Jan 232014


I’m exhausted. What day is it? Did I shower? Did I eat? Oh, yeah I had four cheerios, a handful of goldfish, three apple slices and coffee. I’m not sure if that was today or yesterday or a combination. Thank the heavens for coffee. What would I do without coffee?

Did someone say “nap time” ?! Baby down, toddler down. Here is my break, my long hour break to do laundry, clean the kitchen. Oh wait what was I thinking? My proposal is due in three days. Laundry, proposal, laundry, proposal, laundry….. Ok – I can do laundry tonight, fold in the morning after breakfast. Ha! fold? We can fish from the bin.

If I could only find my keyboard under this pile of bills. Ugh, bills. I’ll organize them tonight, after I do the laundry. They should sleep tonight. Fingers crossed. Focus, focus. Check email….should not have checked email. So tired. When did yoga pants become my wardrobe staple? How did this happen? Oh, yeah – now I remember, (smirk). “I’m so tired”. Maybe I’m pregnant? When did I start collecting yoga pants? Dinner! It’s going to have to be breakfast for dinner. Why do I always have to plan dinner? I’m not the only one that eats. Tonight I will not make my toddler a different meal. I will not! He eats what we eat. Oh but he hates eggs – maybe I have some turkey. Grocery store tomorrow. Start grocery list… turkey, apples, eggs, milk…

Baby is up, toddler, not up…who decorated the wall blue? Was that there this morning? Get diapers, wipes. Ugh, defective diaper. Looks like laundry just moved up on the list. Strip the baby, clean the baby, change the baby. She’s such a happy girl. Slightly jealous of the baby….

I wish someone would wash and feed me too, and nap time! I want nap time… So tired.

Toddler is up. No please don’t take your clothes off. Okay two naked kiddies. Wish I could go commando whenever I wanted. They get all the fun. Not the markers! Where did he find those, I hid them…. Thank you Aunt Sally for the markers. At least they are washable.. what they heck.


Who wants a washable tattoo? Looks like it’s a bath night… Wait, what day is it?


To learn more about Ana, please read our introductory post about her.

Dec 032013


ANA BEGINS…..Toddler Story

I really could not tell you in what order my daughter’s first words came.  But you can almost guess that my favorite word she uttered early on was “Mama”.  Her sweet excited little voice would repeatedly sputter the word.  Her chubby cheeks would bubble and mouth bobble like a fishy, “Mamamamamamama”.  When she was happy, excited, needy, scared, tired, hungry, “Mamamamama”. It was her go-to word.   As she grew the syllables shortened and “Mama” came with different tones and a few demanding obligations.

Walking through the door after short trips to the grocery store I would be greeted with a big “Mama”! followed by big hugs and wet kisses.  It was the word I waited for all day sitting at my desk, itching to pick her up from school.  With “Mama”! came the most beautiful smile that made time stand still.

I treasured each and every moment I heard her call me.  Every morning as we got ready for the day I could count on hearing “Mama” at least five or six times.  One morning last October as I prepared breakfast I could hear her rummaging through her drawers trying to piece together a new “rock star girl” ensemble.  Knowing half her clothes were in the dryer, I headed toward her bedroom to let her know.  As I walked through the door she turned her head and said “Mom, I can’t find my purple ruffle skirt”.  My world stopped. She called me “Mom”.

Dec 032013

prgAna Begins - Baby




ANA BEGINS…..Reflections

The ability to reflect on the grace, beauty and love the journey as a mother has provided has been a gift.  Up until now I have shared beautiful reflections from my entrance into motherhood.  The story, however, cannot be complete without the realities of my journey, some devastating and painful.  They say time heals all wounds.  I truly believe it does not only heal, but it captures the blessings we are unable to see in the present, wraps them in security and reveals them when the mind is able to embrace those blessings with gratitude and purpose.

I was not prepared for a Cesarean. If it was not for the Epidural and the fact that I was experiencing something new I would have gone into shock. By the 23rd hour of my water breaking I had to be wheeled into surgery. I remember watching the ceiling tiles whizz by as if I was watching a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy.  At this point I began to cry hysterically. I could not breathe as the congestion clouded every part of my face.  When my daughter arrived I was unable to hold her as she was rushed to the ICU.  The remaining 24 hours were a blur of drugs, visitors and infant care instructions that I could barely recognize, let alone remember.  I focused the small amount of energy I had into my new baby.  Breastfeeding was awkward and painful and would soon become the most devastating disappointment as a mother of an infant.

For the first three weeks I felt a lot of physical pain. The healing incision coupled with breastfeeding and mental anguish had me in a zombie like state.  How was it possible, I kept thinking, that this world had a population of over 1 billion human beings?  How did women go through this multiple times?  The pain I felt, emotional and physical expanded my already growing doubt that I was doing this ALL WRONG.

A few days after her arrival I called the lactation consultant. After ten minutes I felt three things 1) If I gave my baby formula she would die 2) I was purposefully compromising my ability to produce milk 3) the pain would never end. I could not feed my child.  I never made enough milk, and the small amount I could produce over six weeks was wreaking havoc in my baby’s body.  No matter the change of diet the acidity from my milk was tearing up her stomach, causing her tiny body painful reflux and burning the skin on her bottom enough to send us to the ER.  Every feeding I cried.  Every diaper change I was plagued with guilt knowing I caused her pain.

I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I was slowly crumbling from the exhaustion and mental anguish created from my doubts. I wanted at times to walk to a window and jump, but I was too exhausted to get there.  I was in a puddle of over looked post-partum and overwhelming responsibility.  I felt alone. I felt shame. What was wrong with me?  Why didn’t I know how to do this? Why did my body not work the way it was supposed to?  I felt trapped, alone.

