Something to sink your teeth into

My nip.ple, apparently. Ah, the woes of breastfeeding a teething baby. In general breastfeeding this go around has been good (after the 6 week break in period). W is typically very gentle, unlike her brother who would use my nip.ple to bare down while he was pooping during nursing. And that kid pooped while nursing a lot. It wasn't too painful when it was just his gums, but the first time he did it with a sharp baby tooth I needed a stitch on my are.ola. I can just see my male readers cringing at the words nip.ple and are.ola. I am cringing at the sight of those words with periods in them but I am trying to foil the google search from bringing this blog up for those seeking different information. I already attract enough perv attention with the naked child jumping on a trampoline picture.
Speaking of google, I thought I would share some of the search words that people have used to find my blog (and click away hurriedly). I love to envision what they thought when their google search brought up my lovely little blog. I have been meaning to do this for a while.

baby 4am farts gas
baby pain fart
farting 18
Fart seems to be a very popular search word to get people here. Oh, how disappointed they must've been when they saw the goodness that is this blog. Especially the farting 18 person. I wonder if they farted 18 times in a row and were looking to celebrate (or commiserate) or they are 18 and still farting? Either way, congrats!

18 years in the army and counting
18 years movies
18 years.com
asshole 18 years
18 is also very popular in searches. The first three are pretty tame, although 18 years.com sounds like a real blast:
"Like, OMFG, my mom just doesn't understand me. She totally wouldn't let me and my friends drive the minivan to go see the midnight showing of Twilight! I hate her. When I become a vampire she is going to be the first one to go!!!!11!"
The last one makes me wonder if I am getting a glimpse into my future. Because I was a total asshole when I was 18 (see quote above and replace Twilight with Interview with a Vampire). Which means my children will probably end up being super, mega assholes when they are 18. I hate to say it but sometimes my three year old is a little asshole right now. Especially when he tells me I am "chunky like a baby." And that he wants to poop on my head.

stop reading the news
Yeah, I hear ya on that one. I tell myself every day that I am going to do that. Unfortunately, i have a bit of schadenfreude when it comes to celebrities and it keeps me from completely disconnecting from the media. I mean, blogs like this http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/ really make life worth living some times.

what can I say on my first therapy appointment
Ugh, I have no help for you on this one. my first therapy appointment was a half an hour of darkness consumed by some panic attacks and obsessive compulsive thinking. Sharing my scariest thought with Dr. m wasn't really cathartic then. I do have to say that she has an excellent poker face. That and that alone was what made me go back for my next appointment.

Zoloft for ppocd
I wish I knew if you were still reading this blog. If so, contact me somehow and we can talk. Zoloft is great. PPOCD is not. I hope you are doing okay.

That is all fo rnow. Happy Winter Solstice and that other "holiday that must not be named."

Oh the weather outside is frightful

The fire inside would be delightful if my three year old hadn't stuck something in the fireplace vent sometime within the last year which starts to smoke every time we turn the fireplace on.
I got my hair dyed and trimmed yesterday. I would post a picture but I am feeling extremely fat and gross today so it is not going to happen. While I was getting my hair done I had a very interesting conversation with my stylist, whom I have known for 5 years now. I told her about my PPD and all of its ugliness and she confessed that she too had experienced something similar in the year following the birth of her son, who is the same age as A. Even down to the same fixation with death. Interestingly enough, she still deals with those thoughts and feelings occasionally. Which was both a comfort and a little frightening.
It was nice to know that other people have thought the same things I have and felt the same way that I do. However, the fact that she still has these thoughts now troubles me greatly. One of my biggest fears is that my life will never get back to normal. That I will always measure everything by my own mortality. Granted, these thoughts are not as persistent as they were when this whole mess started in August. But they are still there.
There are days when I have come to accept the fact that eventually I will die. That I am getting older and that there will be a time when I will no longer exist. I remind myself on those days that I should take each day as a gift. Because that is exactly what it is.
Then there are the days when I mourn the idea that there are so many things I will never see to fruition. That humanity will grow and progress and the earth will spin for eternity and that my time here is small and limited. And those days make me sad and scared. I wish they would go away. I wish I could be like I was before and never think about these things. Even writing this is tough...I feel panic welling up within me and my heart is beating faster.
S and A are in the office playing a computer game together right now. S is instructing him on the finer points of moving his mouse around the screen and A is laughing. The dog is curled up on the couch next to me, warmed by my body heat and sleeping peacefully.
When I look outside, I see the wind blowing leaves off the tree in the backyard and rain is starting to patter the window. I am always amazed at how this tree drops its leaves and becomes completely bare in the winter. When it is cold outside it always seems like the cold will last forever. It is hard to remember the warmth of summer when the wind is whipping your hair around your face in icy blasts.
Sure enough, every spring little buds start to form on the barren limbs. Gradually, the days become warm and warmer still. The daffodils we planted outside start to bloom and preparations begin to celebrate a slew of family birthdays (mine, A's, and now W's). Eventually the tree is covered in beautiful green leaves.
Each season has its purpose. Without the winter rain plants would not have water to grow during the hotter months.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1

I am waiting for my spring to come.

Better living through technology

My lovely husband gave me a very special gift 3 weeks ago. It was something that I had coveted for a long time but never had the money to purchase. I hesitate to ask for expensive gifts now that I stay at home with the kids and do not bring any income. I know that I am doing my part by being with the kids blah, blah, blah but I still have a hard time with it.
S won an I.p.o.d. shuffle in a work raffle and came home and unselfishly gave it to me. After wanting one for so very long I was extremely pleased to say the least.
It sat. Waiting for me to upload something delicious to it. I didn't want to put just any music on it. The music that I chose had to be just right. The pressure was too intense. I was afraid that its inaugural play would be anti-climatic. So it sat some more.
When I go shopping I usually attract extremely chatty people. I am not sure what it is about my countenance but strangers always want to seem to talk to me. Usually I can tolerate it and on most days even enjoy it. In the midst of bad days, however, it is extremely hard for me to even muster what could pass for polite small talk. I want to retreat inside my shell and pretend like the world outside doesn't exist. I get tired of the constant reminders of my faults.
Inspiration struck this morning and thanks to $1.98 worth of i.tu.nes downloads and some mp3 scouring from my laptop my shuffle was ready.
When I got out of the car I put the earphones in. My bubble was complete.
A whole new world opened up to me. Queens of the Stone Age's 3s & 7s lit up the grocery store. Everyone pushing carts seemed to be dancing to the beat. I had the impulse to open and shut the freezer doors in time to the music. I literally floated to the self-checkout. Next, it was on to the liquor store.
Tupac's California Love was banging in my ears as I grabbed an extra large bottle of Tequila Blanco (I know, Snoop's Gin and Juice would've been more appropriate but I wasn't in the mood). Standing in line I noticed a few surreptitious glances in my direction and wondered why until I realized that I had been keeping the beat on the bottle with my fingertips.
My last errand was kitty litter and Z.o.loft at Tar-get. Only JJ Fad's Supersonic would suffice. I was in heaven in my bubble of sound. Blissfully ignored.
I read an article last week about the younger generation relying too much on technology. They are constantly talking on their phones, listening to music, and interfacing with their black.berries. Supposedly they are no longer aware of social niceities. This is the new normal.
After reading the article I was a little sad. I don't like the idea of people pulling away from each other and forgetting to reach out. To remember that we are all here and in this together.
But today I get it. Shutting out the noise from outside and rejoicing a little on the inside was wonderful. Life with a soundtrack was great.
Today I carved out a little peace in a world that is constantly in flux around me. My tapping foot was keeping me grounded.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. There is nothing better than eating delicious food with your loved ones close by your side. Unfortunately, this Thanksgiving has been tinged by some bad news. My Uncle D. had a stroke on Thanksgiving day and is in the hospital. He and my Aunt J celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary this past August. Me and my little family went to the party at their house right as I started taking the Zoloft for PPD. I was still in the throes of death obsession and seeing all my relatives who have suddenly gotten very old was not very comforting to say the least.
I remember when I came home for Christmas for the first time since I had left for boot camp the previous July. I was startled to see how much my Mom and Dad had aged. When you see them every day you aren't really struck by the difference. But not seeing them for 6 months made the comparison more significant. Whenever I think of these things I am struck by lyrics from one of my favorite Bonnie Raitt Songs entitled Nick of Time:
I see my folks, they're getting old, I watch their bodies change...
I know they see the same in me, And it makes us both feel strange...
No matter how you tell yourself, It's what we all go through...
Those lines are pretty hard to take when they're staring' back at you.
Scared you'll run out of time.
When I was in college the mother of one of my instructors died. She said the worst part for her was the realization that there was now no one "above" her generationally. I think about that a lot too, remembering when I was a child how far away being old seemed. How safe it was knowing that there were older people above you looking out for you and your well being. Eventually, you become the oldest and that realization is startling and scary.
I don't believe in blessings. The word implies that people are bequeathed something wonderful and significant due to no work of their own part. I have begun to believe that my life is truly what I have made it because of the choices I made and path I have chosen. The other things that have helped me...where I was born, who I was born to, etc. are all just dumb luck.
Life is impermanent. What I have learned from PPD that life can not only be terribly scary but also excruciatingly beautiful. Experiencing the lows can only make you appreciate the breathless heights even more. They are not mutually exclusive. Without the terrible things you cannot have the wonderful. Without death you cannot have life.
I am thankful for
my daughter's soft hair that sticks straight up when washed
my son's dark eyes
my husband's warm arms holding me to him
my daughter's hand exploring my face as she nurses
my son's exuberance in all things
the softness of my daughter's skin
my husband's feet touching mine when I get back in bed at night after tending to the baby
Blessing implies that things once bestowed can also just as easily be taken away. I am not blessed with the things I am thankful for. And for that, I am thankful.

