One of those nights

It's been almost 5 years since we said goodbye to our angel.  Most days, I do ok.  Nowadays I really only get very emotional when I visit her grave, or if I let myself get too far inside my own head, thinking about how unfair it all is, and letting myself relive the emotions I felt that night.  I went on to have the sweetest little girl, and I know I will see Kayla again one day.  So most days I am ok.  Today is not one of them.

I've always said that if I have to, I can find a silver lining in losing Kayla.  It doesn't make it ok, it doesn't erase the pain, but sometimes you've just got to find that silver lining.  You just have to or you'll go insane.  My silver lining is that I've been given a unique gift that only parents of angels know, and that's the ability to appreciate and love your living children every hour of every single day.

Don't get me wrong, I am human like everyone else, and there are plenty of times that she drives me insane.  But I am content in knowing I can love my child more than life itself, but still want to sell her at times when she's being impossible.  But I feel like when you've been on the other side, when you've heard those crushing words, "your daughter will not survive", it makes it possible to set aside daily stress, and really appreciate what you do have, and to know how very lucky you are.

But with that knowledge and appreciation comes the curse, and that is knowing that it is far too easy to lose them and it can happen in the blink of an eye.  I don't sit around shaking and hugging myself, I don't lay in bed all day, unable to accomplish anything due to the fear.  I live my life and most of the time I can keep it at bay, and if you were standing right next to me you'd never know I'm experiencing it, but it's always there.  That fear of something happening to your child, that worry that you've been too lucky, you've been happy for too long and the happy police is going to come take it away.  For the most part I have my shit together, but those moments are always there, lurking....it's the waiting for Emily to get home when one of her grandparents drives her.  It's that silent sigh of relief when she walks in the door, safe and sound.  It's those first noises you hear in the morning over the monitor, telling you she is awake, and indeed ok. 

But some nights the fear rears its ugly head more than usual.  I was reading a post on facebook where parents were invited to say the names of their children that they are missing this Christmas, and I just sat there reading the names, crying.  Crying for them, crying that they were all so young when their lives ended...crying for their parents who will never ever be the same.  But selfishly, I'm crying for myself, and feeling that, even if only for a few minutes, that debilitating fear of something happening to the precious little life you would literally do anything for.  I am not this shattered person, it doesn't consume my life.  But I am still, and I think I will always, be waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Having lost a child gives you this blessing of super human ability to appreciate the good, even when you're screaming mad.  But it's also a curse, giving you the knowledge of how easily that good can turn bad.   

Oh toddlers

Whoever coined the term "terrible twos" ought to be shot.  There is nothing terrible about the twos.  Ok sure, she had a tantrum now and again, she used to bang her head on the floor when she was really mad, but that was not bad.  I know, at the time I probably thought it was, and I probably thought man, two year olds.  But I knew nothing.  NOTHING!

After hearing all your life that the twos are terrible, you get through them and they're not so bad, you think ha, I got this.  I got this parenting thing.  Why does everyone say it's the hardest job in the world, I can do this.  And then, right then is when your kids can smell your over-confidence, and that's when they strike, and break you down.

Even this whole last year, I thought wow, threes are so much harder than twos.  She'd have a tantrum, she'd be mad and cry, she'd refuse to do something I told her to do.  But then it was over and we'd be good.  The bad meltdowns didn't happen all that often, it was really more the whining and the lack of listening that got to me.  But nothing can compare to these last two weeks....not even the rage peeing.

It's like she went to bed one Friday night my sweet little, mostly even tempered girl, and woke up some hairy beast who does nothing but whine, and complain, and defy and do everything except listen.  That day we decided to take her to see The Star....the whole time before we left for the movie she was being so whiney.  So we get to the movie and it's sold out, the next one isn't for 2.5 hours.  We didn't want to wait that long, so we decided to go to the theater closer to our house (but didn't have the nice leather recliners, booo) that had a slightly earlier show time.  So we were trying to figure out what to do to kill the time, and I was trying to order tickets on my phone and she's in the backseat just talking non-stop, question after question after question.  She was like Donkey from Shrek when they were driving to the Kingdom of Far Far Away.  She just would.not.stop.talking.

I think in order to not go insane, my mind has blocked out some of the day's events, I just know she was uber whiney and complainy all day, despite having a very nice day at the movies and going to lunch and then to the mall to run some errands.  It was either that day or the next that she peed her pants TWICE, after not having had an accident in months.  So long ago I cannot even remember.  Every single day since the day we went to the movies, she's been insane with her tantrums and behavior.  A few days later we went to Target.  I try not to always let her get something, but she saw these really cute tiny snowglobes and they were only $3 so I thought why not.  I told her if she was good we could walk around the toy section when we were done.  So as we're going through, she sees some toy, aqua beads or something like that and she said she wanted it.  I said no, ask Santa.  That's been my answer for the last six months.  I dread January when it'll be harder to convince her to ask Santa...next year.  Oh but her birthday will be coming up soon.  Is it too early in April to start telling her to ask Santa for the toys she wants (which is all of them).

But ask Santa didn't cut it this time.  Please mommy, please.  It was $20, which I try not to let price be a known factor to her, because it doesn't matter what the price is, if I say she's not getting it, she's not getting it, but if I've already decided she can get something, it's going to be something that costs next to nothing.  So then she says, I don't want the snowglobe.  I said ok, but not getting the snowglobe doesn't mean you get the aqua beads.  She says no, I don't want it.

I said alright, let's go take it back then.  So we walk back across the store and put it back on the shelf.  I asked if she was sure, and she said yeah.  I said ok bye snowglobe.  We get two aisles away and it's "whaaaaa, I want the snowglobe"!  I knew she would do that, I was trying to figure out how to make it look like I was putting it back but really hang onto it so we didn't have to go back to get it once she decided she wanted it.  So we go back, and by now I'm pissed.  I cannot stand these games.  I want it, I don't want it, wha wha wha.  I know, all the non-parents and parents whose kids are grown and cannot remember how their kids were as toddlers are collectively shaking their heads saying, "oh she played you, you did exactly what she wanted".

Yeah well, you gotta pick your battles.  I seriously could not deal with her screaming all through Target because I wouldn't let her have the snowglobe again.  Being the fourth day in a row of this sudden "new Emily" I just couldn't take it.  Besides, I do the tough love lesson of "well you should have thought about that before" thing plenty of times.  Yeah, it doesn't work.  I can do that 60 times in a row, but the very next day she's going to try it again.  Like I said, break.you.down.  I mean, I'm sure if I do it consistently and often enough, eventually she will grow into a kid who doesn't thrive on drama and learn she cannot get her way just by screaming, but she's not going to learn that today, so I chose to avoid that war.

Then at the check out the cashier asked if she wanted a sticker,  and she put her head down and said no.  I told the cashier, she's the only kid in the world who pouts even when they get their way.  Before we made it out to the car, "whaaaaa, I wanted a sticker".  That's when she got the, "well too bad, you should have told her yes", speech.

Then last Friday, oooooh last Friday was bad.  She and I met my sister-in-law for a couple hours of shopping.  She is usually a great shopper, she has always been content on going pretty much anywhere as long as it's with me.  She loves to hang with me.  She did pretty well at the first store, and with her aunt being there I figured she would be good the whole time out.  She doesn't too often act up in front of other people, which leads people to think I am insane when I complain about a tough day with her.  "Oh stop, she's an angel", they say.  *Eyeroll*.

So at the second store, I had to run and get something and when I came back she had a puppy dog christmas ornament.  My SIL said she wanted to hold it and carry it around the store.  A few minutes later she handed it to me and asked me to put it in the cart, so I started to and she says no no no, I want to do it.  Through clenched teeth I said, well do it then!  I think she went to throw it and I said ok, you're done and I grabbed it from her and put it on the shelf.  She starts crying so loud and yelling, mommy pleeeeeaaaaaase.  I started to push her in the cart and she kicks me.  I grabbed her leg and said do not kick me.  So she kicks me again.  This time I grabbed her arm and repeated it, which caused even louder crying and claiming that I hurt her arm.  Oh my God, I barely squeezed it, I was just trying to get her attention.  So by now she is crying and yelling so loud; full-on toddler meltdown in the store.

I used to proudly say I never got embarrased when Emily acted up in public, but I have to say, that time, I was embarrased.  It was easier when she was little because she was still a baby.  If anyone wanted to judge me, I didn't give a shit, she was a baby, baby's get tired and they get upset.  But now she's at the age where people see "crazy brat having a tantrum in a store".  Plus she wasn't calming down after a minute or two like she normally would, so I grabbed her and told my SIL that we'd be outside for a minute.  So I take her out front and I knelt down and I told her what she needed to do, what she needed to stop doing, and she needed to stop hitting and kicking me.  What does she do?  Kicks me again!

Time out works really well at home, often times just the threat of time out will squash bad behavior.  So there were some brick pillars on front of the store that formed a corner, so I told her to go stand in the corner.  Just then I realized I had left her coat in the cart.  It wasn't insanely cold, but chilly enough to need a coat.  So we're standing there, people are walking in and out of the store and my kid's standing there screaming and crying with no coat on, yelling "I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared"!  I'm surprised the Novi police didn't come knocking on my door later on.

