The Post in Partum (Part II)

There's a whisper (but quite frankly, it's like a damn bull horn),

"Mommy, I want to cuddle you."

Crap. My damn mom ears physically respond like there's been an earthquake but as the hairs on my arm standing on end retract, I smile,

"I want to cuddle YOU!"

He crawls in bed and fits in the arch of my arm but his legs are longer now. I feel his freezing toes and warm them between my knees. It's damn early. Physically, I'm so over this but my heart knows: this won't last forever.

We stay avoiding truth as long as we can, Daddy/Husband sleeping soundly beside us, & then the cries come. Unintelligible sounds that I understand: "I'm 6 months old! I want my bottle!" So the little Mr. and I leave Daddy/Husband in the warmth. We rattle the bed enough for him to turn over. Physically, he knows we're gone but mentally, he's nowhere to be found.

The carpet touches my feet and alerts me: Here we go. I grab my ugly socks (the ones that are too warm to stop wearing-the ones my little mr. steals from my that go up to his knees--his "mommy socks"). I'm tired, hungry but before any of that I make a stop at the counter: Friday-pop the lid- throw the pink pill back in my mouth- close the lid/swallow simultaneously. Ok. If I don't do anything else for myself that day, I do that. Take that pill that has leveled me out, been one in a series of things that have helped bring me back--back to the land of the living.

Here's the thing about post partum depression for me: it felt fictional, it felt fake but I knew better. It also felt like unbelievable failure...until I got so damn desperate to be better that I could admit: I need help, this isn't forever, this is going to be a fight and I'm going to win.

Step 1: The hotline, the doctors, the stabilizing. Step 2: Swallow, Sleep, Wake, Repeat. Step 3: Talk. TALK. T A L K. Step 4 : Look yourself in the mirror and see my face, feel alive (and now it feels good!), seek God, JOY.

I'm back.

The Post in Partum (Part I)

The clock ticks and I can hear it. I can hear every bloody tic-toc...tic-toc and I stare out losing myself again. It's dark inside, cold to the point of curling in on myself, and the echo aches...rattles my soul (if it's still there.)

The tears come and I can't stop them. I'm angry inside. No one cares, no one hears me, everyone needs from me, takes from me, depletes me. I give-and give-and give but there's nothing left but a shallow pool of blood that pulses; it's the only thing telling me I'm alive.

He finds me--hiding, sobbing uncontrollably, behind a glass door that holds every article that covers me, labeling me as "together" or "tired" or "SAHM" or "professional" and all I can do is tell myself to keep breathing. I have to keep breathing.

It's the day before it all changes and while my world moves around me, I stand still just hoping I can hang on a little longer (because I'm not far 'nuff gone to want to leave it forever....right??) The ocean crashes, the planks below our feet keep us staring down---hand in hand---and I say, "I need help. I know this scares you, but I can't do this anymore."

We stop, he admits, "It does scare me. I don't understand it," and I know it does...because it's been seven years...and it's okay but it doesn't change where I am.

We reach out and we hear from someone who knows what they're talking about: "You can't go back to work. We need to take care of you." I crumble inside--like soft cheese--I just needed that final push and I could break down so I could rebuild.

That was the day that I was reborn to myself....again.

(to be continued)

The {UN}shining

I am days away from:

meeting my second baby
completing my family
starting overand suddenly

I'm
overwhelmed
& terrified.

I'm counting seconds of "what's left" vs. looking at the joy of what's to come
and I haven't felt this sad about it all until yesterday.

Yesterday when I heard my body wasn't doing what I was hoping it was.
Yesterday when my husband had to take my emotions & fears and protect me from myself.
Yesterday when that same husband had to take our delivery plan and disburse it amongst 6 adults that we call our parents that I can't control.
Yesterday when I started the cycle of self-defeat as I stared at my son:
Can I be enough for you?
Can I do this again?
Can I do this differently then I did the first time?
Can I protect myself from the potential for post partum since depression was a struggle in my past?
Can I....I'm sobbing tonight
unable to breathe out of my nose from a collection of uncontrollable weeping.
Even as I cry and empty out my fear, I have worship music on because
I know
I KNOW:
this is a really bad moment
my feelings are not truths
that my doubts and fears are lies
but in this moment
I am feeling them with every ounce of raw human that I am.

