Well. It's been nearly a year since my last post. I feel so sad when I look over this blog. It started so well. And then. Life. (What more would you expect considering the title, right?)
But I also feel like I have been neglecting a part of me. Writing is a really big part of who I am. And the past few years, I have done very little of it.
Last week I met with a psychiatrist. After years of trying to get a grip on my depression, I was given an official diagnosis: dysthymia.
Dysthymia is chronic, low-level depression. Previously known as Depressive Personality Disorder, it can completely take over your sense of self. I am an angry person. I am a sad person. I am a irritable person. I am an unlikable person. I am a lazy person.
NO. My name is Mallory Thalman, and I am a wonderful person. I am a funny person. I am a happy person. I am a creative person. I am a reliable person. I am a strong person. I am a great person. I suffer from a mental disorder that tries its darndest to squash the real me, but it does not define me.
Now that I am under the care of a specialist, things should get better.
Part of my self-directed therapy is to write more. Next month I will be participating in NaNoWriMo, during which I will write a 50,000+ word novel. Of course, that means that my blog is not getting revived like I know you all are hoping for. (right! right?!) But I think it will really help me as a person, a mother, a wife, a friend.
But guess what my novel for next month is going to be? The Mother's Lamentations!
Yep! I am going to be writing new stories (only slightly exaggerated) of my life into a novel. And maybe....just maybe....I'll actually get it published.
I'm excited! And it may be my Wellbutrin. But that's ok.
Showing posts with label All Things Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label All Things Mom. Show all posts
Monday, October 13, 2014
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Birth Ball
This morning, I got it into my head that I wanted to find our exercise ball and pump it up to use for labor prep and during the birth. I have no idea why I wanted it so badly, because I had the dang thing pumped up for my last labor and didn't want it at all!
But today....I NEEDED TO FIND AND FILL THAT BALL!!!! (Remember a couple posts ago where I said pregnancy makes me crazy? Yeah. I wasn't kidding.)
Even though it has been over a year since we moved, we still have three spaces that have boxes and other 'unpacked' things: master bedroom closet, spare bedroom closet, and Narnia-esque under-the-stairs coat closet.
For some reason, I thought the big, blue ball would be in the spare bedroom closet. So I started there. I pulled out boxes. I pulled ligaments. I caused contractions. I grunted. I strained. I dug and I looked and I rifled and I looked. And no ball. So I put everything back. With more pulling and grunting and straining.
Frustrated and tired, I went to my closet. I found the pump to fill the ball. Yay. But after some half-hearted rifling through the closet, there was still no ball.
So I went and sat on the couch for a bit, because I was pooped. And I texted the Hubby, asking if he knew where the heck the ball was. His response: in our closet or the coat closet.
After a bit, I had regained enough of my energy to resume my search. The coat closet. So daunting. Among the things I had to remove from the closet: half a dozen coats and jackets, vacuum cleaner, chair cushions, Christmas tree, 3 sleeping bags, Christmas box, Halloween box, pull-up bar, box full of shoes we never wear, box full of gloves and scarves we use once a year, beanbag chair and footrest, and several random sand toys.
Finally, I opened the box I thought might be hiding the ball. It had a few game boxes, one of which was on its side and fell open to dump the entire contents into the bottom of the box. I found beach floaties, a tote bag that I needed 8 months ago, a bag of crayons, more sand toys....AND the birth ball!!!
And then I had to put everything back. (Commence more grunting and straining and pulling and contractions.) Our closet looks super organized and nice right now, though!
Then I realized that the plug was missing. It would be pointless to fill the ball and not be able to keep the air inside of it! But I was so, so tired. Back to the couch for a rest. I thought a bit about where the plug could be. I watched a YouTube video on how to make your own plug using duct tape (but I don't think we have any duct tape...of course). Then, I remembered that I typically kept the plug with my paintbrushes. (Where else would I keep it?!)
Paintbrushes were back upstairs in the spare bedroom closet. I had to move more boxes. Finally, I pulled out the "paint" box, which was really heavy...probably heavier than I should be lifting without having the proper control over it. Seriously, who knew that a couple dozen tubes of acrylic paint, a few blocks of polymer clay, and a crapload of fancy paper would weigh so much!? (Ok, now that I type out a bit of what is actually in that box, it makes total sense for it to weigh the equivalent of a small whale.)
And, of course, I had to empty the whole box to make sure I wouldn't miss a tiny, white, two-inch ball plug. The good news, though, is that I found it! (With the paintbrushes, where it belongs! Silly!) And that box looks super organized and nice now.
Boxes back in the closet, and no onset of labor, I headed back down the stairs. (Also, I gave the kids a bath while I was organizing the paint box, to keep them out of my stuff. So I had to dry the munchkins off and help them get dressed before I could complete my birth ball quest.)
Pump: check! Ball: check! Plug: check! I let Bug and Gizmo pump the ball up most of the way. Which was really nice, because they thought it was a fun game, even though I could tell it was wearing them out! Plus, that meant I didn't have to do the hard work. But I did finish it up and place the plug.
Then, I sat on the couch while the boys rolled around on the ball. We'll see how much I actually use the dang thing. I'm beginning to wonder if the hassle was even worth it!
But today....I NEEDED TO FIND AND FILL THAT BALL!!!! (Remember a couple posts ago where I said pregnancy makes me crazy? Yeah. I wasn't kidding.)
Even though it has been over a year since we moved, we still have three spaces that have boxes and other 'unpacked' things: master bedroom closet, spare bedroom closet, and Narnia-esque under-the-stairs coat closet.
For some reason, I thought the big, blue ball would be in the spare bedroom closet. So I started there. I pulled out boxes. I pulled ligaments. I caused contractions. I grunted. I strained. I dug and I looked and I rifled and I looked. And no ball. So I put everything back. With more pulling and grunting and straining.
Frustrated and tired, I went to my closet. I found the pump to fill the ball. Yay. But after some half-hearted rifling through the closet, there was still no ball.
So I went and sat on the couch for a bit, because I was pooped. And I texted the Hubby, asking if he knew where the heck the ball was. His response: in our closet or the coat closet.
After a bit, I had regained enough of my energy to resume my search. The coat closet. So daunting. Among the things I had to remove from the closet: half a dozen coats and jackets, vacuum cleaner, chair cushions, Christmas tree, 3 sleeping bags, Christmas box, Halloween box, pull-up bar, box full of shoes we never wear, box full of gloves and scarves we use once a year, beanbag chair and footrest, and several random sand toys.
Finally, I opened the box I thought might be hiding the ball. It had a few game boxes, one of which was on its side and fell open to dump the entire contents into the bottom of the box. I found beach floaties, a tote bag that I needed 8 months ago, a bag of crayons, more sand toys....AND the birth ball!!!
And then I had to put everything back. (Commence more grunting and straining and pulling and contractions.) Our closet looks super organized and nice right now, though!
Then I realized that the plug was missing. It would be pointless to fill the ball and not be able to keep the air inside of it! But I was so, so tired. Back to the couch for a rest. I thought a bit about where the plug could be. I watched a YouTube video on how to make your own plug using duct tape (but I don't think we have any duct tape...of course). Then, I remembered that I typically kept the plug with my paintbrushes. (Where else would I keep it?!)
Paintbrushes were back upstairs in the spare bedroom closet. I had to move more boxes. Finally, I pulled out the "paint" box, which was really heavy...probably heavier than I should be lifting without having the proper control over it. Seriously, who knew that a couple dozen tubes of acrylic paint, a few blocks of polymer clay, and a crapload of fancy paper would weigh so much!? (Ok, now that I type out a bit of what is actually in that box, it makes total sense for it to weigh the equivalent of a small whale.)
And, of course, I had to empty the whole box to make sure I wouldn't miss a tiny, white, two-inch ball plug. The good news, though, is that I found it! (With the paintbrushes, where it belongs! Silly!) And that box looks super organized and nice now.
Boxes back in the closet, and no onset of labor, I headed back down the stairs. (Also, I gave the kids a bath while I was organizing the paint box, to keep them out of my stuff. So I had to dry the munchkins off and help them get dressed before I could complete my birth ball quest.)
Pump: check! Ball: check! Plug: check! I let Bug and Gizmo pump the ball up most of the way. Which was really nice, because they thought it was a fun game, even though I could tell it was wearing them out! Plus, that meant I didn't have to do the hard work. But I did finish it up and place the plug.
Then, I sat on the couch while the boys rolled around on the ball. We'll see how much I actually use the dang thing. I'm beginning to wonder if the hassle was even worth it!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
No Promises
It seems that I have fallen...hard...off the blogging bandwagon! I have no promises that I will be jumping back on with this post. But today I feel at least a little bit motivated to share bits and pieces from my life over the past 5 months. (I have still been reading the blogs that I love, via Google Reader on my tablet. That means that I haven't been able to comment, but I have been there!)
About two weeks after we moved to Charlotte, my genetic predisposition to depression kicked in and started making my life pretty miserable. I was so excited to live in a new place. To be able to establish my identity with my new family (far enough from parents and people who have known me since I was "yea high"). The weather was warm and beautiful. There was (still is) green everywhere...even more than I was used to back in Ohio.
But, I felt like I was having trouble making friends. I missed my family. I missed my grocery stores. I didn't know the roads. I got frustrated with the kids (who weren't handling the move very well). I got frustrated with my husband (who wasn't handling the move very well). And I realized maybe I wasn't handling the move very well.
I am too stubborn though, and I tried to just push through. I gained at least 10 pounds. I wore my throat out almost daily, yelling at the kids. I cried....a lot. I argued with my husband. My depression manifested as anger and irritability. (You know, in addition to poor eating habits, poor sleeping habits, unexplained crying, lack of motivation to do things like exercise/shower/brush teeth). I was in a bad place.
Finally, last month, I put down my foot and let the Hubby know that something needed to be done....before I did serious damage to myself or my family. (Of course, I just wanted the quickest med to fix my problem.) My wonderful husband, however, knew that his hippie of a wife would not want to be on medication, and started looking for an alternative. He quickly found a homeopathic doctor, scheduled an appointment for me, and took the day off work to accompany me to the appointment.
The doctor was great. She was cheerful and asked very thorough questions to be able to understand my depression. She gave me a homeopathic remedy and gave me some supplements to take, in addition to the vitamins I was already taking. Every morning, I take my remedy (lycopodium). With breakfast, I take a women's multi vitamin, EFA oil, Emergen-C, and 100mg of 5-htp. I take more 5-htp with lunch. And with dinner I take a B-complex and another 5-htp. If I am feeling pretty good, I skip my lunch dose.
Surprisingly, I noticed within a week that things were improving. I felt like myself again. I had more patience with my kids. More love for my husband. And a more positive outlook on all of my previous problems! I did notice though, that my routine only turns me into a normal person. It isn't a miracle "happy all the time" thing. And I am still subject to normal emotions (including mood swings, although much less frequently), especially during my normal PMS week. But being a normal person is a significant improvement on being a mopey, miserable, depressed person! I have started watching my calorie intake and exercising frequently (although the scale hasn't given me any encouragement). And I have even pulled out some of my crafts that I used to love working on.
Over the past 5 months (since I last wrote on this blog), I have attended the wedding of one of my younger sisters. Celebrated Bug's 4th birthday. Celebrated Hubby's 27th birthday. Caught a lizard on my porch, and used it to teach Bug and Gizmo about reptiles. Cleaned up about a million messes (mostly courtesy of Gizmo...our resident Lord of Chaos). Gently encouraged Bug that he should let his "ahhhh...soooo cuuuute" spider live outside. Cleaned and bleached after our downstairs toilet flooded the bathroom, laundry room, pantry and half the kitchen. Received a nasty note from an anonymous neighbor about how our property is an "eyesore". Revamped the outside of our house (that we are only renting, by the way). Took Bug and Gizmo to visit family in Ohio for a week, all by myself (worst vacation ever). Talked to Bug about why he cannot put Gizmo in the garbage, just because Gizmo can be mean. Listened to a million hilariously mispronounced words (courtesy of Bug). Gained a nephew (the first on my side of the family....I seriously cannot wait to meet him in a few weeks). Listened to Bug sing a goodnight some to Gizmo: "I love you, Gizmo. I don't want to put you in the garbage. Sorry for saying that last night. I love you, Gizmo. Goodnight." Avoided cleaning our mess of a house a million times...and then actually cleaned it about half a million times. Had a million sleepless nights (courtesy of Gizmo, our resident Lord of Poor Sleeping Habits). Weaned Gizmo from nursing. Got on a supplement routine to treat my depression. Went to the beach for a single day (and got gloriously sunburned). Discovered Adele. Celebrated my 5th wedding anniversary with my wonderful husband. Celebrated Gizmo's 2nd birthday. Dealt with jealous envy of every pregnant woman in the world. Found a lost snuggle bear, which was received with a very heartwarming "thank you, mommy. I love you!" And cleaned a million more messes.
