Happy Halloween! Aubrey's Guide on Surviving Pregnancy and Childbirth!

Pregnancy:

• For nausea: lemon ginger tea. If your stomach (or your nose) can't tolerate the lemon, get plain ginger tea. Ginger ale is supposed to also help, but I preferred the hot tea. Also, unsalted saltine crackers next to your bed. Eat them BEFORE you stand up to pee in the morning (I know this sounds impossible, and will drive some of my OCD friends up a wall), but it will eliminate some of the morning nausea.
• Let someone else clean your toilet. If you're going to be puking in it, you certainly can't stomach the sight (or smell) of it when it's dirty. If there's one thing you insist on your partner helping you with, make it the toilet. If you don't have a husband/partner, the next time someone says, "What can I do to help?" put down your pride and ask them to clean the toilet. Trust me. Besides, if they're asking, they probably really are willing to do whatever you need! 
• Ice. Sometimes I couldn't even tolerate the tasteless crackers, so I lived on ice. You know that perfect-to-crunch ice that comes with your fountain drinks sometimes? Certain gas stations have bags of that crushed ice for 99 cents. Where I lived, there was only ONE gas station around that sold this ice, and if you didn't get to it early in the morning, it was sold out. It was THAT good. (This ice obsession has a lot to do with being iron deficient, so if you're finding yourself craving the crunch of ice a lot, tell your doctor. Taking an over-the-counter iron supplement will fix that right up.)
• Rice bags. I have severe back pain / back labor during pregnancy, so heated rice bags SAVED ME. Make some, buy some, use a heating pad... whatever you can get your hands on. Life saver.
• Just a tip: Don't underestimate the power of STRESS. You might have read that stress affects your baby's chance of depression, anxiety issues, etc., but stress also can cause you to have a premature birth, which is SUCH a big deal. These days women don't take premature birth very seriously, because the hospitals are so good at getting those babies healthy... but the effects last long beyond the NICU. Take relaxation seriously and remove stressful people from your lives during this time. This is your baby's ONLY 9 MONTHS TO INCUBATE! Ok, done with soap box.

Labor/Delivery: 

• First thing to remember: ONLY YOU WILL BE GOING THROUGH THIS. Absolutely everyone you know (including me!) will be handing out advice, but you are the one who will be feeling the pain. You are the one who will live with regrets if you don't do this the way YOU want to. Not your mom, not your sister-in-law, not your cousin's friend's aunt, not even your husband, and LEAST OF ALL your doctor. If you doubt something your doctor says, get another opinion!! I can't stress this enough. Even the best doctors in the world tend to take short cuts sometimes; ask around, do your own research, read books. You can never be too well-informed! (However, if all the reading has you stressing over every little symptom, put down the books. Remember the relaxation we talked about? That's more important.) 
• Relating to the advice above, make your birth plan based on what you want, and then leave it alone. Make sure your doctor knows very clearly what you want, but also know that NO labor goes exactly the way you expect it to. Be open to other avenues, just in case. Research more than one possibility. Have a Plan B. Even the most well-laid plans can land you in the operating room if, by chance, you have a child with a giant head. (Not like that ever happened to me.... *ahem*)
• Keep in mind that your due date is an estimation. Not even your super-awesome, highly-paid OB or midwife knows when your baby is done cooking, only your baby knows that! My doctor was 4 WEEKS off his estimate, so my baby was five weeks early. And by God don't be that girl who "puts herself into labor". I knew a girl when I was pregnant with Josh who tried all the tricks to have her baby early so she "wouldn't get any fatter". That baby was 4 lbs when he was born, and by some miracle he was healthy... as far as I know. (After I heard that she put her baby at risk like that for something so shallow, I stopped talking to her.) Please, for the love of God, don't be that girl.
• Things to take to the hospital: 1) Your slippers; your feet will be freezing. 2) Music that calms you; sometimes you just need to drown everyone out to endure the process. 3) Makeup. I know this one sounds ridiculous, but when my Max ended up in the NICU, I was in the hospital for two weeks. After a few days, putting on makeup can make you feel SO MUCH BETTER. It's a mood lifter, which is important. 4) A movie; especially if your husband will be going back to work while you're still in the hospital, you will need something to pass the time in between feedings (if you aren't sleeping). 5) Your best friend, sister, or mother. No matter how much you think your husband is going to support you, there's just nothing like a woman to hold your hand. When that baby comes out, everyone rushes to the baby and leaves you alone; tell your best friend to stick with you, because that's a lonely moment. 6) CHAPSTICK! Your lips will be more chapped than that time you climbed Everest. (Ha! Like I know anyone who has climbed anything!) 7) Your own pajamas. If all you have are size extra-tiny-small, buy a big size and bring it with you. Wearing that gown around gets old REAL fast.
• Bring someone who can stand up to the doctor or nurses for you. You will be TOO EXHAUSTED to be your own advocate. My advocate is my mom; she's a nurse and totally willing to tell the staff what we REALLY want. Find someone who is willing to speak up, because sometimes (ok, a lot of the time) the staff will try to override your opinion. They are the "experts," but you are the one in labor. It's also a good way to stay on their good side - they'll see your advocate as the "bad guy" and you can smile weakly and keep the doctor and nurses as "friends".  :)
• People have mixed feelings about this one, but during a vaginal delivery, you have the option of using a mirror. They wheel it in and position it so that you can see everything that's going on down there. I know it sounds awful, but it REALLY helps show you when you're pushing effectively. This is especially important if you have an epidural and aren't really feeling what's going on down there. (Lucky you!) 
• If you know someone you think should not reproduce, just bring them to watch the birth of your baby. Or even just stand in the hall and listen. That kind of birth control is good for at LEAST five years.

