe is almost as long as my first toe. This was never the case! It was always a curled up shrimp of a thing. Now, it’s long, and it scares me. I think this will really affect my dancing (whenever I get my behind back to the studio).

Secondly, there are these hips. Where. the heck. did these come from? Ah yes…my pelvis did have to expand to let a baby out. I had no idea that I would gain hips and that they were here to stay! I’ve always wanted hips. It’s just that I’d already mourned my lack of hips and other things womanly during high school when everyone else got their boobs (and boob jobs…I’m from Miami), and I was left looking for a grown up training bra. But here they are. Hips! After I’ve already established a winning wardrobe!

I won’t even talk about the obvious change for me, but, the not so expected, has been my ribcage. Yes. My ribcage has expanded by 2 inches. I’ve checked. Over and over and over again. Sigh. Nobody told me.

At about 3 months postpartum, I started noticing that my hair was very interested in the floor as opposed to my body. Out it came everytime I touched it. But that was expected. I did know that I would shed like a fake fur after its’ first wash. What I didn’t know, was that it would disappear. LIke literally, frikin bald spots. 3 of them. I cried when I realized that I couldn’t hide my male pattern baldness any longer from Matt. He hugged me and assured me that it would grow back and that I was still beautiful. I’m sure that was just a ploy to make me reciprocate the kind words in 20 years or so. Just joking…maybe. lol

My thighs are bigger. My back is achier. My feet are tender in the mornings. And I’ve got stretch marks to prove that I sustained life in my belly. Although I’m trying to re-learn my body, trying to understand what it likes to be adorned with now, and appreciate the seemingly huge difference, it is all a very small price to pay for the priceless gift of motherhood.

Mother to Mother

I made a deal with Jesus a couple of days ago. It went something like this:

I will honor my baby boy. I will follow your Spirit’s promptings. Help me to become sensitive to Your Spirit, so that I may be more sensitive to the needs of my baby. Help me to really follow you Jesus, in sacrificing my energy, time, pleasure, and body for my baby boy. Let me listen more acutely to your Spirit as You urge me to respond to my baby’s cries with the deepest empathy. Help me to savor his smiles, coos, and delight in me. May I drink in the fullness of your grace, so that I might fill my baby with beautiful things.


And tonight as Matt and I swap Rocking duty, I found this beautiful letter written from mother to child.  I could not have written it better. I’m thankful for that Mother tonight. Tonight, I can rock my baby to sleep, knowing that soon, he will get it. He will go to sleep on his own, without my touch, without my voice, without my smell. And when he does, when he really gets it, I know that I’ll want to go back to these days.These days of being needed by him so desperately. These days of him waking as soon as my scent leaves his little nose. These days of him thinking that my arms hold paradise. I will want these days again, I’m sure.  So till then, I will wait.

Random Life Blurb

First, Thank you Jesus for making wine out of water. :Takes big gulp of cheap, bottled Sangria: It’s been cray cray over in the Stauffer house. I have been wanting to do so many things:

  • exercise
  • shop
  • shower
  • read a book
  • catch up on Scandal
  • sleep till noon
  • blog
  • get a mani/pedi

but, motherhood calls, and motherhood ain’t for the faint at heart. I’ve been struggling with my little booger, and consequently, I’ve been struggling to get a good grasp on my life.  I keep telling myself, ‘Girl, get yo’ life! ‘, and instead of taking the time that I do have to exercise, or do  things that will invigorate me, I crawl into bed, with yesterdays spit up and drool on my clothes, and…I think about sleep. Even when Chi is asleep and i have the opportunity sleep, I’m watching the monitor while I try to do laundry or clean, or take Pickles to the courtyard to do his business while I get the side eye from the neighbors. :Rolls eye. I pay rent. I pick up his poop. Mind ya’ business.:

So, if I say this out loud, on my blog, I think I will make it happen because, well, I’m a sucker for keeping my spoken words. So, THIS WEEK, I will start P90x. Yes, ladies and gents, it’s about to get real. I have 11 pounds left to lose to get to my pre-pregnancy weight, but I’m hoping to lose maybe 6 of those. I’d like a little junk to stay in my trunk;) My main goal is to tone up, and to get more energy by exercising.

