Babies are weird

Let me start this off with a disclaimer: I love my kids more than life itself, this post is my no means intended to say otherwise, but to just explain the weirdness that is having a baby. Understood? Okay. I’ve given birth to two babies, my daughter who will be one next month and my son who is just a little over two weeks old. Labor and delivery for these two was vastly different, as were the emotions. I always wanted to have babies, but I never thought it would happen because I was 26 and it just never happened. So, when I got pregnant with Ariann I was elated! So was my husband, who up until this point had 4 sons. Fast forward now to the day I had her. My water broke at home on my couch the morning of her due date, we went to the hospital and I wanted to try and have her without an epidural. Huge mistake on my part. After several hours in active labor I opted for the epidural and I had her an hour later. I pushed once and the doctor tossed her onto my chest. She didn’t cry, she just stared at me and I stared back. My mom asked me if I had this big flood of love. Honestly, no, I didn’t. As we sat there staring at each other I was just in disbelief. Holy fuck there was a person in there and she’s staring at me. I was more shocked and amazed than anything. We were in the hospital only 24 hours and during that time she didn’t go to the nursery at all, she stayed with me the entire time. When we got home with her we lived in a shitty house that was too small, too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. We had one car and my husband worked nights and Arie was COLICY. I would never shake a baby, but my LORD could I understand how someone would want to. Arie was ear piercingly loud and she cried FOR MONTHS. It was so stressful and exhausting and I felt like I was just going through the motions with everything, completely zombified autopilot. Getting past the colic phase was draining emotionally and physically and it made it extremely hard for me to bond with her. I held her constantly and rocked her and sang to her and told her how much I loved her as I sat crying on the living room floor. She always looked at me with so much love, no matter what, I love that little look in her eye. I look back at that time with a huge sigh of relief because I love her so much, she’s funny, quirky, loving, and tough as nails, but her first few months were a massive struggle! Now fast forward again to being pregnant with my son, he was a huge surprise, more so than his sister. When we found out we were going to have another baby is when we decided we needed to ask for help and make some major changes. That’s when we moved in with my husbands parents (which I can say whole heartedly has been the best decision). Both my pregnancies were very easy, but I fucking hate being pregnant. Now my son was due April 4th but he came early on March 13th. I decided to opt for the epidural right away, but it only worked on my right side. I got half an epidural, so, I felt nearly the entire process. Thank god the labor was relatively quick. When he came he cried briefly and when they put him on my chest he stopped crying and I started. I felt that initial flood of love my mom was talking about and I almost felt bad that I didn’t get to feel that with my daughter immediately. I wanted to keep him with me like I had Arie, but he was early and wasn’t eating or breathing right so they had to take him to the NICU. He was only in there for 6 hours, but I was crushed when they had to take him away. We were in the hospital for 2 days with him and I missed my other kids so much it hurt. When we went home we got to have all of them over immediately and it was great. My son is the exact opposite of his sister in every way. He is small and quiet and so chill! I keep wondering if this is normal because Arie was so much different. But he’s perfect in every way, he’s just a different baby than his sister. He stares at me with that same loving look that Arie has and I’m so blessed to have him and I’m so grateful that he is calm and easy going because his sister is a spitfire through and through. One thing that strikes me is that when he cries my boobs leak and that never happened with Arie, probably because she never stopped crying. The point of this post is to say that just because we experience things differently with different kids doesn’t affect the way we feel towards them. Nothing is normal when it comes to childbirth. The hormones and emotions are insane and just because you don’t have the same experiences as someone else doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. Pregnancy is weird, babies are weird. Everything is going to be weird for a while. Ask for help when you need it, give yourself a break, don’t judge yourself or your feelings harshly. You are doing great, just love your babies the best way you know how and enjoy the journey.