Recovery: 

• Depending on your delivery (and your insurance), this will be 48 hours (vaginal birth) or 3-4 days (c-section). The nurses you get in recovery are generally different than the labor and delivery nurses. There are ALWAYS good nurses and bad nurses. You're unlikely to see your doctor after the moment he finishes sewing you up, so be super sweet to these nurses. They are the ones who will be getting you drugs, helping you adjust in your bed, bringing you your baby, etc. There are separate nurses for the nursery. Be especially nice to these ones, because they are in charge of your baby! However, if someone is treating you badly, SPEAK UP and ask for a new nurse. You don't need to be walked on, and there are enough nurses to go around if you can't stand yours. Remember, everyone has a boss. 
• Bring a little hand-made sign to the hospital if you are planning on breastfeeding. It should say in BIG, BLOCK LETTERS (maybe with a smiley face for softening the blow), "NO BOTTLES OR BINKIES FOR ME!" or something equally straight-forward. Tape it to the baby's bassinet. Even if you tell them, "I'm breastfeeding," the nurses will take the first opportunity they get to shove a bottle in your baby's mouth. If you're bottle-feeding, by all means! Get some rest (Lord knows you won't be getting any at home). But if you're planning on successful breastfeeding, make sure the nursery nurses have a VISUAL REMINDER every time they pick up your baby not to give him/her something to suck on besides you. (Personal sidenote: Even if you aren't planning on breastfeeding long-term, the very first day or two after birth you give the baby EXTREMELY important nutrients that they will never get again - this is called Colostrum. Consider nursing just for a few days; you can always quit after that if you're uncomfortable with it.)
• Schedule the time people will be visiting you. You might find that you just want to be alone with your hubby and new baby, but you also might find that you're like me and can't wait to see everyone! I personally enjoy being the center of attention, so being in the hospital is the perfect excuse for me to demand that everyone I know come visit me and tell me what a good job I did. ;) With my first baby, though, so many people showed up at once that there wasn't any time to speak to them or room in the recovery room for them to sit. Ask people to come see you after your spouse has returned to work, so you won't feel lonely. 
• When the nurse shows you those giant ice packs you crack like a glow stick and then wear like a pad, don't laugh at her. Say thank you as appreciatively as possible, and take full advantage of those.
• Speaking of supplies... the hospital charges you an arm & two legs for EVERY.SINGLE.LITTLE.THING. They will charge you for it the minute they put your name in the computer at admissions, so don't feel guilty using them. Ask for more pads. Take them home. You will bleed so much in the next couple of weeks you'll think you're going to die from internal injuries; use them. I'm not kidding - when you get your bill, look at it item-by-item. They charge for EVERYTHING. (Ever seen that episode of Friends where Ross takes everything home from the hotel room because "it's included in the price of the room"? It's like that.) 
• My last piece of advice is this: When the nurse asks you, "Would you like your baby to stay in the nursery, or room in with you?" CHOOSE THE NURSERY. I know, I know, bonding and all that. But guess what, this is your LAST CHANCE TO SLEEP for weeks, maybe months. Perhaps years. Take it. Let the nurse take care of Baby for a while. If you're breastfeeding, just ask the nurse to bring the baby in when he/she is hungry. No one will be waiting on you or your baby when you get home from the hospital, so use this time. After all, you are trading your arm & two of your legs in payment.

I'm terrified of clicking "publish" on this post, for surely I've forgotten critical details! Good thing this can be edited later! I'm already working on the next edition, Things You'll Need to Survive the First 3 Years. In the meantime, add your questions or advice in the comments!!!

(BTW, all my advice relates to birthing in a hospital because that's my personal experience. I wouldn't feel comfortable dishing out advice on having your baby in your hot tub, because I didn't do that! Not because I'm trying to push the idea of traditional hospital birthing on you or anything.)


See also: On Surviving the First Year of Motherhood

When your kids are sick

Your heart beats faster in your chest and you wonder how you could have been so irresponsible as to let this happen.

You are suddenly willing to do so many things you weren't willing to do before, like fetch them things they could usually get themselves. Even if you know they are well enough to walk, you run around getting them everything they request, because suddenly you MUST do everything within your power to make things easier for them.

You sleep on the couch all night and let them make an elaborate bed on the floor, so you can be RIGHT THERE if they need you.

You wake up with a crick in your neck, which tortures you for days. So worth it.

You let them stay home from school and watch Qubo all day, just so they don't strain themselves.