So there you have it. I ordered a tape measure a couple of days ago, so it should be here soon. The day it comes is the day that I will start.

Does anyone want to join me? Holler if you do!

Separation Anxiety

Soo…I’ve got a problem. I’m sure you already think you know, but you have no idea. I’m scared  effing terrified of leaving my house…with my baby. Of course I’ve got the new mama fear of leaving him. (So far, the longest that I’ve left him was 3 hours. At that point, I raced back home with leaky boobs and a certainty that he was missing me just as much as I was missing him. Negative. He was nestled in his daddy’s arms, taking a bottle to the head). But seriously, the bigger fear is leaving the house with him. :Sigh: We had an unfortunate bought of the “I”m not ever, ever, EVER, gonna stop crying” blues this past week, which left us in Chi-town, with unpacked luggage this Thanksgiving. We were supposed to be in Michigan. Now, granted, baby boy seems to be teething, but now, I’m frikin traumatized.

He hates being in the car. He’s not really on a schedule (more of a routine) and so far, when I’ve had to take him out, I plan it around him sleeping. Experienced moms, what the heck am I to do? I just want to go out for lunch with some girlfriends! :pulls hair out, melodramatic sniffle: But what if he screams bloody murder while I’m out?! What do I do when it’s nap time and I don’t have my white noise, or rocking chair, or I’m in a quiet place and I can’t sing Beyonce’s greatest hits to baby boy?! Then what am I supposed to do?

Please help. I need to separate from my house.

Help a Sistah Out!

I am so. effing. TIRED! lol. Motherhood is beyond fantastic, don’t get me wrong. But with being a mama and trying to keep up with my daily hygiene, I’m exhausted! I hope that I will be able to blog more regularly, and with more content, but until then, this is what I’ve got.

There are some tidbits of advice I wish I’d had as a new mama (especially those first couple of weeks), so I thought I’d share some of the resources that have really helped along the way. Here’s to all of you beauties with the big, round..errr…stomachs lol.

Are you keeping your baby awake too long?

  • This link is a must visit. I actually stumbled across it a couple of weeks ago and revisited it today. I was definitely keeping baby boy awake for far too long. An overtired baby is nobody’s friend. At first, he seemed calm, and  happy to be awake. Eyes were wide with excitement, everything amused him. And then, the crying began. And it kept going and going. And going. Also, some unsolicited advice from me: Thow  out all of those dang on baby sleep training books. Don ‘t even read them. Wipe your baby’s frequently poopy butt with them. Let  your baby pave the way for the first couple of months.


  • Read it. Live it. Breath it. This is the only breastfeeding resource that you will ever need…well…besides a lactation consultant. And if you need one of those, come to Chicago, because I had the best LC EVER. Seriously. Juli is the like the boob whisperer. Back to Kellymom. I’m on the website Everyday. Questions about milk supply? Kellymom. Questions about pumping? Kellymom. Questions about vasospasms? Kellymom. Getting your first swig of alchy-hol? Don’t pump and dump. Do, Kellymom!

Timeline of a Breastfed Baby

  • You’re gonna need this one if your baby is breastfeeding. This helped a lot as far as knowing what was going on with my body and my little boy. Pin it on your refrigerator. Also, your breastfeeding baby’s poop will blow your mind. Matt and I actually had this Poop Guide constantly in our hands during those first weeks. Trust me, print it out, tape it to your changing station. (Unlike Matt and I who had it on our dining room table. We didn’t have much company in the early days so:shrugs:)

Que mas?  Some more unsolicited advice:

-Feed baby often! this will help establish your milk supply. I wore a top maybe…12% of the time during those first weeks.Also, breastfeeding was super painful for me in the beginning, but when I started doing it correctly, after meeting with the boob whisperer, the pain completely subsided. True story.

