Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah says that while she has trouble finding time to shower, Dalia is squeaky clean.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah says that while she has trouble finding time to shower, Dalia is squeaky clean.

Looking back on my first post for the Baby Project blog, I have to use all the tools from my many expensive years in therapy to resist hanging my head in mortification. I wrote that I planned on "winning at motherhood." Could I have been more misguided?

At the time, I would have said I was only trying to write a fun turn of phrase, but six weeks after giving birth to Dalia, I can tell you I have been competing.

And I am losing.

I can't figure out how to use every urban mom's favorite baby-carrying contraption, nor my allegedly easy pouch sling, nor my idiot-proof stretchy knit baby wrap. I can't tell you the last time I thoroughly combed my hair instead of just brushing it back into my perma-ponytail. I've only left the apartment to go to doctors' appointments. I'm terrified to find myself riding the subway with a wet, hungry, inconsolable baby dripping in poop. And my friends and family have no pictures of my baby because I spend most of my time pumping and nursing — or worrying about pumping and nursing.

Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah says it's the emotional and psychological drain of being a parent that will kill you.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah says it's the emotional and psychological drain of being a parent that will kill you.

Is there a name for this phenomenon?

Snippets and phrases from everyday conversations hitch a ride with the library of song lyrics in my head and set me singing.

Earlier this week, while we discussed (ahem, I worried over) the correct temperature for Dalia's feet, Frank quoted Happiest Baby on the Block author Dr. Harvey Karp's recommendation for an infant's feet to feel "fresh."

About Lateefah

Lateefah Torrence, 38, is a writer who lives in New York, N.Y. She and her husband, Frank, welcomed Dalia Joule on July 17.

• Lateefah's Full Bio
• More From Lateefah

I had no idea what that meant, but it sent me singing Kool and the Gang: "She's fresh, exciting! She's so inviting to me." And my dear Dalia certainly is.

Like fellow blog mom Lucy Peck, I can't stop covering my little one in kisses, from her comical curls to her expressive toes. It must be evolution at work because without the urge to smooch, I think I might lose my freaking mind.

Before I gave birth, I heard all the parents say it is the toughest job in the world. But I thought it was difficult like the Peace Corps.

In my mind, parenting was "The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love" because of the physical labor and never-ending hours. Oh, I was so very, very wrong. Perhaps as a non-breeder, I didn't listen to the truth or perhaps it's a big parenting secret: It is the emotional and psychological drain of being a parent that will kill you.

Enlarge Courtesy of Frank Braun

Frank Braun, with his daughter Dalia.

Courtesy of Frank Braun

Frank Braun, with his daughter Dalia.

Lateefah Torrence, one of the Baby Project moms, shared her difficult birthing story earlier this week. During the experience, her husband, Frank Braun, wrote notes when he was able and recorded voice memos. Here, Frank, a special education teacher in New York City, shares his version of the events.

Saturday, July 16

Noon: I time three pressure waves before Lateefah decides to shower. I feel on alert, but not scared. I think my relative ease is because Lateefah says something about the pressure not being so bad. Could it get worse? Sure. But I also hear her talking herself through it.

The crib mattress is being delivered today. We haven't finished organizing our bedroom — we plan to strap the crib (minus one rail) to the bed. Our bags are packed for the hospital. Our intention is to leave only when Lateefah has been having 1-minute pressure waves every 3-4 minutes for an hour.

12:10 p.m.: She's had waves of more or less a minute in the 3-4 minute range. But it hasn't been an hour. I'm keeping myself prepared: staying hydrated and grazing on whole nut and fruit bars for energy. I hear Lateefah talking herself through pressure waves in the shower. She has unalloyed joy when she thinks about the baby. Her voice becomes musical. Her eyes sparkle. Her smile is contagious.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah, just after she received an analgesic in her IV. She says it was "amazing for about a minute." And then she was back in pain.

Two weeks ago, Lateefah wrote the first part of her birthing story about how she had 48 hours before she would be induced, but she went into labor before that deadline. And that's when things started to get interesting. Here's part 2 of her story.

I really should have listened to Frank.

Countless times during our labor practice, Frank said to me: "Here's a suggested book about back labor. Maybe you should get it." But I wouldn't need that. Our baby had been head down and facing in the right direction for months. Isn't back labor caused by sunny side up babies? I'm thinking no. As we walked to the waiting car service, all of my labor pain pulsed and surged through my lower back.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Frank takes a shot of Lateefah as they leave for the hospital.

At 39 weeks and 6 days, Frank and I sat in the darkened ultrasound room brainstorming boy names while waiting for the tech to return. The ultrasound portion of my weekly non-stress tests had become routine for us: The tech would point out our babe's heartbeat, take some measurements and then disappear to deliver the report to an unseen perinatologist. I would dress, then the tech would appear to tell us we were free to go. But on this day, the tech came back with the doctor. I half-jokingly said to the man who was our version of the Wizard, "I don't want to see you."

When I replay the memory in my head, my view shrinks to his lips moving and his finger scrolling through doctors' names on the screen of his phone. He taps on Dr. Y's name and brings the phone to his lips. I hear something about "increased amniotic fluid" and "she should be delivered by 40 weeks."