You let them puke in your best mixing bowl, so they don't have to rely on getting to the toilet fast enough.

You listen to them talk about their diarrhea, even though you'd really rather not hear about such things. Maybe they'll say something important, and you'll know that they need to go to the doctor? Based on their description of their poop? I don't know. But you do it.

 "Mommy, my bum hurts!" suddenly is the saddest thing you've ever heard anyone say. Suddenly, you are bathing your six-year-old like he's a baby again.

Your heart breaks as they beg for food, saying, "But mommy, I'm HUNGRY!" You have to tell them no.

You realize that there's no reasonable way to explain the digestive process to a Kindergartener, which makes you feel like the meanest mom on Earth when you say, "No, you have to wait a few more hours before you can eat."

You spend an entire night, when you work the next morning, just stroking his forehead and checking for fever.

You kiss him, knowing you will be sick next week as a result, because there's just not another thing you can do for him. Which, as a mother, is unacceptable.

Wedding Jitters

So I'm writing this story. It's about a woman who is engaged to a man - a good man, someone she loves and respects - but is realizing he's not exactly what she's going to want for a partner her entire lifetime.

Does this sound familiar? I asked this question on twitter, and I got an overwhelming response of "not really". This surprised me... is it really not that common to have these last-minute doubts? Or are people not willing to admit them? Perhaps I'm just talking to the wrong people, who knows. But I've spoken to several people in the past who have admitted to these feelings and went through with it anyway, regretting it later. I do believe our hearts tell us what we need to know when we're making a mistake (some might call it the Holy Ghost; choose your own brand name for the revelation, but know that it's the same thing).

The problem is that we don't often want to hear what our hearts have to say. 

What's worse? We (especially as Americans, I think) are assaulted by the images, stories, appearance and sounds of "true love" around us. Our movies require a happy ending in order to succeed at the box office. Our radio streams love songs by the dozens of lofty, impossible love that is of the unwavering and undying variety. We have this belief, even from childhood, that love is just around the corner, and that there is an Edward out there for everyone.

I knew someone once who said the decision to leave her husband came from reading Twilight. He just wasn't Edward. While I know this sounds ridiculous, this is a common comparison (and in her case was probably just the extra motivation she needed for a decision she was going to make anyway). It isn't entirely wrong to say, "But what if I want more?" It's so hard to know when wanting more is reasonable, and when it's just greedy. This is difficult before, during, AND after marriage, and I firmly believe no one outside of those two people know the answer.

At the same time, we are assaulted by images, videos and celebrities which represent the objectification of women, complete and utter disrespect for our bodies, our minds, and the fact that we have a will of our own. Rap music, soap operas, reality TV... it all compounds this confusion. At this point I think we, as women, are just so happy to be considered anything at all, that we're confusing basic human respect with "love".

Barely related tid-bit: Last night I met a girl who said to me, "He used to really bug me, but then I got a D.U.I. and he forked over TONS of cash to bail me out, so now I love him."  Love is certainly a relative term, but perhaps we're stretching it a bit?

I read the title to a link on twitter the other day that was something like, "How Disney and Twilight are destroying our girls' view of love". Or something like that. If you wrote that, I sincerely apologize for butchering it. (I was in a hurry, so I didn't click on it, which I regret now because it sounded like a good point.) My sister-in-law slept over the other night and she wanted to watch Twilight. As we were watching it for the millionth time, I viewed it with that perspective in mind, and I saw exactly what this person on twitter was referring to. I've never really understood why people refer to Bella as a weak person; I've always thought the opposite, assumed those people just hadn't read the book. But I suppose the way she rejects the "good boys" and gravitates toward the "bad boy" would seem weak if you didn't possess that tendency yourself (helping you to understand that it's much more complicated than just "weakness"). I completely understand the need to go the difficult route, despite prior warnings, but that's just me.

As a result, though, I have lived a pretty complicated life so far. One day at lunch with my mother, we were talking about my son, who is a difficult child, and joking about what a pain I was as a baby. I was just terrible, and she said, "Yeah, we thought, 'Well, at least the teenage years will probably be mild, since she's such a difficult baby.' " And we laughed. And laughed. Because I tortured them through adolescence as well.

A friend of mine told me once that when she was getting married, she realized she was making a mistake. She cried all the way down the aisle, knowing she was going to regret it. But she didn't stop and say, "No. I don't want this." You know why she didn't, but I'll tell you what she said to me anyway.


Money had been spent.
Pride would have been lost.
Pain would have been inflicted.
But most of all, embarrassment.

Sending all those people home? Unbearable. Admitting she'd made the wrong choice? Unthinkable.

Personally, I think it would be so worth it to throw the money away (although, I didn't spend any money on my wedding, so that's easy for me to say), bruise your ego (& your fiance's), and experience some embarrassment in the moment. In exchange, you are avoiding so many other heartbreaks and embarrassment!