(Thank you, FB timeline, for helping me remember all the stuff I've been doing lately!)
I know this post is a bit long and....erm....depressing-ish. And lacking the normal humor of my regular posts. But, maybe.....juuuuust maybe....I will start sharing stories again. Maybe. No promises!
About two weeks after we moved to Charlotte, my genetic predisposition to depression kicked in and started making my life pretty miserable. I was so excited to live in a new place. To be able to establish my identity with my new family (far enough from parents and people who have known me since I was "yea high"). The weather was warm and beautiful. There was (still is) green everywhere...even more than I was used to back in Ohio.
But, I felt like I was having trouble making friends. I missed my family. I missed my grocery stores. I didn't know the roads. I got frustrated with the kids (who weren't handling the move very well). I got frustrated with my husband (who wasn't handling the move very well). And I realized maybe I wasn't handling the move very well.
I am too stubborn though, and I tried to just push through. I gained at least 10 pounds. I wore my throat out almost daily, yelling at the kids. I cried....a lot. I argued with my husband. My depression manifested as anger and irritability. (You know, in addition to poor eating habits, poor sleeping habits, unexplained crying, lack of motivation to do things like exercise/shower/brush teeth). I was in a bad place.
Finally, last month, I put down my foot and let the Hubby know that something needed to be done....before I did serious damage to myself or my family. (Of course, I just wanted the quickest med to fix my problem.) My wonderful husband, however, knew that his hippie of a wife would not want to be on medication, and started looking for an alternative. He quickly found a homeopathic doctor, scheduled an appointment for me, and took the day off work to accompany me to the appointment.
The doctor was great. She was cheerful and asked very thorough questions to be able to understand my depression. She gave me a homeopathic remedy and gave me some supplements to take, in addition to the vitamins I was already taking. Every morning, I take my remedy (lycopodium). With breakfast, I take a women's multi vitamin, EFA oil, Emergen-C, and 100mg of 5-htp. I take more 5-htp with lunch. And with dinner I take a B-complex and another 5-htp. If I am feeling pretty good, I skip my lunch dose.
Surprisingly, I noticed within a week that things were improving. I felt like myself again. I had more patience with my kids. More love for my husband. And a more positive outlook on all of my previous problems! I did notice though, that my routine only turns me into a normal person. It isn't a miracle "happy all the time" thing. And I am still subject to normal emotions (including mood swings, although much less frequently), especially during my normal PMS week. But being a normal person is a significant improvement on being a mopey, miserable, depressed person! I have started watching my calorie intake and exercising frequently (although the scale hasn't given me any encouragement). And I have even pulled out some of my crafts that I used to love working on.
Over the past 5 months (since I last wrote on this blog), I have attended the wedding of one of my younger sisters. Celebrated Bug's 4th birthday. Celebrated Hubby's 27th birthday. Caught a lizard on my porch, and used it to teach Bug and Gizmo about reptiles. Cleaned up about a million messes (mostly courtesy of Gizmo...our resident Lord of Chaos). Gently encouraged Bug that he should let his "ahhhh...soooo cuuuute" spider live outside. Cleaned and bleached after our downstairs toilet flooded the bathroom, laundry room, pantry and half the kitchen. Received a nasty note from an anonymous neighbor about how our property is an "eyesore". Revamped the outside of our house (that we are only renting, by the way). Took Bug and Gizmo to visit family in Ohio for a week, all by myself (worst vacation ever). Talked to Bug about why he cannot put Gizmo in the garbage, just because Gizmo can be mean. Listened to a million hilariously mispronounced words (courtesy of Bug). Gained a nephew (the first on my side of the family....I seriously cannot wait to meet him in a few weeks). Listened to Bug sing a goodnight some to Gizmo: "I love you, Gizmo. I don't want to put you in the garbage. Sorry for saying that last night. I love you, Gizmo. Goodnight." Avoided cleaning our mess of a house a million times...and then actually cleaned it about half a million times. Had a million sleepless nights (courtesy of Gizmo, our resident Lord of Poor Sleeping Habits). Weaned Gizmo from nursing. Got on a supplement routine to treat my depression. Went to the beach for a single day (and got gloriously sunburned). Discovered Adele. Celebrated my 5th wedding anniversary with my wonderful husband. Celebrated Gizmo's 2nd birthday. Dealt with jealous envy of every pregnant woman in the world. Found a lost snuggle bear, which was received with a very heartwarming "thank you, mommy. I love you!" And cleaned a million more messes.
(Thank you, FB timeline, for helping me remember all the stuff I've been doing lately!)
I know this post is a bit long and....erm....depressing-ish. And lacking the normal humor of my regular posts. But, maybe.....juuuuust maybe....I will start sharing stories again. Maybe. No promises!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Bye, Bye Baby Weight!
When I was pregnant with Bug, I gained 40lbs. After he was born, I was able to lose 30lbs of that baby weight.
Then we moved to a new apartment, and I mysteriously gained 20lbs. (Yeah, I know. What the heck?!) But, I lost 10lbs of that...
And then I got pregnant with Gizmo. And I gained 40lbs. And then lost 30lbs.
Are you seeing a trend? Of all the weight I gain, I can never seem to shed the last 10lbs of it. And I am 30lbs heavier than I was when I got married.
But now I'm changing things!
My mom (a twin, and consequently, a highly competitive woman) has blessed me with her competitive nature. And together, we are motivating each other to lose weight. We both need someone we love and trust to motivate us to lose it. We need a punishment for failure. We need a great reward for success.We need healthy competition. So we have formulated a weight loss competition:
We have one year to lose FIFTY pounds -each-. We will have weigh-ins every two weeks (using the same scale and time of day, for accuracy). For every one pound that I lose, she will put $5 in the weight loss pot. But, for every one pound that I gain, I will have to put $5 in the pot. And vice versa. Whoever loses their 50lbs first (or whoever has lost the most when the deadline has passed) wins the money from the pot. But, the loser won't be completely forgotten...they will get the dollar amount x2 of their weight lost (from the pot). And, of course, they will have all that wonderful weight lost (assuming they lose any)!
We discussed the advantages and disadvantages that we each had, wondering and hoping that this would be a fair (enough) competition. We decided that it is. My mom is older, and has lower metabolism, but she also has a bit more weight to lose. And she has better control over her time (meaning, she doesn't have young kids that will prevent her from getting her exercising done). I am younger, so I should have better metabolism. And I'm a nursing mother (which, according to different sources, could be a help....or not?) But I don't have to ability to get out to a gym (or park, or anywhere, for that matter) because we only have one car. And my exercise time if often cut into because of diaper changes, nursing sessions, and other kid necessities.
The only exit clause we have is me getting pregnant before the competition is over...which I don't think is going to happen. (And, we are keeping very good track of our money. It has all been set up in an Excel file and everything! So should we need to end the competition, I'll know exactly how much I should get back!)
My weight loss plan involves: eating a healthy and well-balanced diet, cutting out most refined sugars, exercising at least 30 minutes a day (which usually means doing the "Just Sweat-Intense" mode of Just Dance 2). I have practically eliminated desserts from my life...with the exception of Nutella, honey and fresh fruit. I even passed up chocolate in RS the other week! I eat my meals on a small plate, to help with portion control. Unless I am eating salad....I always give myself a big plate of salad! I am also trying to drink more water, (and I've cut out all other liquids, except for a glass of milk a day).
I am proud to say, that after a full month, I am down 5lbs! That is right on target with healthy weight loss goals (about 1lb/week). And my pants are starting to feel a little loose! Of course, my mom is down 8lbs, so I'm currently in second (er...last) place! But I'll take it!
I keep teasing my hubby that once I lose the 50lbs, I'll end up getting pregnant and I won't be able to really enjoy my sexy, new body! But, for now, I'll just keep up my good work and say, "Bye, bye baby weight!"
Then we moved to a new apartment, and I mysteriously gained 20lbs. (Yeah, I know. What the heck?!) But, I lost 10lbs of that...
And then I got pregnant with Gizmo. And I gained 40lbs. And then lost 30lbs.
Are you seeing a trend? Of all the weight I gain, I can never seem to shed the last 10lbs of it. And I am 30lbs heavier than I was when I got married.
But now I'm changing things!
My mom (a twin, and consequently, a highly competitive woman) has blessed me with her competitive nature. And together, we are motivating each other to lose weight. We both need someone we love and trust to motivate us to lose it. We need a punishment for failure. We need a great reward for success.We need healthy competition. So we have formulated a weight loss competition:
We have one year to lose FIFTY pounds -each-. We will have weigh-ins every two weeks (using the same scale and time of day, for accuracy). For every one pound that I lose, she will put $5 in the weight loss pot. But, for every one pound that I gain, I will have to put $5 in the pot. And vice versa. Whoever loses their 50lbs first (or whoever has lost the most when the deadline has passed) wins the money from the pot. But, the loser won't be completely forgotten...they will get the dollar amount x2 of their weight lost (from the pot). And, of course, they will have all that wonderful weight lost (assuming they lose any)!
We discussed the advantages and disadvantages that we each had, wondering and hoping that this would be a fair (enough) competition. We decided that it is. My mom is older, and has lower metabolism, but she also has a bit more weight to lose. And she has better control over her time (meaning, she doesn't have young kids that will prevent her from getting her exercising done). I am younger, so I should have better metabolism. And I'm a nursing mother (which, according to different sources, could be a help....or not?) But I don't have to ability to get out to a gym (or park, or anywhere, for that matter) because we only have one car. And my exercise time if often cut into because of diaper changes, nursing sessions, and other kid necessities.
The only exit clause we have is me getting pregnant before the competition is over...which I don't think is going to happen. (And, we are keeping very good track of our money. It has all been set up in an Excel file and everything! So should we need to end the competition, I'll know exactly how much I should get back!)
My weight loss plan involves: eating a healthy and well-balanced diet, cutting out most refined sugars, exercising at least 30 minutes a day (which usually means doing the "Just Sweat-Intense" mode of Just Dance 2). I have practically eliminated desserts from my life...with the exception of Nutella, honey and fresh fruit. I even passed up chocolate in RS the other week! I eat my meals on a small plate, to help with portion control. Unless I am eating salad....I always give myself a big plate of salad! I am also trying to drink more water, (and I've cut out all other liquids, except for a glass of milk a day).
I am proud to say, that after a full month, I am down 5lbs! That is right on target with healthy weight loss goals (about 1lb/week). And my pants are starting to feel a little loose! Of course, my mom is down 8lbs, so I'm currently in second (er...last) place! But I'll take it!
I keep teasing my hubby that once I lose the 50lbs, I'll end up getting pregnant and I won't be able to really enjoy my sexy, new body! But, for now, I'll just keep up my good work and say, "Bye, bye baby weight!"
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Stupid Scouts
I vacuumed today. Actually, I pretty much cleaned the whole house. The dishes are done, the toys are all put away, and the floor has been de-crumbed.
And, the reason for it all (apart from the house just really needing attention), I am ashamed to say, is to make my husband feel guilty.
You see, he is at Little Philmont for Boy Scouts today. And I'm jealous. Jealous that he gets to get out of the house today, and I'm stuck at home. Again. With no car. With two attention starved (they believe) boys. And my husband won't be home until this evening. Just like another work day. And it is supposed to be my Saturday. The day where I have a hubby home to help me take care of things...or take me on a date (which we didn't get last night, like I originally wanted). To give me the support I need so I don't feel like my head is slipping under water.
