9 Hospital Bag Essentials (And 4 That Are a Waste of Time)

So 16 weeks ago I had a baby. Which means 18 weeks ago I packed a hospital bag. I read every blog and watched every video on YouTube to help me decide what to bring. In the end, I did not have a lot of wasted space in my bag. I used pretty much everything. If I could go back and do it again, this is what I would (and would not) pack in my hospital bag.

*This is my experience. Every hospital, insurance plan, and birth are different. When in doubt, call your hospital and find out what is and what is not provided to you. Go on a hospital tour. That’s a good time to find out what resources you have available.*

Essentials

1. Breastfeeding Gown

I seriously debated as to whether or not I should purchase a breastfeeding gown for the hospital. Since they provide you with a gown, why bother? Well, after 12 hours in a scratchy, paper, backless dress, I’m so glad I bought one. As soon as we returned from the O.R., Zoe and I got settled in and I was more than happy to change. The nurses were also impressed with the gown, as it was intended for breastfeeding and did not get in the way of my IVs. I bought this gown along with this robe set to wear in the hospital. I practically lived in it once we got home; it was worth every penny (and it’s perfect for late night feedings).

2.  Phone/Phone Charger

I shouldn’t have to explain this one, right? It’s your camera, your contact to the outside world, and you can use it to tell people to bring you Whataburger (I definitely didn’t do this one).

3. Snacks

Since I had a c-section, we were up at the hospital for 2 nights. It was nice to have some healthy (and not so healthy) snacks at hand. Yes, the hospital feeds you; however, I was up at all hours with my kid and it helped to have a family sized pack of Nutterbutters by my bedside. We also brought almonds. Because, you know, health (I didn’t touch them. I had just had a baby! I deserved my Goldfish and Oreos, man).

4. Toiletries

If you want to shower, you’re going to need things to shower with. I saw a post that said to bring pack a towel in your bag as well. While the towels at the hospital I was at were fine, you may want your own with you. I say, “leave it at home”, but to each his own.

5. Honey Straws

I brought a package of honey straws, and they were a life-saver. As soon as I received my epidural, I was put on a clear liquids diet. This meant nasty vegetable broth, sprite, and tea. Also included in this diet? HONEY. Sweet, energy-giving honey. On a more serious note, honey does provide a lot of nutrition and is allowed on a clear liquids diets, so go for it. I put it in my tea, but my husband eats them straight out of the container.

6. Fuzzy Socks

Because hospitals are cold and epidurals make it worse. Bath and Body Works has a shea-infused version that I love. They’re only available at Christmas. Buy them in every color because they are amazing.

7. Pillow

They give you a pillow there, but it’s nice to have a little something from home. And I don’t know about you, but my pillow is always more comfortable. I wanted 50 pillows packed around me in the hospital bed. Apparently 3 is sufficient. Whatever.

8. Clothes for Baby

They will give you a t-shirt and hat for your baby. They also provide diapers, wipes, and a blanket. If you want something besides what they provide, you will need to bring your own (obviously). I brought 2 sets of clothes: one newborn, and one 0-3 month. I ended up having my mother bring me another newborn outfit, since we were there for a couple nights.

9. Going Home Outfit

I brought a maxi skirt and t shirt to wear home, but I ended up wearing my maternity leggings. I read somewhere that women that deliver vaginally will want something like a loose dress, but after my c-section, all I wanted to wear was pants. Pants kept the dressings close to my incision and helped make my insides feel (somewhat) normal. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. You can change as soon as you get home.

Waste of Time 

1. Fan

I read somewhere to bring a desk fan to the hospital. Since I am a furnace and like a fan on me when I sleep, I bought one. I ended up never pulling it out because I was freezing for the entire duration of my stay (this is saying a lot). For me, this was a waste of space in my overnight bag.

2. Extra Underwear/Pads

They will give you mesh underwear and pads to wear. Just use them. They’re free. They’re wonderful. They won’t ruin your non-disposable underwear.

3. Nipple Cream

As recommended by several other blog posts, I brought my own nipple cream. Don’t. They give you your own.

4. Diapers

Again–they give you Pampers. They even give you enough to take home. Use them, because diapers are expensive.

So there you have it. My super duper list of things to bring to the hospital with you. My last bit of advice? Do you remember all of the “free” stuff I told you about (because let’s be honest, they’re not really free)? Remember to take them home with you. The pads. The nipple cream. The super fancy mesh underwear–take it home and use it.