Recovery can go fuck itself

I feel like total shit today. Everything A did got on my last nerve (I must have a lot of them). I had to stop myself from taking it out on him (by being snippy, not beating the crap out of him) probably 50 times today.
I am sitting here watching him play Sm ash Brot hers on the W!! and wondering if perhaps I could be a lousier Mom. He is absolutely a wonderful child. He jumps around while he is playing this game like he is actually doing the fight moves himself. He had great behavior while at the store today. As far as time outs went there was nothing really out of the ordinary. I still wasn't happy, though. I felt miserable.
I had a thought pop into my head today. Do I give myself permission to be a total raging bitch because of the PPD? I mean, everyone has bad days. But when we have them we do something to make ourselves feel better because we realize that we need to snap out of it in order to function. I just seem to get lost in it.
Lost in
feeling hopeless about my life
being tired all the time
worrying about when this will all go away
wondering if somehow there is something more I should be doing
being annoyed by everything my children do
This is one of these days where I want to just get in my car and drive away. And of course S is working late tonight so I have no respite in sight.
W has a double ear infection and has been waking up every 1-2 hours all night long for 3 days. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

The Ties That Bind

Dr. M always begins each of our therapy sessions by asking "How are you feeling?"
I usually answer, "Okay." Even when I am not. I think it is just human nature to answer "fine" or "okay" because since no one ever says anything different it is what we have come to expect. We are conditioned to say these things. I have to remind myself every time that I am paying this woman to listen to how I am feeling, especially when I am not fine or okay. Doesn't that seem stupid?

At the end of my first marriage 10 years ago I started seeing my first therapist. Our sessions were so ineffective it was laughable. He continually commented on how attractive I was. I continually dodged his questions about my upbringing because I didn't think I needed therapy. I did, but being 22 at the time and invincible the idea of doing something tedious even if it were for my benefit was inconceivable.

What a difference 10 years makes. Dr. M has brought me more insight into myself than I would've gained alone in the same amount of time. I spend a lot of time during the sessions crying because she has pointed something out to me that is so simple but the cause of so much angst in my life. I definitely had work that I needed to do and probably never would have done if I hadn't gotten PPD. And this may sound strange, but for this and this alone I am so grateful for PPD.

Yes, I just said I am grateful that I got PPD. No matter how torturous this road has been and no matter how much I curse and cry about it I am growing as a person.

Starting to see value in things that seemed unimportant before.

Being forced to take stock of my life and what I have to offer as a person.

Realizing that some relationships I have with my family are not healthy.

That last one is the crux of the issue with me. My whole life I have been seeking the approval of someone. No matter what I did I never did it good enough. I always felt a failure. I am so very harsh on myself all of the time.

I realized two weeks ago that I now am living for another reason...to be present for my children. To do what I can to make their upbringing as healthy and whole as possible. The first way I can do that is to take care of myself. Which means I have a lot of mud to slog through, especially with my relationship with my Mom.

The first step was realizing that I will not always make her happy. And that is okay.
I also need to make decisions that are the best for me, even if she doesn't agree with them. That is okay, too. I am a Mom now and answer to no one except my own family.

What a revelation that was for me.

The first step was to put my foot down about the holidays. No more 3 hour one way trips in the car. W screams the whole way. Not to mention my mom's house is ill equipped for young children (stairs to the loft without a railing, a pool without a fence enclosure, exposed electrical outlets, and a gun she forgets to lock up to name a few things). I have to watch A like a hawk because I am afraid he is going to hurt himself. I never sleep well because she has a f*&$ing rooster that starts crowing at 3 am and dogs that bark all night long outside the window (they roam free on her 30 acre property). The kids get up all night long because her house is too hot in the summer and freezing in the winter due to her refusal to use the a/c and heater. It sucks. I think you get the idea.

So I told S that we weren't going there for Thanksgiving this year. I cannot put on a brave face anymore and consort with relatives that know nothing about me and don't care to know. Especially this year when I feel so raw. In my family there is no such thing as showing weakness. No one is privvy to your troubles, especially other family members.

I knew my Mom would be mad. I called her on Tuesday. She hung up on me while crying. Before hanging up she told me she wasn't angry, just disappointed. But 31 years of being her child helped me read between the lines. She thought I was being selfish.

This from the woman who misses her only grandson's birthday every year because she is vacationing in Cabo.

I am disappointed in her reaction because I expected it.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. This year, as most, I have much to be thankful for. Including PPD. Because while I fight to keep from succumbing to this illness I break free from the other ties that have held me down for so long.

I put on make up today

For the first time since getting PPD. Well, for the first time during the day not for any particular reason or event. And I did my hair. This is monumental. I actually had the desire to look presentable. Not because I had to but because I wanted to. It felt good. Strange, but good.
It is raining here for the first time in a long time. The wind is blowing and I have the window open to let in the cool breeze and the fresh smell. I am amused that while the leaves are dying and things are starting to look bleak outside internally I am experiencing a tiny spring. Not every day, mind you, but enough to feel human again. And hopeful.
In other news, my own recent personal emotional development did not increase my parenting skills today. I yelled at A when I was trying to talk on the phone and he kept butting in. Sometimes he frustrates me so much that I want to run outside and scream. I feel like I am talking to a wall. I ask him not to do something and he does it. Again. And Again. There is nothing more frustrating to me than not to be heard. Unfortunately it is a syndrome that I am almost convinced is genetically linked to the Y chromosome. Our dog is male and doesn't listen. Both my husband and my son are male and, well, you get the idea.
Do you ever look at your kids and wonder how you created something so cute? I mean, come on. Look at this face.
And this guy. Unique does not even begin to describe him.
He insisted on being Venom, the black spiderman. Yes, the costume is a little disco but my mom made it from a vintage pattern. I guess Marvel comics doesn't publish patterns for costumes they sell. I had to find this one on ebay. Not sure why my Mom chose satin but whatever. A doesn't care. In fact he loves it.
Days like today I don't feel like I put forth my best effort at parenting. My therapist insists that children are terribly resilient, however, and will probably grow up to be relatively normal people (inspite of me being the unspoken ending to this sentence). I can only hope.
Because when you have this for a mother you are pretty much screwed from the get goAnd yes, that is a homemade beer hat.