If you are about to marry someone you know isn't right for you, or will never blend with your world, or who treats you badly despite his "good intentions", there are some things you should think about (but probably will refuse to). Warning: soap box moment. *ahem*


Questions you don't want to ask yourself, but should:

• Do I ever want to have to say, "My first husband..."? Once you've had a failed marriage, you can never again not have an ex-husband/wife. Already on your second marriage? Ask yourself the same for "third husband," etc. No one plans for a marriage to fail, but sometimes we know deep down it won't  last before it even begins, if we are paying attention.
• I don't get along with my soon-to-be-in-laws. Do you think perhaps they would be even worse as ex-in-laws? If your fiance's family is going to cause your marriage to split in two, you don't just end up with an ex-husband, you end up with ex-family as well. And sometimes they can be even more hurtful than the ex himself. (Perhaps they are better off never becoming your family in the first place?)
• If you relate to the above question, consider this one very seriously: Do I believe my in-laws-to-be have not rubbed off on my fiance at all? "He's the good one in the family" is the dumbest thing you've ever said. Reconsider this conclusion, because it's nothing but justification. Genetics, habits, mannerisms, etc. run deep. This is not to say he's not a good man, but if his family drives you crazy, perhaps you ought to think more intensely about how many years he spent living with those people.
• Will there be anything in that pile of beautiful wedding gifts that will make up for a bad marriage? Better yet, will any of those things be more difficult to take back than a wedding vow? Could I stand to wait a few years to acquire these things, if it means saving a lot of people a lot of heartache? (I know it seems shallow, but a LOT of people get married for the gifts/party.) 
• Is it REALLY terrible to be the last of my friends to get married, or do I just THINK it's terrible because of social/cultural pressure? Could I learn some important lessons from watching the others and waiting for the RIGHT person, even though it might hurt to be "the single friend" for a while? 
• "But there aren't any good guys left. Everyone is married already." I have three things to say to this: 

1. Spread your wings. If you truly believe this, you are restricting yourself WAY too much. Where you live is a very small part of the world. 
2. So many people find that the "one" for them is a divorced man or woman. He may be married now, but if you waited, you may find him after he's realized he's made the wrong choice. (NOTICE: I SAID AFTER. Going after a married man is worse than marrying the wrong man. Patience is a virtue for a reason.)
3. Move. Study abroad. Become a nanny across the country. DO SOMETHING more interesting with your life, and you will find more interesting people.   

Sidenote: If this sounds too directed toward women, that's because it is. I try to be "fair", but I think women have a stronger tendency to ignore and justify than men. I just do.

I'm twenty-seven years old, and by no means an expert. I've been married for only 6 years. I don't claim to have made the best decision in regards to my marriage vows. But I do know that I've watched countless friends of mine rush into marriage - or even plan a wedding for years - with the wrong person, or at the wrong time, who are now suffering from a crippling divorce, cheating, abuse, and other things they never would have imagined. 

Or maybe they did imagine... and they chose to do that thing we do as humans and justify it away? No one will ever know but them...

You know when...

That moment when you see yourself in a picture and realize just how fat you really are?

Yeah, that.

Guess I won't be sharing pictures from our Halloween party after all. 

Actually, I like my job.

You know how I do a lot of whining? Like, a LOT. Well, I know it too. I TRY to be positive, but it doesn't always work out.

I complain about the people who shop at my work, because let's be honest, the stupid stuff people do is just good entertainment. But really, I like my job. It's retail, yes, but it's a good environment and the people I work with are awesome. I get along with (almost) every one of my co-workers, which is much more than I expected out of working again.


Ten Things to Be Happy About At Work:

1. Days like today, when there are projects and re-organizing to do. My shift goes by so fast when there's work to do! 
2. I love to set up the displays. I'm good at making things balanced and pretty. I didn't realize until I got this job that not everyone is good at that, and I really enjoy it. 
3. Some of the customers totally crack me up. Example: when a 7-foot (at least), fully-grown MAN asked me "Where's the potty at?" Almost needed to use the potty myself when he said that. Laughed right in his face. Best part? He didn't know what was so funny. 
4. One particular manager I work with (I signed a contract that said I wouldn't blog about the specifics of my company, so I can't tell you which one). She's someone I feel like I would be friends with outside of work. I like her because she's concerned with what MAKES SENSE, not what the RULES say she should do. She's my kind of people.   
5. The weird things we sell. We sell a lot of normal stuff, but since we're a discount-type store we get in a lot of strange things. I've been dying to do a "Weird Stuff We Sell at My Work" post, but I'm not sure how my managers would feel about me taking pictures at work.... I'm gonna ask, though, because holy cow there are some eccentric things there.
6. My work is located in the city I grew up in, so I've seen a bunch of people I haven't seen since high school. This is good AND bad, but mostly good. Today I saw a boy who wanted to date me sophomore year, but I turned him down several times. Kind of awkward, but still fun. 
7. I'm well-liked there. Out of all the things I expected out of finally getting a job, this was the very last thing I expected to happen. First impressions aren't my strong point, but people have expressed appreciation for me pretty consistently. This is a huge perk about going to work that has surprised me.
8. Discount. 
9. I'm pretty much their favorite fitting room girl (I know I sound lame when I say that), so they let me have whatever hours I want. This has become my favorite thing about my company! They've worked around whatever I needed, and even gave me tons of hours when Husband lost his job. Very cool. 
10. My boss. She's kind of abrasive at first, but she's incredibly loyal and concerned about our personal health/safety/lives. Last week she bought my co-worker's son a present just because she knows my co-worker is incredibly poor (she's working on getting her husband legally to the US from Mexico, so she works tons of hours and doesn't get to live with her baby daughter in the mean time). This is not the only example, but one that stuck out to me.  

