Being Authentic and Becoming Mindful

It's been two months since my first hospital visit. These past two months have been.... life changing.  And I mean that. I am no longer the same person I was two months ago.  I had become frequently ill starting at the end of January and by the beginning of March I was pretty much confined to my bed.  I had become so dehydrated from 12 plus hours of throwing up and 2 weeks of non stop diarrhea that I passed out on Monday, March 10 on the floor of my bedroom.  I was able to call for help, which came immediately and I was taken to the hospital. They asked me dozens of questions of what my symptoms had been the past several weeks and all the tests commenced.  They hydrated me, pumped me full of meds and sent me home.  All test came back normal. That next week was exhausting. I couldn't do much so I laid in bed and lived off of my doctor ordered diet of saltines and gatorade. I couldn't shower without help, I couldn't walk without someone holding me up because I was so weak and dizzy. I went and saw my midwife to maybe point me in the right direction of what was up with my body. She thought I was going through extreme depression, or thought I had Lupus.  She took some blood to run the test. One week after my first hospital visit I was back again.  This time with extreme pain in every part of body, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.  I had also started vomiting again. Once every 7 minutes. They ran the same tests again, did a few different things to try and figure out what was going on. Hydrated me, pumped me full of meds and sent me home with some Xanax.

I called my midwife and she told me that I had to find a therapist. If I didn't find one within 24 hours she was going to check me into an outpatient facility of 7 days of intensive therapy.  That, of course, scared the crap out of me because it confirmed my suspicions that I was ACTUALLY CRAZY!

Through a newly found kindred spirit, she was able to direct me to a therapist, who I like to call the "keeper of the keys."  I was able to get an appointment with her the very next day.

Within the first 10 minutes of talking with her we figured out why I had become so ill.  It felt like I was in a minefield and all those mines I'd avoided so well my whole life were being stomped on and the debris was hitting me.  I was feeling things I hadn't allowed for myself to feel for 16 years.  These were things I'd never forgotten, but had tucked away in a safe place to protect myself because no one protected me.  I had been abandoned and left to deal with and handle things that no 9 year old should ever of had to deal with.  I was terrified and alone.  And I knew I was going to be alone.  So I put an armor on that would protect me.  I chose to never be scared again and to be strong. Because I had to be.

Near the end of January my sweet, almost 4 year old gave us a huge scare and the doctors thought she had a brain tumor.  Those 4 days of when we rushed her to the hospital to when we actually got the results of the MRI were excruciating.  I was terrified for my sick little girl, and knew if the doctors worries came true then I couldn't protect her from what would happen. I couldn't keep her safe. Fear. So much fear.

My body felt that fear for the first time in 16 years and I broke down. Not just emotionally, but physically.

Imagine a pendulum if you will and on either side is two extremes. One extreme is hyper-intense confidence, strength an absolute non-stop go getter.(This is where I had been from the age of 9-25) The other extreme is complete breakdown, weakness, mind, body, spirit. Everything just stops working.(This is what was happening now)  And the middle of that pendulum is a healthy balance.

So for the past two months I've been working on working my way back to that healthy balance. It's taking a lot of hard work. And I'm becoming somebody I don't recognize, but it's my true, authentic self.  When you swing from one extreme to the other like I have.... the person you've always been, the things you've always done, aren't easy anymore.  You literally can't even do it.  The easiest thing in the world like answering the door..becomes terrifying and you start to panic.  For 6 weeks I couldn't go out alone, unless I was going somewhere I knew would benefit my mind or my body. So therapy and the chiropractor. That was it.  I couldn't talk to anyone except a few people.  I couldn't go to church, I couldn't go out on girl nights, I couldn't talk about what I was going through because it literally took so much energy to tell it and I would become ill.  To avoid having to explain I just stopped going out of my house. My home became my safe haven.  A lot of people didn't understand what was going on and when they were around me why I was acting different.  It's because I'm not the same person and I felt judgement to still be that person.  So until I had self acceptance that this change going on within me was right and it didn't matter what others thought I became a hermit.

I've learned so many beautiful lessons along this journey.

First, I've learned to listen to my body.  I'm learning to trust what it tells me I need. If I'm apart of a conversation that is negative or something my fragile spirit doesn't need, I will leave.  When I start to feel like I'm going to throw up, it means I need to speak or say something.  When I feel like I can't get enough air and feel tightness in my chest it means whomever I'm speaking too, doesn't need to know what I'm telling them.  I learning to honor what my body is telling me.  It is a very powerful tool.

Second, I'm learning about boundaries. My whole life I've put so much energy into things that I never should have.  Feeling responsibility, an obligation to help people see what is right and keep them on a path of righteousness.  Even with people that have hurt me, I felt a constant need to be the protector.  I've learned that the only power we have is our agency.  Agency is something God gave us when we came to this earth and He will never take that away. He won't mess with it, He won't go near it.  So why should I feel like I should?  In therapy I have found  new freedom and strength in taking responsibility of my own power (agency) and mine alone. So I'm creating boundaries, not to keep people out, no.  To love in ways that allow each of us to have our own power.  This has been so profound for me.

Third, I'm learning about emotions in a new way.  It's literally a new way of thinking for me.  Each emotion has value and something to say, but we become better, closer to God I believe, when we can observe them first, instead of reacting to them.  For example; anger.  Anger is a secondary emotion. Always.  Our brain actually feels an emotion or two emotions before anger comes, but we rarely feel that.  So instead of reacting instantly to anger. Stop. Take a step back and observe the anger, don't judge it or try to change it. I've found when I do this, I'm able to better understand what truly is going on and then I can act responsibly.  Anger can actually be helpful when we use it responsibly.

Fourth,  I'm learning to be in a state of mindfulness.  This is extremely difficult. Mindfulness is when you can love, be non judgemental, and compassionate first for yourself, then for others. Then you are able to DISCERN between what's right and wrong, what is good and bad.  Not living in the past, or obsessing over the future, but being in reality and taking care of the now.  This place I have found my "wise self" and she is powerful, and strong and a little fierce. But she has so much love and compassion and knows exactly what I need. Knows exactly what I need to do for others, and in the right time.  This isn't a place where "I SHOULD do this, I SHOULD do that."  No, wise self just knows and just does what is right.  It's a place of clarity and joy.  I jump in and out of the place, because as a human being I will always struggle but in some instances with some people, I'm able to just ask "her" to come and she does.  And she projects joy and love and peace.  I'm learning to feel all these good things for myself.  But also with others. And letting people and things be as they are and just love.

Finally,  I have found gratitude in this journey. I have found gratitude for my trauma and my heartache. Even though it shouldn't of happened, it never would of brought me to this place I am now. Things had to have happened in the way they did.  I know that.  God is continually molding me into somebody better.  He has a grand purpose for me.  He needs me to be ready for that, He needed to give me the "wake up call" in the way He did, or I would not of changed.

As you can tell from my last 3 points, I'm still learning and I always will be.  I have days where I still struggle, some days are really bad.  And I feel like I'm being thrown backwards and I have to retrace my steps somehow and learn something new.  But I'm moving forward. Committed to this new life I've discovered.