My purpose

I’ve been searching for my purpose in life as long as I can remember. I think that’s everyone’s end goal for the most part, to wake up in the morning and feel like they’re about to make a difference and go to bed feeling fulfilled. I’ve always said that I fucking hate working with the general public and customer service in general. I used to specialize in telling people to go fuck themselves so eloquently that they felt like they’d won. I hate having to plaster on a fake smile and shake hands with jackasses like I’d just won the lottery. I hate customer service, but I general I like people. I love genuine and honest people. I love people that are hurting and looking for a friend, I love people that are so happy they glow and pour that into others. I love people that are looking to elevate. There’s something about who I am as a person that people gravitate to me and feel the need to share unnecessary intimate details about themselves. My mother and most women in my family have what we refer to as RBF (that’s resting bitch face for those of you that are unaware), I have the exact opposite. I used to curse this bizarrely approachable face of mine, but I’m starting to realize it’s purpose. I’ve always had a burning desire to help people. My mom is a therapist and I’ve always been fascinated with people and how they work and more specifically those of us that are lost. I’ve been to some incredibly dark places and I’ve dug my way out; I’m still working on elevating even higher. As I’ve been doing this blog (essentially my public diary), sharing my thoughts, my struggles, my successes and as my audience grows I’m finding my purpose. For anyone that needs it, I’m hoping I can be that hand up. I’m hoping my life, my story, my journey can be the inspiration someone needs to change their life. I’ve been to hell and back, seen the worst the world has to offer and I’m still here and I’m shining brighter than ever before. My past is my strength, my story is not my future, I am defined by the choices I’ve made to do and be better. I want to lead by example and leave a path worth following for those who feel alone, lost, and broken. I want to be your light house in the storm. If you think you can’t do it, let me be your shining example that you can. You can fall, you can slip up, you can make mistakes, but you can also rise. Let me be your example of how to be human. Not one of us is perfect, not one of us is without fault and not a single one of us is alone in our struggles. Please keep reading, reach out, ask questions, share experiences and know we are all in this together.

Speak up

Last night my husband and I got into a moderate argument about our differing opinions about what it means to “help”, specifically relating to my previous nights mental break down. Let me replay how that went down for y’all. Him and I are both in bed with our nearly one year old daughter, she’s in the middle we’re on either side. He’s laying facing away from us and I’m sitting on the bed attempting to wrestle our daughter into submission while she’s screaming and clawing and doing things off the Exorcist. I screech “help” a couple times to which he responds “just ignore her”. I finally toss Arie onto the bed and scream “JUST LAY DOWN! COULD YOU PLEASE HELP ME?!” To which he responds, “help you what? Scream at a baby?” And then I storm out of the room crying much too hard. You see what happened here was, I asked for help and his idea of being helpful was telling me to just ignore her and she’d go to bed. Which in theory would’ve been very helpful if that seemed like a viable option for me at the time. I was in the middle of a crisis so the advice to just ignore her was not helpful and seemed almost condescending coupled with his ending statement. In his eyes I denied his help because I didn’t take his advice (which worked for him fine after I left the room btw), but again I was in the middle of a crisis and when I said “help me” what I meant was “please intervene because I can’t handle this right now”. So each of us left the situation very frustrated with the other. Him because he thought I disregarded his help and me because I didn’t feel as if he was being helpful. Let me paint a picture here: say we were swimming and I begin to drown and I’m panicking and yell for help and your response as you’re swimming next to me is to say “just float on your back” as opposed to just pulling me to more shallow water. The advice to just float on my back would be very helpful, but not in the midst of actively drowning. As I’m actively drowning what would be most helpful is to intervene and educate later. I spent a long time yesterday evening being upset and crying because I felt like he wasn’t hearing what I was saying. I thought that my cries for help were falling on deaf ears and I was hurt and frustrated and I think he was too. I wasn’t ever trying to imply that he isn’t helpful or doesn’t help, what I was trying to get across was that I needed help differently and I really thought that he didn’t get it. But last night was great. Every time our daughter woke up, he got up with us to calm her down. I was able to get up and pump 3 times uninterrupted, I was able to feed my son and change his diaper without my daughter getting up, I woke up with my alarm at 545 without crying because I was so exhausted, I was able to get up and work out, I had a cup of coffee waiting for me on the headboard and a full bottle for my daughter next to it, my 5 year old son has breakfast ready and waiting for him on the counter upstairs. I thought he hadn’t heard me, but he must have. I am blessed with a partner that loves me and his children and that genuinely wants to help. This goes to show you that you need to be vocal about what you actually need. Be vocal and specific to as many people as you can because no one knows what you need unless you tell them and they might think that they’re being helpful already but their variation of help just isn’t helpful. Be vocal. Be specific. Be patient. Everyone is learning.