I'm very lucky to have work right now, especially with Husband not making as much as he used to, and I'm especially grateful to work in a place I enjoy. So just know, when I'm complaining about work, I'm just a whiner. I actually really like my job. 

For my sister, on her birthday(ish)

Top 12 Things I Love About My Middle Sister

Natalie is the one on the far right... I'm the baby on the far left.
I know, I know. It was the 80's, ok?

She’s the hardest worker I know.

She says hilarious, awkward things when things are uncomfortable - just like me

She bribes small children with M&M’s… and it works

Her house is always clean – not like me

She taught me how to make lists. Natalie is seven years older than me, so I was still in elementary school when she was in high school. She used to come home from school and make a detailed list of everything that needed to be cleaned (my mom was working). She would put check boxes next to each small job and let Jon and I choose jobs one at a time, putting our initial next to the job. This made our chores feel really manageable, and also allowed her (I realized much later) to please my mom so she could go out with her friends. :) I'm sure my mom really appreciated it, and it taught me how to make lists that aren't completely overwhelming. I use the same system with my kids now when there's lots to do.  

She always hands down her kids’ clothes to my kids (so good at sharing!)

Her kids are AWESOME, and it’s mostly her fault.

She’s not a snob. I love this about her because she’s interested in finding a good deal on good quality things, not just expensive/name-brand stuff. I respect this.

When I think of her name, I think Gnat, because when I was a kid she told me how to spell the word "gnat" (because her name is Natalie, and we call her Nat), and I thought it was funny. Haven't stopped thinking that ever since. 

She’s super honest. If there’s something in my teeth, she’ll tell me. If I smell like B.O., she’ll tell me. If the jeans I’m trying on make my butt look big, she’ll tell me. If I look pretty, she’ll tell me.

When Natalie had friends over, I used to sneak up and hide behind the couch to listen. I was completely fascinated with my older siblings; always wanted to be older than I was. I'm sure she knew I was there, but she didn't kick me out. She even let me attend her birthday parties, even when she was a teenager.

When Husband and I moved to Kansas, she wrote me a long letter that I still have. I love snail mail, and I especially appreciated that when I was far away and missing my family. She writes little notes of appreciation or thanks, and she even wrote Husband a letter to remind him to buy me a mother's day present when we were first married. 

Two years later

Humor me and turn this song on while you read. It's beautiful.




I've been asleep for so much of the last two years, it hardly seems real that it happened at all. It's more like a dream. Each morning when my kids wake up, and there's three of them, I'm still a little surprised. Quite honestly, I hardly remember having that third one at all.

He's a charming little monster. He would charm me into loving him even if I wasn't his mom.

In case you don't want to watch the video here (which is probably just as long as reading this post), I'll give you a brief(ish) history of Max, in case you weren't around in those (miserable) first months.

Pregnancy is horrific for me. Let's just say that if the symptom exists, I experience it in an extreme manner.
At the end of my pregnancies, I've had contractions almost constantly for 2-3 months. Early labor with 2 of 3 kids.

My doctor did what lots of doctors are doing these days and convinced me (the miserable, swollen, out-of-her-mind, contracting pregnant lady) to have a C-section 4 weeks before my due date. I was "measuring big". (Soapbox: Girls, if you ever hear a doctor say this, change doctors. He's just preparing your mind for an early induction/c-section so he doesn't have to deal with you for another month. There's no such thing as measuring "small" or "big" - EVERYONE is different.)

Anyway, so after a very long night of intense contractions, I let the doctor take me in for a c-section.

Unfortunately, the doctor had miscalculated my due date to begin with, so my baby was actually 5 weeks early. He was a 6-lb baby, the biggest in the NICU, but he couldn't breathe.

I don't remember anything about the delivery except hyperventilating on the operating table. (I have anxiety and a serious fear of blood and pain. Why did I think I could consciously survive being cut open?) 

I don't remember seeing my baby for the first time. I know I was in a hospital bed and he was in an incubator. I know he had more tubes than he had facial features. I remember hearing the nurse tell us, "Now this is very important," and then going on and on about something... but I couldn't for the life of me concentrate on making her sounds into WORDS. I'll never know what was so important. 

Fortunately, Husband was there obsessing over the monitors and stats. 

I remember choosing his name. No matter how many names we tried to attach to him, Max was the only one that would stick. He just WAS a Max. I remember the little tiny sign the NICU nurse made for his bed. 

I remember everyone saying he was the cutest baby in there. 

I wonder if they say that to everyone. 