Friendship Meme

Tagged by Amanda. My first one so I feel obligated to do make sure I do it. :)

1. Have you had the same friends since childhood?
No. I still talk to one friend from grade school but not regularly. I did not have a very happy childhood school experience. So most of those people could drop off the face of the earth and I really wouldn't give a shit.
But I'm not bitter.

2. What do you value most about your friends?
Honesty and a sense of humor. I also like people who not only take but give. I have a propensity to give too much which usually leads to me feeling taken advantage of. I love getting to the point in a friendship where my house can be a total sty and I don't feel uncomfortable with them coming over and seeing it. Or when you get to the point where you can help yourself to a drink at their house and you not only feel comfortable doing it but also know where all the glasses are.

I also like people who are a foil to my personality. I love subtlety in humor and I just can't stand people who are gregarious all the time. I have yet to find more than a couple of friends other than my husband who can make me laugh really, really hard.

3. Are your friends your sounding boards?
Yes, but I talk about different subjects with different friends. There are only one or two people that I trust with everything I think and feel. I just don't feel comfortable sharing everything with everyone.

4. What is your favorite activity to share with your friends?
It usually revolves around alcohol of some sort. Or food. Hopefully both.

I have no idea how many people read this blog so I will tag the few I know who do because they comment.

Heather (Bobbin's Mommy)
Adrianne
Karen

Some Changes

Because who doesn't like jumping naked on a trampoline?
While holding your junk, no less.

Is it any wonder I'm tired?

So very very tired. W is still waking up multiple times a night. Sometimes 5. Sometimes 3. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It is what it is. I remember when I went through this with Angus. On the nights where he would sleep well I would obsessively try to remember what I had done during the day that lead up to it to figure out what had made it happen. Then I would try to repeat the sequence of events to the letter to duplicate the outcome. It never worked. But I guess it was nice to feel occasionally like I was in control of the situation when really I wasn't.
In therapy last week I didn't have a chance to pick up my customary latte before my session and my therapist (who from now on I will call Dr. M) commented on how tired I looked. Well, duh. But she said it in a nice, caring way. I told her that W still wasn't sleeping consistently well and she had had a rough night. We discussed how it is harder for me to block the intrusive thoughts and anxiety when I am tired. So we tried to brainstorm some ideas on how I could get more rest to feel better. Because I am running on about a year's worth of sleep deprivation and it is not really working. To say the least.
She disclosed that her daughter was six so she had a hard time remembering what worked and what didn't. Some of her ideas made me want to laugh maniacally.
Here are some of her suggestions:
"Keep her awake at night and put her to bed later."
"Don't let her sleep as much during the day."
"Don't nurse her to sleep when she wakes at night."
Ah, it all seems so simple, doesn't it? When typed out, the three suggestions above seem like something even an idiot could do. Really, these things are almost insultingly easy.
Oh, how I laughed in the car on the way home. Laughed so hard that I cried. And cried. And cried. Fatigue can do that to you. Make something that is deathly serious seem hilariously funny.
I had an epiphany at Wal-mart last week. Right in the produce aisle. In the static of my brain I had a moment of clarity so sharp that it was almost painful.
My son was making some kind of repetitious, extremely annoying noise at a frequency that only three year olds can reach. My daughter was beginning to cry because she was tired (wonder why?). A box of diapers kept falling off the bottom of my cart onto the floor. My left breast was leaking milk through my shirt.
And then the world stopped. There was a hush and then a hum. All at once I realized...
This is what insanity sounds like.
The sound of a three year old chanting and a baby howling. The hum of people talking around you. The announcements over the loud speaker. Squeaky shopping wheels. The cacophony of every day life combined with the sound of your children freaking out.
The urge to scream welled up within me. Okay, not just a scream. A howl from the depths of my soul combined with frantic running around and pulling of my hair. Maybe some face clawing for shits and giggles. How satisfying would that be? Just to absolutely fucking lose it in the middle of Wal-Mart. To just run around screaming and pushing people out of the way.
The idea was so seductive that I almost gave in to it. Is it against the law to run around screaming? I suppose they could escort you out. And tell you not to come back. That would suck because they have such low, low prices. So I guess that is out. If anything, the thought brought a smile to my face.
Really the government should investigate sleep deprivation combined with a 3 year old and a 6 month old freaking out as an alternative to water boarding. Just record that noise along with the ambient sounds of an average Wal-mart and play it over and over after a detainee has been woken up the night before every two hours by a howling baby's cries. And wait.
I don't know, that almost seems too cruel and unusual doesn't it?
Back to the cuckoo's nest.

Every day is like Sunday

Busy, busy, busy.
Too busy to post? Nah. More like too lazy and too unwilling to do anything in the evening other than vegetate.
I have had a sudden increase in anxiety and intrusive thoughts again. Not surprisingly this has coincided with a terrible week of sleeping on W's part. Usually the worst days I have are the ones where I get very broken and little sleep. All of this business started after a night where W woke up every hour on the hour a few months ago. I was talking in therapy yesterday that sometimes I don't even feel like I am really here. Like my life is just some sort of dream from which someone will eventually wake up and then I will be no more. I told my therapist that on days when I feel this way I have strange impulses to do things to get back inside my body.
Like pulling over to the side of the road and rolling in the hot, dry grass.
Squishing my toes in mud.
Running my hands along something roughly textured.
I told her that I have been resisting the impulse to do these things because I am afraid that I am just opening a doorway for more crazy impulses. She said she thinks I am smart enough not to do something unsafe. She encouraged me to give in to my impulse the next time I have one because it will ground me.
So I did.
On my way out of her office I had the impulse to run my hand along the rough stucco of the building. I knew what it was going to feel like because I have done it before. But the impulse to feel something, anything (even something I knew would be mildly unpleasant) was too strong to resist.
I touched it.
It was what I expected. Bumpy, scratchy, and unpleasant to the touch. But it was good to be back inside my body again for that moment and connected to my feelings instead of having this sense that my life is a movie and I am just watching it on the big screen in a movie theatre.
Something my therapist said really resonated yesterday. She said that most people move through life with a cloak of invulnerability around themselves. They know bad things happen but figure that they usually just happen to other people. My cloak has been stripped away and I am shivering, naked and exposed. I think that sums up how I feel nicely. Exposed.
On a brighter note, HAPPY 1/2 BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL! I can't believe that she is 6 months old. It has flown by for me.
It is amazing how different she is in comparison to her brother. She started babbling last week and even the noises she makes are girly, more like a high-pitched "Squeeeeee!" A was always lower registers and more grunting noises with lots of "Ooooohs!" W is army crawling and rolling all over the floor, much to the chagrin of my aforementioned fat and lazy animals. She is not a good sleeper, but will put herself to sleep when she is tired. It is the staying asleep part that she doesn't quite get. Her disposition is very sweet and all in all she is a very relaxed baby. I love the fact that every time she sees me her face lights up. There is nothing in the world that feels better than that.
Here we are on the hayride to the pumpkin patch

And here is A jumping like a fool on the haycovered trampolineSuch wholesome family fun. If you had told me ten years ago that this is where I would be and this is what I would be doing I don't think I would've believed you. I certainly feel lucky that everything has turned out how it has .
Except for the whole rolling around in the mud thing. That is a little weird.