-During the first like 2 weeks, your baby is a narcoleptic. Seriously. Don’t fret like I did, and think that your baby is sick and dying (although my baby boy did have jaundice which increased his sleepiness). Oh, and your baby maybe able to sleep through a live football game. My little boy wouldnt wake up for nothin’. But, if  you are seriously concerned, visit the link I posted above, duh! And be in communication with your pediatrician. We were really blessed with a doctor who really loves Chi, called to check on him and told me like to the hour when my milk would come in. And, he lets us call him after hours.

-One of my most valued pieces of wisdom that I received was from a recent first time mom who assured me that the rough patch in the beginning is only temporary. It’s true! It gets better everyday!

-If it’s possible, don’t have family/friends come immediately to stay with you. Take some time to bond as a family with your little one. That will also give you some time to get the hang of breastfeeding, changing diapers, taking care of your healing body. I decided I didn’t want any visitors  (from out of town) to come until the 3rd week. If we are blessed with another baby, I will actually wait longer. It’s just too stressful. And you’re naked 88% of the time.
-Don’t worry if you smell like ass/look like ass/feel like ass. (I usually don’t say ass, but ‘Butt’ just doesn’t cut it. I’m trying to give you the REAL DEAL, ..and make you say ‘ass’ in your head, A LOT! lol) One day, you will feel a little better. The smelling and looking better will come eventually. I hope.

Thats’ all for now. My little one is laying on me, slobbering on my chest (he’s at the drooling stage) and I’m determined to eat lunch today. (See?! your life is OVER! lol)




30 For 30

Hey all!

So much has happened since my last post! If you’ve got time to spare, settle down on your couch for an episode of the Matt and Tereva show! Here is a play by play of our labor and delivery of little Malachi Edward. Unscripted, and pretty much unedited.30 minutes for 30 ish hours.

Our First Dance

A week ago, you lay within my womb, undisturbed.  You heard the moans of my pain and felt the rhythmic clenching of my body urging you to begin a journey that would leave us both blissfully breathless.  With every perfectly timed spasm, I begged for a new mercy; I plead for you to help me, to allow your body to respond to my uncontrollable promptings.  But you lay, enjoying your last moments of complete, earthly peace. I breathed your breath; I provided your sustenance; I swayed you to and fro.

Hours later, when the pain gagged me, clubbing my back and abdomen, I hurled over onto the ground. I negotiated with you, asking for a measure of relief, just to make it to the car. And even in that moment, I loved you. I loved you deeply. But it was not my love that got me to get off of the cold, grimy pavement. Instead, it was my desire to birth you. It was the innate, uncontrollable urging of my groin that lifted me from the ground, groaning all the way.

I’ve always wanted you. Far before I was capable of stewarding your creation, I wanted you. A week ago, I could not believe that I would finally have you. Our body danced the oldest pax de deux in history;  A slow, painful act that stretched every tendon beyond their original limit.; An agonizing, unpredictable moment that is not bound by time to those who dance.

We danced for twenty-eight hours, baby.  You and me, dancing to the mournful lullaby that would put ‘waiting’ to sleep and would bring forth life.

When it was time to coax you out of me, a feeling greater than my pain swallowed me. I was covered in fear. I felt you, finally obliging to my earlier pleas. You bulged within me, stripped of your earlier comfort. With tears in my eyes, I remember looking at your nurse, telling her that I did not know how to push. As daddy held my hand, your nurse took command of my gaze and spoke the truth that we needed to take our final bow: “ YES you do.”

Your name is Malachi Edward. It will be  several months before you will know this. Your name, Malachi, means messenger of God. I spent many months dreaming and praying of the ways that I would see your life honoring your name,yet  my limited scope did not think that it would start so soon.  As I began to bear down, I took part in another dance simultaneously, this one with nature. I joined every broken part of the earth, every broken part of creation, with its deep longing to give birth to something brand new and beautiful. I groaned and grunted, and chanted “Please give me strength, please help me.” I was unaware of the nurses and their promptings to rest. I pushed, and I labored, and with every stretch of my body, with the increased pressure of your anticipation, knowing that something beautiful and untainted was to come forth taught me how to push.  I joined in creation’s eager expectation for you to be revealed. To see a piece of glory, a foreshadowing of what is to come.