I am more unbalanced than ever, because I'm human.

But that.... that is okay.

My life is an open book....until now.

I've been an open book my whole life to people. I've never had a problem with sharing my struggles. I found it comforting to lean on others for support and often gain insight from those I was sharing with.  I've never consider myself to be private.  Mostly in part, if anything I have struggled can help another person with whatever they're going through, I want to help.  Feeling alone during any struggle or trial is awful. I don't wish it on anyone.

I've gone through massive changes in the last month.  Many of you know how sick I've been. In and out of the hospital. Stuck in bed. Unable to take care of my own kids. I've received an overwhelming amount of support, which I don't even have enough words, the right words, to express how grateful I am. The help we've had wouldn't have been as great, if we didn't live where we do. 

I know what needs to be done for my body and spirit to become whole again. I know what journey I need to take to recover.  The thing is... I am at a really vulnerable state emotionally right now so if opinions or advice is given to me (even out of love and support) it affects me deeply.  I've realized even though intentions are pure from many people who I've spoken too...  Not really anything they say is meant for me.  At least not for this particular journey I'm on. This experience is mine and no one else's, so the things I must do, to progress, are specific and only meant for me.  This past week as I've gained more energy I've spent a lot of time visiting with people, outside of the house.  All of them were positive, supportive experiences.  But I shared too much and that's weighing on me. Emotionally and physically.  For me to get to my end result I no longer will  be sharing the details of what I'm experiencing unless feel prompted to do so.  It's nothing personal towards anyone, it's just not something I need you to be apart of. I appreciate words of support, and hugs and definitely prayers. But if asked, what I'm doing or what's really going on...I will politely give you a vague answer that I'm working on things and getting better.  I, of course am sharing all to my husband.  He has been my greatest support and source of comfort.  He literally can touch me and whatever pain I feel begins to evaporate out of me. It's a beautiful thing. That's what his love for me can do. He's on this journey with me, riding along, protecting me and supporting me when I need him too.

I look forward to be able to share all of this when I've made my way through and come out the other side.  But for now minor seclusion is necessary. Maybe not minor, more than that.  I struggle being in large groups of people. Whether I know them or not. So for awhile I will be MIA.  Working on myself. Moving forward. 

It's strange what the body does to us, to get our attention, almost forcing change upon you.  I know all these changes are for a greater purpose and I have faith in that. 

This time...

As usual life is happening and I'm doing my best to live it fully.

I have a preschooler. Preschooler P is loving every second of it. She only goes twice a week, but she asks every day if she can go. Over the summer she got a concussion and broke her arm and has become obsessed with Pirates and Mermaids. "The Little Mermaid" was never my favorite movie as a child, that I can recall, and it still isn't. But I frequently find myself humming songs from the movie. It's a little irritating.  I don't know what's come over my independent 3.5 year old but things get tense at our house...and at the grocery store...the park...friend's houses. She has started throwing tantrums again. I realize this is typical toddler behavior but she had been doing so well for so long. It's throwing me for a loop. We but heads a lot, mostly because she's a lot like me. It's probably a good thing I never had a sister.

I also have another toddler. Toddler Man M is 18 months now. This little man is quite possibly the closest to perfect that any kid could get. He sleeps 12 hours plus at night takes a minimum of a 2 hour nap every day. Has never refused any kind of food. Says "thank you" and listens when you tell him to do something. Is this kid really mine?!? Seriously peeps, he's a dream. AND....and he's extremely cute. And snuggles. I'm telling you...perfect.  I hated the new toddler stage with Preschooler P but Toddler Man M is making it so easy and fun.

Hubby said if we could be guaranteed another boy like Toddler Man M, we'd have a bunch more.  Hubby would also be perfectly happy with the two little ones we have now and no more. But I know our family is not yet complete. 

Part of my on going recover with my postpartum has been essential oils. doTERRA essential oils. I found them a little over a year ago. And truth be told they have saved my life. I had just had Baby boy M and moved into our brand new house and I had gone back to my midwife because I was still struggling. She wanted to up my medication. For some reason it didn't sit right with me. I prayed for another way. All I felt was darkness and the earth falling beneath as I walked outside or drove in my car. I couldn't take care of myself let alone my children. I felt like dying. I wanted to die. The thing with this disease is that no one understands it, unless they've been through it. I knew no one going through the same thing that I was and I just wanted to feel nothing. I was at the bottom. Actually beneath the bottom I was underneath about 50 feet of crap.

In that same week that my doctor wanted to up my medication my sister in law contacted me and told me a little bit about essential oils and also sent me some Wild Orange. Or as I like to call it, "my saving grace." This little bottle of citrus oil started me on a path of healing. I went to a class and by the end of it I knew this was the answer to my prayers. So I began my journey. Within six weeks of using essential oils I was off my medication and I was back to my old goofy, happy, social self. 

I still have bad momma days. I still get angry and weepy. I still get anxiety and worry a lot.  But I don't have to handle it without any help.  

I know people are really skeptical about it and I can tell you a bunch of happy go lucky lovliness.  But the truth is you gotta try it to understand it. If you want to learn more email me. I do this business to help you. I don't want another young mother to suffer alone like I did for so long and have nothing to turn too. I can help. Seriously.

kara.sawyer411@gmail.com

yours truly,

the unbalanced, mother of 2, oil junkie

The Reality of Motherhood

I haven't written in awhile, because I haven't felt the need too. Postpartum round 2 hasn't been as nasty as round 1. I think my husband would disagree. But if he was in my head I'd like to think he'd applaud at how much I've grown and then probably want to die because of how crazy it really is inside my head.

This is going to be a blunt portrayal of motherhood. I'm not going to apologize if this offends anyone because I would guarantee every mother reading this has experienced the following at some point or even regularly. I don't judge you, so please don't judge.

I seem to go through a hormonal shift every 3 months. Starting at 3 months postpartum. 3..6...9..12..15 and so on.  I go through 7 days of absolute torture, emotionally.  I'm either really sad and depressed or I'm really pissed off.  I'm just pissed this time.

I wake up and I'm just mad. I'm mad that it's 6 freakin A.M. in the morning. I'm mad that I didn't fall asleep until 1:00 A.M. I'm mad that my daughter's voice seems so loud in the morning. I'm mad that I have to let the dog out, and then feed her, play with her and then let her out again.  I'm mad that my husband doesn't get up as fast as I do and that by the time he gets to the kitchen I'm already done getting the kids breakfasts and taking care of the dog. 

Here is the reality of motherhood:

Hushing your 3 year old every 4.6 seconds because she sounds so loud you're afraid it'll wake your other toddler that you had to rock 3 separate times during the night because he doesn't feel good.

Pouring apple juice in your fruit loops because your eyes aren't even open yet...and then eating it because you don't want to waste anything. 

Putting the milk in the pantry instead of the fridge because well, you've gone crazy from exhaustion. 

