Take it from me*

Introducing the ‘Take it from me’ series! 

I’ve told you about the birth of my son.  About my ” birth-relucant” husband.  His labor faux-pas.  My Post-Partum Anxiety, my mother, and my love of Target, all while I singlehandedly ended mommy-on-mommy bullying.

You’re welcome.

I figure it’s time to bestow some of my WISDOM on you, my lucky, lucky readers.

Want even more spectacular news?  I’m adding pictures to the deal!  And that is not at all because I don’t feel like actually writing anything.  (Nothingatalltodowithit).

Once or twice a week I’ll share a picture story of my pregnancy, marriage, and motherhood journey.  It’s  a chronicle of what I did, what I never should have done, and what I think you should or shouldn’t do.  – Be sure to read the disclaimer at bottom of page-


The Cake Party

Have you heard about this yet?

About three years ago, while I was still living in New York, long before I was thinking about having a child, my sister called me, in a frenzy, to tell me about a Today Show segment she’d just seen with….. The Duggars, wherein Meredith Viera had revealed the gender of their- what? Thirty-third child? – with a cake.

The cake, frosted in gender-neutral white, held the secret of the baby’s sex in it’s pink or blue batter.  How fun!  Right?  We decided then and there that, by god, when I finaaaaaalllly had a baby, we were doing a cake reveal!  And by god we did it.  And it was so worth it.

I highly recommend this.  No, I insist on it.  You must do it.  It is SO much sweeter than finding out your baby’s gender from a stranger in a dark room.  I think so anyway, and yet I’ve been unsuccessful so far in talking any of my pregnant friends into doing it. WTH?  Do it.  Please, please do it.  I threw a big party for my family and close friends and cooked a bunch of Russian food, and by the time we got to cutting the cake, everyone was drooling with anticipation.

Here’s what you do:

-Have the ultrasound tech write the sex of your baby on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope.

-Take the envelope to your bakery and explain that you need them to bake a cake and food-dye the batter either pink or blue depending on what is written inside the envelope.

-Explain it again because the seventeen year old behind the counter will look at you like you just chanted in ancient Sanskrit.

-Make sure they understand that in no uncertain terms, YOU are not to be told the color of the cake.

– Let someone else pick up the cake so the confused teenage bakery girl won’t blurt out the color of the cake, like she did to me.  Yep. Totally ruined it for me- but THAT is a whole  other blog…….

– Enjoy the excitement of your friends and family…..


Verdict:  Do it.

The Wedding

In eleven billion years, I never thought I would ever get married while visibly pregnant. And if I’m being honest, I’m still not quite sure why I did.

I became possessed with the notion that I must, must, be married before the baby arrived.  That, and I was somewhat turned off by the idea of spending gads of money for what is essentially a party for everyone else.

He was all for not spending the money.  I was leaning towards spending everything we had.  In the end, we went to an inn in Vermont, hired a local Justice of the Peace and did it together. Just the two of us.

I still have wedding pangs.  Probably always will.  But what the heck, the result is the same, we’re husband and wife and there’s lots more left over cash for future gifts of jewelry for me!  Weeeeee!

Verdict:  I have no idea.  Do what you think is best.  But seriously, if you need say, a ROOF over your head or savings in the bank, think about a romantic elopement.  Either way, wear red shoes.

The After Birth picture

You know those pictures you see of women, a nano second after their baby was removed, painfully, exhaustingly from a small opening in their body, smiling and looking dewy and refreshed?

It’s LIES.  Lies, I tell you!  You might want to tell your young children to leave the room.

This. This, is what it really looks like.  

Some one is brand new.  Some one needs to be slapped ( you know you want to slap his happy, perky face), and someone looks like she needs a good shock from a defibrillator.

The Verdict:  DO NOT allow anyone to take your picture within three days of giving birth.



* Warning:  The Surgeon General strongly recommends against taking my advice.







































































Heather Bogolyubova

About Heather Bogolyubova

Heather Bogolyubova has an un-pronouncable last name. A Maine native, she's returned to the Pine Tree state after several years in New York. Now, she's a newlywed, has a new baby, a new job, and lots of fancy shoes she can never wear in the snow. The job: Stay-at- home mother and wife. Its hard. She's going to tell you all.