Sincerely,

Sarah E.B. Christison

 

Essential Baby Items (As Told By Me)

Since having Zoe, I have had several people ask me which items I use the most, or what they should buy their expecting loved ones. Well, here you go! Here is a list of some items that you may not think of that Zoe and I use every day.

1. Boppy Newborn Lounger

I use the Newborn Lounger every day. If you follow me on social media, you have probably seen several pictures of Zoe smiling while using one. It has been a lifesaver for me. It enables me to have her safely seated on the couch or bed while I get dressed, eat lunch, or write in my blog. At $30, it is fairly affordable and is well worth the money. The only downside is that it does not come with a removable cover.

You can find the link to purchase a Newborn Lounger here. 

2. Gerber Flannel Burp Cloths 

Zoe spits up. A lot. In fact, just the other day she projectile-vomited straight into my face. It was glorious.

Anyways…

These Gerber Flannel Burp Cloths are lifesavers. They soak up everything and are the perfect size for throwing over your shoulder during burps. They come in several colors, and you can find them on Amazon or at your local Walmart. I suggest you buy a dozen. They’re amazing. Seriously.

3. Dr. Brown’s Natural Flow Bottles 

Before I started using these, Zoe had terrible gas and stomach pains. She cried constantly. Someone had given me the gift set at a baby shower, but I had forgotten to open them. Desperately looking for a solution, I found them in the kitchen cabinet where we keep the rest of Zoe’s feeding items. We tried them out, and her gas pains have reduced significantly. We were given the Natural Flow set, and given that Zoe has ZERO nipple confusion (as I do breast and formula feed) I would say that they are very effective. You can find the gift set for less than $15 at Target. The gift set includes three 8-oz bottles, two 4-oz Bottles, three steel cleaning brushes, two storage/travel caps, two level 2 silicone nipples, three 8-oz bottles, and five Level 1 Silicone Nipples. Some say that they do not use them as they can be difficult to clean; however, we have not found that to be an issue (perhaps it’s because we don’t use anything else).

4. SwaddleMe Velcro Swaddles

Guys. Embarrassing motherhood secret: I never caught on to swaddling with a muslin blanket. I just can’t do it. I know, I’m horrible. But we have these Velcro swaddles, and Zoe only wakes up once a night at 7 weeks old, so I’d say we’re doing pretty great. You can find them pretty much anywhere that sells baby items, and they come in several adorable prints and colors. They go for about $24 at Walmart for a pack of two. Before you buy your favorite mother-to-be ANOTHER muslin swaddle blanket, look into these instead. She will get plenty of blankets…Promise.

5. Bubula Jr. Steel Diaper Pail 

I know this is a controversial one, as many moms hate their diaper pails. But in my work running group homes for adults with disabilities, we used our diaper pails every day and I could not see myself having a baby without one. The Bubula diaper pail is made of steel, so the smell does not permeate the can. It is compatible with regular trash bags (which is my favorite feature) and looks sharp in the baby’s room. We received the Junior version, and it is plenty large for our singleton baby. If we were to have twins, I may have considered the larger version, but for us–this is perfect. The only downside is that it is not readily available. You can find it in store at Buy Buy Baby, or at their online store and Amazon. Here is the link for the one we have here.

6. Graco Pack ‘n Play Quick Connect Portable Bouncer with Bassinet

While the other items on my list are very affordable, I thought I would add my favorite splurge item: Our Pack ‘n Play. I know a lot of people say that they never use their Pack n’ Play, but I’m glad Kylar and I received one, because it has been well used. This thing is amazing, and has already accompanied me to Abilene, Garland, and McKinney to visit family. Not only can it turn into a crib on road trips, it also has a changing table, bassinet, and a storage basket included. We use our Pack ‘n Play every single day, and it was  worth the investment (Thanks United Way for the gift!) You can find it here on Amazon.

What are your favorite baby items? Is there anything that you would recommend?

 

 

An Open Letter to My Postpartum Body

Dear Body,

I went through your clothes today. I mustered all of my courage, and took the Rubbermaid container out of the back of my closet. You know, THE Rubbermaid container–the one with the “skinny” clothes. The container with your beautiful tailored slacks and work-appropriate button downs. The one with the dress that used to make you feel like a supermodel, but now makes you feel like a sausage coming out of its casing (you know the one). The one with the dress you wore to your wedding reception, with the green lace and black silk lining that you loved so much. You and I, we understand each other. You and I, we love clothes.