The first time I held him was more than a week after his birth. I don't remember much, but I will NEVER forget that moment. That particular nurse even allowed us to do Kangaroo Care (skin-to-skin contact) because she believed in the healing power of it. I will forever be grateful to that woman for breaking those rules for me and for my baby. His health really did improve after that, and so did mine. The fifteen minutes I got to hold my baby boy in my arms meant so, so much to me. 

Max was born November 19th, 2009, and we finally got to bring him home December 2nd. Two weeks after he was born.

His brothers were so excited to meet him, and I was terrified I would break him. He was still just a teeny little guy who had a lot of trouble eating. They only released him from the hospital because I finally agreed to let them feed him formula. Breastfeeding was so important to me; it broke my heart to give that preemie baby artificial food. After 14 days in the hospital, I finally went to them, weeping, and told them they could give him whatever they wanted if they would only LET US OUT OF THERE. 

He did a LOT of this: 

A lot of this: 

...and a tiny bit of this: 

In fact, I mostly just remember him like this: 

 

I will forever owe my mom for getting Joshua through that school year and holding Max for hours while I slept or tried to get my mind back on track. Husband and I were split up at the time, and that baby never, ever slept... without my mom, I don't know what I would have done. 

One day, before we moved in with my mom, I found myself unable to pick up the baby. 

He cried, I stared. 

He cried harder, I stared harder.

Asher plugged his ears. "Mommy, I don't like it when the baby cries." (He still says this.) 

I stared.

And then I cried. And I couldn't stop crying. Husband tried to figure out what my problem was, but (as I said), we weren't in the best place... so I just... sobbed. 

I called my mom. My mom and I haven't always gotten along, but when something is wrong, she's always the first person I go to for a solution. She's a problem solver, and she cares deeply for my family. She's also an RN who specializes in women's health. I told her I couldn't stop crying. I told her I couldn't get out of bed or hold the baby. I told her if I had to feed that baby ONE MORE TIME I'd kill myself. I told her she had to take me to the doctor because I needed help NOW. 

I was still sobbing when she picked me up. I cried most of the way to the doctor's office. 

See, I wasn't just depressed. (But I WAS depressed.) 

I was going through an ugly divorce. 

I was losing my apartment. 

And my baby was starving to death. 

See the chicken legs?

Monitors and machines

At six months, my Max only weighed ten pounds. They called it Reflux. Now I know it was a milk allergy, and by continuing to breastfeed him with milk products in my system, I was causing his Reflux. In addition, I was sharing parent time with Husband, so my baby was away from me 2 out of 7 days every week, causing my milk supply to dwindle down to nothing. 

Finally we were able to start feeding him "solid" foods. Baby sweet potatoes, to be exact. I don't remember much, but I won't forget that argument. 

Me: Everyone knows you start babies with bananas or something mild.

Husband: I want him to have sweet potatoes. He'll like them.

Me: He'll puke them.

Husband: He'll be fine. He's having sweet potatoes. 

Nervously, I watched. 

And my baby, who had always been a sickly little thing, kept the food down. 

And he GREW. 

 This skinny little thing...

...turned into this chubby little thing in only two months. 

8 months

I am so proud of those fat rolls, I could just cry. My horrible, screaming child who never slept and puked his guts out constantly turned into the sweetest, happiest little guy! We went from seeing a doctor twice a week to regular well-child check-ups. 

And with the threat of losing my little baby boy out of the picture, I started to wake up. 

I started to actually see colors again. Hear giggles. Return smiles. 

...appreciate those gorgeous eyes. 

Two years later, and I still find it surreal that I have three children. But I thank the Lord that my little, fragile baby is now: 

Watching movies

Playing the piano

Enjoying normal food

Playing with brothers

Sledding

Riding in wagons

Terrorizing my house

Charming us all. 

And this week, he went 2 WHOLE DAYS drinking REGULAR milk, and he didn't get sick or anything. My sweet, sick baby is finally out-growing his allergy. And he's healthy.

Miracles happen, even to people like me.

Top 4 Obnoxious Songs I Listen to Every Day

These are the top 4 most obnoxious songs they play at my work. They don't just play them... they play them OVER AND OVER AND OVER again, until I want to shoot myself to relieve my ears from the misery imposed upon them.

Enjoy.


This song (above) was probably fantastic... for the first 20 years.


This song (above) makes me want to pull my eardrums out and stomp on them so I don't have to hear her say "I'm a gypsy" ONEMORETIME.


I call this the Whore song. It makes me mad because it promotes WHOREism. (above)


This song (above) just plain bugs the crap out of me.

I bet you're looking forward to the Top 4 Obnoxious Songs I listen to Every Day: Holiday Edition! Next month the Christmas music turns on, and I've worked holiday retail before... it's not gonna be pretty.

Instead of wasting your time on this, head on over to Emme Packer's website. She's got a beautiful voice and writes songs that hit so deep, you might find yourself wondering how she knows you so well. Give it a listen. http://emmepacker.com/listen

Today

Today I will take down the dark curtains and let the light in.

Today I will pick up the toys I've been stepping over for two weeks.

Today I will wash the coloring off the walls.

Today I will PLAY with my children.