Tired

I am tired today. One of the things we talked about in therapy on Tuesday was giving myself permission to have bad days. This is hard for me. I feel like recovery means that you only have good days. But this is unrealistic because even when I didn't have PPD I didn't have good days every day.
Days like today where the sound of my son saying "Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama," non-stop is like a knife being repeatedly jammed in my cornea make me feel like a total ass. I feel like I should love being a mother every minute of every day. I DO love my son very much. But some days I just don't like being around him very much. Especially days like today where all I want to do is curl up in a ball and stare off into space.
I get discouraged when I read these posts by people I know who worship their children. They find beauty and perfection in everything their children do. Today, as my son used his fingernails to gouge scratches in my arm while I was strapping him into his car seat the last thing I was feeling was admiration for his perfection and beauty. I wanted to beat the snot out of him.
Steve doesn't help things very much. He sits on his stupid computer writing posts on facebook about women he thinks are hot and how people are scared of him while I sit here slowly going insane. His narcissism astounds me sometimes. Newsflash...maybe people are scared of you because you are a total asshole to people you think are beneath you intellectually (which is everyone according to you). I told someone yesterday that I really don't get how someone who is so smart can be so stupid sometimes.
My biggest piece of advice to people who don't have children (Julia) is to make sure before you have them that you are on the same page as your partner about discipline and child rearing. If you aren't, make sure you find some common ground and get the ground rules hammered out before you get pregnant. Otherwise, you are in for a rocky road when your children are born and you feel like your partner doesn't support the things you feel are important in raising your child.
I am off to go drown my sorrows in a bowl of ice cream.

Perspective is a Bitch

Yesterday I saw my neighbor from across the street at the mailbox. She has a son who is about A's age and a daughter who is 12. She had secondary infertility which accounts for the distance between her two children (she disclosed this to me once during our longest conversation which lasted probably 30 minutes 2 years ago). Other than waving while driving past her house and the brief exchanged pleasantries we really don't see each other or speak that much. I noticed about 5 months ago she got a really short haircut and I think I commented on it at the time but I can't really remember exactly what I said.
While at the mailbox, with both our sons running around screaming on the sidewalk, my 30-something neighbor casually mentions that she goes to the doctor every other week. Me, being totally oblivious, ask her what for.
"I thought you knew. I have cancer. It started in my colon and has metastasized to my liver. I get chemo every two weeks." Her blue eyes scan my face intently as the shock of her announcement slowly registers.
"Oh my god, I had no idea. I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" I say pathetically, stammering and barely able to get the words out.
She refuses my offers of dinners made on her chemo days but asks me to get the boys together for a playdate this week at the park.
I would've given her anything she asked for. Anything.
After I put the kids to bed that night, I looked out our kitchen window which faces her house. In the glow of her garage light I see her putting her son's tricycle away and pushing her daughter's bike slowly into the garage. Her thin frame barely makes a shadow.
Just two months ago she and I had a brief conversation about preschool for the boys and I remember complaining about something mundane and stupid. This was just about the time she found out that the cancer she thought she had beaten two years ago had not only returned but spread. How she refrained from punching me in the face is beyond me. This woman lives daily with the knowledge that she is going to die sooner than later. It must be heartbreaking.
Perspective is a bitch.

So far So good So boring

Yeah, I know. This blog started out as a lovely little family blog for me to talk about my wonderful and exasperating children. Then it took a little dip into the depths of ugliness. I am going to try to bring this blog out of the ashes like a phoenix. Because chronicling my Postpartum Depression is, well, depressing.
Here goes...
A started preschool August 18th.
Here is a picture of him and his big boy backpack on his first day.

You may be thinking...why does it look like he is mooing? That is because he is, in fact, mooing. He likes to moo when I make him do something that he doesn't want to do. I don't know if he is mooing because he thinks I am a cow for trying to take his picture or because that is just his favorite sound of protest. Regardless, the boy does like to moo and does it often.
For the first few weeks of preschool he hated it and cried every time I would go to drop him off. This caused me much anguish because
a) I don't like to see my child cry.
and
b) This frigging preschool is expensive as hell and it seems counter intuitive to spend that much money on something that he hates doing.
What a difference a month makes. He now loves preschool and is excited for me to drop him off in the morning. This causes me much anguish because
a) He is getting so big so very fast.
and
b) The little sh!t now likes school better than being with me at home.
I am, however, very grateful for the time I get to myself and with W (who naps for at least an hour of A's preschool absence).
Speaking of W, she is getting to be such a big girl! She is rolling all over the place and trying to army crawl.
Here she is at playgroup at a friend's houseHow can you tell that this is the carpet at someone else's house?
a) It doesn't look like a toy and clothing bomb exploded on top of it.
and
b) There are no stains in the rug from a certain three year old squirting lotion all over it.
and a bonus answer
c) There are no fat and lazy animals shedding on it.Hope you have enjoyed this little foray into the lighter side of things. I have a therapy appointment tomorrow where I am going to discuss with my therapist how my husband told me last week that if I ever decided to start going to church again he wouldn't love me any more.
Sigh.

Thanks for the support

I appreciate all the comments and emails of support. I feel so gratified that a group of people could be so wonderful. Makes me really have faith in the world and in human kind in general.
After a miserable weekend I can honestly say that I am feeling better. Not sure what that blip was and what caused it but wallowing in self pity Saturday and Sunday didn't really help matters much. I woke up Monday morning and realized that life is what you make of it. So, I am going to believe that this WILL get better and I am going to be an agent of my own change. Even if it kills me. Ha!

The Face of Postpartum Depression

I asked Steve to take this picture of W and I about a month ago. The reason I told him was that I wanted a picture that was of W sleeping on me similar to one I got of A doing the same thing at about the same age.
The real reason?
I wanted proof that I wasn't just fading away. I wanted something concrete to show that I was there that day physically because mentally I felt like I was slipping away.
I have had two bad days in a row. Last night before bed I asked for help. Anyone or anything who was listening (God, Buddha, Cthulu, etc) because I was desperate.
Guess what?
This morning I woke up and felt worse.
What did I think was going to happen? Divine intervention? Ha ha ha, what a fucking joke! Why would God step in and help me? If God truly exists and was going to help someone there are so many people in the world who need help more than me.
Fuck this stupid depression. Fuck this fear. Fuck the medication. Fuck it all.

Still Alive

Just busy trying to keep myself distracted. My therapy appt on Wednesday was interesting. We discussed my childhood and my family. I was forced to consider many things that I hadn't thought about in a long time. More specifically, the terribly selfish things my parents did while I was very very young. And how those terribly selfish things made such a large impact on my life and still do to this day.
My Mom's absence from my life due to her constant working is what inspired me to be a stay at home mom. I wanted to make sure that my son (and, now, daughter) didn't feel like an afterthought as I sometimes did. While I am driving home from my appt my old friend panic decides to well within me. I realize that there may come a day when my son or daughter may blame me for the mistakes I made in raising them. Because while they are growing up I am growing up too. Trying to reconcile raising a child while figuring out my new job as a mother.
Flashback to me, pregnant, and working at a shitty job that I hated. Daily I pictured in my head all the wonderful things that my son and I would do together as I stayed at home. Cozy mornings of play doh and coloring. Afternoons spent frolicking at the park playing in leaf piles, followed by evenings by the fire drinking cocoa and reading Dr. Seuss. At no time did I picture the quiet desperation I would feel upon bringing home my colicky and generally displeased newborn son who screamed more than he slept.
I perservered through it. 3 months of no sleep and daily crying, his and mine. Then I met a friend and started to get out more. We commiserated. Each day kept getting better and better. I started to feel like myself again.
Fast forward 3 years later. While I am nursing my 4 month old daughter one afternoon a thought gets caught up in my head. And refuses to leave. For three weeks. The thought encompasses my every waking moment and has me constantly feeling terror and panic like I have never felt before. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I become the thought.
I seek help.
I start zol.oft and therapy.
I am scared life will never be the same.
I am right.
I feel like a lifetime of blinders has been ripped away from my eyes. Suddenly I am seeing the world through the eyes of my illness. I feel like I have been exposed and now I can't remember who I was before any of this.
Will I ever be her again?
Do I want to be her again?
I don't know.