Slowly I have healed, but I vowed never to forget the pain, guilt and loneliness of those first three months. I have carefully stored these reflections in hopes that my honesty will help a new mother, and she will help another and then, another.  It gets better. There’s a beautiful light at the end of the tunnel. If you feel alone, know there is at least one mother who understands your pain. You will heal. As the saying goes, “What doesn’t break you, makes you stronger”.



Dec 032013

Ana Begins Header

Meet Ana….This is Her Story

I am thankful for my friend Carolina Gomez (now Marx) because she was my best friend and confident in high school and without her it just wouldn’t have been as fun. I am also thankful because she introduced to me Ana Gonzalez (now Proctor). Ana is one of the kindest, most generous people I know. We bonded over a common love of shoes, but what has made our friendship endure, despite the long distance, is her kindness. She’s the type of person who would take in a homeless girl who decided to do a summer internship in a city she’d never lived in (that would be me), and open up her home and friendships. Ana did all that for me and it was a special summer filled with late night talks, lots of giggles, and many dreams shared (and maybe some wine spilled). It was long before either one of us was married and had babies, which means it feels like a LONG time ago.

Ana is special to my heart and in my opinion a natural mom. So, when we started MommiesFirst I wanted her on the council to help other moms. I was thrilled when she agreed and then we started talking…..Talking about how life was changing as her daughter, Carolina, (yup, same name as the very friend that introduced us!) was growing up. Ana is finding/ discovering a new role and passion as her daughter needs less and less of mommy. As part of her self discovery journey Ana started to write, and I convinced her to share her stories with our community of moms. We decided to name her stories the Ana Begins Series. Yes, i’m a fan of Counting Crows, but more importantly it just seemed like the most appropriate name for a collection of stories from a mom rediscovering her role and her path forward by going back in time and writing about all the adventures of her journey as a mom.

Ana is witty, she’s raw and she’s well, just like one of us. Starting next week – Ana Begins…..I hope you will join us!

With love and care,


Lorena Scott

ps This is Ana!!!



Dec 032013


When I found out I was pregnant I almost fainted.  I remember reading the test results.  I recall the overwhelming sense of wooziness as I placed the wand on the counter so I could sit before I fell over. Never in my twenty-nine years had I given one thought as to what it would be like to carry a human being. I was at that instant overwhelmed with emotions. Emotions I felt unprepared to understand.  The videos in health classes presented mostly technical information. The technical I could handle.  The emotions I could not.  My parents had plenty of cute cuddly stories about my sister and I as babies, but the social acceptance of discussing “private” emotional experiences were kept silent.  I never knew how my mom felt when she was expecting me. I never knew how she felt when I kicked or hiccupped.  I know I asked her on a few occasions, but the answers I received were vague, and she simply stated, with a cute giggle, that she did not remember. I never gave much thought to this lack of information, until it surfaced the moment the wand turned positive.

Once the wooziness and shock subsided I had no choice but to ignore my fears.  With my guy by my side I jumped fully clothed into the experience that lay before me.  My baby would know what it meant to carry her, as this was the motivation which allowed my fears to diminish.  This experience was for her, and that made all the difference.  She would eventually know what it felt like when she kicked and hiccupped.  She would know exactly how weird it looked to see the bottom of her little foot press up against my belly, a story to which she still breaks into fits of giggles.  I would take in each day as a completely different experience, using baby sites to see how she was developing. I took side pictures of my belly so she could one day see how snug she fit.  Her daddy and I would talk and sing to her, hoping our off pitch melodies would not alter her ability to know good music. She’s into One Direction, aka One D currently, but she likes the Beatles too so there is hope.

When she is older I plan to tell her she sat on my bladder and kept me awake ALL night long.  She will know that for the first time in my life I had no appetite and the doctors were forcing me to drink protein drinks.  She will know that her daddy kept asking the ultrasound technician at every visit if she was sure the baby was a girl, as he knew he was already wrapped around her little finger. The technician annoyed by his pressing inquiries asked him why he was nervous about having a girl.  “Oh, man. I don’t know if I can handle two princesses”, he stated.  “Oh. Well how old is your other little princess”? She asked. “29” was his response. She’ll know how we tried to avoid everything pink, and somewhat succeeded, even though her cutest outfits were in fact pink.  I’ll tell her about the parties thrown in her honor and how she was showered with gifts and well wishes.  I’ll tell her how in my last month of carrying her our new bed (manufacturer unmentioned) deflated in the middle of the night, and how I called the company in tears apologizing the whole entire phone conversation for being so emotional about my deflated bed. I’ll re-enact my pregnant waddle to make her laugh, and show her how I had to tie my tennis shoes on the sides. I’ll tell her how she loved to play at night and sleep during the day, which made mommy VERY tired. I will tell her (at an appropriate age of course) how in my emotional pregnant crying moments, her daddy would make me laugh by telling me to create a soap-opera story for the tears, like how my sister’s dog’s vet’s Siamese-twin ran off with my husband.  I will tell her that even though I was excited to be a new mom I still worried every single day because the moment a woman becomes a mother there is a switch that gets turned on and NEVER shuts off.

I hope that if she finds herself on the journey of motherhood many (many many many many many) years from now my experience will provide her confidence, comfort and love.

(Did I mention MANY years?)



If you’re interested in reading an introduction about Ana, please see “Introducing the Ana Begins Series”.