Two Years Have Passed and I Still Think of You

A single flame, it flickers again. I watch the little shadow dance it plays on the wall across the room. I sit here nursing my son, my rainbow, my hope after the storm. I'm not sure where my emotions want to go. In some sense I am in acceptance. I understand what happened, I accept and while I'll never forget, I can move on. In another sense, I'm still hurt, I'm pissed that it happened. I don't think the pain of losing you, the roller coaster of emotions from ultrasound to OR will ever go away. You came in like a tiny butterfly, you barely left more than a whisper on this earth, but baby you were a quake in mine. Though it all happened so quickly, you shook me to the core, you shifted my foundation. I moved so swiftly after we lost you. I numbed for a short time, then went right back to trying to be me, but the truth is, I wasn't me and I never would be the same again. I've spent this last year still trying to figure out how to grieve your loss. At times I hate myself for not being more gentle with myself in those early days and allowing the journey of grief to go. I guess this is my prolonged journey, I'm learning how I personally will experience each stage of grief. I skipped around, jumped over many, and now am seeing what each of these stages looks like. As Tucker, my rainbow glances up at me with sleepy eyes, I'm at peace. I would not have this baby in my arms if it wasn't for you, my angel. You, in your brief existence in my womb taught me so many lessons, I've grown because of you. Sweet angel, I know God had bigger plans for you, He had more plans for me too. While the rest of the world didn't connect with you, I did. I feel you every day. Thank you for all you've given me, taught me, I thank you. 

Two Years Have Passed and I Still Think of You

A single flame, it flickers again. I watch the little shadow dance it plays on the wall across the room. I sit here nursing my son, my rainbow, my hope after the storm. I'm not sure where my emotions want to go. In some sense I am in acceptance. I understand what happened, I accept and while I'll never forget, I can move on. In another sense, I'm still hurt, I'm pissed that it happened. I don't think the pain of losing you, the roller coaster of emotions from ultrasound to OR will ever go away. You came in like a tiny butterfly, you barely left more than a whisper on this earth, but baby you were a quake in mine. Though it all happened so quickly, you shook me to the core, you shifted my foundation. I moved so swiftly after we lost you. I numbed for a short time, then went right back to trying to be me, but the truth is, I wasn't me and I never would be the same again. I've spent this last year still trying to figure out how to grieve your loss. At times I hate myself for not being more gentle with myself in those early days and allowing the journey of grief to go. I guess this is my prolonged journey, I'm learning how I personally will experience each stage of grief. I skipped around, jumped over many, and now am seeing what each of these stages looks like. As Tucker, my rainbow glances up at me with sleepy eyes, I'm at peace. I would not have this baby in my arms if it wasn't for you, my angel. You, in your brief existence in my womb taught me so many lessons, I've grown because of you. Sweet angel, I know God had bigger plans for you, He had more plans for me too. While the rest of the world didn't connect with you, I did. I feel you every day. Thank you for all you've given me, taught me, I thank you. 

Two Years Have Passed and I Still Think of You

A single flame, it flickers again. I watch the little shadow dance it plays on the wall across the room. I sit here nursing my son, my rainbow, my hope after the storm. I'm not sure where my emotions want to go. In some sense I am in acceptance. I understand what happened, I accept and while I'll never forget, I can move on. In another sense, I'm still hurt, I'm pissed that it happened. I don't think the pain of losing you, the roller coaster of emotions from ultrasound to OR will ever go away. You came in like a tiny butterfly, you barely left more than a whisper on this earth, but baby you were a quake in mine. Though it all happened so quickly, you shook me to the core, you shifted my foundation. I moved so swiftly after we lost you. I numbed for a short time, then went right back to trying to be me, but the truth is, I wasn't me and I never would be the same again. I've spent this last year still trying to figure out how to grieve your loss. At times I hate myself for not being more gentle with myself in those early days and allowing the journey of grief to go. I guess this is my prolonged journey, I'm learning how I personally will experience each stage of grief. I skipped around, jumped over many, and now am seeing what each of these stages looks like. As Tucker, my rainbow glances up at me with sleepy eyes, I'm at peace. I would not have this baby in my arms if it wasn't for you, my angel. You, in your brief existence in my womb taught me so many lessons, I've grown because of you. Sweet angel, I know God had bigger plans for you, He had more plans for me too. While the rest of the world didn't connect with you, I did. I feel you every day. Thank you for all you've given me, taught me, I thank you. 