Is that a light?

I do believe that the zol.oft has finally kicked in. Woke up this morning and felt in my head again. i didn't feel the need to keep poking at my obsessive thoughts even when I wasn't obsessing about them. I actually started to feel excited about the future for once instead of feeling like I am going to die tomorrow. It was refreshing and gave me a glimpse of what I used to feel like before I was struck by PPD and PPOCD.
Last Thursday was a low point. I doubled my zol.oft dosage from 25mg to 50 and woke up feeling terrible. My one thread tying me to sanity throughout this whole thing was the fact that I didn't want to die. Suicidal thoughts have not been a manifestation of my PPD and for that I have been so thankful. Thursday rolled around, however, and I started feeling so low. Really, really low. And then those feelings of hopelessness that I would be this way forever started to come again. What scared me this time was that I told myself that I would not live my life like this. For the first time since this all started that included (for a moment) leaving this life if I couldn't resolve these feelings of terror and helplessness. For a brief second I thought that my children would probably be less damaged living a life without a mother than living a life with a crazy one.
Whew. That was tough to say. But true to what I was thinking then. Gradually over the weekend I just started feeling better and better. The intrusive thoughts continued to come but were easier for me to stop. The feelings of anxiety and despair were replaced by feelings of, well, nothing. Not emptiness. But not panic and fear either. There was something there but it wasn't happiness or sadness. It was just me being.
Me breathing.
Me living.
And for right now, that is progress.
I was so afraid that the zol.oft would make me feel like an automaton. I am sure that living my life with no emotions is probably easier than living my life with ALL of them surfacing ALL the time. But I don't think I want to live my life either way. There has got to be a happy medium somewhere in all of this.
My next therapy appt is Wednesday which is also the day I increase my dosage to my holding level of 100mg. After a week of that my doctor will reevaluate my progress. I am nervous to increase the dosage without really experiencing 50 mg for more than a week. We will see what this Thursday holds.

My first therapy appt

And I arrive 15 minutes late. Not sure if its the Zoloft but I felt like I had a handle on the directions and then talked myself out of going the right way about 1/4 of a mile before I got to the right office building. Sometimes I feel a little spacey lately. Could be the lack of sleep too.
The appt was interesting and nothing we discussed was unexpected. Based on listening to my symptoms the Dr. confirmed that I was describing symptoms of Postpartum OCD and Anxiety. The OCD diagnosis did throw me for a loop a little...I guess I just didn't think what I was doing was obsessive but after talking about it out loud with the Dr. I realized how abnormal it sounded. Revisiting thoughts in my head and hoping for some resolution seemed like something normal to do and I guess it is. Until you revisit a topic so much that has no resolution and keep revisiting it until you cannot think of anything else.
My main fixation has been death, specifically my death and the acknowledgment that someday I will die and so will my family members. I don't remember what I thought about that particular subject until the day I started suddenly thinking about it constantly. The anxiety stems from worrying about when and how I am going to die. Once I start thinking about it panic starts to well up within me until I feel like I am going to lose my mind with fear. My heart starts racing and I break out into a cold sweat.
I feel so disconnected with the world right now. I even find it hard to have normal conversations with people. I feel like I can't relate to them because of all the static that is inside my head right now. I worry about saying anything because nothing I say seems appropriate to the topic of conversation. For the past couple of weeks I have had people ask me if I was okay because they thought I seemed "out of it." If only they really knew exactly how much truth there was to that.
Tonight I increase my dosage of Zol.oft to 50mg, and in a week to 100mg. I hope that this medicine and therapy will help me. The Dr. asked me today what I expected to get out of therapy. I can honestly say that I want to make peace with my fears and be able to live in the moment and enjoy my children and my life. I don't want to feel like every moment is ruled by fear.

Why me?

Why not, I guess is a better question.
I keep thinking that if I just think about certain topics long enough that I will come to some conclusion that will allow me to stop obsessing. But, as my Mom pointed out, these thoughts are not rational and most of them have no logical conclusion. So, I think about them more and more and get more and more obsessed with them. The cycle is never ending.
I am trying to stop myself before going down that path. I just try to change the subject of my thoughts when I start feeling anxious about something. But this is difficult for me because I am used to being able to solve problems in a logical manner. However, my fear and anxiety is so sensitive that it seems that anything will set me off. It is so bad that I can't bear to listen to sad songs I previously enjoyed or watch anything sad on tv. I feel like these things will just push me over the edge that I am so precariously teetering on. I feel like I want to just retreat inside my house and never come out because I don't want to do or see anything to make myself feel scared.
I have my first appointment for therapy next week. The zol.oft hasn't really seemed to kick in yet, although the side effects definitely have. I have been having excruciating headaches but they are manageable with Motrin. So right now I am in a holding pattern.
I want to share my symptoms and thoughts but honestly I am afraid of writing them down because then this all becomes real. I keep telling myself that this really can't be happening to me. That I am imagining these things. But I know that what I am feeling isn't right and in order for me to get better I need to acknowledge this.

Into the Abyss

Well, I always thought it couldn't happen to me but it did. I am smack dab in the middle of the rollercoaster ride of Post Partum Depression and Anxiety and it is a ride that I really would like to get off of now. Got my prescription for Zol.oft yesterday and after hemming and hawing about it and then having a panic attack at Bunco I finally took my first pill last night.
I am scared.
Scared that breastfeeding while taking Zol.oft will somehow hurt W.
Scared that this really isn't PPD and I will have to live this way for the rest of my life.
Scared the Zo.loft won't work.
Scared of the side effects of the medicine and how hard it will be to wean myself off of them once I am done.
I am trying to get an appointment for some therapy because I know the medication isn't enough.
Meanwhile, W was up 4 times last night. The sleep deprivation is making me want to ram my head through a brick wall.
I am a sad sorry soul right now.

When a fart...

Isn't really a fart.
My poor little son learned this terrible lesson this week as he caught some sort of stomach bug. This is his first bout of diarrhea while using the toilet instead of a diaper. What ensued was my son essentially pooping all over the house Monday and Tuesday as he tried to fart and found out that there was something more behind it. Its a lesson we have all learned the hard way.
He was on the mend on Wednesday and feeling fine. Our washing machine broke over the weekend while I was washing the bedsheets he threw up on. So, I was doing laundry at a neighbor's house because we had all run out of clothes. I started feeling strange and decided to try to nap while the kids did. I woke up feeling like a sledgehammer hit me and called S to come home early. He tells me that he can't because he is teaching training. I limp along until he gets home at his regular time and then go to bed.
Luckily, W obliges me and only wakes up twice. When S's alarm goes off at 5:30 am I tell him he needs to stay home because I am dying. He does, but again he has important business to attend to so I am obliged to rise out of my death bed to nurse the baby and also watch both kids while he dials in to meetings. Yes, I am still a little bitter about that but whatever.
Enter me this morning, feeling better than yesterday but still not 100%. I am standing by the fridge getting A some breakfast when I feel like I have to fart. Except 31 years of experience has taught me that sometimes a fart isn't just a fart, especially when you have a stomach bug. Thankfully I made it to the bathroom in time. And now you officially know more about me than you ever wanted to know.
Stay tuned for a blog about the terrible anxiety attack I had last weekend and how I think I have some mild Post Partum Depression.