Usually, that help is to clean. Or to watch the kiddos so I can clean. But that hasn't happened for a while. Because the hubby is always too busy. And so I cleaned alone. AND took care of the boys. Just to show that "I don't need no stinkin' husband to help me!" But, really, I do. Because it's miserable here without him.
I know I am supposed to happily support my husband in his church callings (Scout leader). And I did sustain him. But sometimes all the support I can offer is to begrudgingly kiss him goodbye as he goes on another camp-out or another day long activity.
Blast those character building wonder-boys!
And, the reason for it all (apart from the house just really needing attention), I am ashamed to say, is to make my husband feel guilty.
You see, he is at Little Philmont for Boy Scouts today. And I'm jealous. Jealous that he gets to get out of the house today, and I'm stuck at home. Again. With no car. With two attention starved (they believe) boys. And my husband won't be home until this evening. Just like another work day. And it is supposed to be my Saturday. The day where I have a hubby home to help me take care of things...or take me on a date (which we didn't get last night, like I originally wanted). To give me the support I need so I don't feel like my head is slipping under water.
Usually, that help is to clean. Or to watch the kiddos so I can clean. But that hasn't happened for a while. Because the hubby is always too busy. And so I cleaned alone. AND took care of the boys. Just to show that "I don't need no stinkin' husband to help me!" But, really, I do. Because it's miserable here without him.
I know I am supposed to happily support my husband in his church callings (Scout leader). And I did sustain him. But sometimes all the support I can offer is to begrudgingly kiss him goodbye as he goes on another camp-out or another day long activity.
Blast those character building wonder-boys!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Please Research: Cloth Menstrual Pads
You have probably all heard of cloth diapering...but have you heard of cloth pads for menstruation?
I bought some cloth pads from Party in my Pants pads (PIMPs) to use for my postpartum lochia. I have a Diva Cup, but you can't use that right after having a baby.
[Neither Party in my Pants nor Diva Cup are aware that I am mentioning them in this post.]
I took a lot of time studying the different brands of cloth pads, before I decided to buy something. I wanted it to be really easy to use...so it would be more likely that I would enjoy using cloth for myself! Just like with cloth diapers, there are a lot of options for cloth menstrual pads. (Although, there probably aren't quite as many options as with diapers...I tell ya what, diapers overwhelm me!)
-I wanted a pad that was all one piece and that wouldn't bunch up in my crotch. This was probably the biggest thing for me (comfort). I didn't want to have a liner that I had to put in place, or an insert that I had to stuff in a pocket. Some of the most popular cloth pads have these particular annoyances. So, I kept looking for something that was more what I wanted.
-I wanted something that came in a "kit". I wanted to be able to get a wide variety of different pads to try out, for a good price. That's really important, because cloth pads can be expensive...but they are going to last forever. I didn't want to be stuck with a bunch of pads of one kind that I didn't like. With a kit, I may end up with a couple I don't like, but most that are good. (Or, I may just like them all!)
-I wanted something that had postpartum sized pads. This is the reason that I was buying cloth pads, after all! I know a lot of women wear adult incontinence underwear after they give birth. I wasn't planning on doing that, so I wanted a good, strong pad that could handle the flow of lochia immediately after the birth.
-I wanted something with a waterproof layer. Amazingly, not all pads have a waterproof layer. But, I knew I wanted one, because I was planning on using the pads for a really heavy flow. And with a newborn, you don't want to have to rinse out your underwear....'cause you really don't have time for that!
-I wanted something that I would be able to fix on my own, if it needed it. If the seam started ripping, I wanted to be able to sew it back and have it look nice still. Basically, I didn't want anything with a serged edge, because I don't have a serger....and that makes my crotch chafe just thinking about it.
-I wanted something that would attach easily to my underwear and that wouldn't slip around. Adhesives on disposable pads were really poorly thought out, in my opinion. They always seem to adhere to the, ehm, -wrong- places. I knew I wouldn't be getting that with cloth, but I wanted it to have a similar simplicity, without the stupidity!
-I also wanted the company to be really good at marketing, because I'm a sucker for good marketing. Oh yeah, and I wanted a pretty good price.
I just happened to have found all that in the PIMPs pads. All one piece, kits in various sizes (including a postpartum kit), nylon waterproof layer, straight stitched edge, snap in place, great and informative website, pricing comparable to other companies, and adorable, to boot!
And how do I feel about wearing them, you ask?
They are above and beyond disposable pads. When I wear disposable pads, I often feel icky. Wet, dirty, bunched up and noisy (crinkly pad, anyone?). When I wear cloth, I can hardly tell I'm wearing anything to catch the flow! The postpartum cloth pad is the biggest one that you can buy, and I -can- tell I'm wearing something with it. However, it still is more comfortable to me than disposable pads. And the next largest size is nearly undetectable! The cloth soaks up the flow so well, that I have yet to feel wet, dirty, bunched up, noisy or icky! And when a pad is soiled, you toss it in the laundry. You don't have to rinse it or soak it or wash it in a special load.
I wish I had known about cloth pads when I first started menstruating. Of course, I'm typically more of a tampon girl...and that makes me wish that I had known about menstrual cups...but that is another post to come, I guess. As for postpartum sanitation needs, I will now and forever be a cloth pad girl!
I bought some cloth pads from Party in my Pants pads (PIMPs) to use for my postpartum lochia. I have a Diva Cup, but you can't use that right after having a baby.
[Neither Party in my Pants nor Diva Cup are aware that I am mentioning them in this post.]
I took a lot of time studying the different brands of cloth pads, before I decided to buy something. I wanted it to be really easy to use...so it would be more likely that I would enjoy using cloth for myself! Just like with cloth diapers, there are a lot of options for cloth menstrual pads. (Although, there probably aren't quite as many options as with diapers...I tell ya what, diapers overwhelm me!)
-I wanted a pad that was all one piece and that wouldn't bunch up in my crotch. This was probably the biggest thing for me (comfort). I didn't want to have a liner that I had to put in place, or an insert that I had to stuff in a pocket. Some of the most popular cloth pads have these particular annoyances. So, I kept looking for something that was more what I wanted.
-I wanted something that came in a "kit". I wanted to be able to get a wide variety of different pads to try out, for a good price. That's really important, because cloth pads can be expensive...but they are going to last forever. I didn't want to be stuck with a bunch of pads of one kind that I didn't like. With a kit, I may end up with a couple I don't like, but most that are good. (Or, I may just like them all!)
-I wanted something that had postpartum sized pads. This is the reason that I was buying cloth pads, after all! I know a lot of women wear adult incontinence underwear after they give birth. I wasn't planning on doing that, so I wanted a good, strong pad that could handle the flow of lochia immediately after the birth.
-I wanted something with a waterproof layer. Amazingly, not all pads have a waterproof layer. But, I knew I wanted one, because I was planning on using the pads for a really heavy flow. And with a newborn, you don't want to have to rinse out your underwear....'cause you really don't have time for that!
-I wanted something that I would be able to fix on my own, if it needed it. If the seam started ripping, I wanted to be able to sew it back and have it look nice still. Basically, I didn't want anything with a serged edge, because I don't have a serger....and that makes my crotch chafe just thinking about it.
-I wanted something that would attach easily to my underwear and that wouldn't slip around. Adhesives on disposable pads were really poorly thought out, in my opinion. They always seem to adhere to the, ehm, -wrong- places. I knew I wouldn't be getting that with cloth, but I wanted it to have a similar simplicity, without the stupidity!
-I also wanted the company to be really good at marketing, because I'm a sucker for good marketing. Oh yeah, and I wanted a pretty good price.
I just happened to have found all that in the PIMPs pads. All one piece, kits in various sizes (including a postpartum kit), nylon waterproof layer, straight stitched edge, snap in place, great and informative website, pricing comparable to other companies, and adorable, to boot!
And how do I feel about wearing them, you ask?
They are above and beyond disposable pads. When I wear disposable pads, I often feel icky. Wet, dirty, bunched up and noisy (crinkly pad, anyone?). When I wear cloth, I can hardly tell I'm wearing anything to catch the flow! The postpartum cloth pad is the biggest one that you can buy, and I -can- tell I'm wearing something with it. However, it still is more comfortable to me than disposable pads. And the next largest size is nearly undetectable! The cloth soaks up the flow so well, that I have yet to feel wet, dirty, bunched up, noisy or icky! And when a pad is soiled, you toss it in the laundry. You don't have to rinse it or soak it or wash it in a special load.
I wish I had known about cloth pads when I first started menstruating. Of course, I'm typically more of a tampon girl...and that makes me wish that I had known about menstrual cups...but that is another post to come, I guess. As for postpartum sanitation needs, I will now and forever be a cloth pad girl!
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Mastitis on a Holiday Weekend
Friday evening, I was at my parents' house. Around 8-9pm, I started getting the chills. My left breast was feeling engorged and tender. I told my mom, "I think I'm coming down with mastitis."
Friday night, I was feverish.
Saturday, the fever kept getting worse. I was hot/cold/hot/cold. Achy. Sore. Headache. Tired. Feverish. Miserable. The soles of my feet hurt! My left breast had a red spot over the most tender part. I got a blessing from the hubs and my dad. At 4pm, my fever was over 102 degrees F. (That's pretty high for me, considering my normal body temperature is normally much lower than average...usually around 96-97.) I took some ibuprofen, which was the only medication in our whole apartment that would do a single thing for me. A couple hours later, my fever broke in a massive, bed-drenching sweat. I felt better...a little.
Saturday night, the fever came and went.
Sunday morning, I still had a little fever. I took more ibuprofen. The red spot on my left breast had spread to cover almost half of the breast. I had a feeling I needed to see a doctor to get antibiotics. But, I don't have a regular doctor. And it was a Sunday. And the next day was Labor Day.
Sunday late morning, the hubs and I dropped Bug off at my parents' house, went to the local Urgent Care. The doc took note of my situation, and gave me a prescription for antibiotics. We then went and got the script filled at the Kroger pharmacy.
I am feeling -much- better, physically and mentally, about the mastitis. I think it was caused by the cracked nipples I had during Gizmo's first week. He had a rough time figuring out how to latch on properly. He's getting better at it now. It has been such a long time since I've needed to go to a doctor for an illness! And it's been a really, really long time since I've needed medication!
Oh, I can't believe I'm on antibiotics! All I can think about is that I'm going to get thrush next. I've cut out sugar...as much as possible (which is a HUGE thing for me)...and I'm planning on going to get some probiotics (the ones I -had- in my fridge are expired, so I don't trust them to keep the yeasties at bay) today. That is, if my stinkin' toddler will take a nap. I refuse to go out of the house with him being cranky. Especially since it will be my first solo outing with two kids!
This mom-of-two thing is hard.
Friday night, I was feverish.
Saturday, the fever kept getting worse. I was hot/cold/hot/cold. Achy. Sore. Headache. Tired. Feverish. Miserable. The soles of my feet hurt! My left breast had a red spot over the most tender part. I got a blessing from the hubs and my dad. At 4pm, my fever was over 102 degrees F. (That's pretty high for me, considering my normal body temperature is normally much lower than average...usually around 96-97.) I took some ibuprofen, which was the only medication in our whole apartment that would do a single thing for me. A couple hours later, my fever broke in a massive, bed-drenching sweat. I felt better...a little.
Saturday night, the fever came and went.
Sunday morning, I still had a little fever. I took more ibuprofen. The red spot on my left breast had spread to cover almost half of the breast. I had a feeling I needed to see a doctor to get antibiotics. But, I don't have a regular doctor. And it was a Sunday. And the next day was Labor Day.
Sunday late morning, the hubs and I dropped Bug off at my parents' house, went to the local Urgent Care. The doc took note of my situation, and gave me a prescription for antibiotics. We then went and got the script filled at the Kroger pharmacy.
I am feeling -much- better, physically and mentally, about the mastitis. I think it was caused by the cracked nipples I had during Gizmo's first week. He had a rough time figuring out how to latch on properly. He's getting better at it now. It has been such a long time since I've needed to go to a doctor for an illness! And it's been a really, really long time since I've needed medication!
Oh, I can't believe I'm on antibiotics! All I can think about is that I'm going to get thrush next. I've cut out sugar...as much as possible (which is a HUGE thing for me)...and I'm planning on going to get some probiotics (the ones I -had- in my fridge are expired, so I don't trust them to keep the yeasties at bay) today. That is, if my stinkin' toddler will take a nap. I refuse to go out of the house with him being cranky. Especially since it will be my first solo outing with two kids!