So I knelt down and told her if she could stop crying, we'd go back inside but she is not to yell and scream, she is not to kick me or hit me again, or we were leaving.  She said ok.....we went back in and I was on pins and needles.  I had just threatened something that I had to stick to, or risk showing her that she had all the power.  I may occasionally give in to the I want it/I don't want it games, but I try very hard not to make threats that I don't intend to make good on if need be.  Thankfully it wasn't a long shopping day, my SIL had an appointment so we would be leaving soon anyway, but I wasn't ready to leave right that minute, so I was praying I didn't have to follow through with my threat if she continued to misbehave.

She was pretty good for the rest of the time, and then as we were checking out, she asked if we could get McDonalds on the way home.  Ordinarily I wouldn't reward her for being so bad, but I was thinking about getting it before she asked, and we had nothing for lunch at home.  And, I really wanted McDonalds.  So I had to make her think it was all dependent on her behavior on the way home, and I was really hoping she would be good, because I wanted McDonalds too.  She said I'll be good, see...and she flashed a big corny smile.  Ugh, toddlers.  One minute they drive you to the edge of insanity, and the next they break your heart with their charm and cuteness.

So luckily she was pretty good on the way home, so we got lunch.  Then I had to work for a bit, and I was really hoping she would take a nap during quiet time.  So I sent her to go potty while I cleaned up lunch, and when I came in the bathroom she had her panties on and everything....I asked if she went and she said yeah, I did.  It seemed fishy, but she had never lied about going before, so I believed her.  Dumb!  Not even five minutes after I closed her door, she starts crying.  I go back in and she said, oh no I peed!  Her sheets were soaked, so there is no way she actually went potty before like she said she did.

So I had to put her in the shower and clean her off, get fresh panties and pants and strip her bed.  Luckily I still follow the tip my friend gave me when I was pregnant with her....always make the bed in at least two layers.  So all I had to do was strip off the top sheet and mattress pad and toss them in the laundry room and she had nice dry sheets to lay back down on.  God Bless the waterproof mattress pad!  Once I was done working and she got up, Ryan helped her write a letter to Santa, and we went out to dinner, intending to mail her letter afterward.  A woman in the next city over announced on the neighborhood website that she had put a mailbox to the North Pole on her lawn, and kids were welcome to come mail their letters.  She even promised to write back to the kids from Santa.  I can't wait for Em to get her letter!

So we went to dinner, and it was not good at all.  She misbehaved the whole time, wouldn't eat her food, kept waving her crayons in my face, wasn't listening.  Ryan was grumpy too, I think he just didn't feel good, so it was overall a very crappy dinner.  After mailing the letter, we were going to go drive through the christmas lights that we go see every year, but she was doing such a bad job of listening, I felt like we probably should cancel.  But I didn't want to, I was looking forward to going to mail her letter and seeing the lights, so I made her work for it and told her she had to be very good from that moment on or we were going home.  So she actually was good, for the most part.  We mailed her letter and then drove through the lights.

Last year was really her first year being super into Christmas, seeming to know what it meant and the idea of Santa.  But this year she is really into it, she gets excited over everything.  So it was a lot of fun listening to her exclaim over all the lights and be amazed at every new one she saw.  But I swear, the second we pulled out of the park, the whining and complaining started right back up again.  I lasted a couple of minutes and then I just lost my shit.  I had been annoyed with her all week, but I hadn't really yelled a whole lot or got overly mad, but now it was boiling up and I was about to explode.  I yelled at her so loud, I threw my phone on the floor of the car and I hit the door with my fist.  I was just so angry and fed up, I thought I was going to self-destruct.  I think I scared the shit out of her, cause there wasn't a peep from the backseat for a while.  We all rode in silence, and then my husband quietly put his hand over mine, and I just broke down and quietly cried.  Em has always been such a sweetheart when I am upset about something, so even though it was at her, I know she was still concerned.  We stopped at the gas station and Ryan ran in to get something, and after a minute or two, in her tiny little voice she said, mommy?

Despite still being so mad and frustrated and exhausted, just her saying that one word made me want to swoop her up in my arms and tell her how much I love her.  I'm a pretty even-keeled person (ok, except in traffic) until I am pushed too far, but then I unleash my wrath and I am pretty sure my head sometimes spins around and I vomit pea soup.  It's a bad habit of mine, I hold in my anger until I cannot take it anymore and then I blow up.  I had gotten frustrated that whole week, but that night my limit was reached and I couldn't take it anymore.  As soon as we got home I sent her to her room because I just needed her to not be in my sight right then.  My husband came over to me and hugged me and I just sobbed into his shoulder for a few minutes, and when I had calmed down, I went in to tuck her in and talk to her.  I explained to her that mommy just gets mad when she doesn't listen and doesn't behave, but no matter how mad I get and no matter how much I yell, I will always always love her.

I don't want to be her friend, I want to be her parent and teach her right from wrong and raise her to be a decent person.  But every now and again when I lose my shit like that, I worry that each time, it's chipping away a little bit of love and trust that she has for me, and that terrifies me.  So far I have not seen any evidence of it, she still crawls into my lap on a daily (and sometimes multiple times a day) basis to tell me how much she loves me and that I am her best friend.  But still, I wish I could get my point across without having to yell like that.

I know as a parent I cannot be perfect, no parent is.  And I know it's normal that once you're pushed past your limit, it's not uncommon to lose it and just go berserk.  But still, I feel very bad about yelling like that, and I just don't want to be that kind of parent.  She has continued to be a challenge over the days since then, and I have lost my cool a little bit a couple times, but for the most part, I am doing much better at being firm, but remaining calm.  It's so hard to not get sucked in, and expect behavior from your child that they are simply not capable of yet.  It's too easy to get mad and think they are acting this way just to make your life miserable, and they are trying to ruin your day.  But when I think about the fact that she is still so little, and trying to figure out her emotions and her actions, testing us to see what she can get away with and what she cannot, it's so much easier to be empathetic, yet firm, to teach her what is expected and what is not allowed, but to do it in a way that will help her learn, rather than scare her into behaving well.  I love the quote, "When little ones are struggling with big emotions, it is our job to share our calm, not join their chaos:.

Still, it's so much easier said than done.  But, all I can do is keep trying, and keep learning from my mistakes.  I may mess up sometimes and lose my temper and yell, but I think it's only human, and let's face it, adults aren't all that much better than toddlers at handling their emotions.  We're both learning as we go, and discovering what works and what doesn't.  I know it is all normal, I know she is not doing anything that every other toddler has done since the beginning of time.  But it's so hard because it's like overnight she went from being this relatively easy kid who had tantrums here and there, but quickly corrected herself with some guidance....to this crazy monster who has acting badly every single day for almost two weeks solid.  She has been napping much more than usual.  For the last several months, she would nap one, maybe two times a week during quiet time.  But last week she napped almost every single day and even this week she's napped more than usual.  So my only guess is she is going through a major growth spurt, which is requiring more energy, which makes her more tired, and therefore more crazy.  At least I hope that's what it is...a phase.  A phase that will hopefully end very very soon.

So, I wrote all of the above a few days ago, and I am happy to report that the crazy fog seems to be lifting and she has been doing much much better.  She's back to normal toddler behavior that I can handle, and now seems like a walk in the park compared to before.  My step-mom is convinced it was because of the full moons.  I am not sure I believe in that stuff, but after the time I've had with Em lately, I am beginning to.

Healing others-Capture your grief

"For whatever it's worth, I see you.  I hear your guttural sobs.  I feel your ache deep inside my bones.  I notice the grit and guts it takes to pry yourself out of bed every single day and force your bloodied feet to stand up and keep walking".

-Angela Miller

I can still remember the day like it was yesterday.  I believe it was 3 weeks to the day Kayla was born and I had to get up early because my husband was running a 5K that morning.  I tried, but I could not sleep the night before.  As the hours ticked by, it became more and more clear I was not getting any sleep that night.  I think I finally did doze off for about 45 minutes on the couch before my alarm went off.  

I was dreading this day.  It was the first 5K we'd be going to since Kayla was born.  The last time I went to a race to support him was about a month and a half ago.  Before.  Before.  I think just about anyone who has gone through a major loss in their life knows the phenomenon of before and after.  Suddenly all time is irrelevant.  There is no "last year", or "next month".  Everything is split into one of two categories.  Before it, or after it.  The last time I went to a race of his, I was happy, I was content.  I was pregnant.  Now I was not, and I hated this.  My grief on this day would have been bad anyway, but my lack, or complete absence of sleep just made it even worse.  I think getting that 45 minutes actually did more harm than good.  I somehow got through the race, and even breakfast afterward.  

My family was going out for dinner that evening to celebrate my brother's birthday, and I was asked if I wanted to go or not.  Everyone said they would love for me to come, but they totally understood if I was not up to it.  As the day went on, I couldn't make a decision.  I wanted to go so badly, I wanted to be surrounded by my family whom I needed so much right then.  I want to go more than anything.....AND I wanted to stay home and going was the last thing on earth I wanted to do.  I can't describe that feeling anymore than I just did, but I remember feeling it.  I wanted two completely opposite things at the very same time.  My dad called to ask if I was going and as soon as I said no, he asked....."rough day"?  