Doing Better

We are doing better so far this week. I am not sure what inspired the change. A went to stay with my Mom for the weekend and spent his time outside running around and being indulged by his Grandma. I spent the weekend eating my way through all the restaurants around town and spending time with W. It was a nice weekend. I really didn't know how easy I had it with just one child.
I think the time away was good for A and I both. S and I were able to have some conversations about being on the same page with discipline. We are still not in accord with what to do but we did come up with some ideas that we plan to implement this week.
I have come to realize that part of the problem is definitely me. Yes, I know that the 3 readers of my blog probably came to that conclusion weeks ago but I just realized it over the weekend so give me a break. I have been feeding the flames with my reaction to A. I guess I just didn't realize how much until I decided to break the situation down into things that I can control. I cannot control A's behavior. He is a human being and will act how he choose. I CAN control my reaction to him as well as how I choose to teach him about behavior. I CAN lead by example.
My stepdad pointed out that it would be more damaging to A not to show him how to be socially appropriate and compassionate towards others. He is so right. We all remember those kids growing up that nobody wanted to play with because they didn't share, hit, and were bratty. Those kids grow up eventually and end up being the adults that no one wants to play with or work with. So, I realize how important it is to do something about A's inappropriate behavior. I just need to figure out a way to do it that suits his personality. I seriously don't want to end up as an episode of Supernanny two years from now.
Starting yesterday I have been more conscious of my treatment of A. I have been more appreciative of the good things that he does. More calm when he tests his limits. So far it has been working, but A really hasn't been testing me that much either. I am not sure if this is because he senses the change in me or just because he hasn't felt the need to be fractious yet. Time will tell, I suppose. In the mean time I am going to work on appreciating the wonderful aspects of my son's personality.

Welcome to Crazy Town

Population: Me
I feel foolish reading my last post. So inspired and hopeful (I am still going to send my surprises out..it may take me a couple of weeks to get to it, however) . It is like children have a sixth sense about when to pull the fucking rug right out from underneath you. They somehow know when you are getting comfortable with a routine and will do whatever they can to shake things up somehow to keep you on your toes. I should've known better than to settle in and start trying to get a piece of myself back again.
A has started acting out this week in a way that I don't know how to handle. He has taken to scratching S and I and hitting even more. He talks back constantly, won't listen to anything I say, and is as destructive as possible. I really don't know what to do. Time outs don't work. Taking toys away doesn't work. I am at my wit's end and feeling desperate. How do you discipline a child who is unaffected by anything you do to them?
I am also trying to transition W to her crib because sleeping with her in my bed at night was turning into a circus and wasn't safe. She, in turn, is waking up 4 sometimes 5 times a night looking to nurse which she wasn't doing when she was in bed with me. I dread going to bed at night because I know that it will only be an hour or two at the most that I will get to sleep before she wakes me up for the first time. And then its every 2-3 hours after that.
I actually told my son yesterday that I was done. Done with watching him. I have seen people do that on tv before and I always judged. Now I understand why they said it. Because in that moment I was done. Done being scratched and bitten by my son. Done being screamed at and ignored. Done cleaning up his messes. Done waking up all night long with W. Done feeling fat and ugly and unappreciated. Done being his Mommy. Just done.
Oh, how I hated myself after I said it. A doesn't understand what it meant. But I do. And now I feel absolutely filthy for having said it. These children were brought here by me. Intentionally. And now I am forsaking them?
Is my life really all that bad? I am healthy and so is everyone in my family. We have food, clothes, shelter, and a comfortable life. I have lost my sanity, but so what?
I feel brittle enough to break today. I am going to turn to my first loves to put the pieces back together. My friends Jose, ice, limes, and salt.

Paying it Forward - Free Stuff Alert

I have been so impressed with some friends of mine lately paying things forward that I have decided to do the same. Hopefully it will bring some blog lurkers out to say hello as well. Make a comment with your email address or contact me at mine and I will send you something really cool. You have to be willing to give me an address to mail it to you, however.
Don't get your hopes up, it isn't a million dollars or a crockpot. But it does have something to do with music. And that is all I am going to say lest I get sued.
So, contact me and get your free stuff. First ten people to respond to this post get something. I don't even think I have 10 people reading this blog but we will see, won't we.

My last baby

A friend of mine told me that she was pregnant this weekend. I am totally thrilled for you, by the way. But with my thrilling feelings also comes a little sadness as I watch W grow. She will be my last baby. The last time I get to watch a little one grow and change into a person with thoughts and feelings of her own. And while I am happy that I never have to go through the newborn phase again I am a little weirded out by the fact that I will never do it again. Does that make sense?
A is such a character and seeing his personality come through makes me so happy (when it doesn't make me aggravated). He has such an inquisitive mind and is so much like his Dad in many respects. He doesn't like to sit still, doesn't like to sleep much, and is always asking questions.
I got my hair cut and colored on Friday (pictures soon) and I am finally clawing my way to the surface again. W is going down (alone!!!) at 7pm to sleep most nights and allowing me a few hours freedom in the evenings to talk to my husband and basically just veg out. I feel like with my new hair cut and weight loss that I am getting the old Cate back. It is wonderful to stop feeling like a washed out version of myself.
So, I am feeling sad that the baby rearing phase of my life is coming closer to the end every day that W grows. But I am excited that I am beginning to rediscover what it means to be me again.
Part of my journey of self-discovery is to stop comparing myself to other people. But I will cover that more in my next post. W has woken up from her nap and is crying in her crib.

Going well

Not much new to report since last week. W is still the sweetest baby around and I feel so lucky to have her as my last baby. She is such a joy to be around now. True to form, she hit the 3 month mark and just woke up all of a sudden. She started cooing and "talking" this week to make her feelings known. It is wonderful how her personality all of a sudden just blossomed. Babies are amazing in that respect. They start out as these little larval blobs and then wake up one morning smiling, and then wake up one morning laughing, and then on and on to each new skill and before you know it they are walking and talking and telling you that "two farts just came out of my butt." That, by the way, was what my darling son told me this morning as we were sitting on the couch watching cartoons.
A is still adjusting to being a big brother. It is hotter than hell here and so extremely smokey from all the fires burning around that we are banished to remain indoors as much as possible due to the poor air quality. A is stir crazy from being cooped up and I am going crazy from trying to think of ways to entertain him. I am trying to break the cycle of television as baby sitter that we had sort of established when W was a newborn. But there is only so much Candyland a grown woman can play before wanting to gouge her eyes out with the Sugar Plum Fairy card.
I started a playgroup for W in my local Mom's club and it is actually doing well. I am excited to get out of the house every Monday to commiserate with other moms of little ones. I am not sure how this will work when she starts napping more regularly but at this point I am willing to do just about anything to escape the heat and smoke.

12 weeks old

Tomorrow! I can't believe that three months have gone by since little W made her quiet appearance into this world. This last weekend she not only laughed for the first time but she rolled from stomach to back. I had put her down for a nap on her tummy and true to form she woke up 20 minutes later crying. When I went in her bedroom to get her she was on her back, glaring up at me with accusatory eyes. I thought perhaps it was a fluke. After watching her successfully roll from tummy to back 3 times in a row I finally was convinced.
Shit! Dr. F predicted she would be an early crawler but rolling over at three months? I am skeered, very skeered. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't witnessed it myself.
As for the laughing, well it was very adorable. I was visiting our elderly neighbor and she was talking about something very expressively. After she waved her hand around past W's face, all of a sudden my fat little Buddha baby let out a chortle. We both paused and looked at her convinced that it was just a cough. But sure enough she did it again 2 minutes later. I got her to repeat it briefly the next day by working for about 10 minutes making faces, tickling, and being so silly that my face felt like it was going to fall off.
We have all settled into a routine of sorts, which is nice. A wakes up at 6 am, so I nurse W around 5 and she usually sleeps until 8 or so. It gives me a couple of baby free hours to make A's breakfast, have a cup of coffee, and read teh internets.
After she wakes up and we nurse I plop her in the bouncy seat and shower while A watches morning cartoons. Then we all get dressed and are ready for the day and whatever adventures await us (grocery shopping, park, playdates, etc).
A is doing very well and we have our days where there are almost no timeouts at all. We are still working on his tendency to play punch strangers (if you know me in real life ask me about the mentally disabled people at the mall the next time you see me. It is not a story for the faint of heart). A is convinced he is a superhero. It is adorable and scary at the same time.
Gotta go, baby is awake.