This mom-of-two thing is hard.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
The Pregnant Woman, Her Tender Parts...and The Bathroom
"And remember, this is for posterity. So, please be honest."
This post has been classified TMI. Continue reading at your own risk.
When you get pregnant, there are a lot of things people just happen to "forget" to tell you. Of course, a lot of people don't want to ruin the euphoria of pregnancy, so they just smile and nod at you...knowing that you'll figure it out eventually. This is especially true for the relationship with a pregnant woman, her tender parts and her bathroom. Sure, every book about pregnancy mentions the increased need to pee, but that's only the beginning.
When I was pregnant with Bug, I didn't really have an increased need to pee. I had good, strong pelvic floor muscles, and a confidant bladder. When I was pregnant with Bug, I didn't have too many issues with anything dealing with the bathroom. Whether from the luck of craving bran flakes for breakfast every morning, or the joys of a first pregnancy, I may never know.
I have not had such blessings with this pregnancy. I seem to have acquired a bladder the size of a pin head. And I have acquired hemorrhoids the size of Alaska. Those vulgar varicosities haven't even had the decency to stay where they "belong". My whole nether region is swollen and tender. It was tolerable until about week 30...when I sat in a car for 16 hours to Texas and 16 hours back. Not recommended. Since then, the baby keeps growing and pressing, my blood volume keeps increasing, and my veins keep begging for mercy. Sleeping with an ice pack in my crotch has never been such a welcoming idea!
With all the horrors that are going on within and around my digestive system (i.e., heartburn, alternating constipation/diarrhea, urinary incontinence, varicose veins) I've learned a few important items to keep well stocked during pregnancy.
Antacids. I chew Tums like candy. I have a feeling they aren't the most effective way to eliminate heartburn, but I'm a cheap-o...and I have a HUGE bottle of the little buggers. So, they'll have to do.
Toilet paper. Lots of it. More than you think. A nice, soft, thick, -very- absorbent kind. Let's face it, you're going to be dabbing at your lady bits a lot throughout your pregnancy. It helps to have a toilet paper that you like. Increased usage, paired with things getting messy, you'll thank yourself for getting the good stuff. And getting lots of it! Also, make sure you always have a couple rolls stashed in the bathroom. There is nothing fun about stumbling into the bathroom at 4am and tinkling just enough to necessitate even a meager two squares, to find an empty roll....because you used the last two squares at 3am. (Not to mention, you are relieved you even made it to the bathroom on time. After laying in bed for six minutes, deciding that "yes" you do have to go. Then figuring out a way to get out of bed...I'm not sure how I ever manage it. Then taking three minutes to go three steps, because you have to test out if your hips will even hold your weight. Yes, you are relieved that you made it to the toilet, but you are -seriously- considering just sleeping in adult diapers and letting go without having to even roll over!)
Relaxation techniques. Constipation is horrible. It's even worse when you feel like every poop is turning your whole body inside out through your bum! And a big baby head is pushing on your rectum. Just learn to take a deep breath, keep your mouth and lips loose and blow out (like a horse). Keep your feet flat on the floor. I like to think of this as training for the birth. (Birth itself, to me, felt like the biggest BM I've ever had!)
Baby wipes. For you. When you have hemorrhoids, you will realize how important this is! Even the softest toilet paper feels like sandpaper when your insides are coming out. Plus, a little moisturized wipe does cleaning wonders when you are dealing with pregnant-woman-sweaty-crotch in the dead heat of summer.
Panty liners. Or just lots of panties. This is one recommendation that I haven't followed on my own, but I wish that I did (I wish I had 70 gazillion pairs of underwear so I -could- follow this advice). Changing a liner or your underwear will make you feel much better. Excess mucous excretions and sweaty crotch are -not- pleasant. It feels nice to freshen up a bit. Baby wipes are good, but you can't beat fresh, clean underwear!
So, there you have it. The down and dirty on pregnancy bathroom needs. And just so you know, it is definitely ok to pee in the shower.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
My Mother Blessing
Last Saturday, I had a Mother Blessing "Ceremony". If you are wondering what the heck that is, I am here to tell you!
I planned on having a special introduction ceremony right at the beginning, but my guests all straggled in at different times. So, I waited until about half an hour after my ceremony started to do the introductions. In the meantime, I asked my guests to cozy up to the yogurt bar (instead of traditional party snacks, I provided yogurt, granola and assorted fruit...yummy!) and also to write me a poem or "blessing" to give me confidence in my ability to birth my baby. I told them I planned on reading their contributions when I was in early labor. I probably should have warned my guests that I would be asking them to write poetry! In the end, however, I received some of the most beautiful words of love and inspiration I could ever ask for! Most wrote letters. Some wrote scriptures. Some poems. All wrote words that have -already- inspired me. And I look forward to reading those messages again when I am preparing to meet my new little one!
Once I was sure that all the people that were coming were actually there (I didn't ask for an RSVP, but eventually about 50% of my invited guests showed up), we did the formal introductions. For the intros, I had a mortar and pestle with dried corn in it. As we each introduced ourselves, we were to grind the corn and give our names, as well as a mini-genealogy ("I am ___, granddaughter of ___ and ___, daughter of ___, mother of ___..."). Grinding the corn is a way to remember that women used to gather together to socialize while they were doing their daily chores. Let me tell you....grinding corn is -not- easy. ESPECIALLY when you are trying to remember what your grandmothers' names are!!! You know, it's hard even when trying to remember what your -own- name is!
Then we had a wrist binding ceremony. (I think that was next...after some more yogurt, and cleaning up spilled juice!) For the wrist binding ceremony, everyone sits in a circle and we pass around one skein of yarn. Each person wraps the yarn around their wrist before passing it to the next person. Then the yarn is cut and everyone ties their piece around their wrist. This is symbolic of how are are all connected in a sisterhood of women/mothers, even though we are separate individuals. The guests were then asked to wear their yarn bracelet on their wrist until they hear that my baby was born, after which they can then cut the bracelet off. This part is symbolic of the umbilical cord being cut. It is really nice to think of all these women who are "connected" to me, through their bracelets, giving me support through labor/birth, and then all together cutting the cord that connected woman to child for 9 months.
Continuing with the theme of a sisterhood of women, I described how there are lots of cultures that have rituals/activities/ceremonies that show support to pregnant women. The Mother Blessing, of course, comes from the Navajo tradition. But, belly dancing and hula dancing are also traditional ways that older women show younger women how to birth well. And, being a very religious woman, I then chose to read the first five verses of Titus, chapter 2. I told my guests that being examples is part of God's plan for us. Titus 2 tells us how we can be examples to others (especially those younger than us). The scripture specifically calls to the "aged women" to teach the younger women how to be good wives and mothers. It is really a wonderful scripture, and I feel blessed thinking about all the women who have been examples to me!
About this time in my Ceremony, most of my guest were needing to leave (not because they had been hanging out at my house for hours, but because all but two or three of my guests had other obligations that popped up last minute. So much for sending out invites nearly 4 weeks before the party!) So, we quickly moved to the table, where I had put all the clay and tools, and we were able to make beads. There were so many beautiful beads made!!! We all spent the rest of the time working with clay, talking, finishing poems and eating goodies. And my guests all drifted away to their other responsibilities.
The one ceremony that I had to cut out (because we ended the party nearly an hour earlier than planned) was the hair brushing/braiding ceremony. The grandmother (my mom) is supposed to brush the mother's hair and braid it, in a beautiful and loving ceremony reminding all of the days gone by when the mother was a girl. My mom used to braid my hair A LOT when I was younger, and so I was pretty excited for this part...and a little bummed that it didn't happen during the Ceremony. But, my mom was the last person to go (actually, we left together to go to her house, where I would meet back up with the Hubby and Bug). So, I had her braid my hair before we left. It was very sweet, even though there were no more guests left to witness the ceremony, I felt nostalgic and loved as my mother pulled my hair back into pigtail french braids, just like she has done many times before!
All in all, it was a very enjoyable day. It wasn't quite what I was expecting. But it was nice to be surrounded by women who care about me! I look forward to having a Mother Blessing Ceremony with future pregnancies. And I would definitely encourage other women to do the same!
One of the most popular activities of the Mother Blessing is the bead ceremony. Usually, guests are asked to bring a bead and a "blessing" for the mother. Sometime during the Ceremony, a string is passed around and the guests each string their bead. The mother then has a bracelet or necklace to wear or hold during labor, that is supposed to remind her of the women who love and support her. I decided that instead of having all my guests bring a bead, I would provide clay and have my guests each -make- a bead. That was the main activity I wanted to do...then I had to figure out what else I wanted to do. There are a lot of different things that can be done at a Mother Blessing Ceremony. I had a huge list at first, and I had to only pick a few things. If we were to do every good idea, it would take all day! I got a lot more ideas for what I wanted to do at my ceremony from this site.The Blessingway is a traditional ceremony or celebration from the Navajo culture. The purpose of a Blessingway is to show support, and give blessings, to someone who is about to go through a major life change (e.g., a man going to war, or a woman about to have a baby). The traditional Blessingway includes a song performed by a trained Navajo medicine man. It is an extremely spiritual experience. Out of respect to the Navajo culture, those who wish to have a Blessingway-type ceremony before the birth of a child, but will not be including the traditional song, often refer to the celebration as a Mother Blessing. However, this event is still meant to be a highly spiritual celebration, full of only positive emotion and complete harmony. The purpose is to give the mother the emotional strength and confidence that she needs, in order to have a happy and healthy birth experience. It is also meant to bless the home where the birth will take place, and fill it with happiness and joy.Most of the rituals performed at the Mother Blessing are meant to pamper and honor the mother. Hair brushing, feet washing, the burning of sacred herbs, and singing are traditional Blessingway activities. Often, more modern Mother Blessings include artsy activities, or earthy rituals that are meant to remind the mother and guests of the ancient and spiritual nature of mothering. [The description I provided on my invitations.]
I planned on having a special introduction ceremony right at the beginning, but my guests all straggled in at different times. So, I waited until about half an hour after my ceremony started to do the introductions. In the meantime, I asked my guests to cozy up to the yogurt bar (instead of traditional party snacks, I provided yogurt, granola and assorted fruit...yummy!) and also to write me a poem or "blessing" to give me confidence in my ability to birth my baby. I told them I planned on reading their contributions when I was in early labor. I probably should have warned my guests that I would be asking them to write poetry! In the end, however, I received some of the most beautiful words of love and inspiration I could ever ask for! Most wrote letters. Some wrote scriptures. Some poems. All wrote words that have -already- inspired me. And I look forward to reading those messages again when I am preparing to meet my new little one!
Once I was sure that all the people that were coming were actually there (I didn't ask for an RSVP, but eventually about 50% of my invited guests showed up), we did the formal introductions. For the intros, I had a mortar and pestle with dried corn in it. As we each introduced ourselves, we were to grind the corn and give our names, as well as a mini-genealogy ("I am ___, granddaughter of ___ and ___, daughter of ___, mother of ___..."). Grinding the corn is a way to remember that women used to gather together to socialize while they were doing their daily chores. Let me tell you....grinding corn is -not- easy. ESPECIALLY when you are trying to remember what your grandmothers' names are!!! You know, it's hard even when trying to remember what your -own- name is!
Then we had a wrist binding ceremony. (I think that was next...after some more yogurt, and cleaning up spilled juice!) For the wrist binding ceremony, everyone sits in a circle and we pass around one skein of yarn. Each person wraps the yarn around their wrist before passing it to the next person. Then the yarn is cut and everyone ties their piece around their wrist. This is symbolic of how are are all connected in a sisterhood of women/mothers, even though we are separate individuals. The guests were then asked to wear their yarn bracelet on their wrist until they hear that my baby was born, after which they can then cut the bracelet off. This part is symbolic of the umbilical cord being cut. It is really nice to think of all these women who are "connected" to me, through their bracelets, giving me support through labor/birth, and then all together cutting the cord that connected woman to child for 9 months.