Cleaning up spilled milk from your 3 year old's lap because she wanted to drink the milk out of the bowl like daddy does.

Going through 6 pairs of panties in one day because she got one tiny drop of pee on her underwear and refuses to wear them.

Never folding laundry and just keeping all the clean clothes in the basket because you hate folding and your just going to have to wash them in about 3 days anyway.

Not showering for 2-4 days because you'd rather sleep than be clean.

Forgetting to brush your teeth for 2 days because that's the last thing on your priorities list.

Going to the park EVERY morning or some sassy diva throws a tantrum.

Locking your children in their rooms so you can take a bath and pretend no one is there....on more than one occasion in the same day....

Seriously contemplating selling your children to the first available bidder.

Forgetting to eat all day and when you do eat it's something full of sugar because a salad does nothing for anybody.

Not cooking for several days ( to several weeks) because it just sucks. So everyone has either cereal, PB&J's, chicken nuggets, or pizza every night.

Having to put chain locks on the doors so your 3 year old stops escaping to the outside world ( I don't blame her though....)

The only songs that are stuck in your head are from Dora The Explorer, Blues Clues, and Tangled.

Singing songs over and over and over again to your 3 year old and switching the line on "wheels on the bus" from "the mommy's the bus go SHH SHH SHH to WAA WAA WAA" Because that's how you're really feeling.

Singing every songs super fast just to get it over with "twinkletwinklelittlestarhowIwonderwhatyouareupabovetheworldsohighlikeadiamondintheskytwinkletwinklelittlestarhowiwonderwhatyouare"

Yelling so loudly your eyes almost pop out of your head.

Setting the timeout timer for WAAY longer than 3 minutes because you want some peace and quiet.

Wearing exercise clothes because you really plan on exercising but than don't get too but keep wearing them all day and when people see you they think "oh good for her exercising with two kids, you go girl!" And even though you didn't, you just thinking that their actually thinking that makes you feel skinnier.

When friends ask you what you did today you say, "Oh, we just had a down day at home." Which REALLY  means, " I haven't showered, the kids had candy all day and watched movies in the living room so I could lay in my bed and watch Friends."

Going to McDonald's 3 times a week because you just don't care anymore.

Waking up 4 times a night because your 3 year old wants to watch movie and just won't go to sleep.

Cleaning poop from INSIDE your 14 months old eye.

Driving to your husband's work with 20 minutes notice that you don't give a crap about his job today and what he needs to do and that you are picking him up and he is coming home with you to save you from jumping off the cliff of insanity. And when he ask's why say, "Because if you don't you will be the first person I kill with my bare hands."

These are all things I've said and done. I've said this a thousand times: Motherhood is noble and joyful but it is rare to ever feel that , it is a feeling the disappears as fast as it comes.  We have to create moments of joy with our children.

My husband asked me this morning after I begged him to stay home, "So when you're feeling like this and you see your friends you're able to put on a happy face and be calm loving, why can't you just do that at home?" The answer is simple. I don't want them seeing me that way and it's easier to be angry at the kids. Not saying it makes it better, because it doesn't. But letting my anger out is easier than trying to be calm and loving when I'm just NOT feeling that way.

When people ask me how is it being a mother, I tell the truth. I say it's what I was meant to do and it's the most wonderful thing I could ever do with my life. I truly believe that, but man, it sucks a lot too. As mad and frustrating and exhausting and awful my life can be as a mother. I wouldn't change it.

yours truly,

the unbalanced, angry, mother of 2.

Victory Confession # 15 & 16

Victory Confession #15 & 16  -Life is a battlefield, and we fight together.


Cheesy line up there right? Ha. I thought it was funny.

Ya know, it's amazing what writing my problems out can do for me. There are a few things it does in particular...

1. It is a release for me to be able to talk (write) about what my struggles are so I can work them out. Almost a physical release like running is.

2. It hold me accountable to what I've committed to do better.
3. The feedback I receive provides me with great support.

I was just telling dear hubby yesterday that I feel like I'm always the one checking in on my friends and making sure they're okay, but no one ever checks on me. I don't expect that from my friends, well maybe I do. Okay, not expect it, just wish for it every once in awhile. I received an out pouring of loves from lots of you. Thanks.

My victory today is two-fold. 

First, today has gone much better than the last month combined. I finally figured something out, that should of been a no-brainer to me months ago but finally had the light bulb moment today.  In my morning prayers I'm constantly asking to be blessed, to help me, me, me..but this morning I changed my tune. This morning I asked, "What do you want me to do for HER?" Not only is she my daughter but she is Heavenly Father's as well. He knows her better than me, and since I am her mother and have stewardship over her, He can help me know what's best for her. 

DONK! (slaps forehead) 

And all day long I felt quiet promptings leading me to be a better momma for my Little P. And she responded wonderfully.  I didn't yell today. Yes, you read that right. Wait,.....did I TYPE THAT RIGHT?!?!

Yes, I didn't yell. I deserve a prize. 

Okay, not a prize.

Maybe a sticker.

Yes, someone mail me a sticker.

Little P was happy and cheerful. She listened and obeyed. We talked a lot and played even more.  I took the time to just be. JUST BE. And she became a completely different little lady.

It was...just...BAHH, it was just great. I feel like dancing. Excuse me.

(doing a little dance.....)

Okay second victory for today.

Dear hubby and I went on a date. It was our first date since BEFORE Baby M arrived. It was so fun.  We laughed over dinner and played hockey with the sugar packets while we waited for our food.  I tried something new, instead of ordering the same thing. He forced me to taste his strawberry milkshake and I didn't like it, but it made my mouth water so much it left me wanting more. So I kept drinking it, even thought I didn't like it. And now I have gas. Because of the strawberries. 

Yes. Strawberries give me gas. 

It's fine.

Once dinner was over I had arranged for us to go horseback riding. Something I haven't done it about 8 years. When we got there, things didn't work out and there weren't any horses. So we went mini golfing instead at this very ghetto outdoor mini golfing place. Where it was full of a bunch of teenagers afraid to hold the other persons hand. 

It was funny.
Watching the awkwardness.

There was a little girl golfing behind us that would whisper every time we were about to putt saying...."I'm helping you by closing my eyes and breathing like this..." and then she would proceed to exhale out her nose very loudly. I got several holes in one. Which never happens. Her helping worked out nicely for me.

It was a wonderful evening and we came home to sleepy but happy children. 

Days like this, make all the bad worth it. And make the future bad days..not so bad.

Oh yeah, the cheesey line at the beginning...

We were leaving the mini golfing place and had to go through a parking garage to get to our car and this was our conversation:

Hubby: this parking garage is weird. they painted it funny colors.
Wifey: I think it's creepy, some man could just come out and attack us. But I'd kick him in the balls.
Hubby: What if it was a women?
Wifey: I'd still kick her down there...there's a bone there it hurts when it gets hit.
Hubby: What if she was wearing a cup?
Wifey: Then I'd punch her in the boob.
Hubby: What if she was wearing protective boob cups?
Wifey: Then I'd pull her hair out.
Hubby: What if her head was shaved?
Wifey: I'd scratch her face with my finger nails and poke her in the eyes.
Hubby: What if she had protective gear all over her head?
Wifey: Then I'd knee her in the gut.
Hubby: What if that area was protected too?
Wifey: Then I'd tackle her and fart in her face and run her over with the car for good measure.
Hubby: *long pause* Well, you've just thought of everything haven't you?
Wifey: Um, yeah I'm not going to let someone take advantage of me like that.
Hubby: You know I'd help you right?...if you needed it.
Wifey: I know.