I couldn't hold it in any longer.  My dad's voice was the representation of all that was right in the world, and it was such a comfort at that moment and I just let it out.  We talked for a good 30 minutes and while he did make me feel much better, I decided not to go to dinner with everyone.  I didn't want to risk bursting into tears at the Olive Garden.  But the point of this story is that, that day was when I hit rock bottom.  Nothing majorly significant happened.  You'd think it would have been the day of her funeral, or the day I had to return to the hospital where I had her, and go to my follow up appointment at my OB's office that was filled with pregnant woman and the sound of a healthy baby's heartbeat coming from one of the ultrasound rooms.

But no, it was just a day.  Yes, going to the race was hard...going to do something that was a happy, fun event the last time I did it was hard.  But for the most part it was just a regular day.  But being 3 weeks out, I think the pain was still so raw, but it had been long enough for the shock to have warn off.  I think it was the first day my body and soul was really feeling the pain, and it was hell.  I had been through difficult losses before.  Losing my mom was probably the biggest life-altering loss I had experienced, and losing both of my beloved grandparents 3 weeks apart was no walk in the park.  I was no stranger to grief.  I knew the steps, I knew the unpleasantness that was to come.  But in that moment, my world felt like it was pitch black, and I could not see a thing.  I couldn't see my way out.  I couldn't see how I would ever not be in the enormous amount of pain that I was in that very moment.  It felt like something that was flat out impossible and the pressure of not feeling like I could ever climb my way out of this hole felt like I was being slowly crushed to death, one well placed stone at a time.

Another day I remember having a very hard time was the few days before Ryan went back to worth,  I had 6 weeks off work, and he had 2 or 3.  I have always been an independent person and I like my space and alone time.  My husband and I always enjoyed our time together, but I at least, always enjoyed my time alone as well.  But for the last several weeks since Kayla was born, we had spent nearly every waking hour together.  He went to the gym one day for a couple of hours without me, and one night out to the bar.  That was it.  Roughly 6 hours on my own, out of several weeks.  Those weeks we had off work together, we had a schedule.  We tried to go somewhere every other day.  Some days it was a quick trip to Target...others it was a couple hour shopping trip and out to lunch.  I just knew we had to make a conscious effort to get out of the house, otherwise we might shut ourselves in forever.  As that final weekend together approached, I felt the dread wash over me.  

If one could see into my heart to know what I was feeling, you'd think I was preparing to say goodbye to my husband for several months or a year.  Not just a work day.  But thinking about him going back to work made me short of breathe, it made the weight on my chest heavier, and I felt scared, panicked and sad.  The idea of him not being with me 24/7 anymore brought on a feeling of being homesick.  Me, the once super independent girl that craved my alone time, was now terrified to be home without him, even for 8 hours.  The actual day turned out to be not so bad, and I of course got through it, but that final weekend together felt like we were on the precipice of eternal doom.  

The last day that I wanted to write about was my first day, or I suppose, my first week back to work.  Before I went, I was slightly looking forward to it, to get back into a routine, to get back into something that would make me feel normal.  But despite being nervous about going and even throwing up in anticipation the day before, nothing could have prepared me for how bad it was going to be.  The stares I felt as I walked in to my desk.  The sympathetic smiles and feeling of dread that someone was going to ask me about it, and the anger and hurt when people didn't.  My co-worker and friend, was loudly asking her cube mate how his baby is and what he has been up to.  My hands curled up into a tight bawl, almost insane with anger that they could be so heartless as to talk about this happy, healthy, living baby within inescapable earshot of the girl who just returned to work after losing her baby.

I went home at noon that day.  It was just too hard; way harder than I expected.  The moment I walked out those doors, I could breathe again.  I was beyond giddy to be going home, to be outside in the sunshine, in my car alone, away from the sympathetic yet pitiful people who meant well but just couldn't seem to do or say the right thing.  Going home, and picking up some sort of yummy comforting food, and thinking about putting on my pj's, laying on the couch and snuggling with my cat sounded like the best damn thing in the world.  For a while, I felt amazing.  I was sad and in pain, but I was home, and I was happy....until about 8 that night, when reality set back in, knowing I had to go back to work tomorrow, and that I had to stay all day....and the next day, and the day after that.

By the time I got home that second day, I was in a full on panic.  I've never had a panic attack before, and I don't know if what I was experiencing was one,.  Bit all I can remember is feeling dread, and panic, and desperation.  I was wracking my brain, trying to think of something, anything that could keep me from having to go back to work.  Anything to allow me to stay home all day, in my pjs and not deal with anything or anyone.  In that very moment I could briefly understand, or at least relate to the crazy, and often illegal things people do when they are desperate.  I felt deep down that there just had to be a way that I could quit my job and not become homeless because we could not get by on just my husband's salary at the time.  I think had the devil himself showed up to offer me a work-free existence, at the bargain price of just my soul, I was desperate enough at that moment to have taken the deal.  Every time I arrived back at the only result there was, which was not quit my job, I became angry and desperate and panicked all over again.  Work slowly, very slowly got better.  But it took a long time.  It took months.  I would say a solid 3-4 months of being back to work went by before I felt even a shred of being "ok" with being there.  

The reason I shared these particular 3 difficult days, was because at the time, I couldn't see it.  I couldn't see that I was in a hole.  A temporary hole that I would eventually climb out of.  Despite knowing for a fact that I would climb out, I didn't believe it because it sounded so implausible.  Miscarriage, infant and pregnancy loss can be so horribly isolating.  Often times people do not share these hard times with just anyone, so most people in their lives do not know it ever happened.  That is why raising awareness and reaching out to say "I am one in four"and "I am a loss mom" is so important, to help bring comfort in numbers to all of the silent sufferers out there.

It's important to know you are not alone, and that you are fortunately/unfortunately surrounded by people who know exactly what you're going through.  But coming out of the "loss mom closet" is important in another way too.  It shows people that others foughtt through it, others felt the panic and despair that you are feeling, and they got through it.  It shows people that there is "the other side" and that we are living, breathing proof that you can and you will get through it, no matter how dark your world is today, there is sunshine coming.   It may not be today, or tomorrow, or next week.  But it's out there, and it will be yours.  Someday.  And that knowledge of someday gives hope.  

Today, 4.5 years after I was in one of the darkest places in my life, I now stand in the sunshine.  I once again love my alone time and some days even look forward to my husband going to work.  The decision to go out to dinner or not is not a major conundrum, and talking to my dad on the phone does not make me burst into tears.  I once again go to work (well sort of) every day like everyone else, and I actually enjoy my job and feel happy about doing it.  I no longer have any desire to find some way to quit my job.

If you're reading this, and you recently lost one of the most precious things to you in the world, please know that it can and will get better.  The grief will never go away.  Nor would I want it to because grief is just what is in place of the love I have for my daughter and the love will never go away.  If you feel hopeless, panicked, desperate and cannot for the life of you see how there is any way things will ever be good again, know that the above 3 days were 3 of the worst days of my life, where the emotional pain was so intense I think I would have chosen physical pain in its place.  But I got through it, and I am still standing, and so are you.  I see you, I hear you and I feel your pain.  

   

Capture your grief-Reflection

The silver lining is never a reason to want something bad to happen...but it makes that bad thing just a little bit more tolerable, and focuses on the good.  There is nothing, nothing that can make me say, yeah, I suppose it was for the best that Kayla died, or figure that "it all worked out in the end". 

Losing a child in utero is very different from losing a living child...or at least I can only imagine.  The pain I went through losing Kayla was raw, and real, and horrible.  I think back to when I was in the the very worst of it...laying there in OB triage, being told my baby would not survive....feeling my water break and knowing this was it, there was no longer any hope of keeping her in for a few more weeks or even days....sitting at home, marveling over everything that had just happened, but still not being able to wrap my head around the fact that I was no longer pregnant, my daughter was no longer safe and kicking inside me (despite the phantom kicks that really mess with your head), and we were never going to get to bring Kayla home, not then, and not in July.  It was absolute hell.  I cried every.single.day on my drive to and from work for months and months.  I was desperate, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out some way, somehow I could quit my job so I could just stay home, curled up in a bawl and cry all day.

But, things are so much better today, and I credit most of it to Emily.  The joy of finally getting your take home baby, the feeling of being whole, because you now have a baby to hold in your arms, not just in your heart....Emily saved me.  She saved me from a lifetime of hurt and sadness.  Emily was my shining light, in my very dark world.  But in many ways, Kayla saved me just as much.  I cannot speak for other parents because never having been a parent before I lost my baby, I don't know how the day to day life is without the horrible knowledge of how dark the other side is.  But if I had to guess, I would say that most parents do not get to enjoy their kids as much as they would like to, as much as they should.  Between working, and house work, and taking care of the kids, and worrying about money, and signing them up for soccer practice, and getting them to the dentist and doctor, and buying their fall/winter clothes, it's very hard to just sit and take it all in.