Continuing with the theme of a sisterhood of women, I described how there are lots of cultures that have rituals/activities/ceremonies that show support to pregnant women. The Mother Blessing, of course, comes from the Navajo tradition. But, belly dancing and hula dancing are also traditional ways that older women show younger women how to birth well. And, being a very religious woman, I then chose to read the first five verses of Titus, chapter 2. I told my guests that being examples is part of God's plan for us. Titus 2 tells us how we can be examples to others (especially those younger than us). The scripture specifically calls to the "aged women" to teach the younger women how to be good wives and mothers. It is really a wonderful scripture, and I feel blessed thinking about all the women who have been examples to me!
About this time in my Ceremony, most of my guest were needing to leave (not because they had been hanging out at my house for hours, but because all but two or three of my guests had other obligations that popped up last minute. So much for sending out invites nearly 4 weeks before the party!) So, we quickly moved to the table, where I had put all the clay and tools, and we were able to make beads. There were so many beautiful beads made!!! We all spent the rest of the time working with clay, talking, finishing poems and eating goodies. And my guests all drifted away to their other responsibilities.
The one ceremony that I had to cut out (because we ended the party nearly an hour earlier than planned) was the hair brushing/braiding ceremony. The grandmother (my mom) is supposed to brush the mother's hair and braid it, in a beautiful and loving ceremony reminding all of the days gone by when the mother was a girl. My mom used to braid my hair A LOT when I was younger, and so I was pretty excited for this part...and a little bummed that it didn't happen during the Ceremony. But, my mom was the last person to go (actually, we left together to go to her house, where I would meet back up with the Hubby and Bug). So, I had her braid my hair before we left. It was very sweet, even though there were no more guests left to witness the ceremony, I felt nostalgic and loved as my mother pulled my hair back into pigtail french braids, just like she has done many times before!
All in all, it was a very enjoyable day. It wasn't quite what I was expecting. But it was nice to be surrounded by women who care about me! I look forward to having a Mother Blessing Ceremony with future pregnancies. And I would definitely encourage other women to do the same!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Blush Reflex
Apparently, being pregnant enhances my blush reflex 100 fold! Practically all it takes is someone looking at me to get me to go red in the face!
If you add even a hint of embarrassment in a conversation directed at me (even at levels that I would normally be able to handle with ease), I flush so much that I have to fan myself or hold a cold...something, anything...to my face, just so I won't burst out in flames!
And that embarrasses me even more, to where I really need to escape. Which isn't always practical. It really is just a vicious cycle of blushing and fanning. And nervous laughter.
I'm not sure why I have been so...sensitive...with this pregnancy. I don't remember experiencing this blush reflex thing when I was pregnant with Bug.
Just last night, I was talking with my husband while laying in bed, and all the sudden I got a huge heat wave. I wasn't embarrassed about anything. It was like a hot flash. I felt all flushed and I had to push the bed sheets off of me. And it was just my husband talking to me!
So, now you know. If you ever find yourself talking to me, and I start to blush, know that I'm not necessarily embarrassed. It's just that you are talking to me. Or paying attention to me. Or expecting me to say something. Or looking at me at just the right moment of a hot flash! And that happens to make me blush right now.
If you add even a hint of embarrassment in a conversation directed at me (even at levels that I would normally be able to handle with ease), I flush so much that I have to fan myself or hold a cold...something, anything...to my face, just so I won't burst out in flames!
And that embarrasses me even more, to where I really need to escape. Which isn't always practical. It really is just a vicious cycle of blushing and fanning. And nervous laughter.
I'm not sure why I have been so...sensitive...with this pregnancy. I don't remember experiencing this blush reflex thing when I was pregnant with Bug.
Just last night, I was talking with my husband while laying in bed, and all the sudden I got a huge heat wave. I wasn't embarrassed about anything. It was like a hot flash. I felt all flushed and I had to push the bed sheets off of me. And it was just my husband talking to me!
So, now you know. If you ever find yourself talking to me, and I start to blush, know that I'm not necessarily embarrassed. It's just that you are talking to me. Or paying attention to me. Or expecting me to say something. Or looking at me at just the right moment of a hot flash! And that happens to make me blush right now.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Motherhood: An Eternal Partnership with God
A couple of my friend's have posted this video on their blog/facebook page. And, as I watched it with tears streaming down my cheeks, I realized that this is probably one of the best videos I could ever share on -my- blog. We mothers have so many things to "lament", but we also have so many things to be grateful for. We are blessed beyond what we could ever imagine. We are truly in an eternal partnership with God!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
More Hormonal Art...And a Contest!
I am an art dilettante. It all started when I was 14, and I found my dad's old acrylics in our garage. And when I say I found his "old" acrylics...I mean it. These were his acrylics from high school. Aside from smelling a little funky, they worked great. I painted on poster board at first. And I used cheap brushes that found their way into my family's "junk drawer". Other than in the 7th grade, I have never taken an art class. So, I taught myself and I soon developed my own personal style. Bold colors. Blunt lines. Well-formed shapes. I painted. And I loved it.
Eventually, I bought my first canvas. And my very own paintbrushes. And even some new paints. Over the years, I haven't really altered my style much. I tend to stay within my comfort zone. I am scared of layering the paint. I hate watercolor. I dabbled in oils, but found that I am too impatient with them (too long to dry, too hard to clean up). Most of the time, I go into a painting knowing exactly what I want it to look like in the end. I guess that's how most artists do things, but I measure and use crayons on a piece of paper to get the full idea. And once I make a decision...I don't change it. Of course, that means I have several paintings on canvas that I really don't like. But...because I hate layering paint...I don't know if I will ever make them into something beautiful.
Of all the art that I have done since that day when I painted my first piece, the works that I love the best are the ones I have done since I got married. Or, more specifically, since I got pregnant for the first time. It was like I was overcome by my hormones in a way that created the most beautiful and inspiring art I have ever seen. Not to be vain or anything. I LOVE my art, but I do criticize it a lot, too! (If you are interested in birth art, and why it is so cool, check out the book and/or website Birthing From Within. It is one of my favorite birth topic books...because it is a very artsy book!)
With my current pregnancy, I have been designing art that is a bit outside of my normal style. In fact, it resembles watercolor...which is strange...because I hate watercolor! I don't mind the look of it, I just hate working with watercolor paints. Luckily, acrylic is a water based paint, and I can thin it out and get a nice watercolor look without the pain of using actual watercolor paints!
Because I've been having a pretty rough time this pregnancy in actually -finishing- all the stuff that I start, I currently have a 3 part series of paintings called "Fulfilling Womanhood" that still aren't finished. It includes a piece representing conception, a piece for birth, and a piece for breastfeeding. When they are done, I am sure they will be beautiful. And I am sure that they will create stirrings of passion deep in my heart. My "hormonal art" has such meaning. And that is why it is beautiful.
I have been able to successfully complete at least one painting during this pregnancy, though. I needed a good piece of art to use on my Mother Blessing invitations. I couldn't find one that really stood out to me in my online searches, which is surprising, because there are tons of great pieces out there on the Internet! But, I knew I needed to paint one myself. I knew it needed to be flow-y. No boldness or bluntness. It needed to be earthy. It needed to represent motherhood. Pregnancy. True feminine beauty. And it needed to call forward feelings of life, joy and celebration. (And it needed to be completed in time for me to send out my invites in early July!!!)
After a few quick sketches, I finally found what I wanted. I pulled a blank canvas out of my reserves, watered down some acrylics, and started painting. I didn't measure. I didn't pencil in on the canvas. I didn't color it out. I just painted.
And a beautiful piece was born. A perfect piece. Every one of those thousand words that a picture can speak, spoke the words I wanted them to speak.
I am only an art dilettante. I know there are far better artists that I am. And I know there are far better pieces of art than mine. But I will always have a special place in my heart for my very own art!
Eventually, I bought my first canvas. And my very own paintbrushes. And even some new paints. Over the years, I haven't really altered my style much. I tend to stay within my comfort zone. I am scared of layering the paint. I hate watercolor. I dabbled in oils, but found that I am too impatient with them (too long to dry, too hard to clean up). Most of the time, I go into a painting knowing exactly what I want it to look like in the end. I guess that's how most artists do things, but I measure and use crayons on a piece of paper to get the full idea. And once I make a decision...I don't change it. Of course, that means I have several paintings on canvas that I really don't like. But...because I hate layering paint...I don't know if I will ever make them into something beautiful.
Of all the art that I have done since that day when I painted my first piece, the works that I love the best are the ones I have done since I got married. Or, more specifically, since I got pregnant for the first time. It was like I was overcome by my hormones in a way that created the most beautiful and inspiring art I have ever seen. Not to be vain or anything. I LOVE my art, but I do criticize it a lot, too! (If you are interested in birth art, and why it is so cool, check out the book and/or website Birthing From Within. It is one of my favorite birth topic books...because it is a very artsy book!)
With my current pregnancy, I have been designing art that is a bit outside of my normal style. In fact, it resembles watercolor...which is strange...because I hate watercolor! I don't mind the look of it, I just hate working with watercolor paints. Luckily, acrylic is a water based paint, and I can thin it out and get a nice watercolor look without the pain of using actual watercolor paints!
Because I've been having a pretty rough time this pregnancy in actually -finishing- all the stuff that I start, I currently have a 3 part series of paintings called "Fulfilling Womanhood" that still aren't finished. It includes a piece representing conception, a piece for birth, and a piece for breastfeeding. When they are done, I am sure they will be beautiful. And I am sure that they will create stirrings of passion deep in my heart. My "hormonal art" has such meaning. And that is why it is beautiful.
I have been able to successfully complete at least one painting during this pregnancy, though. I needed a good piece of art to use on my Mother Blessing invitations. I couldn't find one that really stood out to me in my online searches, which is surprising, because there are tons of great pieces out there on the Internet! But, I knew I needed to paint one myself. I knew it needed to be flow-y. No boldness or bluntness. It needed to be earthy. It needed to represent motherhood. Pregnancy. True feminine beauty. And it needed to call forward feelings of life, joy and celebration. (And it needed to be completed in time for me to send out my invites in early July!!!)
After a few quick sketches, I finally found what I wanted. I pulled a blank canvas out of my reserves, watered down some acrylics, and started painting. I didn't measure. I didn't pencil in on the canvas. I didn't color it out. I just painted.
And a beautiful piece was born. A perfect piece. Every one of those thousand words that a picture can speak, spoke the words I wanted them to speak.
I am only an art dilettante. I know there are far better artists that I am. And I know there are far better pieces of art than mine. But I will always have a special place in my heart for my very own art!
And now: THE CONTEST! -Give This Piece of Art a Name-! I don't have a name for this piece, yet. The only thing I am coming up with is "Full of Life"...but I'm just not sure if that is the right name for it. I am asking for ideas. I'm sorry to say that the winner of this contest will only win their title on my painting. But, I am begging for some great ideas, so fire away!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
To Texas. And home again.
Well, we are back from our trip to Dallas (as of Saturday night) and I am starting to get back into the swing of things. Meaning, our dishes need to be done, the carpet needs a good vacuuming, and I'm sitting in front of the computer while Bug eats mushy Cheerios.
Let me just share with you a little of how our week went in that great state of Texas.
First, we had the drive down there. It was 16 hours long. 16 hours. We left at 4am, EST, to get down there at a reasonable hour. Bug was AMAZING. I can't believe he handled the drive so well. We stopped every two to three hours to walk around, eat, and take potty breaks. Bug entertained himself in the car by throwing Goldfish at mommy and daddy in the front seats. Luckily, daddy decided it was more funny than something to get upset about, and calmed the mommy before she could threaten to turn the car around!
Bug also entertained himself by putting his blanket over his head. He would then call out "MOMMY! DADDY! MOMMY! DADDY!" until we replied, "Where is Bug? Where on earth could Bug be? I don't know where Bug is?"...you get the point. Then, Bug would uncover his head and yell, "Ah-da!" which is his form of "Ta-da!" And mommy and daddy would both have to say, "THERE he is!" And then the game would start over again. And again.
16 hours.
While the Hubs went to his training (remember, this was a business trip for him that I tagged along on, and not a family vacation) I tried to not go insane. Luckily, I have a cousin that lived only 40 minutes away from our hotel. So, I hung out with her and her family a lot. She has two young boys close in age to Bug, and she is expecting her third....it was nice to know I wasn't the only pregnant woman suffering in the heat of Texas!