Today I will make the kids clean up their room. Because even if I can't learn to control my environment, I should still try to teach them to control theirs.

Today I will turn up the music and let myself dance.

Today I will not live on Twitter, watching other people talk about their lives.


Today I will LIVE my life.

The truth that haunts me

Photo credit

Throughout my life there have been so many people who said to me, "I love you because you say what the rest of us are thinking," that I began to believe it. People have always thought of me as the girl who wasn't afraid to call it like it is.

Too many to count.

Now, I'm no therapist, but this is the basis of my identity crisis, if you ask me. Why, then, am I unable to say what's really going through my head when faced with conflict?

The longer I am married to Husband (one of the most difficult people I've ever come across), the more I analyze this. I struggle endlessly with the concept that I am not actually that fearless girl (woman?) everyone said I was.

I'm here to confess something. I don't want to, but I think if I say it to you, I can maybe admit it to myself.

I am not fearless and outspoken really.

I can't speak up in conflict.
I speak up when there IS NO conflict.

I speak up to CREATE conflict where there is currently peace.

Just typing those words tore a seam in my heart, and I haven't even clicked PUBLISH yet. I don't know why this is so difficult for me to admit, but I am literally getting sick to my stomach just thinking about it.

What do you do when you aren't who you thought you were?

Writing Endeavor: Update & Why I'm Pissed

What I Wish has been complete for a month now, but I haven't had the guts to get it printed without someone to proofread it, so it's still sitting as a file on my computer named "Compilation" instead of in the hands of the cute girls I wrote it for. Unfortunately everyone I know is pretty busy right now, so I don't see that it's going to happen any time soon (unless I have a volunteer??).

Honestly, though, I think I've also been standing in my own way, worrying about whether or not I'm qualified to hand out personal experience and advice to young girls. It's a pretty scary endeavor, and quite honestly I'm a little worried about pissing off their parents.

After six months of begging, pleading, and offering to sell them my children, Medicaid finally got me the meds I've been waiting for. Unfortunately they haven't really regulated in my system yet, so I'm in a pretty major funk (for lack of a better word). Depression, anxiety, fatigue, impatience, avoidance, etc. have kind of taken over my life the last few days. I go to work and fake it, but before and after work I've been kind of a monster. My poor family has to be sick of me by now, but still I have angel children who try to cheer me up, and Husband, who gets frustrated but always comes around.

I know I'm probably just chemically and hormonally imbalanced right now, but I'm pissed. I know I should be grateful because I have a roof over my head, awesome children, a job when so many don't have one, and food to feed my children. I KNOW this.

But I'm pissed, and I need to get it out.

I'm pissed at the unfairness of the world. I'm angry that I believe in OWS but I'm not DOING anything about it. I'm pissed at my inability to pay my bills, let alone buy ANYthing we need or want. I'm sick of being poor. I'm sick to death of saying, "We can't buy anything right now," when I know perfectly well that "right now" means EVER. Oh, and one-ply toilet paper just isn't cutting it. I know, I know, we can't afford the fancy stuff, but it's just not doing its JOB. I'm pissed that I work so much and I'm still just as broke as I was staying home, if not more so.

I'm pissed that there's no time to create anymore - and when there is time, no energy to do so. When I do have a day off, it's spent cleaning up everything no one else bothered to clean up while I was working all week. I want to write my book. I want to edit and print my book for my nieces. But there's just NO MORE emotional energy to spend after a day at work with strangers.

I'm pissed because Max just bent the tip off the very last good pen I own, and I can't replace it. I'm pissed that I'm writing with BICs. (Just so you know, I'm extremely aware what a snob I sound like right now.)

I'm pissed because my brand new sheets labeled QUEEN are six inches too big for my QUEEN size bed. I've put the sheets back on the bed approx. 30 times per day since I bought them last week.

I'm pissed that Jenna invited me to an awesome Halloween party, which I have a babysitter for, but I'm too fat to fit into a cute costume and too chicken to get dressed up and go anyway. I'm pissed at myself for not losing the weight by now, even though I KNEW I wanted to dress up and go out this year for Halloween.

I'm pissed that Husband's phone battery doesn't work at ALL anymore, and even after using ridiculously out-of-date phones for the last two years, there's still NO money to replace them with new ones. Another $15 Wal-Mart Nokia, here we come.  

I know I'm being a spoiled brat.
I know the things I'm pissed about are mostly just insignificant things that MOST people in the world don't have.

I know this.
But sometimes, you just have to be pissed.

I used to be a good mom.

I know I was.
I remember.

Know how I know I'm not anymore?
Husband is giving me parenting advice.

Something is definitely wrong when Husband has to remind me to be nice to my kids.
When Husband has to tell me things like, "Read them a book, babe. Show them you love them,"
something is definitely wrong.

I'm not trying to say Husband isn't a good parent.
Of course he is.

But he certainly hasn't been better at it than me.

Know how else I know?
I find myself glaring at them over minor infractions.
I find myself yelling at them.
I find myself saying, "I just really need a break from them,"
EVERY.SINGLE.NIGHT.

 ...after I've been at work all day.

Where did I go?
Is it all PPD, or is it something else?