Whenever I read of something tragic happening, I read lots of parents commenting, wow, this makes me really appreciate my child and enjoy the little moments with them....and it definitely sounds as though they are so busy living life and taking care of their child, that they do not always get to do that.  But knowing what I know, having gone through having to give a child back and say hello and goodbye in the same day, I feel like I have been given the gift of appreciation and gratitude.  I am human and busy just like everyone else, and some days my daughter frustrates me beyond belief.  So no, I don't sit and marvel at her all day every day, but I do just that, every day.  I think I would be hard pressed to come up with more than a couple days in her entire 3.5 years so far on this earth that I haven't stopped at least once, if not more like 3 or 4 times to just watch her, and study her face, and smile as she is lost in play, completely oblivious of me watching her, and think to myself, man am I lucky.  What did I do in my life to be so deserving of this amazing little girl?  I don't know, but I am so thankful for her, and I cherish her...not all day everyday, but every day and I don't think that is something someone can do when they haven't been shown how fragile life is, and how quickly in a blink of an eye things you love more than anything can be taken from you.

The time flies by...she's already 3.5.  Before I know it she will be 10, and then graduating high school, getting a real job, getting married and then marveling at babies of her own.  I cannot slow down time, but I can appreciate that time and I don't think I could do that without having lost Kayla.  It doesn't justify her loss, or make it ok, but it's a beautiful gift to receive, to see that there is still good in this life.

Capture Your Grief-Healing

So per usual, October has snuck up on me, and I am three days into it and I had forgotten all about the Capture Your Grief project.  As much as I love Carly Marie and her words and her ideas for this project, this year, I am just not feeling it.  So rather than not do it because I cannot think of what to do for each day's topic, I decided to do something on my own this year.

I am going to copy her model by starting out the month (or the 3rd day of the month) with a sunrise, and end it with a sunset, because well, who doesn't love them and it's a beautiful way to book-end the month.  But I've decided each day (and it might not even be each day, I'll just write when I feel like it) I'll write about a different experience with Kayla, be it a happy memory, a bad day, a way in which I helped heal myself, etc.  I guess just wherever the day takes me.

So this morning's sunrise was taken somewhere between Ann Arbor Mi and Canton, Mi.  My husband actually took it, because as the father of our lost daughter, I think it is a nice way to include him in a project that he is likely to not be a part of otherwise.  Ok...so maaaaaybe I partly have him take the pic because he works midnights and is just getting off work at that time, and I am still snoozing.  BUT, it still makes for a nice way to include him.

So today I want to write about something that helped heal me...or at least maybe was a small start to healing, even though everyone knows the path to healing is a squiggly mess that turns and dips and backtracks a million times.  But, every little bit helps I guess.  It was about a week after our loss, and my husband and his friend were going to go work out at the gym.  I decided to come too...before we had gotten married I had gotten into really good shape and was eating well and working out a lot.  After our wedding, I gained a few pounds back, but the weight really starting coming back once we starting trying to conceive and had problems right from the start.

As the months went by with no baby, I got more and more determined to get the weight I had gained off, certain that it would bring my periods and ovulation back, but all that did was put on so much pressure to lose, that I experienced the opposite affect.  After about a year of TTC, and already having had one loss, I had officially gained back all of the weight I had lost, and those pounds even brought a few friends with them.  So needless to say, I was not at all at my ideal weight when I got pregnant with Kayla.  But I had GD, so I had to stick to a strict diet, and I managed to not gain a single pound in the 22 weeks with her.

So the only silver lining I could find, was now that I was no longer pregnant, and no longer diabetic, I could get back into working hard to lose the weight, so I jumped at the chance to go to the gym and start my healthy journey.  I was only about a week postpartum, so I decided I was going to take it easy for my first time back, and just walk on the treadmill.  My body was still healing, and despite not gaining anyway, I was totally out of shape, and exhausted.  As I walked, I felt like people could read it on my face, like I had a big sign above my head, telling the world of my recent heartbreak.  To my surprise, I kept upping the speed on the treadmill, and with each speed bump, the lump in my throat grew, my eyes filled with tears and a good song came on with a good beat, so I upped it some more to the point where I had to run to keep up.

Normally when I run on the treadmill (which isn't often, I am NOT a runner, even in my best shape, I just do not enjoy it and cannot go long before I am totally out of breathe) I do a very slow jog, perhaps even the speed that some very tall people may walk quickly at (have I mentioned I am short...like 5'2, these legs don't move very fast).  Basically I am not doing much more than just walking fast in a jogging position.  But that night, I wiped away the tears and I ran.  I ran as fast as I could, and it felt amazing! It felt like with each step, I was kicking my grief's ass.  I was so angry, I could feel it build and build, and the running just felt so good and counteracted it.  I'm not sure if I was running away from something, or to something, but for that few minutes I felt strong and empowered.

When my high ran out, I slowed to a walk, and then decided I was done for the night.  I was exhausted, mentally and physically.  My husband and his friend were over in the weight section.  We had rode with his friend, but we lived just a couple blocks away so I decided to leave then, and just walk home.  So I went to find my husband to tell him I was leaving.  He knew I had planned on taking it easy, and he had seen me running and asked why I decided to run.  I opened my mouth to answer but I got shakey and the tears sprang back into my eyes.  With a quivering voice I told him I was so angry and it felt good to run it off.  Without missing a beat, he told me "there's no crying!  There's no crying at the gym"!  And I laughed, and wiped my tears and I am pretty sure I blew snot out of my nose when I laughed.

So then I walked home alone in the dark, and I felt good.  I felt "wrung out" but good.  Who would have thought I quick run on the treadmill and a quiet walk home in the dark would be so healing, but it was one of the first times I felt like I had made some real progress confronting my grief since we had lost her.  I felt like I had control, and that is a very important emotion when everything around you is so very obviously out of control.

Cute date

I had a date tonight...and my date was really really cute.  She was about 3 feet tall, blonde, and most of the night had some kind of food smeared on her face.

Ryan had a concert to go to today...like an all day concert.  He left around noon and likely won't be home till the wee hours of the night.  So I thought, well we're on our own for dinner, what should we do?  But then I decided, we should do something more than just our usual Friday eat-out dinner.  So I decided a mommy-daughter date was long over due.  We hang out a lot during the day, of course, since I am the one with her all day.  But we've never specifically made plans like these and went out.  So we did.

I was hoping for a better dinner than McDonalds, but, it's kid friendly, and I only had to spend a couple bucks for food she wasn't going to eat, rather than $7 or $8 for food she wasn't going to eat.  We hung out with some friends last weekend and their youngest is Em's age, and she apparently fills her time between meals by dreaming of the next meal.  I need to send Emily over there for a week so she can learn how to eat.

Some days I seriously don't know how she is still alive.  Like for dinner tonight, she had maybe 4 (tiny) bites of her cheeseburger, though I am pretty sure her bites were 75% bun....not even half of her fries (those tiny fries that look like they belong in a doll house) and her little jug of chocolate milk.  Thank God for milk, or some days she would get no calories at all.  Oh and she did eat her go-gurt...I can almost always count of yogurt of some kind to appeal to her picky palate. 

Then we went to the movies.  Though there was a minor meltdown at McDonald's because she wanted to go in the play area, and we didn't have time.  Granted when we get McDonald's, it's almost always drive thru, but you can see the huge play area through two story windows, surely she has seen them before.  But tonight of all nights, when we have some place else to go, some place fun at that, is when she wants to go in the play area.  Last February my Godson's birthday was at a McDonald's but she wanted nothing to do with the playscape....what a difference 6 months can make.

Thankfully she gets over her tantrums quickly, so off we went.  We saw Tangled....this theater near us is playing a different Disney movie each week and we lucked out that Tangled was playing.  She loves Tangled, she's even going as Rapunzle for Halloween, and aside from Beauty and the Beast (on a night we couldn't have gone anyway) it was the only one I really wanted to see.  This was only her second movie at a theater, her first was about this time last year to see Trolls.  She did alright, she was pretty antsy and talked too loud sometimes, but I guess that's what you get when you take a 3.5 year old attention span to sit through a movie she's seen dozens of times.  She'd likely watch it again tomorrow, but at home she can play and walk around and come in and out.  Had it been one we'd never seen before, it would have held her attention better.  She also had to go potty 3 times...well the third was on the way out, but still.  I am a camel and can hold it for hours, so getting up during the movie is not something I am used to or fond of. 

But we had fun, a nice little night out together.  I just put her to bed, I don't have to work tonight, and my husband won't be home for hours, so I have at least 3 blissful hours all to myself.

I've been obsessed with selling stuff on Facebook Marketplace lately.  It's great for getting rid of baby stuff we no longer need....I also sold some bigger stuff like furniture.  I think in total I've made almost $400.00.  Yeah there were a couple higher priced things, but a lot of that is puny $10.00 and $20.00 sales.  It's so nice to make some extra cash, and free up some space in the garage and basement.  But lately I've hit a dry spell....none of my stuff is selling.  Maybe the other stuff was more in demand, but I would think a My Breast Friend pillow would be in demand, and a cute little humidifier for a nursery, especially considering I priced them pretty low just to get them out of the house.

But I've got some baby feeding supplies for sale.  These have become the bane of my existence.  It's a collection of maybe 20-25 baby spoons, a couple snack bowls with no spill lids, one of those netting things to put fruit in so baby can suck on the juice, and a few spoons that screw on to the baby food pouches, so when you squeeze the pouch, the food just come out right onto the spoon.  Those were AMAZING when Emily first started eating solids.  I'd say altogether those things would cost about $35 new, and I am asking $15.  So far tonight makes the 8th person to blow me off over these damn spoons.  People message me and when I respond saying they're available, then they never say a word again....or they'll make a plan to come pick them up, and not show and not even tell me they're not coming.  I had forgotten about it tonight, but when my headlights hit the bag still sitting on the porch when I got home, I was like man, are you kidding me?  I really thought this lady was coming since she right away asked if she could come get them today at 5.