For some reason I thought of that line when he offered his help. 

He told me yesterday,after he read my post, he was grateful I was fighting so hard to be a better momma and that I could count on him for anything.

This is true love my friends.


Yours truly,

the unbalanced, mother of 2, and victorious for a day.

Confession #21 I have anger issues

Confession #21: I have anger issues, and not proud of it

Growing up I never struggled with depression or anger.  I did have the occasional frustrated outbursts as a highly hormonal teenager but what girl doesn't when they're 16 and don't get their way?

I had anxiety too, but again, when someone spreads an untrue rumor, that no one would ever believe, about you any 17 year old would be on edge a little bit.

Before becoming a mother I couldn't even comprehend how women could feel depressed or have, what felt like life threatening anxiety attacks, out of the clear blue.  Or feel complete rage at the flip of a switch. I didn't understand and I thought something was wrong with them. I thought they were bad mothers.  How could you feel such things, when you have such a beautiful and precious little person that you created?

You don't know what it's really like, or even understand a little bit until it's you and you're the one experiencing it.  It's horrible. Once it's over you feel guilty and ashamed. You feel like a bad mother. And those that don't understand think you're a bad mother too..because I thought that before I really knew.

I have this INCREDIBLE 2 1/2 year old daughter that everyone that knew me growing up says she is my mini me. She is independent and stubborn.  She is a picky eater and hasn't stopped loving her baby brother for one second.  She hits other kids when she doesn't get her way, she plays dress up with my shoes every day of the week.

But there are days where I don't like her.  I don't like her at all.  Sometimes all I hear her do is whine, constantly whine.  And all I do is yell at her. Like, really yell. Lately she is testing her boundaries. She's doing everything that she knows she not suppose too and seeing if she'll still get disciplined.  It's been a tough month in this house.  I feel like I'm always yelling.  I feel like I'm always putting her in time out, or sending her to her room.  She knows how to talk, she just refuses  to use her words or obey the rules so she cries and cries and keeps on crying.

I struggle with her everyday.  I get to a point where I don't want to be around her. She comes into a room and I just want to leave it because I know she just wants to whine to me about something.

I can't change the fact that I've yelled at her at the top of my lungs and probably have shaken my house. I can't change what I've done in the past, despite being ashamed and feeling sorry. But I can change what I do today and tomorrow.  It's really hard. Most times...okay, all the time it's easier for me to yell at her and just be angry. Even though I should just love her and be calm. I realize that will take time for her to respond too and it's better for everybody. But it's plain hard.

I but I need to try. I want to.  

I feel like I'm constantly trying to stay calm and taking deep breaths and counting to 10 or whatever. I really want to be one of those mom's where my kids grow up and say, "Mom, never yelled. She was always so loving."  I'm hoping Little P doesn't remember being 2.

My 40 year old self constantly reminds me to slow down and savor each moment. To take time to just be with my children. To be more loving and soft spoken. To be joyful about my life. Because it's pretty darn good.

You hear about other people's struggles in their lives and you always think, " Man, I'm glad I don't have their troubles. I'll keep my own."  My dad reminds me of this often. It makes me more grateful for what I have and the things I struggle with.

So, keep trying to be better....and then try some more.

Yours truly,

the unbalanced, mother of 2

Confession #21 : Life is a roller coaster

Confession #21: Life is a roller coaster and I don't like the roll.....

I've been MIA for months now. I don't have a reason, because well... I just don't.  My baby boy is 5 months and 15 pounds and my Little Lady is 2.5 years old and 24 pounds.

We recently moved into a brand new house, which is our first home. We bought a dog and then sold a dog. We've had concussions, stitched up fingers, severely constipated babies, fat lips, potty training accidents, fire evacuations, grand parents visiting, aunts and uncles visiting, great grand parent funeral, weight gain, weight loss, expensive dental appointments, fights, melt downs, throw up... we've had it all the last 4 months.

I did rather well the first 3 months and then something changed hormone-wise and I went a little crazy. I was crying all the time, depressed, irritated.  I up-ed my dosage on my anti-depressant and things started to get better.  And yet I still struggle.  Close to the end of Phase 1 of my PPD I remember thinking how, "I'd made it!" and it a sense I did. But you don't fully know what the future holds until you are experiencing it. 

I'd say Phase 2 has been hard, just in a different way.  Last time my frustration was directed toward my hubby. This time its towards Little Lady P. I know she is only 2.5 and she is an innocent little child. But another part thinks she understands what I say, so she should know better. That's what makes it so hard. 

I've been on pretty regular running schedule.  Haven't seen much of a change in my body, which puts a damper on my mood. But I always feel better when I'm done.  I'm hoping to find even more balance so that I don't plummet randomly and make it harder on my family. This time has been different and I feel like I'm missing something. I'm doing everything I did last time that helped, minus the counseling, maybe I should try that again.  It's nice to get off your chest the things that irritate you to someone who's feelings won't get hurt because of what you're saying.

On a lighter note, I'm very grateful for my moments of clarity.  They always happen at the same time everyday. Now that word right there, everyday, is very rare for a mother when you're talking about something positive. The things that happen everyday are usually things you wish wouldn't happen everyday. Like, tantrums, bad attitudes, repetitive questions, pee-pee accidents on your brand new carpet, waking up too early, refusal to eat vegetables..you get the jist...But as I lay in my bed at night, I have an overwhelming rush of gratitude, peace and satisfaction. That I have healthy children who are hopefully making me into a better mother/wife/woman. A loving husband who provides for us, a beautiful, safe, new home. And the knowledge of something greater then ourselves. A Heavenly Father that loves us perfectly, and a Savior who knows us better than we know ourselves. A blessed life is the best life.  

These simple and perfect moments of clarity, make the rolls of life easier to ride out.

Yours truly,

the unbalanced woman

Confession #20 - One month of Exhausting Joy

Confession: It's been a month of exhausting joy.


I've recently been hit with a 2 by 4 of overwhelming reasons to be joyful about my life as a mother.  A few of those reasons happen to be two friends of mine lost their sweet baby girls.  One of them passed away the day after my sweet Baby M was born and the other just happened this past Wednesday.  


I haven't been able to get these two sweet families out of mind and wishing there was something I could do or say to take their pain away. I'm sure they're grateful for the words of comfort those they know have offered and the service done on their behalf.  But I can't help but think how hard this has been for them.  My prayers are filled with their names each night, praying for peace and mended hearts as they continue here on earth while their sweet angels watch over them.


Because of this I have promised to be a more grateful mother.  