I need to stop reading the news

Ugh. On cnn.com today there was a story about a man who tortured a woman by raping and sodomizing her in her apartment for 19 hours. The things that man did to that woman are horrifying. Here is the link if you want to disgust yourself
Man convicted in graduate student torture
When I read things like this I always wonder what the mother of the man who did this is thinking. Does she blame herself? I know I would. I would constantly wonder where I had gone wrong in raising my son to have no regard for human life. Memory by memory I would slowly sift through the past and analyze everything I had done or said to my son to find a clue as to why he had become a monster. How do you continue to love someone like that? Or do you?
What no one explains to women before they get pregnant is that parenting is not only important and imperative to you and your livelihood but also that of others. Someday your children will be able to assert their will on others. They will be citizens of the world and can choose to be the source of joy to others or the source of sadness.
My sister works with youthful offenders for the Department of Corrections. Most of these young men were convicted as adults of adult crimes (murder, rape, etc.) but are too young to enter the general population of a state prison (we are talking like 15 or 16 year olds that would get eaten alive by the older prisoners). Some of these kids will be in jail for the rest of their lives as they serve out sentences for the most heinous crimes imaginable. She says that the running theme with most of these kids is that they endured the worst childhoods imaginable. Exposed to things that the young and innocent shouldn't be exposed to their impressionable little minds were hardened by fire instead of softly moulded like clay. And when they became old enough they inflicted torturous acts upon others.
I cry sometimes when I think about certain of these man-children. There are those that with the right guiding hand could've been something wonderful. Already their lives are over before they even began. These kids were let down by their parents and let loose on the world.
Sometimes after a really hard day with A I go and watch him sleeping and think about my monumental role as a mom. Someday my son and daughter will be let loose on the world as well with the gift of free will and the lessons I have taught them to guide them. I fervently hope every day that what I have done for them is enough. I also have newfound respect for my own parents, especially my mom.
Just look at my son's eyes. How could anyone abuse a child?And now for something completely different...

Its all relative

There are at least 3 articles on cnn.com talking about children being abused or murdered by their mothers. I feel so deeply for those children. It also helps me gain perspective on my mothering skills.
Most days I feel like I will be lucky if my children don't turn into serial killers when they grow up. I am an imperfect mother at best. I recognize that I have many many faults. Motherhood has been the most humbling experience of my life. I lament every day that I never have enough patience to be the best mother I can be.
Watching a video on the internet today of a mother purposely abandoning her two year old at Wally World really brought something home for me. While there have been many occasions where I have been grocery shopping and Wally World and wanted to abandon my two year old I haven't done it (yet). That puts me one step ahead of the rest of the world, right? Maybe I am not so bad of a mother after all.

Intense Momma Love

W is deep in the throws of intense Momma love right now. She went from being okay with everyone holding her to screaming her little head of when anyone but I hold her.
It is flattering but really, W, I get it. I get that you love me so much and need me all the time. But Momma needs a break every now and then and it would be a much nicer break if I couldn't hear you screaming your head off in the living room while I am taking a bath in the master bathroom. Ah well, this too shall pass, no? I just keep reminding myself that A will start preschool in the fall and W will be old enough to start having semi-regular naps then so there will be a day in the near future when I don't have a baby on me 24/7.
I had my first weigh in last night. I have lost two pounds on WW. It seems really insane to me because the amount of food they have nursing mothers eating is a lot. So much that some days it is a real struggle to eat all that I am supposed to and I end up and the end of the evening trying to find things to make up in points. Like last night at 8pm I had 8 points left to spend. And if you are familiar with WW you know that 8 points is a lot. It was tempting not to eat it and just go to bed. But I am terrified that my milk supply will dwindle so I did it.
I have also started working out with The F*irm DVDs that I did when I was losing my pregnancy weight with A. I woke up extremely sore yesterday morning so it must be working. The problem with me and weight loss is that it always seems like I should be able to lose weight so quickly that after one week all my old clothes should fit. The prospect of 9 months of WW to get back to normal is so depressing. I have decided that when I get back to my fighting weight I am going to throw all my clothes out (read: donate to charity) and spend some money on some new clothes. I haven't gone clothes shopping for real in probably 5 years. My wardrobe is dated and I am sick of it. Besides, what you can pull off at age 25 is much different than at 31...at least in my opinion.
I am getting my hair colored and possibly cut on July 11th. I need some advice. Should I leave it long or go short? What do you think?
Here is my hair long the day of W's birth
And here is my hair short at my 30th birthday party a year ago
And the shortest it has been in the last three yearsWhich do you like the best?
Maybe keep it long but add some bangs and layers? I don't know. I just need something to make me feel like I am not a harpie and since the weight will take a while to come off I can at least color out my grey hairs and get a flattering haircut.

Thanks Adrianne

For commenting on my last post. I really appreciate your support and understanding. As for the rest of you who read but don't comment...go suck an egg. Just kidding. Sort of.
I am in a bad spot right now. I am not a fan of little babies. The terrible threes are kicking my ass. Combine those two things together and you get me crying myself to sleep last night.
Trust me, I know how lucky I am to have two healthy children. I get that part. And I love both of them with every fiber of my being. However, the temporary loss of independence associated with having a very small baby is always a difficult transition for me. Especially while breastfeeding because you are limited to excursions that are less than two hours long due to the baby's feeding schedule.
W was on me like glue for the last 48 hours and I guess I just reached a breaking point last night when she wouldn't go to sleep until 10:30pm. Because sleeping is the only time that I get to myself nowadays. And since we cosleep it isn't really to myself but it is easier to pretend that it is.
All of this is hard enough to take on its own. But I also started we.ight watchers yesterday as well to try to put a dent in this baby weight. So now I can't even find solace in eating something terribly bad for me but terribly tasty.
Blah.

Mommy Guilt

Yesterday was a terribly frazzling day. I seriously wondered if I should call S home from work because A was on a bender that caused him to spend almost 20 minutes in a row in time out. At one point I actually had to smack him on the butt because he decided during nap time to go outside by himself into the backyard and fill his bed with rocks (this was all done while I was trying to put W down for a nap at the other end of the house). I honestly felt so stressed out that I was calculating how much money it would cost to put A and W in daycare so I wouldn't kill him. And as A's behavior has become more and more obnoxious I am seriously starting to doubt my ability to handle two children.
Do I enjoy smacking my son? No. When I have had to do it I end up feeling like the biggest shit that ever lived. I have asked S for alternate solutions and he hasn't gotten back to me.
I feel like the worst mother in the world. I wish there were some kind of book that I could read that would tell me the best way to parent my children. All I want is for A to grow up to be a good person and to be happy. But I honestly doubt my ability sometimes to translate that desire into parenting him properly.

Pink Eye?

Poor little W has pink eye. How the hell does a 7 week old get pink eye? Yuck.
Here are some Memorial Day pics for your enjoyment from our trip to my Mom's house.
We hiked to some waterfalls. Here is W taking a break from the bjorn. Look at those cheeks!
Here is A with my mom and stepdad
Sorry, no pics of me until I lose 20 more pounds.