At least half, if not more of those 8 people have tried dickering on the price.  Really?  They're $15.  I get that some people don't have money for this stuff, but don't take something that is $15 and offer $8.  One lady last week, when she offered $8, I said the lowest I could go was $10...I mean yeah, I could take $8 just to be done with them, but it's the principle dammit.  And I feel like if something is not effected by use and age, then they should be worth a little more.  Baby spoons and bowls can so easily be sterilized or just washed in the dishwasher and be good as new.  Being used does not affect their ability to get food into a baby's mouth, so dickering on price just annoys me for stuff like this.  Plus, I'd already be going down $7 to take her offer, she couldn't come up a measly 2 to make a sale? 

And the no call no show shit really pisses me off.  I communicate via text or facebook messenger.  If you decide you don't want the item, or cannot make it when you said you would, fucking send me a message and let me know.  Jesus, a little common decency is not too much to ask.  A few months ago I sold a pack n play.  I asked a bit more for it because it was practically like new, Em only slept in it a few times when we were in our camper, and it had a lot of stuff like the changing table and the newborn napper, a mobile and a sound machine.  So this lady messaged me on like Tuesday and asked if she could pick it up Friday.  I was leary to hold it for her, but I did.  Even when I think two people messaged me and could have picked it up that day, I said it was pending until Friday.

I was going out of town, and was leaving the day before.  It likely wouldn't be hurt by rain, but still, I tried my best to protect it from rain so I dragged Em's inflatable pool over and stuck it under there, got a tote, and found a heavy rock to weigh it down so they could leave the money in there.  She was in good communication with me all up until then, and then she never came to get it.  I messaged her several times asking if she was coming, and I know she saw the message, but never responded.  I know it's a small thing, but I just think that is so damn rude. 

After that I got a couple of go-nowhere messages about it, and an offer to buy it for less, but luckily I did end up selling it for asking price a few weeks later, but it still burns me.  She's the reason I now put no holds on all my stuff.  So yeah, I don't get what the deal with these spoons are.  I sold a bed frame for $100...well actually I listed it for $118, but that was really just to have room to negotiate.  I would have been thrilled with $115 or $110, but I was still very happy with $100.  I sold a desk for $90...no negotiating at all, just showed up, paid and off it went.  But everyone wants to negotiate with these damn $15.00 spoons.  I just don't get it.

I actually went and bought something from FB the other day.  Since I've began my obsession, I've bought four things I think.  A fat chef serving tray (my kitchen is fat chef themed), a mickey and minnie Pandora charm...I hadn't gotten a charm yet from our Disney trip, so I snapped those up as soon as I saw them.  And again, being "used" did not affect the appearance of them, so I got them for 50% off just because I bought them from a person rather than a store.  Sweet!  I got a roller coaster for Em for the yard...that was another steal.  New they're about $100, most people wanted at least $60 for them, but this particular one was filthy, and I mean filthy....mud caked on them.  Even scrubbing them with soap and water didn't get it all off, but it still rolls down the track, dirt or no dirt. So I took my husband's truck to pick them up because I didn't even want the cargo area of my car getting dirty.  So I got that for $30 or $25 I think.  But my greatest find to date was DVD shelves from Ikea.  I forget the weird Swedish name, but they're really simple....no muss no fuss, they get screwed to the wall and hold about 25-30 DVD's.  I had two I bought from the store, and they were like $6 each, but they discontinued them and I needed more.  Since you can't get them anymore, people are selling them for $40 and sometimes $60!

So I kept search and keeping my eye out for several weeks...I even found some, but then discovered from the map that they were in London (I was like um, I don't think the Thames river is around here).  So finally I found some, 4 of them for like $20 total, but she ended up just giving me them all for $10.  That's even cheaper than when Ikea sold them, and they were just in the city next door!  So now I can finally use the storage bench to hold other stuff that was cluttering up my office since I have a nice organized place for all my DVD's. 

So anyway, Emmy LOVES our camper.  Loves it.  Poor thing practically gives herself a stroke when she talks about it, or we go camping, or even if she sees another camper.  On a whim I searched for Barbie Camper, and came up with quite a few.  I found one for $30 and I did a quick google to see what they go for in stores.  That one is discontinued now, but you can still get a few on Amazon for around $230 I think.  What?!  Um yeah, I'll take it for $30.  I instantly regretted it when I put the address in the GPS and it said it would take 40 mins to get there.  I considered telling her I'd changed my mind, but I am glad I got it now.  It's way cooler and bigger than I expected.

I've fallen prey to buying too many toys for my only child...she gets toys on non-birthday and holidays all the time and our house is over-run...toys every where.  I almost bought her the tower and a few figures from Tangled the other day, but seriously, I've gotta stop.  I don't want her to be spoiled, and really there is no reason for her to get toys (aside from maybe a small thing here and there) outside of her birthday and holidays.  She's got two grandma's that spoil her enough, I don't need to be doing it too.  So I decided the camper will be for Christmas.  Luckily she is still of the age that I can give her a used toy in a plain cardboard box and she won't question why it isn't in fancy packaging and have all the accessories annoyingly twist-tied to the inside of the box.  I can't wait to see her reaction when she gets it.

So, I've got to find a new anti-depressant.  I was on Wellbutrin years ago after my mom died, and I felt like it helped a lot.  I don't remember why or when I went off...maybe when we started trying to get pregnant.  After we lost Kayla my OB was more than happy to prescribe me something again to help me deal....I told her I did good on Wellbutrin, and she said it was fine, but her personal preference was Zoloft, so I said ok I'll try it.  I liked it as far as I can remember....but had to go off again when I was trying to get pregnant with Emily.  She put me back on it again after Em was born and I had been on it ever since, up until about two months ago.

I didn't see an issue with it, but my dad was also on it and he was complaining about being so tired and not being able to get off the couch.  I'll admit, I kind of thought he was exaggerating.  He is old school and wasn't happy about trying an anti-depressant, but he has struggled some since retiring, and then he had the accident with his fingers and the table saw, so his girlfriend insisted he try something.  I didn't think I had a problem with the Zoloft.  Yes, I did spend a lot of time on the couch, but before, all my time on Zoloft was when I was working full time outside the home.  If I wanted to keep my job, I had no choice but to get up every day and go to work. 

But once I became a stay at home mom, and then a work from home mom, I suddenly had a choice.  Yeah, I have a kid so I do have to be up and present, but she is so good most of the time, so if I spend the morning snoozing on and off in the recliner, I was right there for her to slap and say momma, I need you...or she'd happily sit on my lap while I caught some zzzs and either watch TV or play.  And some days I didn't sleep, but I'd still just sit in the recliner.  I had no motivation to get up and do anything, but then I would feel so guilty for wasting the whole morning and getting nothing done.

But, I blamed it on having a bad sleep schedule....not having to get up at a certain time for work means you can stay up late, and have a wonky schedule.  Even if I got 5-6 hours sleep, which is typically enough for me, it seems that getting that block of sleep from 4am till 9am still messed with me and made me groggy and blah.  But my dad kept telling me, it's the Zoloft, you should try going off.  I didn't believe him, but then one day I hadn't taken it for 4 days because we had been out of town and I just kept forgetting, so I thought, this is as good a time as any to go off....within a week I was amazed that I didn't spend as many mornings on the couch or in the recliner anymore.

Yes, there are still days when I am sleepy as hell and don't want to get going in the morning, but I can power through it, whereas on Zoloft, I couldn't.  It was the difference between being physically tired, and mentally tired.  The physical I could force myself to get up and get going, the mental, I could not.  Now I feel kind of bad for doubting my dad, because he was dealing with the exact same thing I was.  I just never knew before because when I worked full time, I HAD to power through, but when I didn't have to, I lacked the motivation to do it.

I've been trying to make it without going on something else, but it's not going so well.  I know medications are important, but right now I am on so many, I was hoping I could kick one of them and not suffer from it.  But it's obvious I need to go back on.  My issue isn't really depression though, or at least not the depression people think of when they hear the word.  I don't feel despair, I don't feel sad, or hopeless or down.  In fact, for the most part, I am a pretty fucking jolly person.  It takes almost nothing to make me happy, and I can find joy in the smallest things.  So aside from periods in my life where I dealt with grief and situational sadness (losing my mom, losing Kayla), I don't really experience what people think of when they think depression.  But, I have a short fuse.  Sometimes very short and my therapist says depression is rage turned inward.  So I am depressed, it's just turned outward into rage.

And again, for the most part, I am very laid back and easy going.  I like to think I am easy to be around and get along with.  I don't expect a ton from other people, I don't throw a hissy fit over stupid stuff.  And sometimes I have a really long fuse and go with the flow.  Sometimes I can sit in traffic and be like la di da, sure, you come on into my lane even though you knew yours was ending two miles ago, or that's ok that it took you 5 years to make your turn.  But more often than not, once I am annoyed, watch out. 