Or, at least we used to.

We used to love clothes, until clothing became difficult. We used to love clothes, until the tumor secreted too much of that special hormone and we began to gain weight for no reason at all. Or until we took that antidepressant that got us to work in the morning, but made us gain 25 pounds and gave us stretch marks under our arms. Or until life happened because frankly, it’s hard to hold a desk job, be married, and still find time for yourself. Since then, it’s been extra large shirts because anything that showed your figure made you feel enormous. Since then, its been a constant battle between trying on things too small and purchasing items too large.

Enough is enough.

You may not be the same right now; in fact I have a sneaking suspicion that you will not be the same, ever. And that’s OK. I hereby release you from any preconceived notions of what you are supposed to look like. I promise, from now on, to appreciate and enjoy you. I promise to love and take care of you.

I’m not saying that I will glorify your stretch marks or the funny way you hang under my dress. I’m just saying that I will let you be. I will leave you alone. Over a month ago, you did something pretty amazing. So there; you’ve earned it. You’ve earned the right to be left alone. I will no long poke and prod, stretch, complain about, or criticize you (or, at least I promise to try). I’ve decided that I am going to be nice to you, because I want Zoe to be nice to herself. She will be too amazing to be worried about frivolous things, like whether or not her thighs touch or the number sewn onto her jeans. Zoe is going to change the world. I know it all starts with you and me.

I promise to fill you with good things. I promise to provide you with what you need to get through the day. I promise to keep you in shape, so I can run and play with my daughter. I promise to dress you in fabrics that make you feel good, because you deserve the best. I promise to protect you and keep you safe, because if you’re not working, I know we won’t be able to be all we want to be.

In closing, I want to thank you. We have been through a lot together. We have both failed the other. Even so, I want you to know that I’m grateful for you, and I am thankful for the beautiful thing you made.

Love,

Sarah E.B. Christison

Still a Little Chunky

But I Don’t Care Anymore

 

Welcome, Zoe: Part 2

Zoe girl is a month old today. Right now, she is asleep on my chest. I can hear her soft breaths and gentle heartbeat. She is soft and warm. Her hair is fuzzy after I wash it. She smells sweet, like Dreft and baby lotion. She can push herself up onto her forearms, and today, held herself up for an entire minute. She likes tummy time, ceiling fans, and Ranger kisses. She is beginning to re-actively smile at things: my voice, her reflection, her Gigi’s wide smile…The smile is my favorite part. It makes the late-night feedings worth it.

 

Now, back to her birth story…

We checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM. I was examined by the same nurse, and was given the same room as the night before. Immediately, the began the process of inducing labor.

First, I was to be given an I.V. for fluids. Typically, this is an easy process. The nurse expected to be in and out within 5 minutes. My husband and I knew better. I was stuck 5 times by 3 different nurses before they were able to successfully insert the I.V. in my right hand. This would prove to set the tone for the day, and ultimately, my labor. My doctor came to visit around 9:30 AM, where he talked me through the day’s labor and delivery process. Afterwards, he broke my water. Now, I’ve never been one to flinch at physical pain, but for some reason, Dr. Price breaking my water hurt worse than I could have imagined. I believe it was fear. And possibly the large knitting needle that had been inserted into my personal space.

    Yeah, it was definitely the knitting needle.

        Once I was able to relax, he was able to break my water easily. They gave me a choice as to when to receive my epidural, and I chose to have it administered immediately. I had been through so much pain during my pregnancy, I did not see any reason as to why I could not enjoy the labor.

The epidural was a different horse altogether. I am allergic to silicon, and as you may have guessed, quite a few common medical supplies are made of silicon: including, but not limited to, catheters. Whenever my nurse looked at my chart, she looked puzzled. She asked me a few more questions, and left the room in search of a silicon urinary catheter. Thirty minutes later, she returned. “This is the last one we had in the entire hospital,” she said, holding up something in a sealed plastic bag, “we threw out all of the latex ones last week.” The knowledge of this allergy created an even bigger problem with the epidural, and the anesthesiologist was certain that his catheters were also made out of (you guessed it) silicon. The only plastic caths they had were outdated, unsafe, and rarely used. They inserted it once, but it began to bleed. They removed the plastic cath and debated as to whether or not they would try again. Luckily, after further research, they discovered that the new, safer catheter was made out of nylon, and they were able to comfortably insert it. Again, I was frightened. Hunched over, I held onto the nurse’s hands and tried to think of anything–anything at all–to take my mind off of the procedure. I was forced to stare at my hands for what felt like hours. Nervously, I said,

“I think I need one of those stupid fidget spinners.”