My Baby Boy M had just come to this earth when I heard about Baby girl C and I squeezed him tight and was grateful I got to take him home from the hospital. 


When I heard about Baby girl H and her passing, it was later in the evening while I was trying mightily to get Baby M back to sleep and I was over come with the grateful feeling that I could experience such exhaustion. Because my sweet friend will never be able to feel that.  I was grateful I could be so tired for such a wonderful, healthy miracle in my life.


It's been one month today that I've been the mother of my two sweet little ones.  I'm going to honest....


I've been doing really well.  I'm rather in shock at how well, emotionally, I've been doing.  And I keep waiting for things to plummet and to go dark.  But I've been keeping steady.  I'm not in uncharted waters with having a newborn, I've done this once before and so I feel like I know what to expect.  As for Little P, I'm constantly experiencing new things with her that test my patience and temper, and also get to have proud momma moments when she yells, "LOVE YOU" over the breakfast table just because. Or when Baby M cries and I don't hear him she'll come tell me because she really loves her baby brother.


This whole mommy thing sure is sweet.


I'm sweetly reminded each time I get to stare into BOTH my little ones baby blue eyes, that these two angels aren't just mine, but their Heavenly Father's too and He's trusting me with them... I gladly leave the piles of laundry, and the dirty dishes, and the diaper covered floor alone and take time for my children.


I hope you can have these sweet moments and savor them. It's quite wonderful.


Yours truly,


the unbalanced, grateful, mother of two.

Confession #19 : Exhaustion at its finest.

Confession: I'm exhausted.


Well I've survived 2 weeks.  I can say that week 2 has been way easier then week 1.  I was completely depressed the first week. Mostly because I still hated how things happened with the c section and how badly my body ached. Now that I'm doing better physically, my emotional state is starting to even out a little bit. I still don't like that I had a c section and NEVER want to experience it again, it's over and one with and I have my baby boy here.


Baby M has been having loads of gas issues.  We took him into the doc yesterday because his breathing became different and he wouldn't stop crying. With the use of an x-ray machine we discovered that he has an unusually large amount of gas filling his intestines and causing him lots of pain.  So, he is now on gas drops.  Last night was rough because he still has his days and nights mixed up and his tummy hurt. I was up with him from about 2-6am trying to comfort him.  Then at 7am Dad took over and for a solid hour was a farting machine and after he ate his breakfast, he had a huge poopie explosion all over me and our bed.  I wasn't even a little bit irritated that I had to wash everything that early in the morning, I was just grateful he pooped.  I found myself saying, "way to go!" and "keep it up!" every time he tooted.  You don't realize how important gas and pooping is, until you can't anymore.  Poor little man.  Today has been much better, he hasn't been as fussy and he's sleeping more comfortably it seems.


I'm amazed at what the human body can do on only a few hours of sleep and despite being up all night, having a headache that won't go away, an insanely messy house, a itchy rash ( on my incision) that won't go away either, a massive amount of poop covered laundry to do and a flabby body that I won't be able to work on for months....  I'm just happy watching my little guy sleep in his swing and Little P watching Thomas the Train.


I'm totally exhausted and I don't really care that I am.  


In other news.  I'm an aunt!  There are loads of nieces and nephews on hubby's side of the family but until recently my two little ones were the only ones to fill up grand baby slots on my side.  Sweet little Baby A came early Monday morning to my brother and sister in law and she is gorgeous. Just like her mama.  She's definitely got "the cheeks".  She isn't alone in that though, my Little P has them too. Baby Boy M got away with that one and inherited his Daddy's slimmer facial features.


Still taking things one day at a time.  Although it really feels one minute at a time.


And today...today I'm grateful for healthy children. And little baby toots.


Yours truly,


the unbalanced, exhausted, mother of 2, woman.

A Birth Story

Baby M's Birth Story


Well, it's happened. I'm a mother of 2.  It hasn't hit me yet, it all seems a little unreal.  But let me tell you how he got here....


At my 38 week appointment I was actually in the hospital because I was having regular contractions and my midwife just did the appointment before I went home that night because my baby boy wasn't coming yet.  We found out that night that he was transverse (sideways) and not head down.  I immediately panicked thinking I'd have to get a c section..  But my midwife was confident that with doing some stretches on my own at home that we could successfully get him turned.  So, for the next week that's what I did.  I did everything my midwife recommended, and found more things on the internet to try.  I was a complete mess all week because I wanted him to turn so badly and I couldn't focus on anything else.  


Wednesday came around (the 21st) at my 39 week check up and viola! He was head down, I cried laying there on the table because I was so relieved.  I was scheduled to do a version the next morning to get him turned, which I didn't need to do anymore, and then they would start my induction.  I was also 2cm dilated which made me even more excited that things would go smoothly the next morning and my baby boy would finally be here.


I came home that afternoon and still did my stretches just to make sure he stayed right where we wanted me too.  We dropped Little P off at a friend's house for the night since the induction was schedule so early in the morning. My mom was headed out from Iowa and I was a happy clam.  We went to bed early that night to get a full nights rest for our big day.  At midnight I woke up with contractions about 10 minutes apart.  I didn't think much of it because this had been happening for several days and nothing came of it.  So I'd fall asleep for 10 minutes in between each one.  Then at 3 am they became closer together.  I decided to get up and move around, drink some water, sit on my exercise ball and then I eventually showered at about 4:30am.  The shower helped the most but the contractions didn't lessen at all.  I was getting kind of excited that my body was doing its thing all on its own and hopefully that meant things were going to go super fast once I got to the hospital.


I got out of the shower and the contractions started coming about 3 minutes apart and they hurt.  I had to breath through them and stop what I was doing every time I got one.  I called my midwife to let her know what was going on and see if I should go into the hospital early.  Well the answering service I called took down the wrong number and I waited for an hour to hear back from her. So after lots of confusion I got a hold of her and she told me to go to the hospital right away.  I had woken dear hubby up at this point and he was showered and got everything in the car.  We headed for the hospital at 5:45am.  When I got there I could barely breathe in between each contraction and they quickly got me admitted and into a bed.  Once I got into bed they check me and brought the ultrasound machine in to make sure hew as still head down.  I was dilated to a 4 almost 5cm and the nurse could feel feet! NOT A HEAD!  I, of course fahhh-reaked out and started crying.  Hubby just held my hand and told me everything was going to be fine.  


So, after an hour of breathing through contractions that were coming extremely fast and then finding out that the ultrasound machine was broke and trying to find a new one I was exhausted.  My midwife arrived and she checked me again and I was at 7!  There was panic everywhere in the room and it seem about a dozen people were coming and going constantly.  They decided to go ahead with the C section and I just couldn't help but cry.  This is not what I wanted.  


Once they poked me a million times to get my I.V started they wheeled me into the operating room and got me set up to get my spinal block.  Once that was done it was almost instantaneous that I felt relief and numbness through my whole body.  It was the most comfortable I'd been my whole pregnancy and I took that moment to come to terms with getting a c section and calm myself down.  