A guy I dated once marveled at the fact that I get such bad road rage....even as a passenger.  By about 7 pm, especially if I am trying to cook dinner, people need to just leave me alone, and I have no tolerance for Emmy's whining, especially when she and the dog start horsing around and are in my way, and Emmy inevitably gets hurt.  I just want to clunk their two heads together and make them go away and leave me alone for a while.  This apple did not fall far from my dad's tree at all.  I definitely got his temper.

He is also a very friendly, easy going guy....until he is annoyed or mad, and then, take cover.  So since going off the Zoloft, my already short fuse has gotten way shorter.  On Z, it's pretty manageable and only is an issue when things are really piling up.  But off of it, don't even look at me wrong or I might snap you in two.  My temper has earned me a few nicknames over the years....When Animaniacs used to be on, there was this short cartoon called Katie-Kaboom.  It was this sweet little girl, but if she didn't get what she wanted, she turned into this monster that could blow up her entire house.  So my one friend affectionately referred to me as Amy-Kaboom.  At another job, this guy used to call me Slappy because he said I always looked like I was about to slap somebody.  Sometimes it would get shortened to slap.  Funny story and a bit off-topic, but when I think of this I always smile.  Bill, the guy that gave me that nickname was about 12 years older than me and my best friend.  I think we were 19 and he was 31.  But we always hung out at work with him and sometimes outside of work.  He was this tattooed, shaved head, looking like he just got out of prison guy....not a guy you'd want to run into in a dark alley.  But I loved him, he was so fun. 

So one day I was standing at my register and Stevie Wonder's "I just called to say I love you" was playing on the store's speaker system when my phone rang, and I knew from the ring that it was an in-store call.  I looked down and it said furniture, which was directly in line with my register about 20 yards away and there is Bill, lounging in one of the office chairs for sale, on the phone.  I looked at him funny, wondering why he didn't just come talk to me, and he motioned for me to answer my phone.  So I picked it up and he says, "Slap, I just called to say how much I care". 

Man, those were the days.  It's nice making real money now and having a house and a family, but sometimes, back then, working retail with all my friends....it could just be a lot of fun and I miss those times.  He was a good one to rant to when I was pissed off.  He wouldn't even have to have been there to see the situation, but if you told him about it, he'd get all pissed off with you, it was great.  He was the kind of guy that would go kick someone's ass if you told them they did something even slightly bad to you...just say the word.  Not that I ever would, but he was a good guy to have on your side.  I miss him.

So anyway, yeah.  I need some drugs!!  I'm also soooo emotional since going off Z.  I don't cry all that much, like actual crying, but I get choked up over EVERYTHING.  Like tonight, before the movie there was that little commercial or whatever you call it with girls playing sports or dancing and what not, set to the song Hall of fame by The Script.  It's that Dream Big, Princess campaign.  That was choking me up big time.  And the end of Tangled when Rapunzle is finally reunited with her parents....I wasn't just choked up, I had tears in my eyes, and had I been at home and/or not had eye make up on, they would have been rolling down my face.

I mean, I've never been a stone wall.  I cry, maybe not as much as some, but I certainly cry my fair share.  But I don't remember being this emotional in the times I went off anti-depressants before, or before I went on them.  Maybe it's just the fact that I am a mom now, so things affect me differently.  I don't know, I know hormone changes are huge during and for a while after childbirth, but do you go through permanent hormonal changes after kids that just make you more emotional?

Or maybe it's just that I see things differently now.  Before the ending of Tangled maybe wouldn't have made me emotional, because, while I love my parents, I never had to experience being taken from them or whatever, and for much of my life they were annoying who didn't understand the struggles I went through because they were "old".  But now as a parent, your biggest fear ever is something happening to your kids, so I see that scene from the parents viewpoint and how they must have felt being reunited with their lost daughter after all those years.  And the dream big, princess gets me because it makes me think of who Emily will be, and picturing her discovering her talents and her love, and see her succeed and being proud of her.   

I don't know, but it's a pain in the ass.  I don't like crying in front of people, even in situations where crying is totally expected and the norm, like funerals.  I do my crying behind closed doors, so tearing up or choking up MULTIPLE times a day is not cool with me.  So, as much as I want to say I don't need it, I have to go back on something.  I tried doing some research...some sites list the best anti-depressants according to what major thing you're hoping to fix, or a side affect you're hoping to avoid, like which one to take to avoid weight gain, or which one helps with sleeplessness.  Hmmm, I couldn't find one though that says it will help you to not want to punch people in the face.

But, I did come to the conclusion though that I will try Welbutrin again.  I don't recall disliking anything about it when I was on it before, it said it's one of the best to be on to avoid weight gain and it's a stimulant...that's not the right word, but it's the closet I can think of since I cannot find the word I am looking for.  In other words, it says if your depression causes a lack of motivation and fatigue, Wellbutrin can be a good choice since it will "energize you", again, for lack of a better term.  I am not like that, but since the Z makes me blah and lazy, one that gives me more energy is likely a good choice.  And I am struggling enough to lose weight, I do not need anything to fight against that, so since Wellbutrin typically doesn't make you gain weight, it sounds like a win all around.  So I guess I had better go see my doctor soon so I can stop screaming at people and then crying 5 minutes later.

Speaking of weight, that's going pretty well.  As of today I have lost 18.5 pounds.  I know it is a good start, and it's 18.5 pounds closer to being healthier and looking and feeling better, but still, it's frustrating to not be able to really see or feel it.  Around 10 lbs lost, I felt a lot better and felt like I had more energy and my pants fit better, but now at almost twice that amount, I don't really feel it.  I guess maybe because I am used to it now, so I'll need a more dramatic loss before I can feel it again.

I get frustrated when I feel like I am doing so well, and really getting somewhere, and then I look in the mirror and think what the hell?  I'm still fat!  Like, I don't look any better, like not even 5% better than I did before the loss.  But, when you have way more than just 18.5 lbs to lose, I guess you're still going to look fat in the mirror, lol.  But I do know that it is a very good start, and I'm so close to the first milestone of having 20 lbs lost under my belt(no pun intended).  You can't lose 40 until you lose your first 20, and you can't lose 60 before losing 40....so it's slow, but pretty steady.  And it's a hell of a lot better than losing nothing, or gaining 18.5!!

I just hope I can work hard this coming week to lose 1.5 so I can hit that 20lb mark and take my next set of pictures.  I took pics at 10 lbs lost, so I am really eager to compare.  It's not really enough to see in the mirror, especially when the loss is a slow and gradual 1 pound a week, but when your compare pictures side by side with 10 lbs difference between them, I should be able to see something, and I think THAT will give a boost to my morale.  We leave for Hawaii in less than 30 days.  Back when we first decided to go, I had really hoped to be at my goal weight by then, but I am not even close. 

But, hopefully by then I will be at 25 lbs down, and ya know, it's something.  I just wish I could go with more color.  My forearms are a little tan, just from being outside here and there through out the summer, but that also means I have pretty pasty white upper arms thanks to my t-shirts.  If I can't be at my goal weight, I wish I could at least be tan...I feel so much more confident when I am tan and I swear it's an instant 10 lbs slimmer.  But, there is no way I am going to waste money in a skin cancer booth, and I have yet to find a decent self tanner.  Years ago before my best friend's wedding, she and I did a spray tan trial to see if it would look good for the big day.  It did not.

The first day it looked amazing.  I went swimming the next day and while I would normally feel self conscious in a swim suit, my confidence was through the roof with the tan.  But by day 3 or 4, it started flaking off, especially in the shower and then I looked like an alien with some weird skin disease.  If I could find one that would last the week or just about I would consider it, but I don't want a weird flaky tan just 4 days into our trip.  Oh well, such is life.

Showing natural beauty or being attention whores?

I just wasted 15 minutes of my life reading comments (ok, and commenting) about the pictures on this site

http://social.diply.com/great-images-of-women-breastfeeding-their-babies?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=batdad

Now, I am all for breastfeeding IF YOU CAN DO IT.  Emily wouldn't latch, and maybe I gave up too quickly, but after being tired, and stressed out, and in pain, and freaked out about her having dropped an entire pound from birth to her first ped appointment, there was no way I could power through and essentially give her no food until she would latch and start nursing.

But, I did still want to give her some nourishment of my breast milk, so she got formula but I also supplemented with the little pumped milk I was able to provide.  But still, that was my personal preference and I give no judgement toward a mother who chooses to exclusively formula feed if she cannot nurse or pump (hell, I don't judge even if she can do those things, but simply chooses not to).  I adhere to, fed is best....any which way or how.

So, I will say that I of course see nothing wrong with nursing, I agree that it is not a sexual thing, and I see nothing wrong with nursing in public.  I don't even think women should have to use a cover if they don't want to or the baby doesn't like it, provided that they don't flop their boob out, let it hang there for a few minutes and then put the baby on, all the while walking around Target with their shirt totally pulled down for all to see even with the baby "covering them".  Yes, feed your baby.  No, don't freak out about covering every inch of yourself for modesty sake, but completely exposing yourself for attention is not necessary.