Thank Cthulhu for the people at Fisher Price

Because this thing, my friends, is a life saver for moms of babies who insist on being held 24/7.
I tried this thing out at a friend's house and W actually slept in it, which is amazing. So, after saying I wouldn't buy another expensive baby thing that doesn't get used I rushed out and bought it. I am typing away now because W is resting comfortably in it. I know Dr. Sears would disapprove of W being out of my arms for 15 minutes when I should have her in the sling and be simultaneously nursing her, working on a solution for world peace, and handing sandwiches out to the poor but I am totally over that.
Now if only they made one in adult size with a drink holder I would be set.
Off to the Doctor's office today...poor little W woke up with a suspiciously pink eye this morning. Wouldn't it be fun if A and W (heh, heh A&W) both had pink eye at the same time? Even more fun would be if I got it too.

Newborns are like Tyrannasauruses

They have vision that is stimulated by motion. So if you are a newborn's mom peeking into her crib to see if she is still asleep after a nap make no sudden movements otherwise you are screwed. Little W's eyes are like the eyes in a painting in a haunted house...her head doesn't move but her eyes follow me everywhere. If it weren't so cute it would be a little disturbing.

Sleep Training Vent

I have lurked on an April 2008 birth board for a few weeks now just to see how little W is comparing to other newborns from April. It is interesting to come to one of these boards as a veteran mommy instead of the bright eyed newbie I was when I found the May 2005 board that I still belong to for A.
The biggest posts for new moms is how to get their children to sleep through the night. I can totally understand why this would be important for everyone. Really, I do. A slept like crap until he was probably close to 4 months old, and even then he wouldn't nap during the day unless I was holding him or next to him until he was probably close to 6 months old. I spent a lot of time obsessing about sleep and how I could get A to sleep more.
What really irks me about people is when they decide to "sleep train" their newborns to try to get them to sleep through the night. "Sleep train" for these people is basically an excuse to use the Cry it Out (CIO) method. Now, the experts are calling it "self soothing." What about a newborn screaming her head off for 30 minutes is soothing, I might ask?
I really don't understand how people can do it with a newborn. The way these people talk its like they think that by crying their baby is trying to manipulate them some how. Like these (in some cases) 3 week old infants really know how to do that.
When I tried CIO with A it was terrible. He screamed for almost 30 minutes nonstop. When he finally stopped screaming I checked on him and he had passed out from exhaustion. What little hair he had was matted to his head with sweat. His face was still red and he had tear tracks down his cheeks that were still wet. He was still crying in his sleep. Little snuffling cries and whimpers that pierced my heart like an arrow every time he did it. I felt like a total shit and that is when I made the decision to let him call the shots and never to let him cry like that again. Eventually I stopped stressing about it and just resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be sleep deprived. I drank more coffee to not feel tired. All of a sudden I was much happier because I wasn't trying to force the issue. A was happier because he was running the show and I was less stressed. Yeah, it sucks being sleep deprived but it really is only temporary.
Sometimes a newborn will cry so hard that they puke on themselves. Really, that can't be good, especially when you are trying to establish a trusting relationship with them. All they want is to be with their mommies and to be held and comforted. Sometimes that is all I want too and I am 31 years old. I can't imagine being so small in such a big world and being expected to reconcile the fact that there are times when Mommy wants to hold you and then there are times when she doesn't or can't. Because they want Mommy all the time regardless.

Still here

Just slogging along through these first weeks. Everything kind of blends together when you have a newborn.
A is not a happy camper right now. I feel so bad because I can't dote on him like I did when it was just he and I. He spends a lot of time right now entertaining himself while I deal with W. And there is always something to be done with W. I had not forgotten how all consuming having a newborn was. I just didn't realize now much it would impact my relationship with A. Being around a three year old is hard enough without having to do it while sleep deprived and with a newborn hanging on your breast. I just hope I am not emotionally damaging A somehow. Sometimes I wish that I didn't worry so much about this kind of thing. I know my parents didn't.
I am trying to be patient with A but when he purposely does things to mess with his sister or to hurt me physically I just want to beat the snot out of him. Yesterday I took him to Target with me alone and we had a great time just like we used to. It made me want to cry because I miss those times. My husband just isn't really supportive of taking A to do fun things alone (like go to the park, etc.) so while W is less easy to transport A and I hang out around the house a lot. I know he gets bored and I try to do as much as I can to incorporate him in the process but it is different than it was before and I know he feels it.
W is getting so big. She weighs 12 pounds now! She started smiling last week and has been much more alert during the day. She wakes up about 3 times a night, which is developmentally appropriate. She is good at holding her head up and is starting to coo occasionally. I find myself constantly trying to remember what A was doing at this age because I keep thinking she should be doing things faster (why isn't she crawling yet?).
W's newborn and 0-3 month clothes are all packed away and she is sporting 3-6 month clothes. Her 0-3 month clothes barely have any wear at all. I need to find someone who has a small newborn baby girl who wants my castoffs. Since this is my last child there is no point in keeping anything that she grows out of now.
I gave away half of my maternity clothes yesterday. I felt weird doing it because some of them I had for 4 years. I was a little sad but only for a millisecond. I am reading to move on to a new phase of my life and start figuring out what I am going to do when I go back to the workforce.

Baby Farts

I am typing this while listening to the sound of poor little W farting her diaper off in the cosleeper next to me. What is it about my children that makes them have such bad gas? Poor little A suffered from tummy troubles for the first 3 months of his life. I tried everything to help him out...My.licon, gri.pe water, burping more frequently, feeding only from one breast, elimination diet, voodoo sacrifices to Cthulhu...you name it and I tried it. It always seemed like his gas would hit from 2 am to 4 am every morning. Sometimes it got so bad he would just scream with the pain of it. W is the same way now, except not as extreme.
Like clockwork 2am comes and my poor little pumpkin is writhing and squirming around. First, she starts to squeak a little while she draws her legs up. Next, tiny cries accompany her movements if the gas doesn't come out. Finally, she will start to full on cry until the gas is released or she falls asleep until the next episode wakes her up. This usually happens every five minutes or so until 4-6am which makes for very bad sleep for the both of us.
I wish there were some way for me to make it all better for her. But having gone through this before I know that the only cure is for her intestines to mature.
Which takes time. Just like everything in life, I guess. So things ought to be better for her and me in like 8 weeks.

Newborns and stuff

Yeah, this blog may founder a bit at the beginning because I am so busy trying to mother two children and not pull my frickin hair out.
I really don't enjoy the newborn stage very much. Things really don't get fun for me until about 6 months of age or so...at least that is how it was with A.
Random thoughts:
People who tell you that breastfeeding doesn't hurt are liars trying not to scare you. Why would they make stuff like lanolin spread for your nip.ples and gel soothers that you put in the freezer if no one's nips ever hurt? Both times my first few weeks of b-fing have had my nips on fire at first latch. This time was even worse because W wanted to do nothing but nurse the first 48 hours of her life. She even slept with her face in my bare breasts in the hospital because she could not bear to be anywhere else. By the time my milk came in both nips were cracked and bleeding so much that just the idea of nursing her made me want to cry. Then the engorgement comes, which is fun.
No one also tells you about the majesty that is lochia. Google it if you don't already know what it is. It is like having your period for 3 weeks straight. Because the one thing you really want to do after 9 months of no periods is have a period for almost a month. Especially when you are dealing with sleep deprivation, lactation, and general hormonal issues.
Don't ever try on your pre-pregnancy pants until you are at least a month out from giving birth. Unless you are one of those whores who wears their pre-pregnancy pants home from the hospital. If that is the case, don't read my blog any more because I hate you.
People will lie to you and tell you that you look good for just having had a baby. It is nice to hear but completely false. If you are like me you probably look like shit warmed over. So don't get comfy where you are because they are just saying that as a courtesy.
If anyone is reading this blog that doesn't have kids already and has any questions let me know. I will give you the straight dope.

Welcome

18 years and counting until little W leaves the nest. This blog will be all about my trials and tribulations with parenting. If you ever feel bad about how you parent your children stop by here...I assure you it will make you feel better about yourself in no time.