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah holds her daughter Dalia.

Ice in my panties and lipstick on the mirror.

This is a lyric from the song of my life right now — and moms of the future, there are some things you need to know. Maybe I missed this during all of my baby prep, but I'm pretty sure I would have paid attention if SOMEONE had mentioned how much care my genitals would need after childbirth.

Yes, I had read raves about the miraculous mesh panties hospitals provide, and I knew there would be a perineal cleansing bottle ("peri" bottle) and perhaps even a sitz bath in my future. However, at 2 a.m., after nearly 38 hours of labor, it was not the best time to find out that I had no idea how to use the alleged essentials of my new life.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Dalia Joule Braun-Torrence arrived Sunday at 8:43 p.m. She weighed in at 6 pounds 7 ounces and is a long little thing at 19 3/4 inches.

Dalia Joule Braun-Torrence arrived safe and sound after nearly 38 hours of labor (more on that later, for sure) on Sunday at 8:43 p.m. She weighed in at 6 pounds, 7 ounces and is a long little thing at 19 3/4 inches.

About Lateefah

Lateefah Torrence, 38, is a writer who lives in New York, N.Y. She and her husband, Frank, welcomed Dalia Joule on July 17.

• Lateefah's Full Bio
• More From Lateefah

Post-delivery, Frank and I were still unsure of her name. In the few days before her birth, we had narrowed our girl name list down to Aziza and Dalia.

For the middle name, we wanted to honor our grandmothers, who all had first names beginning with J. We couldn't seem to find a name we loved that wasn't too close to honoring only one of our grandmothers, until randomly one night last week I said to Frank, "Does 'joule' mean energy?" Later, Frank told me he thought, but didn't say, "I think it's the name of some old dead European white dude." Wikipedia "confirmed" both of our notions.

Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah and her husband, Frank, during a visit to his classroom earlier this month. It took them a while to find their OB, but they're thrilled with their choice.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah and her husband, Frank, during a visit to his classroom earlier this month. It took them a while to find their OB, but they're thrilled with their choice.

I am nearly 40 weeks pregnant, and I just gave my OB our birth preferences sheet. As I have mentioned before, most of the decisions of this pregnancy have been fraught with worry, but our birth plan is one of the few items that involves other people. Lots of other people.

Before my pregnancy, my beloved and longtime OB/GYN stopped taking insurance of any kind. I continued to see her, paying out of pocket. Without the overhead of an insurance bureaucracy, her rates were quite reasonable. I could pay with pre-tax dollars from our flexible spending account, and my visits were only once a year.

She assured me that when I did become pregnant, we could work out a payment plan and that my insurance would likely reimburse us with about two-thirds of her charges.

This would hurt our savings account, but it was doable if my delivery was textbook. But what if it wasn't? I didn't want to be wheeled into the OR while calculating the cost of each suture.

These are my feet. Not to scare anyone, but this shot was taken a few weeks ago — before I reached maximum swellage. Frank has taken to calling them my "loaves of bread." But he is forgiven for the teasing, as he diligently offers to rub my puffy appendages every evening.

Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah Torrence shows off her swollen feet a few weeks before her due date. She only has one pair of sandals that she can currently wear.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah Torrence shows off her swollen feet a few weeks before her due date. She only has one pair of sandals that she can currently wear.

I have never had dainty feet. Pre-pregnancy, I wore a size 9.5W — if brands bothered to make that size for us sturdily footed gals. Currently, I have one pair of 10WW sandals that I can fit into, kind of. I think they only work because the leather has stretched over the last few weeks of my pregnancy. Or not, as you can see by the marks on my feet.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

A cake for Lateefah's nameless and gender-unknown baby

Thanks to everyone who took the time to respond to my naming post. It was a nearly overwhelming experience, but Frank and I read each and every comment.

As Laura Wattenberg mentioned on All Things Considered, although I have the common yearning for our child's name to be somewhat different than the current top picks, I have similar tastes to my NPR audience peers. Many names Frank and I have considered popped up in the responses. When I read commenter Greg Jackson's suggestion of Corva, inspired by NPR's own Korva Coleman, I laughed, as I had been scheming to add Mandalit del Barco's gorgeous name to our list.

Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

At Lateefah's baby shower, the guests put their favorite names on a slip of paper and then they voted on them. The top ones — like Olivia — were placed on her stomach.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

At Lateefah's baby shower, the guests put their favorite names on a slip of paper and then they voted on them. The top ones — like Olivia — were placed on her stomach.

My Pinkberry and Starbucks name is Lisa. It's the name I dreamed of having when I was in primary school. I detested being Lateefah. It was hard enough being one of only two or three black kids in all of my classes, being the one to represent "the race" during Black History Month or having a substitute teacher ask with scorn during roll call "What kind of name is THAT?"

Then came high school. While all of the Jennifers were trying to differentiate with hearts dotting their i's or by using two ee's instead of a y, I was already ahead of the game.