    I’m not as funny as I like to think I am.

With the epidural successfully administered, all that was left was to wait.

And wait we did.

And wait.

And wait.

Once 5:00 hit, we were ready to push. The nurse, Kylar, and myself were the only three in the room. The lights were dimmed, and the sun was beginning to set. All things considering, it was peaceful and quiet. I began to push. Despite the nurse stating that I was pushing correctly and doing an excellent job, nothing was happening; Zoe wasn’t moving. After several tries, we began to notice something alarming on the monitors. Zoe’s heart-rate was dropping, but was not recovering. When it did recover, her little heart overcompensated. The medical team knew they had to intervene, and they had to intervene quickly.

The nurse left me to rest while she searched for my doctor. Finally, she found him, finishing up another emergency C-Section in the O.R. The two came in, and with sympathetic eyes, told me that they recommended a Cesarean. They approached me as if they were going to have to try hard to convince me. “Just do it. Get her out of me.”

Once we decided to do a C-Section, everything felt as if it moved very quickly. Last week, someone asked me how long I was in surgery. I was tempted to say 20 minutes, but I knew that couldn’t be accurate. I looked at Kylar, who replied, “Well over an hour.”

Over an hour? Sheesh. 

Once in the O.R., they injected a large amount of anesthesia into my body. The initial epidural injection was making me cold and shaky. The increased amount caused me to almost convulse. They made my stretch out my hands as if I were on a cross, and I know I looked..Scary…to say the least. At one point, I accidentally grabbed one of the poles that held the surgical screen, and I shook the screen unintentionally and violently. Kylar noticed before I did, and quietly slipped his hand under mine to prevent any embarrassing accidents.

I could feel pressure and tugging beneath the screen, but I felt no pain or discomfort. Kylar and I laughed and made jokes with the anesthesiologist. We pushed through the nerves and dealt with our fears the only way we knew how: through humor. Finally, a sharp cry was heard. It was the most beautiful sound, and I cried. In between sobs, I looked at the love of my life and said,

“She’s O.K. Our baby girl is O.K.”

 

Sincerely,

Sarah E.B. Christison

Exhausted New Mom

I’m a Feminist and I’m Excited About My Baby’s Sex

I’m a feminist and I’m excited about my baby’s sex.

There. I said it.

I know, I’m bad. Is there a “Fem-Card” that gets taken away in situations such as these?

When it came down to it, my husband and I had no preference towards the sex of our baby. I was convinced the baby was a boy, not by any sort of desire, but instead due to a dream about a baby boy named Elijah Lee (maybe someday).

Whenever I was 15 weeks pregnant, I took a blood test to find out if our daughter had any genetic abnormalities. As a result, I was able to find out her sex through her own genetic makeup (isn’t science amazing?). Not only was I wanting to prepare myself in the event that she did have a disability, I was clinging to anything that would help me get to know her as a person. I felt disconnected from the child that I was creating. Instead of a mother, I was a human incubator. And though I never thought it possible, finding out that my kid had two X chromosomes brought me a feeling of relief. We could narrow down our list of names. We could refer to our child as “her,” instead of “The Baby”. I could begin to picture her in our daily lives. I could picture her playing in the mud with her siblings. I could picture my father teaching her how to garden, and my mother teaching her how to paint. I could see her scoring a winning soccer goal, or hitting the high note in the local children’s choir.

“My daughter,” I thought, “I’m going to have a daughter.”

We did not have a huge reveal party or anything of that nature. It’s not our style. Instead, we asked the receptionist to seal the result in an envelope. We went out to dinner and opened it together.

Recently, I’ve been seeing articles that put down women who find out their baby’s sex. I’ve seen articles that slam women for putting their daughters in dresses or signing them up for ballet lessons.

It made me feel small. I began to question myself: Is it right for me to look forward to parenting a girl?

And the answer I came up with, was: Absolutely.