They had a mirror in the room so you could see what was going on before they pulled the curtain up by my head.  I was strapped down to a table and completely naked.  I was rather horrified that all my lady parts were being exposed under a bunch of bright lights.  


Once they pulled the curtain up all I did was look at hubby, whiled he stroked my hand and face.  They told me I would feel a lot of pressure when they were taking the baby out but I honestly felt nothing.  He immediately cried as soon as his head was out and they took him to get cleaned off and checked out.  I was able to see him the whole time and I just watched and cried and prayed, prayers of gratitude that he was here. I don't know how long we were in there, but it felt like forever before I could hold my Baby M.  At one point during the process of being stitched up I started to feel extremely light headed and sick.  One of the doc's came over and asked how I was feeling and I said I didn't feel very good. He proceeded to tell me that my uterus was currently OUTSIDE my body to get stitched up.  I have no idea why I didn't ask why they were doing that at the time, and wished I would of said something.  He reassured me that once it was back in my body I'd feel better.  "Well, uh thank mister. I sure hope so."  Was all I could think. 


Once they were finished they moved me into my recovery room and hubby brought me my baby boy.  I mostly just felt relief that it was all over and that I wasn't pregnant anymore... but to my surprise that was just the start of everything.


My recovery has been rough.  I went home after 3 days mostly because hubby couldn't stand it at the hospital anymore and I was hoping I'd feel loads better once I was home in my own bed.  


We are one week postpartum and I guess I'm feeling okay.  Yesterday was rough. I cried most of the day in the solitude of my room with Baby M sleeping away in his bed and Little P with my mom watching movies and playing.  I just have this overwhelming fear that my body will never go back to normal and that once I do start feeling a little better and all my help is gone that I just won't be able to handle being a mother of 2.  I vented my fears and frustrations to  hubby and he very tenderly told me to just take one day at a time. "Don't worry about tomorrow or the next day, don't worry about next week or next month. Just today. That's all you need to do."  he said.


As simple as that was it made me feel a lot better.  He even addressed other issues I mentioned without prompting him to help me.  I think it was the first time he's ever done that.  It gave me a great sense of confidence in myself, knowing he had confidence in me and was willing to help me along the way.  After my little sob fest, we decided to get out of the house.  My mom kept the baby while we went to a park and let Little P run out all her energy. I sat in the car and watched as she chased Hubby around and as she daringly went down all the "big' slides by herself and then clapped and yelled for Daddy to go down them too.  We also stopped at the grocery store and hubby let me get some donuts, and a Redbox Dvd and he surprised me by buying a "Dad's orange cream soda" My favorite.


Today has been much better. I've moved around a lot more and tried to get a few things done just to feel productive.  I know there will be much harder days ahead.  But right now, I'm only going to worry about today.  


Excuse me while I go help Little P hold Baby M because she's been asking all day.


Yours truly,


the unbalanced, in recovery, mother of 2, woman.

Victory Confession #14 - Phase 2- Getting Stronger

Victory Confession: Phase 2 of my PPD and getting stronger already.


I've been on my medication for 7 weeks now.  I'm not really sure what I was expecting by taking my medication early or how it would help me this time around.  Especially since I started taking it before things even got to a point where it was hard.  I am a mere week in a half (or less) away from having my Baby Boy M in my arms forever.  


I realize things are going to change once he gets here and that's where I'm really going to see if this medication is helping, but so far I've been doing great.  There is just a natural emotionally taxing part about the END of pregnancy. You ache everywhere, you feel huge, no sleep, uncomfortable no matter where you sit or lay down. All you want is the baby OUT and out NOW!  I've definitely been feeling all of the above but compared to my first end of pregnancy experience I don't feel like I've been as emotional.  I remember crying every single night before bed that I hadn't had my baby yet for the last 2-3 weeks of my pregnancy.  I've only done that ONCE so far.  Emotionally and physically I'm ready to have this baby there is no doubt about it but I have a sense of content that he'll come at his own time.


Truly, the only thing I've been worried about is how Little P will handle all this change.  I know I've been making things out to be worse then they will probably end up being.  And she always surprises me with how well she transitions into a new phase of life.  I feel so blessed that things have gone so smoothly with her in our 2 short years together.


I've also been feeling grateful for supportive friends and family. Namely my mother, two wonderful Iowa natives that know me inside and out, not to mention such wonderful mothers and a newer friend that I told you about here awhile ago and could NOT have survived our first year here without.


My mother. Oh my lanta.  I call her everyday and tell her the same things and whine and complain and every time without fail she offers sympathy and reassurance.  I've always been open with my mom about everything and she always know the exact thing I need to hear.  I hope I can be that same way for my children.


My Iowa girls.  I get rather personal on this blog but using names isn't one of them since this is a public blog that anyone can read I do like to have some discretion. These two ladies have been so great, especially these last couple of months.  They have been emotionally supportive and just plain old fun. Lady M has been in my corner since her and I were 4. We've experienced our whole lives together.  There isn't much we don't know about each other.  She just became a new momma about 8 weeks ago to the THEE most charming little boy in the world and might I add the easiest baby I've ever been around. Never heard the boy cry and he sleeps a lot! Already I can see what a champion his mother is and will continue to be.  Lady K is such an example to me of a great mother.  Her set of challenges seem to have come all at once and she handles them with such fire and grace. She's always there to give me a good laugh and tell me to keep on going.


And my newest friend that I met shortly after we moved here has literally been my life-raft on my hardest days.  I don't even know how to explain the gratitude I've felt for her unwavering friendship and shoulder to cry on.  I would of drown without her this passed year and know I've found a life-long friend.


Minus my mother, these ladies and I got together yesterday for a lunch as my last social HOO-RAH before I become a mother of 2.  We talked and laughed and laughed and laughed.  The restaurant was completely full when we got there and two hours later we all realized we were the only people left and making lots of noise.  It was exactly what I needed.


There is one thing I've learned since I've become a mother that all other mothers need to know and learn.  Even those women reading this that haven't become mothers yet...Heck, even if there are some men reading this who will one day be the companions of these future mothers you should know this too....


Having other mothers in your life is essential.  Creating a bond with them will pull you through.  I've been grateful to know I'm not the only one that feels like I'm going completely crazy most days and sometimes don't even want to be a mom on the hardest days.  So you current mothers: let's come together.  You future mothers: we're here when you need us. Fathers and husbands: encourage her, help her, sympathize with her and accept her. 


Hopefully you'll hear from me shortly with a short VICTORY post about my new little man.


Truly,


the pregnant, unbalanced, and stronger woman.

Confession # 18 - Finding the JOY is hard

Confession: Finding the JOY in motherhood is hard.


Hi, friends.  I'm writing you from within the walls of my daughter's bedroom, while sitting on an exercise ball. Little P is coloring a turtle on one of the many children's app's I have on my phone.  Finding Nemo is playing in the background. There is a load of laundry running, a pile of dishes in the sink, an endless amount of lego's scattered across the entire upstairs and Baby boy M is wiggling around in my tummy like he's trying to squirm his way out like there's no tomorrow.