I'm counting seconds toward a goodbye tonight.
Staring at my life as a series of lasts instead of a hopeful hello to a slew of new firsts.
I feel desperate, alone, broken hearted, & so....sad.

I am fighting to FEEL the truth I know:
"Let no one caught in sin remain/inside the lie of inward shame/[I] fix [my] eyes upon the cross /and run to Him who shows great Love" ~Matt Maher, Christ is Risen

Father- I surrender!

Ready {Logistically Anyway}

My due date is officially August 11 but when I was put on bed rest with a goal date of making it to July 14, mentally, my due date changed!
It now feels like I'm past due.

Initially July 14 came and went and I felt discouraged but now I'm good just waiting.
After all, with the use of my legs & mobility again, I'm a "free" woman.

Don't get me wrong.
My bags are packed
(& have been for 5 weeks...)

The build out the Hus was working on for the new office is complete so now the little one's room is ready.

And the gifts that the baby bought for his big brother are wrapped & ready for Big Brother to open when he meets the baby for the first time.

(Yes, already considerate and giving, the baby bought his big brother two trains for this Thomas the Train collection)

So it appears these last few weeks will be spent wondering:
Is my water going to break on my friend's leather couch?
Am I going to start having contractions & going into this unexpectedly?

And watching our big boy go through his own changes:
Not so excited that the baby has his own room with a rocker he can't call his (sad)
Waking up each morning asking if the the baby is awake and if he can hug him (sweet)

We are ready {Logistically Anyway...}

15 weeks & Counting

Who knew that being pregnant with another lil' one could be so different from the first time!
Aside from the physical symptoms, the biggest difference is how little time there is to sit, refuel, or even think about a nursery, a name, or the little hopes.
When I'm not tied to my desk, I'm struggling just to find time to love on the two men in my life let alone figure out how to call a friend, stay up late enough to watch a show, or grocery shop. UNREAL how exhausted I am.

Um--also, incredibly unreal how much faster I have shown this time around!
At 15 weeks now, I am definitely all belly'd up!
If the Dr. hadn't told me I've gained the same amount of weight I had at the same time my last pregnancy, I'd be thinking I was in serious trouble!
It hasn't stopped me from wanting to post a sign on my shirt that says, "KNOCKED UP" buuut oh well!

So we talk to the midge about him becoming a big brother and ask for his opinion on the little things like, "What do you want to name the baby?" (to which we get no real answer) & the hus' favorite question is, "Do you want a white baby like mommy or a brown baby like daddy?" (to which he always says, "white baby!" and we laugh)
{*I should probably mention for any new readers that I'm a blond (usually) & blue eyed Norwegian while my husband is straight up Portuguese and our first babe was a total shock of bright blond, blue eyes, and fair skin just like Mama.}And life just keeps moving forward
(despite the fact that I feel like this pregnancy is surprisingly taking forever after spending 2 weeks at 14 weeks when my due date was bumped up---lame!!--but I truly think they're wrong. Guess I do have to keep on their time line however.)

So, all is just movin' along over here.
How are YOU doing?!

Pictures ARE My Thousand Words

In the past 72 hours, I have experienced a heart that has shifted gears through love, aching, and glory.

I feel completely hungover by the adrenaline and I am hydrating with more thankful prayer than water.

On Wednesday, the Hus and I were asked to fill in as "models" for a photography workshop that THE Jeff Newsom was holding.
While I panicked about the clothes
(Thanks Jenn & Em for your support ;)
I was looking forward to a mid afternoon date with my husband
(and 9 strangers with cameras ;)

One of the workshop attendees captured Jeff in action:

and Jeff captured a little moment of love with my husband that I needed to see as much as feel.

