Milk Drunk: Diary of a First-Time Mom

By Maranda Cochran

In a series of letters to her daughters that were never meant to be read publically, Maranda captures the blissful burden of motherhood from sweet drool kisses to post partum depression. Whether you are a new mother wondering what to expect or a seasoned mother wishing to look back, Milk Drunk is a rare glimpse into the candid thoughts of a new mother raising her small children.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781973672722

Maranda Cochran

Maranda Cochran has been journaling since kindergarten and has an obsession with old-fashioned pen and paper. Since being blessed with two beautiful daughters, she has turned to journaling as an alternative to baby books. Maranda is married to minister Caleb Cochran, and they currently serve God's kingdom in Rockville, Maryland. Though largely a home-maker, Maranda works part-time as an acute care Speech Pathologist at a local hospital. In her spare time, Maranda loves to stay up too late, refinish antique furniture, and watch baking shows.

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Copyright © 2019 Maranda Cochran.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Interior Graphics/Art Credit: Brittany Jennings

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7273-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7274-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7272-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019912405

WestBow Press rev. date: 9/3/2019

Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Prologue

Booby Trapped

(Aurora From Birth to Six Months)

Pumping and Pregnant

(Aurora From Six to Eighteen Months)

Love in Time of Colic

(Aurora From Nineteen to Twenty-Two Months)

(Iris From Zero to Three Months)

Coming up for Air

(Aurora From Twenty-Three Months to Two Years)

(Iris From Four to Five Months)

In Which My House Smells Like a Diaper Pail

(Aurora From Two to Two and a Half Years)

(Iris From Six to Ten Months)

Summertime, and the Livin’s (not) Easy

(Aurora Two and a Half Years)

(Iris From Ten to Twelve Months)

A Beautiful Mess

(Aurora From Two and a Half to Three Years)

(Iris From Twelve to Sixteen Months)

Acknowledgments

Dedication

To my Mom, Rachel. This book is as much a love letter to you as it is to my daughters.

Introduction

In Kate DiCamillo’s book, The Magician’s Elephant, a weary and unimpressive magician intends to conjure a bouquet of lilies but instead produces a huge elephant crashing through the ceiling of the opera house where he was performing. Over and over again, he states, I intended only lilies, but to himself, he admits his heart had wished for something grander. When I wrote these letters to my daughters in a collection of journals, I intended only lilies. As time passed and my journals made it into the hands of family and friends, the repeated encouragement was to make something grander from my motherhood stream-of-consciousness - to make the elephant crash through the ceiling by publishing a book. These are my honest thoughts about motherhood, and though the words are sometimes heavy, I hope they encourage mothers to find true magic in the parenting journey that is always grander than we expect.

Prologue

I was just remembering that special time when you first find out you are pregnant - the disbelief at the double pink stripe on the pregnancy test and the secret joy you carry around when you are the only person who knows about the tiny miracle in your womb. I remember walking around with so much expectant bliss as I went about my day-to-day tasks. Suddenly, I have company everywhere I go, even when I sleep! I dream about you, imagining what you will look like and what name I will give you. Just a tiny soul growing steadily, so unaware of the joy she will bring to her parents, siblings, grandparents, and even friendly faces of strangers in the supermarket. I feel like a sacred vessel housing one of God’s creations. While I know I have many months to stretch and wait until I meet the mystery inside, I have already implanted this baby not only in my womb, but in my heart, and I won’t ever be the same again. This life is now part of my family, and I wonder how I ever did without. These are glorious moments - right before the morning sickness kicks in.

Booby Trapped

(Aurora From Birth to Six Months)

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Around three days late, your dad said to me, You are beautiful! to which I replied, I feel beautiful the way a planet feels beautiful.

Dear Aurora,

You were late. I tried every natural labor inducement in the book, and your dad even had me jumping on the trampoline to bounce you out. I consoled myself with cinnamon rolls from Cinnabon as I walked the mall, and still the days rolled on past your due date. I started dreading going to church week after week with the chorus of You’re still here? How are you feeling? and You look miserable ringing in my ears. Around three days late, your dad said to me, You are beautiful! to which I replied, I feel beautiful the way a planet feels beautiful. Because you were way too comfortable and showed no signs of coming on your own, we scheduled a labor induction. I finished up the last of my nesting, took super long showers, and watched cheesy pregnancy movies to pass the time. Above all, I prayed constantly for your safe delivery.

I was supposed to get some sleep that night in the hospital before they started Pitocin, but I was too anxious and excited. By seven that morning, your dad had to help me with contractions. While waiting for you to come, we listened to a playlist we had made for labor as we bounced on the birth ball and danced with Daddy. At 12:00 p.m., the doctor broke my water, and the contractions tripled in pain. After three hours of very painful labor, I finally got an epidural, which I have decided is God’s gift to women! I was able to take a nap and watch Singing in the Rain, one of my favorite musicals. By the time the movie was over, it was time to push. My body was shaking uncontrollably, but I was so ready to finally meet you! I’m ashamed to say it, but between pushes, all I could think about was how much I wanted to eat. After twenty-three hours of labor and no meals, you work up a huge appetite. One hour later, you were in my arms looking up at me with those big, beautiful blue eyes!

I cried over you as they placed you in my arms because I loved you so much and because you were so beautiful. Although you had been growing steadily in my tummy for months, I was still surprised to see a fully-grown baby come out. You were so much bigger than I expected! You were born at 8:40 p.m. on Wednesday, March 2, and you weighed eight pounds, two ounces. You were twenty-one inches long! Finally meeting the baby who has been growing inside you for so long is a beautifully transformative experience. You were the answer to so many uplifted prayers. Right after you were born, your dad ordered pizza, and I don’t think I have ever enjoyed food more.

Love, Mommy

Dear Aurora,

The first night home was by far the hardest. We had trouble nursing from the start. Your first latch left bruises that made the lactation consultants cringe and use words like mastitis. Even though the nursing experts assured me you were getting enough milk, I worried as you struggled to stay latched for more than a few seconds, and often you would not nurse at all. Your hunger and frustration made you fussy, and we began a treacherous first night at home. At first, we had you in a bassinet next to our bed, but I quickly discovered I was physically incapable of sleeping while your every breath and movement attracted my attention. You cried so often I began to hear phantom crying even as you slept. As the hours rolled on and you still hadn’t slept more than a