We had a great lesson at church yesterday in Relief Society. It was a good, and swift kick in the pants for me as I have been miss complainy pants these last few months of pregnancy.  We talked/learned about finding the Joy in motherhood.  I'm learning along with every other mother in the world how to this.  Especially on a daily basis.  Bringing children into the world is a beautiful thing. Plain and simple.  It's a huge responsibility becoming a parent.  And IT IS a noble one.  But the truth is, I don't feel that all the time. I don't feel it everyday or even every week.  In fact, I rarely feel it, if ever.


This whole mommy thing isn't a picnic. It's hard, exhausting, messy and emotionally draining.  But, I've learned..since I'm not blessed with feeling that nobility 24/7.  I have to find it.  I have to create opportunities to let it feel me up. I need to stop..and stop often and just soak in my Little P.  Soak in her baby powder smell and kiss her chubby cheeks. Look into her big blue eyes. Wipe away her alligator tears when she doesn't get her way.Laugh that she runs everywhere she goes and never walks.  Be proud of her independence and fierceness.  Cherish every cheesy grin and slobbery kiss.  Let her use the word "boy" for puppy just because it sounds cute.  Let her snuggle me for the millionth time at night even though it's waaay passed her bedtime.  Embrace the fact that she wants to be with me every second of the day, whether I'm sitting on the toilet peeing for the 8th time that morning, doing my makeup or crying in my bedroom because another 5 of my shirts won't go over my stomach.


These moments are what make it worthwhile and make it completely exhilarating to be a mother.  Because Little P is my first kiddo she'll be the one  I have all my "mommy firsts" with.  And I'm grateful it's this crazy girl.  


As I sit here in her room looking at all her several pairs of shoes, her million stuffed animals, her obnoxiously loud, musical toys, the scattered lego's and the crumbs of cereal EVERYWHERE.  I realize this is my joy.  There is a difference between happiness and joy. Happiness is temporary. It's great. But it doesn't always last.  But joy, that is eternal.  Just like my Little P and wiggling Baby Boy M.  I have them forever.  Nothing is more joyful then that.


Sincerely,


the pregnant, unbalanced and joyful woman.

Confession # 17 - It begins again.

Confession # 17-  It begins again.


Well the journey to continue to overcome my trials continues when it comes to motherhood.  As I suspected, this pregnancy, just like the last one has been very taxing on my mind, and my body.  It's been hard, just like I remember.  As I endure these last 8 weeks, unlike my last pregnancy, I've started taking my anti-depressant.  I've been experiencing those overwhelming feelings of sadness, anger and frustration for the past month and dear hubby and I decided it would be best for me to get a jump on things before they get to a point where I feel out of control.  I promised myself during Phase 1 of my PPD that I wouldn't let myself suffer again.  I have to confess that I did hesitate to start, trying to convince myself I could do it on my own again.  But as I read through my early posts at the beginning of my recovery, I remember feeling how dark I felt and how hard it was to get out of that, even with help.


So, I've done lots of research and talked with my doctor on countless occasions about this what the best path is to take.  Yesterday at my 31 week appointment (and after having and emotionally taxing month of depression) I told her I was ready.  She went over the risks with me once more, and wanted to make sure this is what I wanted.  I assured her it was.  


So here I am, starting Phase 2.  I'm feeling afraid , but not despair.  Something I had a hard time shaking during Phase 1.  I'm hoping, praying (daily) even that I can catch this before it gets too bad.


My regular outlet of exercise is, at the moment, unavailable to me because Of how much pain I'm in.  I'm carrying this little guy extremely low, which has added additional pain in my low back and pelvis, making it difficult to even walk.  Can't walk=can't exercise.  I have, however, scheduled an appointment for today to see a physical therapist that specializes in low back and pelvis pain in pregnant women. I'm hoping I can rehabilitate these muscles so that once I deliver this won't be a problem anymore.  


I've been questioned on several occasions if taking an anti-depressant while pregnant is safe and every so often, criticized for putting my unborn baby at risk.   First off, all of these people are either without uterus's, or have never experienced PPD.  And cannot make reasonable assumptions about MY life choices.  I'm not going into this blind. And I'm not going into this uneducated.


You need to weigh the risk and the benefit.  I can run the risk of my baby being born and not breathing as quickly, and having a moment of fear that something is wrong and realize very quickly that everything is fine and have the benefit that I am emotionally able to take care of my family and be a better mom.  As scary as that "moment" will be, I'm willing to take that risk then make myself and my family suffer because I think " I can handle it on my own."  When the fact is, I know that I can't without some help.


Just as heaven knows, I'm sure I'll still struggle.  Transitioning into becoming a mother of two, sleepless nights, breastfeeding, a cranky two-year old and endless amounts of diapers all over the house.  


But remember what I've been saying this past year in a half?? Control what you can control. That's what I'm doing. Taking control of my life to be a better mother.


Your's truly,


 the pregnant,unbalanced, and medicated woman.

Victory Confession - I'm going to be a mother again.

 Victory Confession - I'm going to be a mother again.


My last post was rather encouraging as my emotional state seemed to have balanced itself out and I was feeling superb. Once off my anti-depressant, settled into our new home in the HOT state of Utah, dearest hubby and I felt that it was time for another little one to join our family. Four weeks after that discussion there was, in fact, a tiny little person starting to grow inside my tummy.


When making this rather big decision to create another life, that I would be in charge of the majority of the day, along with Toddler P,  to my surprise there wasn't much hesitation. There wasn't fear or anxiety. No stress.  I think mostly the fact that I had comfort from the other side of the veil, made this simple: It was time to have another baby. So, we tried. We were successful.  


The first two weeks I knew I was pregnant were wonderful. I wasn't sick, or tired.  I could feel small changes in my body here in there, nothing too dramatic. Well, that all changed very quickly.  


With Toddler P I was very sick. Throwing up multiple times a day, went to work part-time, slept as often as possible. It was quite awful. When I became sick this time around, the memories of how much I didn't enjoy it came flooding back to me. Constant nausea, throwing up, nothing sounds good, nothing tastes good. Exhausted..sooo exhausted. I was miserable.  After suffering for about a week I called the good ol' midwife and pleaded for some help. So, I went and got some fluids and some anti-nausea medication and went back to bed.


The first week on the medicine did pretty much nothing. I was still sick, if anything I was sicker.  Then, miraculously it started working and I started feeling less sick all the time.  Don't get me wrong, I still felt awful, just not as bad. 


My dear dear dear Dad volunteered to come take care of me and Toddler P for about 4 days. Bless his soul.  I don't know many Dad's that would be willing to come, alone, to take care of his pregnant and sick daughter and granddaughter. Plus, do all the cooking, cleaning and play with Toddler P all day. He's pretty great.  I cried when he left.


The week after that, hubby took off the mornings for the entire week to help me out so I could slowly get ready. I survived yet another week.


I am a few days away from that beloved week 12 and not only am I starting (very slowly) to feel better. But now, my mother is here. For an entire week to take care of us. If this isn't a blessed life, I don't know what is.