Learning curve

So, I spent probably 30 minutes last night barricaded in my bathroom ugly crying. I had just stormed out of my room after yelling at my daughter because I could not get her to lay down and screeching at my husband who was casually laying in bed to help me. I felt incredibly frustrated, out of control, and inadequate. My in laws had my infant son upstairs with them while we tried to tame my daughter and she just wasn’t going for it. I ran to the bathroom and cried, hard. A series of thoughts ran through my head starting with; what kind of mom needs help getting both her tiny babies to bed at the same time? What kind of mom yells at an almost one year for not wanting to sleep? What kind of mom needs someone to help watch her kids so she can pump? What kind of mom needs someone home so she can shower? What kind of mom needs someone home so she can do average housework like put away the clothes that have been sitting on the floor clean for the past week? What kind of mom can’t find time to just read her book? What kind of mom storms out of her own room at bedtime to hide in the bathroom and cry? After coming out of the bathroom and finding my husband and daughter asleep I laid in bed until my in laws brought my son downstairs and I snuggled him and started thinking. There’s nothing wrong with needing help, there’s nothing wrong with feeling frustrated, there’s nothing wrong with feeling overwhelmed. This two babies at one time is brand new to me, I haven’t learned how to function completely independently with the two of them yet and it’s scary, and new, and frustrating, and stressful sometimes. I’m still learning how to make time for myself. With Arie it was easy I’d just get up earlier than her to accomplish what I wanted, but adding in Kaja that’s nearly impossible. He gets up every 2-3 hours to eat, my boobs wake me up at least twice to pump, and those two will often times take turns waking each other up throughout the entire night, so getting up earlier isn’t the answer because this mama is fucking exhausted. So, I need to learn how to find time to shower, pump, do housework, and find time to work on me during the day. Right now I wait until someone else is home with me to occupy Arie at least since she’s a bit of a mobile terrorist, Kaja is easy because he’s still stationary but that makes him an easy target for Arie. I know I’ll figure out these things on my own eventually, but right now needing all this help has me feeling inadequate as a person and a mother. Like I’m seriously lacking in major departments that should come naturally. I know that isn’t true but trying to combat those thoughts is hard some days. I feel like I’m doing my best, but sometimes my best isn’t enough. I want to be able to handle everything on my own and I know that’s a ridiculous expectation to have of myself. I’m trying to take a break and breathe and know that I am doing a great job, no one is perfect, and it’s perfectly okay to need to help a lot of the time. Help doesn’t mean we’re weak, it’s having someone to lean on until I can figure out how to do it myself. There’s definitely a learning curve to having kids 11 months apart and I will get the hang of this, but until then I will be patient and gentle with myself because we are all learning.

The new who?

The one thing I’ve heard a lot lately that drives me absolutely insane is, “I really like the new you!” And I know it’s meant as a compliment, but I want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them while shouting, “THERE IS NO NEW ME!” This is me, the real me. This is me without the smoke and mirrors. This is me without the ego. This is me without the lies. This me without the shroud of drugs and alcohol. This is me, who I’ve kept locked away. This is me, who I was too insecure to share. This is me who I loathed for so long because I didn’t know how to love her. This is me, this is who I am. I’m sorry you don’t recognize her. I’m sorry she seems like a whole new person. I’m sorry this is the first time you’re getting to meet her because I should’ve let her out a long time ago. She didn’t deserve to be locked away, beaten and abused, dimmed down, and smothered. I should’ve shown her to the world a long time ago because she’s fucking amazing! And she…no, I, am fucking amazing and I have so much to offer this world. I don’t know why it took so long for me to realize this. I am amazing, I am strong, I am kind, I am loving, I am smart, I am resilient, and I am powerful beyond measure. By hiding myself from the world I was doing myself and everyone around me a huge disservice. I owe it to me and my people to be my most genuine self. I am going shine; I am going to pour love and light into this world for as long as I get the opportunity and I’m going to fill everyone around me with that same light and hopefully they don’t bottle it up for so long like I did. Find your light, fill yourself, and pour it into everything and everyone around you. You deserve to set yourself free, break your chains, jump your barriers and fall in love with yourself. Introduce the world to the real you.

I am tired

I am so ungodly tired. We were in a rear ending accident 2 days ago and I’m stiff and my ears are still ringing. I had a baby almost two weeks ago and he, his sister and my boobs take turns waking me up all night. I still get up every morning and work out regardless of how much sleep I got. When I look in the mirror my hair is Medusa-esque and the bags under my eyes are a permanent fixture. People keep telling me and my husband that postpartum depression is a real risk. Some days I’m angry, some days I’m sad, most days I’m frustrated, but every day I’m incredibly happy and grateful. Not one day have I been so enveloped in sadness that I couldn’t breathe. I wake up every day (sometimes mildly annoyed) and know that I am so very blessed. I am blessed with so many beautiful children, with a partner that is kind and loving and helpful (most days lol), with a loving family that is dedicated to being as helpful as possible. Some days my patience is thin and I’m snappier than I mean to be, but all in all I am so very happy, even if it doesn’t seem like it. I go to bed happy, surrounded by loves and snuggles (and screaming and poop). Some people never get to experience any of this. I woke up this morning to two tiny babies snoring away in my bed; I walked out to the living room where the floor was carpeted with snuggly snoring bears; made my way upstairs to to smell of coffee left for me by my husband and I was truly grateful as I got breakfast out for the kids, bottles for the babies, and sipped my coffee. Some days are harder than others, but I am so far from depressed. I am so tired and so very very happy.

