Read Online Spelling It Like It Is by Tori Spelling - Free Book Online
Authors: Tori Spelling
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offered to take still photos, just for us, so I did text him after Hattie was born. He came and took some of the first pictures of Hattie. I wanted Mario there, but I didn’t want the crew there so soon.
It wasn’t a matter of what they filmed or whether and how they used it. I had approval over the material. It was just that they were there. They were there for those first hours when it should have been just me, Dean, Hattie, and whoever we chose to have with us. The camera crew was there when the kids arrived. They were there when my mom came. They were the first people to see my baby. Before all those people and my best friends.
For the first time in six years of filming a reality show, I felt invaded. I was missing this special day. But I was so out of it and into my baby, I didn’t have the wherewithal to turn to these people and say, “Get out of here.” Even if I’d been completely clear, it would have been a hard thing to say. They had become friends, after all. I loved that we all felt like a family. We had all intentionally blurred the lines between work and friendship, and I am still close to all of those people, but in that moment I felt like I was nursing my baby in front of business associates. It all felt wrong.
As the epidural wore off, I started throwing up. I looked at Dean. He said something, and the cameras pulled back, but they were still filming from a greater distance. And they stayed. All day. Nobody checked to see if I was okay with it. Maybe at some point I’d said it was fine; I’m not sure. I’d let them film me fighting with Dean. I had let them film my kids having temper tantrums. I had let them film me in my underwear undergoing a spiritual cleanse with a voodoo high priestess. How were they supposed to know this was any different? But it was. Things change in the moment.
I always have a bad reaction after the surgery: a migraine, vomiting, weakness, and just being out of it. I didn’t have it together to take charge of the unwanted situation with the film crew, to say the least, but when I was finally alone with Dean, I asked him to tell them to leave. I’d had enough.
It was remarkable that nothing had ever felt intrusive before. Maybe they were crossing more boundaries, or maybe I was changing. But I think of that day, Hattie’s birthday, as the beginning of the end of that chapter of Tori & Dean .
I DIDN’T HAVE any clothes for Hattie to wear when we brought her home from the hospital. The day before my water broke, Mehran and I had had a “girls’ ” before-baby day. We had sushi (nothing raw), then went to see the Anna Faris rom-com What’s Your Number? Afterward, we went to the Juvenile Shop to find something for the baby to wear home from the hospital. We picked out a pile of outfits for girls and boys. Then I looked at this huge pile of clothes and said, “What am I going to do? Buy all this stuff and then return it?” I kept some neutrals, but I put all the pink clothes back. Poor Hattie.
While I was in the hospital, my mother returned everything we had bought, picked up a load of pink clothes, and brought it all back to the hospital.
FROM MY HOSPITAL bed, with James’s help, I reconsidered the gray room that was on order for Hattie’s Malibu room. Pops of fuchsia? Forget it. My Hattie needed a pink room. Pink, pink, pink. Pink walls, pink bedding, a pink chair. With a gray changing table, gray carpet, and gray crib. As for the yellow bedding and giraffes? I’d find a use for that sooner than I could possibly imagine.
Fish Out of Water
H attie was born October 10, 2011, and we immediately packed up to move to Malibu. Randy, my executive producer from World of Wonder, came over to meet Hattie. After the visit, since I was still recovering from the Cesarean, I said good-bye from the top of the stairs instead of walking him to the door. I stood holding week-old Hattie at the top of the overly grand, curved staircase in the entryway of the Encino house.
It wasn’t a matter of what they filmed or whether and how they used it. I had approval over the material. It was just that they were there. They were there for those first hours when it should have been just me, Dean, Hattie, and whoever we chose to have with us. The camera crew was there when the kids arrived. They were there when my mom came. They were the first people to see my baby. Before all those people and my best friends.
For the first time in six years of filming a reality show, I felt invaded. I was missing this special day. But I was so out of it and into my baby, I didn’t have the wherewithal to turn to these people and say, “Get out of here.” Even if I’d been completely clear, it would have been a hard thing to say. They had become friends, after all. I loved that we all felt like a family. We had all intentionally blurred the lines between work and friendship, and I am still close to all of those people, but in that moment I felt like I was nursing my baby in front of business associates. It all felt wrong.
As the epidural wore off, I started throwing up. I looked at Dean. He said something, and the cameras pulled back, but they were still filming from a greater distance. And they stayed. All day. Nobody checked to see if I was okay with it. Maybe at some point I’d said it was fine; I’m not sure. I’d let them film me fighting with Dean. I had let them film my kids having temper tantrums. I had let them film me in my underwear undergoing a spiritual cleanse with a voodoo high priestess. How were they supposed to know this was any different? But it was. Things change in the moment.
I always have a bad reaction after the surgery: a migraine, vomiting, weakness, and just being out of it. I didn’t have it together to take charge of the unwanted situation with the film crew, to say the least, but when I was finally alone with Dean, I asked him to tell them to leave. I’d had enough.
It was remarkable that nothing had ever felt intrusive before. Maybe they were crossing more boundaries, or maybe I was changing. But I think of that day, Hattie’s birthday, as the beginning of the end of that chapter of Tori & Dean .
I DIDN’T HAVE any clothes for Hattie to wear when we brought her home from the hospital. The day before my water broke, Mehran and I had had a “girls’ ” before-baby day. We had sushi (nothing raw), then went to see the Anna Faris rom-com What’s Your Number? Afterward, we went to the Juvenile Shop to find something for the baby to wear home from the hospital. We picked out a pile of outfits for girls and boys. Then I looked at this huge pile of clothes and said, “What am I going to do? Buy all this stuff and then return it?” I kept some neutrals, but I put all the pink clothes back. Poor Hattie.
While I was in the hospital, my mother returned everything we had bought, picked up a load of pink clothes, and brought it all back to the hospital.
FROM MY HOSPITAL bed, with James’s help, I reconsidered the gray room that was on order for Hattie’s Malibu room. Pops of fuchsia? Forget it. My Hattie needed a pink room. Pink, pink, pink. Pink walls, pink bedding, a pink chair. With a gray changing table, gray carpet, and gray crib. As for the yellow bedding and giraffes? I’d find a use for that sooner than I could possibly imagine.
Fish Out of Water
H attie was born October 10, 2011, and we immediately packed up to move to Malibu. Randy, my executive producer from World of Wonder, came over to meet Hattie. After the visit, since I was still recovering from the Cesarean, I said good-bye from the top of the stairs instead of walking him to the door. I stood holding week-old Hattie at the top of the overly grand, curved staircase in the entryway of the Encino house.
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