I've done my fair share ( and probably a little more) of complaining these past several weeks, but all the while I've been trying to see all the good. And to be grateful.  


There are so many woman who can't bear children.  If I could give them my very fertile and healthy reproductive parts for 9 months I would.  I get to bring life into this world in the most beautiful way.  Motherhood is so special. Although it doesn't feel like the "noblest calling" 24/7.  We get pooped on and thrown up on, we get kicked and pinched, we get grouchy toddler's that only say "no", we get morning sickness that prevents us from being the best mother we can be. The moments of joy and victories are quick and very short lived.  But when we recognize those moments and let them carry us through all the hard.  Our ability to be a better mother will only increase.  


Am I fearful of suffering with PPD once again this time around? Sure.
But I know what to expect more this time and I know what to do to quick it's trash.


Yours truly,


the pregnant unbalanced woman.

Victory Confession #12: Chang IS Possible

Victory Confession # 12: Change IS Possible.

I feel so incredible.

I finally feel at home here. We've made friends. Great friends. Who make us laugh and make us feel welcome. Who let us borrow tortillas and invite us over for Father Day dinner. Who stock our freezer with cinnamon rolls and who'll watch Baby P on a Friday night for us.

That first month was real hard.  I cried almost constantly. Usually when people were around, why do our tears act like that is the MOST appropriate time to starting gushing?..when people are watching. Unpleasant.

I ached for our old friends. I looked through all our past pictures over and over and over... I was depressed. In a different way though. I constantly felt sorry for myself. I wasn't appreciating any of the goodness around me.

You know what got me out of it? I was so wrapped up in what was going on with our friends back in Idaho and making sure they didn't forget about us and I ended up being disappointed that they weren't trying as hard as I was to keep in touch. I finally thought, "this is never going to end unless I just let go."

Do you remember my family motto growing up? "If you can't do anything about it, don't worry about it." I couldn't make our friends miss us more, I couldn't make them pay more attention to me when they have their own lives. I couldn't change a single thing. So guess what I did Dad?!?!?......

Oh, you better believe it.  I LET IT GO!  I've been real bad at that whole "if you set your mind to it, you can do it..." kinda thing. Yeah, not really good at that. But by some pure miracle in my emotionally, bad connected brain, that night I did it. I just decided and I did it. Miracle.

Ever since then, it's like I've become me again. Still trying to figure that out still, but I felt free in a way. Free of all this emotional weight I'd been carrying around, when I didn't even have to do it in the first place.


I started running again. Eating better. Feeling better. 


I'd also like to announce that in two weeks from today I will be COMPLETELY off my depression medication!


I've been taking it slow getting off, making sure I'm ready. That I can handle it.  That I'll be okay.  


I want to tell you that I'm okay. I'll be okay.  It's been almost 9 months that I've been on it. To tell you the truth I'm proud of myself.  I've been reading some of my past posts over the past several months and I've come such a long way.  


Things aren't going to be perfect. In fact, I'm counting on them not being perfect, or even close really. Just better.  I now have the tools and even better the confidence to help myself. To continue to overcome this nasty case of Postpartum Depression.  I am not ashamed of it. I'm not scared of it. I know where I have the control and how to put that towards being a better me. A better mother and wife.


This will be a lifelong journey for me I'm sure.  I will have more babies. I will have more struggles. Things will change in my life. People will change in my life. I'll have hard days and good days. I'm sure I'll be back here in the future with new confessions and new victories..this is not the end.  I hope whoever reads this and whatever you're going through you can find hope in the future. 


Hope, that there will always be better days ahead...


A dear friend of mine told me, that I'll eventually catch my breath again...


It feels good to breathe again.


Yours truly,
 
the unbalanced woman

 

Victory Confession #11

Victory Confession #11

Prayers are answered.

I wrote this super long Confession earlier today about how letting go is tough work, and about my emotional sob story about when our friends left after an awesome, laughter filled weekend and how I blubbered all the way home after they left and all night long and in my dreams and into this morning.... if you are wondering if there were any tears left??...Yes, there were plenty more.  I was just saving them up to use later on husbands white work shirt.

After reading it a few times and getting more and more depressed over the fact of how awful I was making my life sound, I decided to pray.  Praying for peace, for hope, praying for guidance, praying for relief.  I decided to take Baby P outside to play on the playground behind our house. As soon as I said, "outside" she bolted for the door and squealed.  I let her run free once we got around the corner and a girl from church who I'd only talked to a few times was outside as well watching her little boy shoot everything in site with Nurf darts.  Including my daughter...well he didn't actually shoot her, he pretended too. And she laughed every time he did it. She is the only person alive that would laugh at getting shot at.

I sat a good 20 feet away from her just watching Baby P run around loving getting "shot" and running around with the big girls, like she was one of them. She started talking to me slowly and within 5 minutes we were sitting right next to each other chatting like old friends.  She's just like me. Except taller, and skinner, with short black hair, and two kids, and is training for a marathon. Okay..maybe not just like me.  But our experiences as mothers are very similar.  Our struggles and triumphs. Some of our hobbies. Like running, although my running seems like nothing compared to her athletic ability to be super running marathon woman.

As we continued to share things about our lives and some of our similar experiences she looked at me, grabbed my shoulder and smiled so sweetly.  I was about to BUST into tears and instead I yelled out like a black chick, "We are SOOOUULLL SISTASSSS!" She laughed.

In that moment I felt so much hope. So much peace. I knew a watchful and never failing Father was taking care of me.

Not 30, minutes later husband received a phone call.  Our Bishop wanted us to come in and get to know us a little better. Honestly, I love knowing that I'm going in to the Bishop's office to receive a calling, and to tell him about my life because I'm quite proud of the life I have and am a little bit of a show off.  

Note: In our church each ward or congregation has a Bishop that presides over everybody, he is not paid.  Also the members of each ward participate in teaching other members. Instead of the Bishop talking each Sunday at the pulpit members of the congregation have the opportunity to bear testimony and help others learn more about the gospel. Every member is also given the choice to receive a calling within the ward wherever the Lord feels they should go.


So, we went in and chatted for about an hour.  Told him of our previous callings, about our families, about our marriage, our struggles and weaknesses. I felt nothing but absolute love and concern coming from this man.  He has such a kind spirit.


I felt totally uplifted at the end of the day and realized how much Heavenly Father cares for each of His children.  I read a quote today by a marvelous woman, " As you create a home, don't get distracted with a lot of things that have no meaning for you or your family.  Don't dwell on your failures, but think about your successes.  Have joy in your home. Have joy in your children. Have Joy in your husband. Be grateful for the journey."

As I read that I realize that my "Confessions" outweigh my Victories and that doesn't seem right. I know each of us will be better for focusing on the good, as hard as it may be at times to remember the things which we know are right and true, especially the worth we have as Mother's and wives, but holding onto that and living it is a much better way to live. I will be better.  Will you?


Yours truly, 

the unbalanced woman (but trying to be more positive about it)