Husband says I'm not who I used to be.
Have I really changed, or is this temporary?
Is it the PPDemons, or

is it a new me?

Things To Be Happy About

This one time, sophomore year in high school, my friend Jenn and I (and a couple other contributors) wrote a list called 1,000 Things To Be Happy About. (Yes, we would do anything to distract ourselves from Algebra. Thus my ineptitude in the realm of mathematics.) Anyway, I still have it somewhere, but I couldn't tell you where.

I was going to write a post today about the moron customers who come into my work and piss me off, but you're sick of that, aren't you? So Jenn suggested a more positive approach, a list of things that make me happy. Since we're seasoned pros at this, I took the challenge and extended it back to her.

Prepare yourself for a growing list of Things To Be Happy About. Each week, Jenn and I are going to post 10 things for our list on our own blogs and link to each other so you can read them.

We could both use an excuse to be more positive.

TODAY'S HAPPY THINGS:

1. Getting off work at 2:00 pm! I get to come home and see my boys RIGHT when they get out of school, so I don't miss a thing. I am loving the morning shift. 
2. New gondolas. I know it sounds ridiculous, but part of my job is to keep the toy department organized, and they didn't give me nearly enough shelf space for all my toys. (OK, so I don't OWN the toys, but they feel like My Toys because I obsess over their appearance 6 days/week.) Two days ago they gave me 2 extra gondolas to display toys, so I'm pretty psyched about it. My department is much more impressive now. I know, pathetic, but there it is. 
3. Asher is working on pronouncing his L's. Every single time he uses an "L" sound, he accentuates it in the cutest way. (See this video for example.) I don't even know who told him to do it (must have been his Kindergarten teacher), but I think it's adorable and it makes me smile every time.
4. It's scarf and sweater season! I say this every year, but I ADORE scarf/sweater/boot season. It's my very favorite thing! However, today was 74 degrees out, which I ALSO adore. ;) 
5. New followers! Yesterday on Twitter I requested that my followers there (71 of them) came over to my blog and "followed" here... no one did it, but Russell from No Longer Quiet became a follower today, and it totally made my day. :)
   
   I'm a sucker for people publicly declaring their willingness to be my friend. :) 
6. Max's songs. Lately Max has been singing little songs (Itsy Bitsy Spider, Twinkle Star) when he's alone in his room, and afterward he always says, "YAY!" and claps for himself. SO CUTE.
7. Asher's artwork. He's seriously an amazing artist, and he brings home the cutest/funniest pictures from school. The ones he draws for me in my journal are my favorite, though. I love to find them on random pages when I'm feeling emotional (basically the only time I write in my journal). It always cheers me up. 
8. Picnics at the park with good friends. :) Thanks Jenna! 
9. Twitter. I know, it's stupid, but it makes me happy. I've made such awesome new friends already! 
10. FINALLY GETTING MY MEDS!!!! :) :) :) 

OK, I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm having a really difficult time coming up with all ten things! This is a clear sign that I don't do enough positive thinking in my life. What do YOU use to be happy??

Bedtime Miracles

{disclaimer: yes, my house is a mess. yes, it does look like this most of the time. four boys live in this 800-sq-ft apartment; let's be realistic.}

My  Max jumped out of his crib.

We took the crib away.

He cried.

"What? Where bed?"

My brother gave him a toddler bed.

We've had 6 long nights of

PLEASE GO TO SLEEP BEFORE I DUCT TAPE YOU TO YOUR BED

and now this:

A few minutes later...

A few minutes later...

Another minute later...

{you can't see it, but he's laughing and jumping, mocking me}

And then...

{Poop?!}

Getting frustrated...

{there was no poop - just the 2-yr-old's idea of stalling technique}

What you missed in between:

"Mommy, you are nicer than anything." 

{oh, the things Asher will say to charm me into letting him stay up}

"But Mom, you didn't kiss Teddy and Lamby!" 

{Joshua will be 30 and still considering Teddy as a legitimate member of this family}

"Drink a ba-ba. No go bed." 

{Max will be the death of me.}

Result, after only 2 hours: 

{huge improvement over the last 5 nights}

{Hallelujah}

It's the little things

that make the day worth living.

A Sister

This one's for the guys

I talk a lot about PPD and being a mom, depression, and how hard it is for women to do it all.

But this one's for the dads. 

The guys who work behind the scenes.

The guys who work so hard they hardly get to see their families.

The guys who make time for their family anyway.

The guys who get up when Mom just can't anymore.

This one's for the guys who carry the baby, open the door, and haul the diaper bag.

The guys who come home from a whole day at work and read a book to their kids.

The guys who aren't even fathers by biological standards, but are dads anyway.

This one's for the guys who make little boys laugh when you've made them cry.

This one's for the guys who support through our tears,

who try again and again, despite our inability to be pleased,

who endure our mood swings and complaints.

This one's for the guys who aren't too good to apologize.

  

 Part of our struggle is being unable to step outside the shadows and show you what you do for us, but believe me when I say, you are appreciated. 

Who's the guy in your life who gets you through the day?