Baby Taco: 3 months, 1 week
I smoke. I know it’s bad but I can’t help it. When I found out I was pregnant, I immediately stopped. It was a lot easier then I thought. If anything, the smell of it when I was pregnant made me sick to my stomach. My husband was thrilled. I told myself and my friends a million times I would never go back. Once he was born, I was still going strong. I was pumping as much as I could to give to the nurses at the NICU, I channeled all my stress into fits of crying. I thought I had everything under control.
Once he was home, breastfeeding became difficult. Since he was so premature my milk never came in fully. I tried pills more water but he wanted more than I could give. My friend came over to visit. In a frustrated panic I told her how difficult things have been. She gave me a cigarette and it was the best damn thing I ever tasted.
After that though, I was good. Taking care of Taco became my new addiction. About a month after he came home, my cousin died tragically, my grandma had also passed a month before Taco was born so my family was in shambles. I was devestated, I was mad, I didn’t know what to do. I did the only thing I knew how to do with handling my anxiety and depression, I lit up.
I would not consider myself a heavy smoker. But I should know better. Even one puff is horrible for you. It’s become part of my routine. Right before my coffee. When my husband comes home, when I need to call my parents. I have this urge to go outside.
Cigarettes to me feel like home. I know that’s twisted but the smell of it makes me feel like a kid. My grandmas house always smelled like smoke and coffee. My dad smells like a mix of baby powder smoke and listerine. It’s comforting. Hell, when my dad came over a couple of weeks ago we shared a cigarette and it was amazing. I got to share this taboo thing with him. I felt like I was one of the grownups gathered around the table at my grandmas house fighting over the ashtray.
I don’t want that smell to be Taco’s home though. I frantically wash my hands, spray on perfume to mask it. I don’t want him to ever start. I don’t want him to feel like it’s a right of passage to go outside and have a smoke with mom. It’s not cool, it’s not hip and it’s gross. I know that.
So why can’t I stop? I spoke to my husband about it yesterday. He hates it. He’s never smoked a day in his life and probably never will. We spoke about addiction in general. We are both doing things that are killing us. He loves soda and fast food. It made us both nervous that we won’t be ther for Taco. He needs us. Eventually he’s going to be running around and we are going to need to keep up.
I have a doctor appointment tomorrow. I plan on bringing it up to him. Not only the smoking but my health overall. PPD is kicking my ass right now and I love me some fast food too. I don’t want Taco to adopt our unhealthy habits. I would feel so guilty to teach him something that would hurt his health. My husband and I did everything we could to keep my pregnancy healthy so now it is our responsibility to keep it going. A plan is in the making. A change is going to come….right after this cigarette….