True feminism is not a war against pink but instead a celebration of it. It is a celebration of choice. It is a celebration of staying true to one’s core self. The war against femininity is one of America’s greatest ironies. Instead of empowering women, it has the capability of oppressing those who do identify with traditionally feminine traits. How often was I told that I cannot be a feminist while wearing a skirt? How often do articles tell me that I cannot be a stay at home mom and an advocate for women’s rights? What about my high school boyfriend, who lectured me on my choice of career because it was not “masculine enough to be empowering”?

I am proud to give birth to a daughter. I don’t care if she prefers to dress like Scout Finch or Elizabeth Bennett; I’m going to support her. I don’t care if she tears up a soccer field or shreds an opponent in speech and debate. I will support her. Should my daughter fall in love with princesses and the color pink, I will proudly wear a crown along side her (even though glitter makes me cringe). Looking forward to having a daughter has no correlation with the way in which I intend to raise her. My daughter may dress in overalls or Ugg boots, but no matter what, she will be kind, responsible, and aware. She will care about those in need. She will see those that are hurting and will have been taught from birth that it is her duty to ensure that the outcasts have a friend in her.

Whether my daughter decides to dress in pink or blue, she will be a super hero. I just know it.

 

Sincerely,

Sarah E.B. Christison

Sorry About That

Rant Over

Human Bowling Ball

We have all been there.

We have all made the brave steps into a department store dressing room.  We have all donned the fake mask of confidence and scrutinized our body in an unforgiving, unyielding 4-way mirror.

But, here I was in tears, desperately texting my best friend from the stall of a Target dressing room.

“I thought that getting bigger during pregnancy would be empowering. Instead I’m crying in Target because I can’t get these jeans over my massive hips.”

When I finally did find a pair of maternity jeans that fit, I stood there in the harsh florescent lighting, staring at my new body. I did not see a strong, empowered woman. Instead, I saw mascara rings around a pair of tired, desperate eyes. I saw frizzy hair and red, tear stained cheeks. I saw a child that needed her mom, not a cheery Target employee knocking at the door asking if she needed a bigger size. Everything I saw was rough, and raw–

it was honest.

I wiped my eyes and fixed my pony-tail. I painted on a smile and bought those jeans. I drove home, and tried them on for Kylar. He looked at me, tilted his head, and said,

“Those don’t fit.”

I gave him a sideways glance.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re too big.” He observed, pointing out the the imperfect fit. He was right. They did not fit. In fact, they were two sizes too big, and I did not even notice. I feel large, and I look large, so I must be large, right?

In November, I was prescribed a medication that made me gain 25 pounds in 30 days. I had not changed my lifestyle. I ate what I had always eaten and exercised 4 days a week. I was constantly criticized by my endocrinologist, who was not familiar with this specific antidepressant. I told her that I was suspicious of the medication, but she was cold and I felt dismissed. I began blaming myself, believing that I was at fault. I tried eating less, I exercised more–nothing worked. Whether I liked it or not, I had a new body to love. In order to change my image, I had to first change how I viewed myself. I had to learn to love the body that I was in.

It took time, and I was finally beginning to adjust to the idea of being overweight whenever I found out that I was pregnant. I began to get excited.

“Great! Now that my body is supposed to gain weight, it will be even easier to love my body!”

I was dead wrong. It ended up taking me until my 24th week to “show”. Up until that point, I did not look like a cute pregnant woman. I looked like someone with swollen feet and a food baby. Even though I’m showing now, my belly hangs low, it’s not cute and round–and guess what? I’m OK with that. I have to be OK with it because this the body that I have.

Whenever Kylar and I moved to our home in College Station, I was able to begin swimming laps in the community pool. Swimming was a turning point in appreciating my body. In the pool, I felt light and airy. When I swam laps, I concentrated on my breathing and building muscle tone. I imagined having a successful birth, and replayed the images over and over again. Whenever I swam, I imagined holding my daughter; I imagined taking her on walks and showing her the world. The water felt cool, and the pool provided a quite space to collect my thoughts. Through swimming, I began to feel that empowerment that I had neglected to feel in the hot, cramped, Target dressing room.

Whether you are pregnant or not, I believe there is something to learn from my experience. Find something that empowers you. Only then will you be able to reach optimal health. Being physically healthy involves being emotionally and spiritually healthy too. Find something that gives mental strength and pursue it. Love your body, and find something that helps you do so.

Sincerely,

Sarah E.B. Christison

A Little Chunky

A Lot Happy

There Are Some Perks, Too

I promise, there are good things about being pregnant.