Happy Happy Happy

Y’all wanna know what I just thought of? For the first time basically ever I have had no desire to get high, none. I think that’s how I know I’m actually genuinely happy and right in the world. No matter what’s happened recently, no matter how I’ve I felt; getting high hasn’t crossed my mind even once. It doesn’t even sound like fun to me at this point. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I’m at. Getting high would ruin EVERYTHING and it’s absolutely not worth the short lived feel goods. The life I have now took time and so much effort to get and I have so much further I want to go. Getting high and the lifestyle that comes with it is not congruent with my current goals. I’ve been so used to chaos in my life that sometimes stability seems boring, but even so I haven’t considered getting high an option. I am so proud of myself and my husband for the changes we’ve made and continue to make every day. I can see the changes reflect in our lives constantly especially in how our attitudes have changed, how we handle situations, and how we conduct ourselves. When I look at who I was just a year ago and how I am now, the difference is astounding; I don’t even recognize that person. I hadn’t realized that I had been searching for my happiness in places that existed outside myself. Real happiness exists, but you have to find it within yourself. Quit searching for your happiness in the places that you lost it. Try something new, look within yourself and decide to actually put in the work it takes to heal and move on. It’s easy to be a fuck up and stay miserable, it takes no work to stay stuck exactly where you are right now. Change and growth is uncomfortable, but oh so worth it. Once you start the uncomfortable process one day you’ll wake up and realize how worth while these changes have been. One day discomfort will be your comfort zone because you’ll associate it with growth and happiness. So get uncomfortable and find your happy.

What’s your end goal?

I’ve said this before in some earlier posts, but for those of you that don’t know, I am a 6 time convicted felon. I don’t say that with pride, but it’s part of my story. Ever since I caught my first felony charge I always said that when I’m able I’m going to ask for a pardon. I’ve looked at the application for a pardon so many times over the years I know exactly what I need to do to be able to submit my request: no crimes and to be off paper for a year and explain why I should be granted a pardon are the main points. I’m case y’all weren’t aware I used to be licensed to sell home, auto, life and business insurance in 47 states, but my insurance license was permanently revoked on the federal level due to my own poor choices. When I was convicted of my first felony I desperately wanted to get a pardon so I could appeal the revocation of my insurance license. Now, years later, still not yet able to apply for my pardon, I had been thinking why do I even need one? I’ve realized I hate working in an office more than anything, I hate working in sales where you’re selling something people don’t necessarily want to buy, and working customer service for people who only call in when shit hits the fan. I really only wanted that job back because it’s all I knew, I knew I was good at it, and it was my comfort zone. I now realize that’s not even kind of what I want for my life, but I still want to apply for a pardon once I finally qualify. Why? Not because I want to go back to having the kind of life that I actually fucking hated, but because I want to prove to myself that I can do it. My end goal is to keep moving forward, to keep progressing, and improving. The end goal is to never stop. I want to prove to myself that I won’t stand in my own way any longer and something that I’ve let hold me back for so long can finally be in the past. I don’t want to let my past continue to define me or the trajectory of my future. I made some very bad choices in my life, but change is possible for anyone and I will get my pardon and I will prove to myself and everyone else that anything is possible as long as you put the work in.

Who are you?

If I asked you who you are or what defines you, what would you say? Most people would say what they do for a living ie: I’m an athlete, an actor, a welder, an business owner, a student, etc. This is a mistake many of us make; being defined entirely by something that can be taken away from us and letting that thing hinder us in reaching our full potential. What do I mean by that? Say you’re an athlete, being a high school athlete got you a scholarship to college, and from college you were planning on going pro. But, say you get injured in college and that trashes your scholarship and your dreams of going pro. You sank everything into being an athlete every ounce of your being, your reason for breathing was to be an athlete and now you’ll never be an athlete ever again. Now what? Now you’re lost. You have no idea who you are outside being an athlete. Now your options are figure out who you are outside the athlete identity or bury yourself in despair and self pity for losing the thing that you thought made you, you. We all wear many different hats (as my therapist calls it). Myself, for example, I identity with many different roles in my life such as a mom, a co-parent, a wife, a daughter, a recovering addict, a felon, a sister, a friend, a student and probably lot of other things that aren’t top of mind at the moment. That being said, not one of these roles envelopes my identity entirely. I am a spiritual being, filled with light and love on an endless quest to learn and improve and share my knowledge, my missteps, my strength, and hope with anyone that needs it. I wear many hats, they don’t define who I am, but that have helped me discover who I am and who I want to be. I am ever growing and ever changing, making new mistakes all the time but hellbent to learn from them and not repeat them. Don’t let one role define who you are. Find who you are outside of any of those. What makes you, you? Who are you? Who do you want to be?