Neither are these pictures, and I find if ridiculous that people do them and defend them.  Wait, let me clarify.  The pictures are fine, I guess, if that's your cup of tea, but plastering them online for all to see is for no reason but attention.  If it really were about the promotion and beauty of nursing, then there would also be photo shoots of women pumping, or treating their dry, sore cracked nipples with lanolin.  Hell, I've got a couple gross pictures of my c-section that my husband for whatever reason decided was a Kodak moment, let's start posting those!  If it's for the natural beauty of it all, then C-section pics should be the next big thing right?  After all, c-section mommas get a lot of shit for "taking the easy way out", and not "really" giving birth, so let's start a trend of posting beautiful and natural pics of the baby being pulled out of womens' guts after being sliced open.  What is more natural than being born?  Yes, not all women give birth, some of their children are born from their heart through adoption or step-families, but ALL children are birthed from A woman...somehow I bet people wouldn't be as eager to do these "natural" pics.

Or maybe instead of pictures, they could make glass walls of ORs so people could actually view babies being born, how beautiful and cool would that be?  Instead of standing at the glass and cooing at newborns in the nursery, let's bring their arrival out from behind closed doors.  After all it's natural and should not be hidden.

That's about as dumb as I feel these nursing pics are.  Though I actually think #4 is beautiful.  That's the kind of nursing pic I could be on bored with.  It looks more realistic but also artful and beautiful, the woman is not stark naked as she does not need to be, and I highly doubt any women actually nurse their babies stark naked anyway (as in pic #9, oh sorry, she's wearing a sweater, my bad), unless maybe they are just "naked people" that would be waking around their house naked anyway.

#3 scares me...and not in a "that's a creepy nursing pic", but more of a "are her children vampires and are they attacking her"kind of way.   I think it's the older boob kid and the much older kid going for her jugular, I mean to kiss her on the cheek, that gives it that look.

So of course the comment section was filled with people like me that are like, yeah nursing is fine, taking pics of nursing is fine, but making them sexual (#9 I'm talking to you) and putting them online is the issue.....and then there are the people claiming WE are the ones making it sexual (again, no need to be naked and do your hair and make up and pose in front of a window if NOT trying to make it more than it is) and it's art and it's beautiful and not for attention (yes, because the very first thing I do when I do NOT want attention, is take off my clothes, do my hair and make up, have a photo shoot and then post the pics online).

But, clearly this post was meant to invoke controversy and debate since they used pic #9 as the "cover pic" for the article, which is arguably the most attention whorish and sexual one, rather than #4 because they know most people won't read the article before they start arguing (as I did not at first) and #9 is much more of a shit stirrer.

Anyway, to each their own, but I...and I think many others would just prefer people are honest.  For example, Playboy.  I don't give a flying fuck about Playboy.  They make no excuses or apologies about posing naked.  It's either for the money, the fame, or the attention.  Good for them.  I even bought my husband a subscription of Playboy once.  I don't care to look at it, but I have no problem with people that do, or the women that pose in it.  I likely wouldn't bat an eyelash at that "nursing"pic if the caption read "I am totally full of myself and I need attention so I stripped down to my birthday suit so I could take a pic and show it off, and used my kid to cover up my need for attention".  Or, "I wanted to show off and I also want an attaboy for feeding my child, like millions of women have been since the beginning of time".  At least then I could say ok, good for you.  I wish I had a body that I would want to photograph like that.  But to claim it's to show the natural beauty of breastfeeding, give me a break.

Future Team USA member

Emily started gymnastics today and I think she liked it a lot.  I am amazed at the progress she has made since starting daycare at the gym and doing ballet.  On the first day of ballet it took a little bit of coaxing for her to go out on the floor without me, she barely moved the entire class, and that was all with us getting to stay in the room that first day.

But today we got ready and she was like la di da, just got ready and went with it.  I'll admit, I was a little nervous for today's class.  My husband couldn't come today, he had to take our camper to get it fixed, so I had to take her alone.  I am an odd contradiction of fiercely independent....and I need someone to come with me the first time...like to anything.  It took me weeks to be brave enough to go use the drive-thru pharmacy by myself for the first time.  But once I've done something, I am fine from then on...and even if I have to do something the first time by myself, I don't like it, but I do it and then all is well.  I was just a bit anxious this morning, not knowing what to expect.

Unlike her ballet class, gymnastics is ongoing, so when you want to start, you just sign up and start on the first of the month (usually, they were closed last week for the holiday).  So rather than all of the kids starting this class together, Emily could have very well been the only new kid, and these other kids could have been going there for months now, and all knew each other.  I was also a bit nervous about the mom situation.  Was I coming into an already established mom-clique?

Please, I watch too much TV apparently.  This is freaking Michigan suburbia, not LA.  The moms were fine, none of them looked like a Stepford Wife, none of them looked polish or like they had to cancel their mani/pedi to bring their kid to gymnastics.  In fact no one even talked to each other....the class was just three other girls, so of course, just three other moms and we just sat there and watched our kids.

When her teacher first came out and called her class, she took me by the hand and said come come, wanting me to come in with her.  But there, they don't even do the first class with the parents.  Her class, the itty bitty monkeys (how damn cute is that?) is without parents, but the class below, the tiny monkeys, is like a mommy and me class where the parents participate too.  But those are mostly 1 and 2 year olds, for us to have done that, we would have had to start a year or two ago.  But as soon as I told her I'd be watching from that room, she happily took off with her teacher and other classmates.  They started with some stretching and I saw her immediately do her "butterfly" which she learned in ballet where you sit with your feet touching and then "flap" your legs up and down.  I saw her sitting there chatting away with her teacher.  It was soooo cute!.

It's such a worry off my shoulders to see that she isn't as shy as I was as a kid.  I was painfully shy.  I had terrible anxiety over things, to which I usually suffered in silence because I didn't want anyone to know how much anxiety I had.  I obviously still have it today as I said, but it's much better.  Fake it till you feel it is my motto.  When I was her age, I would have had stomach aches before starting a new class like that, I would have been so worried and nervous.  I can remember dreading swim lessons every day in the summer.  This was my thought process....what if my class is in a different spot from yesterday (you went out onto the pool deck and located your teacher and class sitting on towels), what if I couldn't find them, what if I had to wander around the pool deck looking for them, what if the other kids were all better than me, what if they made me go underwater, what if they made me dive in the water, what if I couldn't find my mom after class, what if she left and doesn't come back to get me.....yeah, it sucked.  Having that much anxiety is not fun and once it became apparent that Emily is pretty shy, I was very worried about her having my anxiety.

While she is shy, she is so much faster to warm up than I was, and I don't think the shyness hits her until the moment, so I don't think it dawns on her to be anxious or nervous to things as we're headed there.  If she was nervous this morning, I totally couldn't tell.  I worried about her shyness and being an only child, but I am starting to wonder if it helps her, and if having an older brother, an older brother who is 4 years older no less, actually hurt me in terms of being shy and so nervous.  I can't think of much of anything that I went to as a kid that he didn't go to as well, so I likely hit behind him, and used him as my crutch.  Since Emily is, for all intents and purposes, an only child, she doesn't have anyone to hide behind and she is forced to do things.  Regardless of why, I am so glad it appears as though she doesn't suffer from shyness as badly as I did.

She did really well, she tried almost everything the teacher asked her to try, and only refused or stopped on a couple things when it was getting too scary.  It was obvious one of the little girls has had gymnastics before as she was doing very well with everything, but the other two are either totally new, or relatively new.  So Emily definitely was the most timid out of all of them to try certain things, I wouldn't say the other two girls are that much ahead of her experience wise.  I took a video of almost every skill they did today.  I am excited to do another video in about a month and see how well she does.

At the end they played in this pit with giant foam blocks, and they could also swing on a rope swing and then fall into the pit.  She wouldn't do it though, and was already in the pit.  I am not sure if she declined because she was afraid of the swing, or because she was just having too much fun in the foam pit.  I think the latter because when they came out of class, she started crying, saying she wanted to go down the slide that led to the foam pit.  But they have open gym for just $5 everyday for an hour after her class, so some days we'll stay and do that and she can just play on anything she wants and practice what she learned during class.

I'm so happy that she likes it so far, and she seemed to like her teacher and I caught her several times chatting up the other kids in class.  I am so proud of my baby.  Oh, and her teacher's name is Miss Kayla <3

Prima ballerina

I've been so busy lately with work and Emily and trying to keep this house in something resembling order, I haven't written in forever.  I've been trying to work more during the day so that I can have actual time off, what a concept, after Emily goes to bed and I have been completely OBSESSED with Bates Motel, so most nights I am binge watching that until bed.  And um, I might be on my second time through.

So anyway, I've been wanting to write about Emily starting ballet, but now I have to write about it, along with a rant about what happened tonight.  But first, from the beginning.  She loves it.  I am so glad she does.  She can be so shy so it just makes my heart burst when I see her excited for stuff and branching out and making friends.  The first day was a little hard.  There are about 5 or 6 other girls.  Two or three of them were very into it, mimicking the moves being taught and even seemed to love the "spotlight".  One poor little girl wouldn't let go of daddy's hand to go out onto the dance floor.  They came again last week and the same thing, and I noticed they weren't there this week, so maybe they gave up.  But, the class is all 3 year olds, but she could be just newly 3.  There is a huge range of abilities and social skills for newly 3 and then almost 4 year olds.