For instance:

1. Free stuff. I promise I’ve gotten a couple of discounts since I started to show.
2. VIP parking at HEB. Doesn’t get much better than that.
3. A built-in excuse for anything I don’t want to do (Sorry, Kylar).
4. I was told by my doctor to eat ice cream…
5. AND bacon!
6. It gives me something to research on the internet (as long as I don’t look too hard at the pictures)
7. I get to wear stretchy pants.
8. My boss lets me wear Velcro shoes to work. Granted, this is because my feet are swelling; however, I choose to look at this as a positive.
9. I get to wear stretchy pants, AND pants with no waist bands (the stretchy pants perk is so good, I have to list it twice).
10. Frequent bathroom breaks.
11. If you say you’re craving something for dinner, that’s where everyone in your group will agree to go. You want nachos? It doesn’t matter if everyone had Mexican last night. I never had this kind of power pre-pregnancy.
12. Getting to speak with other women about their experiences, and in turn, having an opportunity to write about yours.
13. You can wear tighter shirts without worrying if your food baby will show…Because, you know…Real baby.
14. It has expanded my cooking skills. Since I’m limited to gaining .5-1 pound/week, I have to get creative with my healthy cooking recipes.
15. Baby clothes
16. Baby GIRL clothes
17. Feel like introverting tonight? No worries, just blame the morning sickness and get back into those stretchy pants.
18. At the end of all of this, I know I will have a child. And she will be wonderful. And even though the thought of having her scares me completely, I know it will be worth it.

Sincerely,

Sarah E.B. Christison

Current Dog-Mom

Future Child-Mom

So a Pregnant Woman Walks Into a Bar…

Starbucks Happy Hour.

The best 30 hours May sees every year.

On Saturday, I visited a local Starbucks with my mother. We waited in long line while my swollen feet spilled over the sides of my yellow ballet flats. It was a hot day, and I was ready for some relief. Finally, it was our turn to order.

“I’ll have a Venti Green Tea Frappucino, no whip for Sarah please.”

The barista behind the counter grabbed the cup, began writing my name, and paused.

“You do realize this has a lot of caffeine in it, right?” She eyed my stomach suspiciously.

Initially, I did not understand her implication. I said yes, and she finished writing my name and order on my cup. After the drinks were ready, my mother and I left the shop. As I stepped out the door, I realized what she had meant to say.

Now, before anyone starts thinking, “But SARAH! Caffeine is dangerous to your baby,” hear me out. I am allotted 200 milligrams of caffeine a day. A Venti Green Tea Frappucino is 95 milligrams of caffeine. Up to that point in the day, I had only been drinking water. After that point, I only drank water. That drink was well within the units of what my doctor had recommended as safe for me and baby. I had planned to have that drink. I made accommodations to ensure that I would not ingest more than the daily recommended amount of caffeine.

When you’re not pregnant, no one cares about the amount of caffeine you drink, or your sugar intake. You will never see a barista stopping a fat man from ordering a scone, or saying,

“Do you KNOW how many calories are in that?”

The moment you begin showing, you become a public commodity. Suddenly, strangers feel it is their duty to inform you of their opinions on how to dress, how to exercise, how to eat, and how to drink. The running program your doctor recommends is “no good” to the helpful stranger, who fears you may overheat. Suddenly, lunch meat is the enemy and tuna is untouchable–even though your doctor recommends you eat 12 ounces of light tuna (or other fish) a week. Strangers at the grocery store feel entitled to touch your stomach, and older women at the gym ask you how much weight you’ve gained without batting an eye.

When you’re pregnant, you cease to be a human in your own right, and are often made to feel like nothing more than a human incubator. I am not advocating for pregnant women to excessively drink alcohol or eat raw meat; however, shouldn’t we trust women with their bodies? People do things we do not agree with every day. It is not until they become pregnant that we feel it is our duty to intervene “on the baby’s behalf”. However, the world is changing. Doctors are discovering that pregnant women can do more than ever before. Caffeine is not bad, and even some sushi is allowed every once in awhile. If you see me in a bar, drinking a beer, assume it’s non-alcoholic–if I say I’m craving a tuna fish sandwich, offer to pick one up for me–and if you see me at Starbucks, let me order my green tea. It’s delicious.

Sincerely,

Sarah E.B. Christison

A Little Bit Pregnant

A Little Bit Gassy