Thursday came around and my heart was heavy.
I was stretching through some growing pains and I needed to be outside of myself.
I had an incredible moment of opportunity to spend an hour with my dear friends Corey & Melanie who found out they would be welcoming their son by C-section on Friday morning.
I asked them if they wanted to have a quiet moment together and celebrate their last day of pregnancy.
After work, I got in the car and listened to their excitement, their nervousness, and their love as I shot away.

Then came Friday.
I surprised even myself when I offered to be available to them if they wanted the delivery to be captured on film on Thursday.
Thirty minutes before Go-Time on Friday, Corey called me and asked if I could be there with them to photograph the birth.
I instantly broke down in tears, prayed, and headed over.

I am still coming down from the high...

As I told one friend, I was an actual fly on a miracle's wall...

Jackson Gregory was born on January 29, 2010 to two amazing parents!
Welcome to the world sweet baby boy.
I can't believe what meeting you has done to my heart!I am rendered relatively speechless by the unfolding events of the past few days.
I'm sure I will unravel a little more later....

Mesh Panties & Medicated Ointment. NOT awesome.

The hus and I were recently on a desperate hunt for the Midge's crib blanket.
I'm talking a serious hunt....undoing the boxes of packed up baby clothes, going through the garage, and emptying out every cabinet.
The problem with doing such a thorough search is the opportunity to find buried memories.Memories like this basket from hell.
Technically, I think it's the basket from the Garden of Eden since that's where, thanks to Eve, we were sentenced to painful childbirth...
po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe

Funny how right when I could start to entertain the idea of another cherub
WHAM
pregnancy's pitchfork stabs ya right in the va-jay-jay.
No joke--this basket of "goodies" actually makes me cross my legs in pain.

There are plenty of only children in this world....

(Would you believe me if I said the name of this blog came from the trauma this basket caused?
Well, it's true)

Mirror, Mirror

*THIS ENTRY IS NOT FOR THE PRUDE*

Lets talk about mirrors.

Mirrors are kind of a love hate relationship for me. They often tell me what I don’t want to hear and unless I’m feeling super sexy (which comes from a lot of work that I deem totally unnecessary and only in the name of a few photos that may or may not end up on a public forum like facebook) I only use them because they are a necessary evil. Did I get the toothpaste off my mouth? Do I have any bumps in the dirty-no-time ponytail I am sporting?

Of course, there are others who love mirrors. Women you will catch practicing “the look” before they go out or who will look at themselves any time there is a mirror around. Women who put in the time to be pretty. I’m rarely one of them.

This leads me to giving birth. WHAT? How did we go from glamor mirrors to birth? Easy.

When my son was born I had one HUGE fear- that I would defecate right on the table in front of the nurses, the Dr., and my husband as I pushed with all I had to get him out of me. I am now willing to admit that this may have been a huge reason he had to be vacuumed out of me, but I digress.

For pushing encouragement, the nurses thought I should LOOK at my netherlands and the head that so desperately wanted to emerge from it as motivation to push harder. Mortified and determined to suck him back up the birth canal, the mirror did the opposite. I have never seen something so disgusting and it was happening to me! It was not this beautiful, natural right of passage, it was parasitic and mutating.
GET THAT EFFING MIRROR AWAY FROM ME!
(Pregnant women are allowed to cuss).
The nurses carted the huge, towering over my area mirror away at my husband’s urgency only I couldn’t shake the image from my mind. Now, not only did I have the fear of public defecation, I had a swirling vision of my personal mutation that caused me to consider: was this worth it?
Can I undo this?
I TAKE IT BACK,I TAKE IT BACK!
A human (I repeat, a HUMAN) is coming OUT of me and he was destroying my body!

Screw mirrors.

Mirror, Mirror Standing Tall, Show me my hoo-ha before it all!

images by simple moth