My cousin took us to her local pool, that has a GREAT kid area. I had to fight Bug to get him covered in sunscreen, and then to even get him in the water at first. But, once he found out that it was actually fun, I could hardly get him to slow down enough to pull up his swim trunks. And boy oh boy, did I have to keep an eye on those swim trunks. I have a scrawny little kid, and pretty much the only thing keeping the trunks on his little booty was the liner! I really should have just let him run around in the swim diaper. And when it was time to go, Bug wished it wasn't. And frankly, I wished it wasn't either, just so I wouldn't have to fight with him. I secretly wished we could have stayed there, cool in the water, until Bug passed out from exhaustion. That would have been nice.
We also went to a petting farm. It wasn't all that spectacular, but it was free. And they had a turkey that was a big hit with the kids, for some unknown reason. And a cute little bunny, that Bug insisted needed a handful of bedding on its back. Poor little bunny.
It was so hot that day at the petting farm. You know, not being in water. I was sweating so badly, and I got a prickly heat rash under my ample pregnant-woman bosoms. Lovely. And then my husband told me that he would love to live in Texas...and I couldn't convey to him just how uncomfortable I was.
But, the trip wasn't total misery, exactly. Because I got to go swimming again. And again. And again. I don't think my swimming suit every properly dried out the whole time I was down there. Most of the time (like at the hotel pool, that didn't have a "kid" area) Bug sat next to the pool and put his feet in the water. Then he commanded me to swim to the other side, or to go "unner" the water. And one time...just once...the baby within pushed just right on my bladder, and I realized I had about .02 seconds before I couldn't contain it...and...well....we don't necessarily have to finish that story. But come on! Pregnant woman in pool + toddler that doesn't want to leave pool + not enough time to get to the proper facilities even without a toddler that would scream and resist the whole way = I guess you're welcome to come swim in my toilet.
Near the end of the week, we got to go out to dinner with the Hubs' new boss (by the way, the Hubby got a promotion, and it goes public today, so I'm gushing on the blog about it) and some other work friends. We went to Pappadeaux Seafood Restaurant. Bug ate some alligator and loved it so much, he threw a fit when it was gone. Too bad it was the appetizer for the whole table. And I ate crawfish etouffee (my first time eating crawfish and etouffee, which I've wanted to try since the first time I saw the movie The Princess and the Frog). By the way, it is 10 times more embarrassing to have your kid throw a fit when you are in the company of your husband's employers and they are the ones paying for the meal.
All in all, it was a pretty good week. Although, I did have to eat pizza four different times. (I remembered to bring Tums, so I guess it wasn't so bad!) And the trip back home went much the same as the trip down. "Where on earth could Bug be?"
16 hours.
Let me just share with you a little of how our week went in that great state of Texas.
First, we had the drive down there. It was 16 hours long. 16 hours. We left at 4am, EST, to get down there at a reasonable hour. Bug was AMAZING. I can't believe he handled the drive so well. We stopped every two to three hours to walk around, eat, and take potty breaks. Bug entertained himself in the car by throwing Goldfish at mommy and daddy in the front seats. Luckily, daddy decided it was more funny than something to get upset about, and calmed the mommy before she could threaten to turn the car around!
Bug also entertained himself by putting his blanket over his head. He would then call out "MOMMY! DADDY! MOMMY! DADDY!" until we replied, "Where is Bug? Where on earth could Bug be? I don't know where Bug is?"...you get the point. Then, Bug would uncover his head and yell, "Ah-da!" which is his form of "Ta-da!" And mommy and daddy would both have to say, "THERE he is!" And then the game would start over again. And again.
16 hours.
While the Hubs went to his training (remember, this was a business trip for him that I tagged along on, and not a family vacation) I tried to not go insane. Luckily, I have a cousin that lived only 40 minutes away from our hotel. So, I hung out with her and her family a lot. She has two young boys close in age to Bug, and she is expecting her third....it was nice to know I wasn't the only pregnant woman suffering in the heat of Texas!
My cousin took us to her local pool, that has a GREAT kid area. I had to fight Bug to get him covered in sunscreen, and then to even get him in the water at first. But, once he found out that it was actually fun, I could hardly get him to slow down enough to pull up his swim trunks. And boy oh boy, did I have to keep an eye on those swim trunks. I have a scrawny little kid, and pretty much the only thing keeping the trunks on his little booty was the liner! I really should have just let him run around in the swim diaper. And when it was time to go, Bug wished it wasn't. And frankly, I wished it wasn't either, just so I wouldn't have to fight with him. I secretly wished we could have stayed there, cool in the water, until Bug passed out from exhaustion. That would have been nice.
We also went to a petting farm. It wasn't all that spectacular, but it was free. And they had a turkey that was a big hit with the kids, for some unknown reason. And a cute little bunny, that Bug insisted needed a handful of bedding on its back. Poor little bunny.
It was so hot that day at the petting farm. You know, not being in water. I was sweating so badly, and I got a prickly heat rash under my ample pregnant-woman bosoms. Lovely. And then my husband told me that he would love to live in Texas...and I couldn't convey to him just how uncomfortable I was.
But, the trip wasn't total misery, exactly. Because I got to go swimming again. And again. And again. I don't think my swimming suit every properly dried out the whole time I was down there. Most of the time (like at the hotel pool, that didn't have a "kid" area) Bug sat next to the pool and put his feet in the water. Then he commanded me to swim to the other side, or to go "unner" the water. And one time...just once...the baby within pushed just right on my bladder, and I realized I had about .02 seconds before I couldn't contain it...and...well....we don't necessarily have to finish that story. But come on! Pregnant woman in pool + toddler that doesn't want to leave pool + not enough time to get to the proper facilities even without a toddler that would scream and resist the whole way = I guess you're welcome to come swim in my toilet.
Near the end of the week, we got to go out to dinner with the Hubs' new boss (by the way, the Hubby got a promotion, and it goes public today, so I'm gushing on the blog about it) and some other work friends. We went to Pappadeaux Seafood Restaurant. Bug ate some alligator and loved it so much, he threw a fit when it was gone. Too bad it was the appetizer for the whole table. And I ate crawfish etouffee (my first time eating crawfish and etouffee, which I've wanted to try since the first time I saw the movie The Princess and the Frog). By the way, it is 10 times more embarrassing to have your kid throw a fit when you are in the company of your husband's employers and they are the ones paying for the meal.
All in all, it was a pretty good week. Although, I did have to eat pizza four different times. (I remembered to bring Tums, so I guess it wasn't so bad!) And the trip back home went much the same as the trip down. "Where on earth could Bug be?"
16 hours.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Stereotyping Myself
Recently, my hubby casually mentioned that it seems I have a need to stereotype myself. He wasn't trying to be mean, it was just an observation. It definitely made me stop and think. It's true, I do stereotype myself. And I kind of like it. But, why?
I took some time to really mull over in my brain why I am always categorizing myself into certain groups. I think I figured out why.
"It is a sociological fact that women need women. We need deep and satisfying and loyal friendships with each other." -Marjorie Hinckley
"...women have the same basic needs—no matter in what era they live. We have the same needs of food, clothing, warmth, protection. We have the same emotional and psychological needs of wanting to love and be loved, to give understanding, to be accepted, to find self-fulfillment, to express ourselves." -Barbara B. Smith
“As women we are becoming so concerned about having perfect figures, or straight A’s, or professional status, or even absolute motherly success that we are being torn from our true selves. We often worry so much about pleasing and performing for others that we lose our own uniqueness, that full and relaxed acceptance of ourselves as a person of worth and individuality.” -Patricia Holland
[italics are mine]
My stereotyping includes calling myself "crunchy" or "a modern day hippie, minus the drugs and free love". I find myself trying to connect and identify with other women who: breastfeed longer than a year, don't remove body hair frequently, share sleep with their kids, don't vaccinate their kids, don't use shampoo, don't circumcise their sons, use reusable/cloth menstrual products, have homebirths, have unassisted homebirths, rarely wear makeup, wear their babies in soft carriers, wash their face with honey, prefer alternative medicine, don't watch TV, don't paint their nails, want to have large families (quiverfull), don't use products in their hair, are skeptical of the excuses for high c-section rates and low breastfeeding rates, prefer wearing long skirts/modest clothing/minimal jewelry, have a desire to homestead/garden, put their babies in cloth diapers, are artistic and crafty (painting, crocheting/knitting, sewing), want to eat healthy/locally grown food, cherish and know about their bodies and fertility cycles, think natural/drug free childbirth is the best option, want to homeschool/unschool their kids, are anti-hormonal birth control.
I don't know if I can really come up with a comprehensive list of things that set me apart from the average modern woman, but all these things are ME. These things are me, but at the same time, I am still insecure. These are the things that I WANT to be. I am still a young adult. I am still trying to figure myself out and be confident in myself. Sure, I may be married and be working on my second child, but I haven't made it to the "I don't give a darn" phase of my life. Of course, all women want to have good friends. And I know my good friends don't have to be all those things that make me who I am, but it is nice to have friends that agree with me on some things! It's especially hard when I am often looked at as being "radical", "different" and "controversial". It's ok if I have a friend who thinks I'm crazy for not wanting an epidural to birth my kids, but it's hard to have a friend who wants to call CPS on me because I want to have an unassisted homebirth. Women need other women to support them. That is why I stereotype myself. I give myself a label, so I can go find other women who are like me, and who will support me in that particular aspect of my life.
Stereotyping often has a negative connotation to it. However, this is the kind of stereotyping that I don't think is negative. It helps me see who I am, who I am proud of being (even if I am still a little insecure). It helps me find other women who I can identify with, and it helps other women find me. It helps me to express myself. So, if you are also a "modern day hippie, minus the drugs and free love", label yourself as such, and we can find acceptance with each other!
I took some time to really mull over in my brain why I am always categorizing myself into certain groups. I think I figured out why.
"It is a sociological fact that women need women. We need deep and satisfying and loyal friendships with each other." -Marjorie Hinckley
"...women have the same basic needs—no matter in what era they live. We have the same needs of food, clothing, warmth, protection. We have the same emotional and psychological needs of wanting to love and be loved, to give understanding, to be accepted, to find self-fulfillment, to express ourselves." -Barbara B. Smith
“As women we are becoming so concerned about having perfect figures, or straight A’s, or professional status, or even absolute motherly success that we are being torn from our true selves. We often worry so much about pleasing and performing for others that we lose our own uniqueness, that full and relaxed acceptance of ourselves as a person of worth and individuality.” -Patricia Holland
[italics are mine]
My stereotyping includes calling myself "crunchy" or "a modern day hippie, minus the drugs and free love". I find myself trying to connect and identify with other women who: breastfeed longer than a year, don't remove body hair frequently, share sleep with their kids, don't vaccinate their kids, don't use shampoo, don't circumcise their sons, use reusable/cloth menstrual products, have homebirths, have unassisted homebirths, rarely wear makeup, wear their babies in soft carriers, wash their face with honey, prefer alternative medicine, don't watch TV, don't paint their nails, want to have large families (quiverfull), don't use products in their hair, are skeptical of the excuses for high c-section rates and low breastfeeding rates, prefer wearing long skirts/modest clothing/minimal jewelry, have a desire to homestead/garden, put their babies in cloth diapers, are artistic and crafty (painting, crocheting/knitting, sewing), want to eat healthy/locally grown food, cherish and know about their bodies and fertility cycles, think natural/drug free childbirth is the best option, want to homeschool/unschool their kids, are anti-hormonal birth control.
I don't know if I can really come up with a comprehensive list of things that set me apart from the average modern woman, but all these things are ME. These things are me, but at the same time, I am still insecure. These are the things that I WANT to be. I am still a young adult. I am still trying to figure myself out and be confident in myself. Sure, I may be married and be working on my second child, but I haven't made it to the "I don't give a darn" phase of my life. Of course, all women want to have good friends. And I know my good friends don't have to be all those things that make me who I am, but it is nice to have friends that agree with me on some things! It's especially hard when I am often looked at as being "radical", "different" and "controversial". It's ok if I have a friend who thinks I'm crazy for not wanting an epidural to birth my kids, but it's hard to have a friend who wants to call CPS on me because I want to have an unassisted homebirth. Women need other women to support them. That is why I stereotype myself. I give myself a label, so I can go find other women who are like me, and who will support me in that particular aspect of my life.