As my world expanded, my name became a bonus instead of a burden. I first began to get it while traveling with my teammates to a speech and debate event. We were staying in a small hotel and I had to call the front desk for something or other. The owner asked my name and when I said, "Lateefah" he asked if I was Persian like himself. I explained that I was not, but during my mom's pregnancy her pharmacist was and he suggested the name for a little girl and it fit in perfectly with my parents' Black Power philosophy, at the time.

Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah took a stress test last week— and despite her litany of worries, it turned out normal.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah took a stress test last week— and despite her litany of worries, it turned out normal.

As I was failing to settle into bed earlier this week, my husband Frank asked, "Want to share what's on your mind?" I told him that there were so many things flying around in my head that I didn't know where to start: "I need to write three blog posts, I'm anxious about our housing situation, I can't find a comfortable sleep position, we need to do a birth plan, and I just don't understand how the baby's head is going to come out of my birth canal."

He replied, "There's one post."

I knew there was a reason I snatched this guy up.

I honestly can't say what I don't worry about.

Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah says she spent her 30s finding her occupational footing in New York City while occasionally looking for a life partner. She found her now husband Frank.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah says she spent her 30s finding her occupational footing in New York City while occasionally looking for a life partner. She found her now husband Frank.

As I saw the second pink line developing on the pregnancy test strip, I began to sob. Not with tears of joy, but with an overwhelming fear. Would this pregnancy stick?

Trying to get pregnant made me feel swindled. Since my first period, I had felt like my uterus was constantly on the verge of falling pregnant. Yes, I went through comprehensive sex ed in school, but I was also repeatedly told stories of the highly fertile and fecund women in my family who would lie down next to a man and wake up pregnant. My very existence outweighed science.

About Lateefah

Lateefah Torrence, 38, is a writer who lives in New York, N.Y. She and her husband, Frank, welcomed Dalia Joule on July 17.

• Lateefah's Full Bio
• More From Lateefah

Through my chaste teenage years, pregnancy was always a specter. Teen moms were vilified nearly as much as welfare queens. The fact that I didn't know a single adolescent parent in either my slightly tony private school or sleepy California suburb did not alleviate my fear of becoming one of those unwed and undereducated young black women politicians loved to berate.

In my 20s, I moved across the continent to Manhattan and tried to be liberated. Far from the constant reminders of dreams deferred due to unplanned pregnancy, I attempted to be a Cosmo Girl. Eventually, I told myself it was simply too much work to keep up with the latest bedroom innovations. The reality was that even with modern birth control, fear of pregnancy was my constant bedmate.

I'm Lateefah and I'm having a baby.

What?

I know, it's crazy.

For months, the birth of our first child was something that was going to happen "later." Now the timeline has snapped me in the face like a broken rubber band.

Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah took belly dance classes pre-pregnancy.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah took belly dance classes pre-pregnancy.

How did we get here? My husband, Frank, and I will celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary in July. We've been together much longer than that, but I am not the romantic one and never remember how long it has actually been. We are both nearing 40 and while I can't speak for Frank, I didn't mean to wait this long before embarking on parenthood. But if it wasn't one thing, it was an abdominal obstruction nearly killing me.

Getting knocked up was not easy. We lost our first pregnancy to miscarriage and were about to turn to the hard-core medical reproductive arts when I came down with what the professionals call a "spontaneous pregnancy."

Now there is a life-form growing inside of me. And honestly, the experience is not unlike the movie Alien. I spend quite a bit of time asking, "What the heck are you doing in there?" As this new life kicks me in the ribs and punches my bladder, I am asked to make all sorts of decisions for its benefit, and it often feels like just too much.

Living in New York City doesn't help. Want to make birth art using Birthing From Within? Is husband-coached Bradley Method the only thing for you? Can't imagine doing anything but Lamaze in a birthing tub? There is someone in NYC who will show you the way for an expert fee.

Enlarge Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah and Frank visit the Louvre in Paris.

Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence

Lateefah and Frank visit the Louvre in Paris.

Frank is a teacher, I'm a writer, and although I often wish we had a bit more income, being on Manhattan's lower end of middle class has certainly helped make some decisions for us. For example, we will not go into debt for a private room at the hospital. I mean, it's only two nights and the money could be airfare to Paris. Oh, I forgot — we'll be parents soon. All extra cash from now on goes into a 529 College Savings Plan for the Alien. Ah, memories of crepes on the Champs-Elysees will have to hold us over for the next 25 years.

Or not.

Finding balance has been my greatest challenge in this pregnancy. I knew I had gone over the edge when I woke up at 3:45 one morning and decided that I absolutely had to research car seats at that moment. (Note: We don't own a car.) As the sun rose over the Hudson a few hours later, I decided the only way to survive the rest of my pregnancy is by making peace with our choices. Laboring at home, yes. Hypnobabies birthing method, yes. Hospital birth, yes. Pain relief, maybe.

I hope this blog will help to remind me and other parents that we are all doing the best we can. My name is Lateefah. I lost on Jeopardy!, but I plan on winning at motherhood.

You can also find more of my musings on my personal blog: A View From The Grid.