Tomorrow you wake up another year older. Another year of watching you grow and mature has passed. It's been another year of learning, of rolling with the punches, struggling with the ups and downs. Another year of laughter and tears. A year of smiles, tantrums, dancing, wipe outs, singing, and screaming. It's been another year of us, me, you, and our family. 

As I look at you, I still see such a tiny body, but a body filled with so many emotions. I see you struggling to gain a handle on how to express yourself. I see your ups when you try something new and do really great at it (like climbing the rock wall). I see your downs when you get in trouble (like pushing your brother). I've watched our relationship change, mold if you will, over this past year. I've watched our mother-daughter spats begin to form. I see your strong willed personality shine so bright. I see you push the limits with your free spirited self. Sometimes I get so frustrated with your toddler antics, I lose my patience with you, I struggle when you don't listen, but Little Miss, I LOVE YOU! I love us! I love how because you are our first, we get to grow together, learn together. We are both new at this. Every day we wake up we're new at it, I've never had a three year old before, and you've never been three. Tomorrow we start our venture again out in to a new world, a new year of learning, growing, achieving. A new year of struggles, tantrums, and meltdowns (by both of us I'm sure). Today I'll hold you tighter, I'll hug you longer, I'll be what you need me to be, I'll be the best I can be. Today we cherish your last day in the "twos." Today we hold hands, hug, laugh, cry and know that this ever changing relationship is just ours. 

She's two. The changes that have occurred over the past two, well almost three years has been so much fun to watch. As Little Miss began talking and her language developed more and more, she had some phrases that were priceless! The kind of thing you know you should correct, but it is just too funny to tell her the proper way to say it. Today as she sat on the back porch, we got in to a spat because she wanted to do something I didn't think she should be doing (I gave in, because she's only two once). Anyways, as she yelled at me "I can do it", my heart sank a little bit. She sounded so grown and I realized she'd lost her adorably cute way of talking in third person. Just a month ago, she would have yelled "Lana dooood it!" It was just one snappy sentence that made me realize once again how quickly this life really does go by. Slow down! Enjoy those adorable toddler phrases because they will be gone way sooner than you think.

We Still Have Sunny Days

I'm not quite sure when this journey really began. Perhaps it's always been there brewing and just waiting to find the right time to strike. Maybe it just began postpartum, or maybe there has been another trigger. Regardless, it's been a journey and the journey still goes on. 

I've committed to being open and sharing snippets, but I don't want it all to come across as hard, or like I'm seeking for an "I'm sorry" because that's not the case. Has it been hard, yes. But let me assure you, we still have so many fun moments throughout our days. 

Little Miss has developed the funniest personality. She's always one second from blurting out in full theatrical mode any song she knows. We are often serenaded with her rendition of the Happy Birthday song, ABC's, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Jingle Bells, Finger Family song, and the list goes on and on and on. We were actually just joking tonight that we would have a built in DJ for our beach trip coming up soon. She never fully finishes a song before jumping to another, it's a never ending mix tape with this one. 

Little Man is something else! He is smitten by his big sister, but has his own hilarious personality. He is always smiling or laughing about something...unless of course it's milk time. The boy is all about his milk! He's crawling around and getting where he wants to go. And he is always grunting or chattering about something. 

Through the dark days, the hard moments, we still see rays of sunlight. These two Littles help keep me going. 

In a nut shell....

When it wins, it really wins. The house calls my name, I long to remain within those walls of comfort. They don't judge. They sit quietly, just doing their job. Leaving seems like a ridiculous feat. One that would likely be rewarding, but the thought of getting dressed, ready and looking halfway decent seems an impossible task. Am I making excuses? Do I really not want to go? Or do I really not feel like going?

Then joining in on the party is anxiety. When I go out, I have to be in front of people. People will look at me. What will they think? What if I panic in public? What if I don't meet expectations? What if....? Those what if's could flow for pages and pages. 

Depression

Some days this is what it looks like for me. 