After forty-five minutes of dancing, baby, you broke free from me, and began what will become the most enchanting of solos to me. I took hold of you immediately and instinctively.  I don’t know what happened to the pain of our dance, or the agony in my lullaby,  for they were both replaced by a rapid thumping in my heart, racing tears down my cheeks, and a love so deep, so deep and unforeseen.

My Malachi, you taught me to dance. To really dance with abandon. Because of you, I know how strong I really am. I know that I can push beyond the limits of my brokenness to get to something beautiful and perfect. We will never get to dance that way again, but I would do it a thousand more times if I had to, just to hold you.

A week ago, you lay undisturbed in my womb. Today, I get to hold you in my arms.

-Romans 8:18-25

Ready to Pop!

It’s 10:19pm and I just came home from a family outing to McDonalds. :sigh: I know I should do better, but I NEEDED salty fries. And an oreo McFlurry. And an orange Hi-C.

I’ve been feeling so blah lately. My feet don’t fit into any of my shoes, although they are still really cute from my pedicure outing with my besties. Every morning when I wake up, my hands look and feel like someone replaced them with inflated latex gloves.  This baby is soo low. Every step that I take feels like he’s threatening to make his grand entrance. I’ve also been EXTREMELY tired. Like, today, I woke up at 7am. Ate breakfast and went back to sleep at 9am. Woke back up at 12:10, frantically got ready for my doctor’s appointment, came home at about 2:30, ate lunch, went back to sleep at 3:30, and woke back up at about 7pm. Zombie much?

My doctor’s appointment was painful today. I lost 1.5 pounds (which is crazy, considering I ate half a chicken battered in yummy awesomeness this weekend), but I’ve learned that it is normal to begin losing weight at this stage in the game. Last week, my doctor suggested that she check me for dilation to see how I was progressing. Now, I know that dilation is not necessarily an indicator of when labor will begin, but I just wanted to know what was going on. So, stupidly, I decided to let her check me out.

OhmyfrikinOUCH! It was so painful! I think I have  a pretty high tolerance for pain, but I was wincing the whole time. Apparently my cervix is very high. My poor doctor was apologizing the whole time. At the end of my examination, I learned that my cervix is very soft, but not dilated at all. Score.

I just finished my fries. They were yummy.

There’s so much to update on. I will try to do a video soon. My words are not coming out as eloquently as I’d like…I’m just so uncomfortable! I can’t believe I’ve made it to the final 2 weeks, and yet, I feel like I have a month left.  I feel like my body does not have the ability to stretch anymore. My stomach has progressed from Spalding to a full on, fully inflated beach ball.

I’m tired now (go figure). If you think about me at random times throughout your day, please keep these things in  your prayers:

*I’m a little stressed that my doctor may not be able to deliver our little guy. She is on call during Labor Day weekend, but we my due date is Sept. 5. I’m really comfortable with her, and just would like her at the delivery.

*Sept. 5 seems so far away :sniffle: I. Can’t. WAIT THAT LONG! lol. I know that I can but I really don’t want to. Please pray that this little boy is not late, or maybe that he comes earlier. Or, if you’re super spiritual, pray that the Lord would give me patience.

*I know that it’s normal to be lethargic during this time, but I’m having and have had such a hard time learning how to deal with my new body during this pregnancy. I’m used to pushing my body to do what I want it to do. I’m used to being in control, and I hate feeling so out of wack. I feel like this is the time that I should be in full training mode, you know? If I were preparing for a performance, I’d be rehearsing several hours a day, every day. I can barely get my 30 minutes of walking in now. I’m scared that my body won’t have enough energy/strength during labor and that scares me.

That is all for now. Once I’m done looking like a swollen, unibrow-ed zombie, I’ll do a video update.

Love, love, love,


Brush Your Teeth!