Stereotyping often has a negative connotation to it. However, this is the kind of stereotyping that I don't think is negative. It helps me see who I am, who I am proud of being (even if I am still a little insecure). It helps me find other women who I can identify with, and it helps other women find me. It helps me to express myself. So, if you are also a "modern day hippie, minus the drugs and free love", label yourself as such, and we can find acceptance with each other!
Monday, May 17, 2010
Oh, my achin' pelvis!
How horrible is it that I didn't write anything about Mother's Day, on this blog that is all about being a mother?? So, a whole week later, I did want to mention a little bit about my Mother's Day. The Saturday before, the Hubs took me out on a date. We walked around a large mall, and ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant (where I actually tried to speak confidently in Spanish, and made myself look like an idiot...and the hubby wonders why I rarely try...) The dawn of Mother's Day came peeking through our bedroom blinds. I kept my eyes closed and laid on the bed in a drowsy half sleep. I heard Bug squirming beside me. Then, I felt two little fingers grasp my old mascara and sleep encrusted eyelashes and pull one eye open. "Boo!" said Bug, once my eye was open enough that he could see me in there. There really is little better than a "good morning" from a two year old!
I also got a comment from a friend at church, on Mother's Day, that I was looking "so big"! Apparently, I officially, undeniably, unquestionably look pregnant. Another friend overheard the "so big" comment and later said to me, "I don't think you are getting big." I told her that it was ok if I was getting big...because I'm pregnant, and I'm -supposed- to be getting big! She said, "Yeah, I know. But you don't have to say it that way. It just sounds bad." I asked her if people should instead say, "My, my, you are looking very pregnant today!" And I think that works.
And while we are on the topic of pregnancy (like I ever talk about anything else, right hubby?) I have diagnosed myself with Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (much to the hubby's exasperation, right hubby?). Some people think that I [over]diagnose myself with minor annoyances just to get out of doing my squats to prepare for birth. Not true. I honestly have a horrible pain in my pubic ligaments! ESPECIALLY when I roll over in bed. And even when I am just walking around like normal. I probably irritate it by climbing over the gate to get in and out of my kitchen 15 million times a day! This is one thing that I didn't have to deal with during my first pregnancy. A friend of mine assured me that all the real aches and pains show up in the second pregnancy.
My poor husband. He is such a guy. You know how guys are...they want to fix everything. And they think there should be or actually is a solution to everything. This makes voicing pregnancy complaints annoying for both of us (maybe I should just keep my mouth shut, for both of us....but then I wouldn't be a woman!). He says, "Do this and it will probably go away." I say, "No way am I going to do that, because it will make it worse!" I'm telling ya, you can't fight Relaxin!
I also got a comment from a friend at church, on Mother's Day, that I was looking "so big"! Apparently, I officially, undeniably, unquestionably look pregnant. Another friend overheard the "so big" comment and later said to me, "I don't think you are getting big." I told her that it was ok if I was getting big...because I'm pregnant, and I'm -supposed- to be getting big! She said, "Yeah, I know. But you don't have to say it that way. It just sounds bad." I asked her if people should instead say, "My, my, you are looking very pregnant today!" And I think that works.
And while we are on the topic of pregnancy (like I ever talk about anything else, right hubby?) I have diagnosed myself with Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (much to the hubby's exasperation, right hubby?). Some people think that I [over]diagnose myself with minor annoyances just to get out of doing my squats to prepare for birth. Not true. I honestly have a horrible pain in my pubic ligaments! ESPECIALLY when I roll over in bed. And even when I am just walking around like normal. I probably irritate it by climbing over the gate to get in and out of my kitchen 15 million times a day! This is one thing that I didn't have to deal with during my first pregnancy. A friend of mine assured me that all the real aches and pains show up in the second pregnancy.
My poor husband. He is such a guy. You know how guys are...they want to fix everything. And they think there should be or actually is a solution to everything. This makes voicing pregnancy complaints annoying for both of us (maybe I should just keep my mouth shut, for both of us....but then I wouldn't be a woman!). He says, "Do this and it will probably go away." I say, "No way am I going to do that, because it will make it worse!" I'm telling ya, you can't fight Relaxin!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Can't a girl get a nap?
Since the vomiting episode, life hasn't gotten much easier. Bug is...better. Of course, I'm not sure if that is the best way to describe it. He did have diarrhea for a couple days after the upchucking. And we ran out of laundry. And I was too tired to do it. THAT day, the day the earth pretty much imploded on itself, I was the one that was really sick. And not just "I'm pregnant and feel crummy all the time" sick. It was way worse.
I began the day at 4:45am. I got up and went to the bathroom to empty my stomach contents into our toilet. It was the first time this pregnancy. Then, I went back to sleep. Only to get up a little after 6am. Apparently, someone hit the repeat button, and I was in the bathroom again. Before I knew it, we were all up for the day.
I was tired. My stomach was cramping. And I didn't want to eat anything. I knew that pregnancy sickies can be made to go away (for at least a short amount of time) by eating. I tried to eat. I got down a banana. Then I had to change a diaper. A really bad diaper. And I had to change the little pants that kept that bad diaper from getting all over my carpet.
The I ate one cracker, changed another bad diaper and fished around for the only clean pair of pants for Bug. I couldn't find the pants. I looked around the house. I saw a massively destroyed living room, a kitchen piled high with stinky and dirty dishes, dirty laundry smeared with crusty poop and vomit overflowing from the hamper....and I thought about how tired and horrible I felt....then I lost it. I cried and cried.
I didn't know what to do, so I called the husband and bawled to him about how miserable I was and I begged him to come home. So, he did.
While he was on his way home, I ate one baby carrot, and crawled into bed with Bug. We were napping when he arrived. When we woke up, the dishes were done, the living room was clean, the laundry was being done. My husband is obviously a super human, one of a kind, hunk of a hero! Gosh, I love that man! He even went and got me a roast beef sandwich...even though I was only able to take three bites.
Since that day, I have been feeling better. I still feel like crap, but it's the better kind. The normal pregnant kind. I'm a little bit better at handling all the messes. For instance, I haven't cried once since that day, even though every time I go to take a nap, Bug refuses to join me and instead causes mischief around the house. Mischief like emptying bags of cereal or brown sugar onto the kitchen floor. And I was actually able to laugh when Bug stacked three -glass- cups on top of each other at my parents' house.
Toddlers sure are full of energy. It doesn't always make a good match with a mother who is so un-full of energy it is laughable! But, today, we sat down together and starting watching Tarzan, and I had tears of joy and love come to my eyes. I was reminded that even though things are really difficult right now, I love my family. I love this little boy that I helped to create. And I love my husband who works to hard for us. And I'm so excited for the little baby that will be joining us.
Now, if only I could get a nap!
I began the day at 4:45am. I got up and went to the bathroom to empty my stomach contents into our toilet. It was the first time this pregnancy. Then, I went back to sleep. Only to get up a little after 6am. Apparently, someone hit the repeat button, and I was in the bathroom again. Before I knew it, we were all up for the day.
I was tired. My stomach was cramping. And I didn't want to eat anything. I knew that pregnancy sickies can be made to go away (for at least a short amount of time) by eating. I tried to eat. I got down a banana. Then I had to change a diaper. A really bad diaper. And I had to change the little pants that kept that bad diaper from getting all over my carpet.
The I ate one cracker, changed another bad diaper and fished around for the only clean pair of pants for Bug. I couldn't find the pants. I looked around the house. I saw a massively destroyed living room, a kitchen piled high with stinky and dirty dishes, dirty laundry smeared with crusty poop and vomit overflowing from the hamper....and I thought about how tired and horrible I felt....then I lost it. I cried and cried.
I didn't know what to do, so I called the husband and bawled to him about how miserable I was and I begged him to come home. So, he did.
While he was on his way home, I ate one baby carrot, and crawled into bed with Bug. We were napping when he arrived. When we woke up, the dishes were done, the living room was clean, the laundry was being done. My husband is obviously a super human, one of a kind, hunk of a hero! Gosh, I love that man! He even went and got me a roast beef sandwich...even though I was only able to take three bites.
Since that day, I have been feeling better. I still feel like crap, but it's the better kind. The normal pregnant kind. I'm a little bit better at handling all the messes. For instance, I haven't cried once since that day, even though every time I go to take a nap, Bug refuses to join me and instead causes mischief around the house. Mischief like emptying bags of cereal or brown sugar onto the kitchen floor. And I was actually able to laugh when Bug stacked three -glass- cups on top of each other at my parents' house.
Toddlers sure are full of energy. It doesn't always make a good match with a mother who is so un-full of energy it is laughable! But, today, we sat down together and starting watching Tarzan, and I had tears of joy and love come to my eyes. I was reminded that even though things are really difficult right now, I love my family. I love this little boy that I helped to create. And I love my husband who works to hard for us. And I'm so excited for the little baby that will be joining us.
Now, if only I could get a nap!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Hope during Infertility
What better time during the year to be filled with hope and gratitude than Christmas!? (Perhaps, Easter?) However, I have been filled with hope, indeed!
I know a post about infertility right after a pregnancy announcement may seem a little insensitive, but I've done a lot of thinking about my experience with infertility. It is my sincere hope that other women find strength in their trials.
For months and months, I wanted to get pregnant. But, because I was breastfeeding Bug, my cycles hadn't returned yet. And consequently, my fertility hadn't returned yet. Then, my body started showing signs of returning fertility. Signs...but not reality. Every time my body began another cycle, I was filled with painful emotion. The flowing blood of menstruation is a physical cleanse. The body dumps the old to make room to try again. A clean slate. Another month to temp and chart and record and plan. Another month for hopes to rise. Yet, every time my body would cleanse itself, my spirit was sullied with grief, anger, jealousy and fear.
I always trusted my body, until it didn't do what I wanted it to do. Or what I though it should do. My body had always done what I wanted it to do, before! Finally, I realized that I had a defect. For all I knew, my body could have been aborting a possible baby every cycle. But that was just it, my body didn't understand to keep it, and it would begin the cleansing process before it even knew whether or not it was necessary.
Day and night, I would suckle my needy toddler, with tears in my eyes. Weaning him could be the answer. But I couldn't do it. I knew he needed to nurse. Would it be right to take something away from the child I have to -maybe- get a child I want? *Note: I still have not weaned Bug. In several months, I will probably do a post on nursing during pregnancy.
That child I already have been blessed with brought other questions forward as well. If I already have a young child, did I have a right to mourn my infertility? Did I have a right to claim infertility? I had been wanting to get pregnant for a whole year! By medical standards, I was infertile. Did breastfeeding change that? Maybe. But it didn't change my desires.
I know that there are probably women that are jealous of me and my one child. And I was jealous of women who are expecting or already have two. Did my one child make my sadness any easier? To a woman who strongly desires a(nother) child, but cannot get pregnant, I think there is little solace.
Many women experiencing "true" infertility may not appreciate the difficulty of the situation I was in, just as I could not fully appreciate their difficulties. But, if I am able to get one point across, I wish it to be known that infertility of ANY kind or duration, is difficult if a woman truly desires to get pregnant.
So, every time I began another cycle, I would swallow my pride. Through my grief, anger, jealousy and fear, I would pray for strength, faith, patience, health and hope.
And sometimes, even if it doesn't seem like it, we have a loving Heavenly Father who is watching over us. He knows our desires. He knows our struggles. And He knows the best way to bless us, and the right time to bless us. In hindsight, our struggles always look easier than what they really were. Heavenly Father knows how difficult things are for us. But if we remember Him always, He will bless us in the most unexpected and marvelous ways!
I know a post about infertility right after a pregnancy announcement may seem a little insensitive, but I've done a lot of thinking about my experience with infertility. It is my sincere hope that other women find strength in their trials.
For months and months, I wanted to get pregnant. But, because I was breastfeeding Bug, my cycles hadn't returned yet. And consequently, my fertility hadn't returned yet. Then, my body started showing signs of returning fertility. Signs...but not reality. Every time my body began another cycle, I was filled with painful emotion. The flowing blood of menstruation is a physical cleanse. The body dumps the old to make room to try again. A clean slate. Another month to temp and chart and record and plan. Another month for hopes to rise. Yet, every time my body would cleanse itself, my spirit was sullied with grief, anger, jealousy and fear.