Then there was Emily, and one other girl that got out on the floor, they tried, but they just didn't want to do anything.  So she wasn't the best, but not the worst either.  Em's feet were glued to the floor the whole time, haha.  Or, I should say, it's not that she didn't want to do it, but Emily is very cautious.  She likes to observe, and take things in and when she is ready, she'll do them.  So that first class, she moved her little bottom maybe an inch when they were learning plies.  The lobby of the studio has a bunch of things for sale like ballet clothes, bags, and stuffed animals.  It was like Em's dream world, they have a ton of those big eyed Ty cats. So after class we bought her one.  Note to self, do NOT promise your kid that they get one after every class.  Hangs head in shame, what were we thinking?

She already had 4 or 5 of those cats at home, so once we got home she had all her cats lined up and she was telling them to "march march march" just like her teacher was telling them.  Oh my fucking gosh, how cute is that?  I used to do the same thing.  I would cry and beg and plead to not go to swim lessons as a kid, but the minute I got home, Barbie was taught all of the things I had learned in class that day.  And she looks so stinkin' cute in her little leotard, tights, ballet shoes and her hair up in a bun.

That first night, her Nana and Papa brought her to class since she spends Wednesdays with them, and Ryan and I met them there.  We all watched her class and then we all went to dinner.  Since then, my MIL has been picking her up on Wednesday mornings (instead of me dropping her off at her house) and then I pick her up from their house and take her to ballet, since often times my niece and nephew and SIL are still there swimming.  It works out well because with her getting picked up late morning, it gives me time to get right to work and actually be productive while she is gone for the day.  I always intend to get so much done on Wednesdays, but I end up sitting around the house in the morning, maybe getting out of the house in time to drop her off over there around 1, and then try as I might, I often spend at least an hour, or two...or three sitting around talking with my MIL.  By then I am starving, grab some lunch on the way home and I have about 30-60 minutes to work before I have to get dinner started.

Being home with a toddler all day makes me starved for adult interaction.  The same thing happens at my dad's, I swear I will only stay 30 minutes and then head home,but that almost never happens.  So last week Em was much more relaxed and put more effort into copying the moves and moving around and being active in class.  I wasn't surprised she kind of blossomed on the second week.  My girl doesn't rush herself, she takes her time and does things at her own speed.  Case in point, not walking 'till 18 months, ahhhhhh!  I do believe that set the tone for how she is going to handle things for her entire life.  That and the fact that she had to be forcibly removed from the womb!  She was like nope, not ready yet!

So tonight, just like last week she was all excited for class and saying how much she likes her teacher and how she can't wait to dance.  This just makes me so happy.  I worry about her being an only child, and not being in school yet to make many friends.  Although, she has gotten to be good friends with Anabella, my stepmom's great niece.  She tries to get the two of them together to play every couple weeks.  When they were smaller they just played in the same room, but not with each other.  But now that they're a little older, they actually play together and for the most part get along....apparently Anabella kept taking her stuff last time they were together.  Everything Emily would pick up, she would take from her, so after a while Emily got tired of it and pushed her.

I don't want to condone physical violence, but hey, sometimes you've just gotta pop someone to get the point across.  I had to hide my smile when she told me she pushed her, because Grammy had already told me what happened and that she kind of had it coming.  I DO NOT want Emily to be a bully, but I also don't want her to let people walk on her or for her to be a pushover.  My stepmom sent me a really cute pic of the two girls together a couple months ago.  How cute would that be to display that picture at their grad parties in 15 years if they are still besties?

So anyway, in the 14 or so months that Emily has been potty trained, she has never ever had an accident out in public.  Well, today was the day apparently.  I stupidly forgot to make her go potty before class, and about halfway through I was watching through the window, and I noticed Emily wasn't moving from the spot she was in to the join the other kids.  I thought uh oh, is that a puddle on the floor?  But her teacher walked by several times and seemed to be looking right at Em but she wasn't acting as though she was looking at pee on the floor.  It's kind of hard to watch class through the mini blinds on the window, and with my contacts in, I felt like I kept going cross eyed, so maybe what looked like a puddle was just a shiny spot on the floor.

So then the teacher corralled all the kids on the other side of the room, and they appeared to be going into the next exercise, so I thought ok, I guess she didn't pee.  But then a minute later she got the kids and walked them out of the room, and down the hall to the front desk....but Emily was still in the studio all by herself and the door was shut.  I was confused.  I thought maybe she was taking the kids out of the room, and then was going to go back in and clean up and talk to Em...but another minute passed and it became clear that she didn't realize Emily wasn't with them.  At home, Em gets upset when she has an accident, and now she is left behind in the studio all by herself, and she isn't the type of kid that will say hey, and come running out of the room (except at home, haha).  So I went in the room to get her, and took her to the bathroom to clean her up a bit.  I don't happen to carry an extra leotard and tights on me, so the best I could do is blot her with paper towel.  She kept saying, my teacher is waiting, I gotta go back to class....it wasn't super obvious that her leotard was wet, and it was just pee thankfully, not poop so I took her back out for the last few minutes of class.  As we came back my husband motioned to me that class had moved to the studio down the hall.

I wasn't sure of the policy...like I know some daycares and such don't do diaper changes or potty runs, and I would assume at those places any messes are your responsibility.  But here, I wasn't sure how that worked.  So Ryan went to go ask if we should clean that up.  Apparently the lady at the front desk told him she was headed there with a mop right then, and he was like I can do it so she handed it over.  Ok, I know I know, when you offer, you should be prepared to be taken up on that offer...and I think he totally was.  But in my opinion, if it's not the studio's policy that parents need to clean up potty accidents, I really don't think she should have let him do it.  It may be kind of gross for someone else to clean up, but usually stuff like this is kind of embarrassing, so as a worker, as long as the parents are polite, I would insist on doing it.  But, he did offer, so I can't really complain.  Just glad I didn't have to do it.

Ordinarily I am really not embarrassed over stuff like this.  Shit, or in this case, pee happens.  She's 3, surely she isn't the first and won't be the last kid to pee during class.  Had her teacher quickly lead Emily to the door and got my attention and told me what happened, she could have just gone on with class, or moved them like she did, and we would have slipped out to go clean up.  But the way class was completely disrupted and had to parade down the hall and then into another studio, it was a bit embarrassing that it was because of MY kid who just pissed in the middle of the ballet studio floor.

So while we were there, I was mostly just embarrassed and trying to get Em cleaned up and back to class because she wanted to go back so badly.  But on the way home, that all gave way and I was pissed.  Surely that is not the proper way to handle an accident in class, and when working with toddlers, potty accidents, and other issues are bound to come up.  Furthermore, I was pretty appalled that when in charge of only 6 kids, that her teacher made the mistake of not noticing she was left behind.  Now, I'm not trying to make this out to be this huge thing.  No, Emily was not scarred by being left in the room, BUT, she is in charge of those kids for that 30 minutes, and leaving a kid behind and going to another room is just not acceptable.

What if I hadn't been watching at the window?  I wouldn't leave the area, but the window isn't that big, and some kids do better when they know their parents aren't watching.  It is perfectly acceptable to go sit at a table, or in one of the chairs....and the doors to that studio are not visible from the lounge.  So if I had been sitting down, I would have had no idea that any of this was going on, no one came to tell me my daughter had an accident, and she would have been left in that room alone for how long while class was going on in another room?  I was going to call tomorrow and speak to someone, but they don't open till 4 or 5 and by then I'll likely be working.  I didn't want to just let this go because I get busy and forget to call.  I do think it's a nice studio, and I like her teacher otherwise, but if I say nothing, no one else will be aware that this happened and know to talk to her about what to do when kids have accidents.

So I sent a PM over facebook.  I tried not to be all bitchy and be THAT mom.  More than likely it was an honest mistake, and I know in a lot of cases, you don't know how to avoid or deal with a problem, until that problem comes up.  Maybe her teacher is new to working with the 3 years olds.  So I wrote what I thought was a nice, but firm concerned email, just wanting to address the issue and make sure that doesn't happen in the future.

To my surprise, I got a reply like 5 minutes later, and the woman (owner I assume) was very apologetic and assured me that she would talk to her teacher and make sure she understands what she should do in this scenario and she stressed that she wants to make sure we are happy and that they can serve us better.  I was surprised....customer service isn't always top notch, so when you get really good customer service, it's a very nice surprise.  She explained that the teacher is used to working with young kids, but likely just hadn't experienced an accident in class yet.  That makes sense, she definitely did seem a bit rattled and didn't know what to do and now going forward they'll go over it with her and have a plan.  This mama bear is happy.

I didn't want to crucify them for this one incident because so far I like everything about the studio and Emily enjoys it so much, but this just solidified it for me that it's a really great place.  I would like to have her dance in the fall since she likes it so much, but she is only 3.  I'd like for her to try different things and discover what she likes best.  If she LOVES dance and ends up wanting to do it or something else exclusively and really excels, I won't discourage her.  But I also do not have any grand visions of her going on to Juilliard.  I think sports and activities should be fun, and I will push her to give it her all, but at the end of the day, I just want her to have fun and make friends and see what she can do and enjoy it.

So I am thinking maybe gymnastics or tumbling...or maybe that's the same thing, in the fall.  Swimming this winter....when it's yucky and cold outside, I think she would enjoy taking lessons and still getting to swim even in the winter.  Then next summer she can try tennis.  I'm sooooo excited for that.  My baby is becoming such a big girl!