I try not to get all political…mainly because I usually don’t care for arguing via the web. This chik-fil-A stuff is causing some serious damage. (Wow, it’s 10:50 am, and my brain is still finding a signal. Eloquence = non-existent). Ok, anywho, I like the restaurant. My favorite is the 8pack combo with a a sweet tea. Although the last time I went, I did get a 12 pack :/ I di-freaking-gress!!! Read this article. It is great.  You will understand the title of this post if you do.

I’ve Got You, Babe

I woke up at 5am this morning with a sickening feeling in my stomach. Pregnancy nausea is a different kind of beast. I propped myself up, leaning on my tower of pillows trying not to use Matt’s face as leverage. I’ve learned some techniques to keep the nausea at bay: closing my eyes and breathing deeply, shaking my head ‘no’ and whispering “not a-frikin-gain!”. While in the middle of my second deep breath, I realized that I was not going to make it to the bathroom, not with my painfully swollen feet still in the bed, my achy hips planted squarely under my HUGE, protruding belly. I pushed myself off of the bed, using Matt’s  shoulder, and made it. To the bathroom floor. Ewww. It was nas-ty. If that wasn’t TMI, you should skip the next sentence or two. Because I have a 5 pound baby on my bladder, every heave pushed on my insides, making me cringe with disgust, and shame. Eck.

Matt woke up to what must have been the most horrid of sounds, panicked, asking if I was ok. He sprinted over to the bathroom, where I demanded he stay out. I was so embarrassed. I took the towels in the bathroom and cleaned as quickly and efficiently as I could and started a load of laundry. As I made my way upstairs to take a shower in the un-stinked bathroom, Matt came downstairs looking like a young Mr. Clean. Yellow rubber gloves, Lysol disinfectant spray, Fabuloso, and bleach in hand. If I weren’t so nauseous, soiled, and embarrassed, I would have hugged him. The fact that my husband knows that I’d rather disinfect every part of that bathroom before I actually took care of my physical self shows just how much he understands and tolerates my mild OCD.

After I took a shower, he had a cup of hot tea waiting for me, just the way my grammy makes it; black tea with a sprinkle of milk, and a touch and a half of sugar. We sat in silence for a while on the couch. He was tired, I was tired, and we were soon joined by our tired puppy.

There have been many moments in the past couple of months where I have been overwhelmed by gratefulness for my husband. He is a good man. I have had to depend on him a lot more than I ever thought I would. I know that might sound crazy, but, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, relying on others is not my strong suit. Matt has taken a lot of responsibility during this pregnancy. He has taken on more financial responsibilities to support our growing family, working 50+hours/week to provide for us. He has taken on my share of the housework at times, even adhering to my strange specificity of cleaning. He has taken on girlfriend like duties; listening to me talk about my hair, makeup,etc., watching crazy tv with me, and I’m even getting my nails done, a la Matt this week.

It has been very  difficult being pregnant in a new place. I’ve felt more alone than I have in my entire life. Matt and I have been so blessed to have the prayers and help of our families, but :in whiny voice: they’re so far away! Not yet having a church home has really been difficult for us.  Last night, I had a breakdown with Matt as I finally uncovered one of my deepest fears about being a new mom.

I’m afraid of not being able to take care of myself well, so that I can take care of my little guy and my marriage. I’m afraid of the effects of not having any community in my life. I went to a baby shower yesterday and as I walked back to my apartment, I was reminded of all of the things that I will have to do in addition to taking care of a new baby: cooking for myself and Matt, cleaning, walking Pickles, doing the laundry, going grocery shopping, doctors appointments, etc., not to mention taking care of myself! How will I relax and what will I do to relax?

Lord knows I almost sat down and cried right on the dog poop stained sidewalk. How will I manage it all? How will Matt and I make it? I know that we will, I know that the Lord will provide, but it is so difficult having that assurance when we have felt so alone during this time.

Whatever happens, it’s been nice to have my best friend by my side. If y’all didn’t know, I’m a pretty accomplished rapper. In honor of my wonderful hubby, here is the most rapped song in our home

*If any of you mamas have any suggestions in terms of preparing for the little one to come, please share. I plan on using the next couple of weeks to  create some freezer meals to make life easier. Please share recipes, tips,  time management, etc.