I always trusted my body, until it didn't do what I wanted it to do. Or what I though it should do. My body had always done what I wanted it to do, before! Finally, I realized that I had a defect. For all I knew, my body could have been aborting a possible baby every cycle. But that was just it, my body didn't understand to keep it, and it would begin the cleansing process before it even knew whether or not it was necessary.
Day and night, I would suckle my needy toddler, with tears in my eyes. Weaning him could be the answer. But I couldn't do it. I knew he needed to nurse. Would it be right to take something away from the child I have to -maybe- get a child I want? *Note: I still have not weaned Bug. In several months, I will probably do a post on nursing during pregnancy.
That child I already have been blessed with brought other questions forward as well. If I already have a young child, did I have a right to mourn my infertility? Did I have a right to claim infertility? I had been wanting to get pregnant for a whole year! By medical standards, I was infertile. Did breastfeeding change that? Maybe. But it didn't change my desires.
I know that there are probably women that are jealous of me and my one child. And I was jealous of women who are expecting or already have two. Did my one child make my sadness any easier? To a woman who strongly desires a(nother) child, but cannot get pregnant, I think there is little solace.
Many women experiencing "true" infertility may not appreciate the difficulty of the situation I was in, just as I could not fully appreciate their difficulties. But, if I am able to get one point across, I wish it to be known that infertility of ANY kind or duration, is difficult if a woman truly desires to get pregnant.
So, every time I began another cycle, I would swallow my pride. Through my grief, anger, jealousy and fear, I would pray for strength, faith, patience, health and hope.
And sometimes, even if it doesn't seem like it, we have a loving Heavenly Father who is watching over us. He knows our desires. He knows our struggles. And He knows the best way to bless us, and the right time to bless us. In hindsight, our struggles always look easier than what they really were. Heavenly Father knows how difficult things are for us. But if we remember Him always, He will bless us in the most unexpected and marvelous ways!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Goddess
When I was in elementary school, I felt a strong connection to the planet Venus. I wasn't into astronomy. I didn't gaze up into the sky on clear nights. I really wasn't interested in planets. I wanted to be an alien. I wanted to be different. I wanted to have purple skin. And I wanted to be from Venus. The planet just sounded cool. It was supposed to be a place where nobody could live. Full of noxious gases. Constantly hot. Totally uninhabitable. But, I really wanted to be from Venus. And no other planet would do.
Years later, I can finally see the connection. I understand that desire. The name Venus, the connotation, the connections, the true meaning. When I was a kid, I wanted to be from Venus to have purple skin. But now, it is so much more. I don't want to be from Venus. I want to be recognized as being my own kind of Venus. Not the planet. But the goddess. I want to be every goddess that is praised for being a woman.
So now, I am Venus. Roman goddess of love, beauty and fertility.
And I am Hathor. Egyptian goddess of feminine love, motherhood and joy.
I am Turan. Etruscan goddess of love and vitality.
And I am Aphrodite. Greek goddess of love, beauty and sexuality.
I am Artemis. Hera. Epona. Persephone. Ishtar. Ba'alat Gebal. Juno. Frigg. Parvati. And Eve.
I love these ancient feminine ideas. These goddesses were full of love, beauty, happiness. And above all, they were mothers. They were worshiped for their ability to conceive and bear children. To suckle children at their breasts. They were depicted with full, round bodies. Soft. Curvy. It is the symbol of motherhood. Of being a woman. Of being a lover. It is beauty. I want to inspire my husband. I want to nourish my children. I want to be that. I want to be praised for being that.
I want to be a goddess.
Years later, I can finally see the connection. I understand that desire. The name Venus, the connotation, the connections, the true meaning. When I was a kid, I wanted to be from Venus to have purple skin. But now, it is so much more. I don't want to be from Venus. I want to be recognized as being my own kind of Venus. Not the planet. But the goddess. I want to be every goddess that is praised for being a woman.
So now, I am Venus. Roman goddess of love, beauty and fertility.
And I am Hathor. Egyptian goddess of feminine love, motherhood and joy.
I am Turan. Etruscan goddess of love and vitality.
And I am Aphrodite. Greek goddess of love, beauty and sexuality.
I am Artemis. Hera. Epona. Persephone. Ishtar. Ba'alat Gebal. Juno. Frigg. Parvati. And Eve.
I love these ancient feminine ideas. These goddesses were full of love, beauty, happiness. And above all, they were mothers. They were worshiped for their ability to conceive and bear children. To suckle children at their breasts. They were depicted with full, round bodies. Soft. Curvy. It is the symbol of motherhood. Of being a woman. Of being a lover. It is beauty. I want to inspire my husband. I want to nourish my children. I want to be that. I want to be praised for being that.
I want to be a goddess.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Happy Halloween
Halloween is finally here. I must admit, this year is WAY more fun that last year was. Last year, Bug was only six months old. He didn't care about candy or costumes or carving pumpkins or going from house to house for trick or treating. THIS year, however, Bug cares about all of that. He is your basic toddler. That means he is curious about everything and into everything. He loves sweet treats and getting messy. And he even loves seeing everyone dressed up in costumes. He just stares and stares, wondering why people look funny.
This year, we dressed Bug up as Avatar Aang. If you don't know who that is, you are seriously missing out. Avatar is an adorable Nickelodeon anime-type show. I love watching it. And it was going to be so easy to turn Bug into Aang that I couldn't resist. So....I shaved his head. Bought him a yellow pullover sweater. Made him a red cloak. The best thing about his outfit is that he can wear most of it on any other day, too! (In fact, he is wearing a pair of red sweat pants that he wore for Halloween last year. Except last year they were huge on him and this year they are getting too small!) And he stood incredibly still while I painted a blue arrow on his head!
These pictures were taken at our church's Trunk or Treat this past Tuesday. So tell me...do you think Bug makes an excellent Aang, or what!? (And believe it or not, he isn't eating candy in these pictures, he was sucking on his cloak. Weird kid.)
Compared to Aang as Aang
[photo removed, click to get the picture]
The whole family:
The husband and I were going to go as Peace and Quiet (a hippie and a mime), except the hubby didn't want to be a hippie...and I wanted to actually dress up! So we decided to both go as mimes. It was fun. And, I tell you what, the hubs should make a profession out of it! He was hilarious the whole evening; picking on people, staying quiet, juggling and doing all sorts of mime things! Now, if only he had let me do his makeup for him!
This year, we dressed Bug up as Avatar Aang. If you don't know who that is, you are seriously missing out. Avatar is an adorable Nickelodeon anime-type show. I love watching it. And it was going to be so easy to turn Bug into Aang that I couldn't resist. So....I shaved his head. Bought him a yellow pullover sweater. Made him a red cloak. The best thing about his outfit is that he can wear most of it on any other day, too! (In fact, he is wearing a pair of red sweat pants that he wore for Halloween last year. Except last year they were huge on him and this year they are getting too small!) And he stood incredibly still while I painted a blue arrow on his head!
These pictures were taken at our church's Trunk or Treat this past Tuesday. So tell me...do you think Bug makes an excellent Aang, or what!? (And believe it or not, he isn't eating candy in these pictures, he was sucking on his cloak. Weird kid.)
Bug as Aang:
Compared to Aang as Aang[photo removed, click to get the picture]
Oh, yeah. I did a good job on this costume!
The whole family:
The husband and I were going to go as Peace and Quiet (a hippie and a mime), except the hubby didn't want to be a hippie...and I wanted to actually dress up! So we decided to both go as mimes. It was fun. And, I tell you what, the hubs should make a profession out of it! He was hilarious the whole evening; picking on people, staying quiet, juggling and doing all sorts of mime things! Now, if only he had let me do his makeup for him!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Support and Acceptance
It is human nature to desire to be different....yet, it is also human nature to conform. We want to have our individuality, but we want to have people that agree with us and support us. Women, especially, have an emotional need for support and acceptance. That is why women like to go shopping together, have social gatherings, gab with others, blog, etc. Women like to have a group of women that will listen to and agree with all their joys and woes. Sometimes blogging can satisfy this desire. Sometimes, you really need a group of women that are there for you in real life.
I guess I have been feeling a little discouraged lately. (It happens every now and then...I like to blame it on hormones, because it is an excuse that my husband seems ready to accept.) I have surpassed my human desire to be different. I am definitely my own unique person. I have broken societal norms and I haven't looked back. But, even without looking back, I am looking around and feeling very lonely.
Where are all the mothers, young and old, that are passionate about pregnancy? About natural childbirth (including *gasp* unassisted birth)? About breastfeeding, even into toddler hood? About baby wearing? About not vaccinating? About not circumcising? About bed sharing? Are these all lost arts? What is wrong with just leaving things simple? Why are there so many people who think it is wrong to be a "crunchy" parent? I am continually trudging through the crowd of all those who think I am doing things wrong.
I don't want to be a hypocrite. I am often verbal about what is wrong with other parenting styles. (Usually after I feel attacked...which is probably more perceived and less real.) But science is giving more and more support in saying that natural parenting habits are actually BETTER than the parenting styles that have become more mainstream. How can there still be so many people that are completely ignorant about this? How can there still be so many people who blatantly reject this? Parents have become lazy. They don't want to learn, they don't care to learn. They choose to rely on "experts" instead of scouring for the knowledge themselves. Is there anything wrong with being self sufficient in more ways that growing your own vegetables?
What is wrong with being a "crunchy" mom? And if there is nothing wrong with it, why are naturally minded mothers lacking support? And why aren't more mothers delighting in the knowledge and ability to be an intuitive mother?
Bring back the art of mothering! Listen to your body. Listen to your babies and children. If they want to be held, hold them! If they want to nurse at your breast, nurse them! Keep them close, day and night. Protect their health, their bodies, their minds. Women are strong. Women were divinely created to be mothers. Our bodies were created to give birth without complications or trauma. Our bodies were made to nourish our children. Our hearts have the ability to love and to cherish our children, and give them exactly what they need. There is such great joy in simple mothering. It is an art that has nearly been lost in the Western culture. Bring back the art of mothering!
I guess I have been feeling a little discouraged lately. (It happens every now and then...I like to blame it on hormones, because it is an excuse that my husband seems ready to accept.) I have surpassed my human desire to be different. I am definitely my own unique person. I have broken societal norms and I haven't looked back. But, even without looking back, I am looking around and feeling very lonely.
Where are all the mothers, young and old, that are passionate about pregnancy? About natural childbirth (including *gasp* unassisted birth)? About breastfeeding, even into toddler hood? About baby wearing? About not vaccinating? About not circumcising? About bed sharing? Are these all lost arts? What is wrong with just leaving things simple? Why are there so many people who think it is wrong to be a "crunchy" parent? I am continually trudging through the crowd of all those who think I am doing things wrong.
I don't want to be a hypocrite. I am often verbal about what is wrong with other parenting styles. (Usually after I feel attacked...which is probably more perceived and less real.) But science is giving more and more support in saying that natural parenting habits are actually BETTER than the parenting styles that have become more mainstream. How can there still be so many people that are completely ignorant about this? How can there still be so many people who blatantly reject this? Parents have become lazy. They don't want to learn, they don't care to learn. They choose to rely on "experts" instead of scouring for the knowledge themselves. Is there anything wrong with being self sufficient in more ways that growing your own vegetables?
What is wrong with being a "crunchy" mom? And if there is nothing wrong with it, why are naturally minded mothers lacking support? And why aren't more mothers delighting in the knowledge and ability to be an intuitive mother?
Bring back the art of mothering! Listen to your body. Listen to your babies and children. If they want to be held, hold them! If they want to nurse at your breast, nurse them! Keep them close, day and night. Protect their health, their bodies, their minds. Women are strong. Women were divinely created to be mothers. Our bodies were created to give birth without complications or trauma. Our bodies were made to nourish our children. Our hearts have the ability to love and to cherish our children, and give them exactly what they need. There is such great joy in simple mothering. It is an art that has nearly been lost in the Western culture. Bring back the art of mothering!
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