It's isolating. It's dark. It makes me feel like my world is caving in. Life is crashing all around me like ominous waves in the midst of a stormy ocean. I just want to scream for help, for someone to grab my hand and pull me up. In the same breath, I just want to curl up in a dimly lit room and be alone. I want so badly to go out and do things with friends, with or without kids in tow. I want to be social and friendly. I want to be myself, unafraid of what people may say or think about me. I want to feel the presence of friendship, the joy in fellowship, the warmth of someone. I fight the battle daily. Every morning I would prefer to lay in bed. Find something to keep the kids occupied and not have to face the day. Some days we get up and get moving. Others I take my time and find myself isolating. The longing to be alone calls so strongly to me. I have control, I know I do, but some days, depression wins. 

Behind the Smile

Behind the smile I have been falling apart. Behind the smile I have hid my tears. Behind the smile I have suppressed and suppressed until I no longer could. Behind the smile is a woman who really doesn't have it all together. Behind the smile is a mother who is running on empty. Behind the smile is just a broken down woman.

So, this is it. This is where I found myself. I entered treatment for postpartum mental illness on April 21, 2017. I entered treatment thinking I was just going to go in, address the panic attacks that had been occurring and fix the issue. It would be a quick three weeks and I would be myself again, but there was an underlying fear that I would never be the same again. I was wrong. It would not just be a quick three weeks. It would be an emotionally exhausting seven weeks of treatment and my issues were not just "fixed." I was also right; I would never be the same again.

Treatment began and I literally could not recognize myself, this illness had taken over my life. With sleep deprivation, irrational fears, high anxiety, and obsessive thoughts; I was not functioning. I was terrified of being alone, being in busy public places, sleeping, taking care of my children (or failing to do so). My body was running on pure adrenaline from so much anxiety. I no longer recognized myself and the person I had become. It was frightening to wonder if I would be stuck this way forever.

I learned so many coping strategies in treatment and dug up a lot of emotions that I had not been allowing myself to feel. Treatment was so much harder than I ever imagined. I left each day feeling extremely drained, emotionally and mentally. I could not have gotten through it without the support of family, the few friends who stuck with me, my counselor and the therapists. I worked the program, and allowed myself to find a state of vulnerability. This was just the beginning of my healing, my recovery.

After 26 days of Partial Hospitalization and then Intensive outpatient treatment, I was discharged today, June 8, 2017. I will never be the same again, and I mean that in a positive and very empowering way. As I left treatment, I had to write a "good-bye letter" to my issue(s)...


Dear Anxiety and Depression,
We have been "friends" before and I thought I left you in the past. However, here you came again, just like an old friend. We picked up right where we left off. I thought at first we could just continue as we had before, but you had other plans. You came in during one of the most joyful times in my life and intended to wreak havoc. You blindsided me, since we had been apart for so long. You left me feeling confused, hurt and unworthy. You stole my joy, my happiness, my peace. You made an attempt to turn me in to a monster, someone I did not recognize, someone I did not want to be. At times you made me question life and my purpose. You made me an angry person, in cases where anger was not a healthy emotion. You began stealing my faith and replacing it with fear. You did not think I would be strong enough to beat you. Honestly, I did not think I was either. I have now learned that I do not have to beat you. I just have to accept you as you are, because I am strong enough to manage you. I have learned skills to keep you at bay. I will breathe, I will care for myself, I will be present in the moment, and I will not be fearful of you. You will not control my life. You will not steal my joy. You will not make me lose this precious time with my children. You may be in my life, but I am bigger than you. My God is bigger than you. So, though we may be at battle, I have already won this war.

Don't Rush It

If there is one thing I would say to new first time parents, it would be do not rush it! Seeing your child hit all the milestones early, rolling, sitting, crawling, walking, it's exciting! You feel as if your child is ahead of the game, which is great and a feeling of accomplishment. But, don't rush it! Take these early days, weeks, months of your child's life and enjoy it, slow down, and just enjoy it. Soon enough they'll master these new moves. Your child will likely be standing before you know it; they'll be walking, and soon running!

Last night it hit me as I watched my oldest, my Little Miss at her gymnastics class, that I was that parent who couldn't wait for their child to sit, crawl, stand and walk. I remember propping her up to sit and holding her hands encouraging her to take steps and walk on her own. She wasn't "early" with many of the tasks, Little Miss was barely standing unassisted when she turned a year old, but just shortly after her first birthday she took off and hasn't slowed down since. 

So, last night as I sat and watched her swinging on the rings, climbing rock walls, walking a balance beam it made me realize how quickly this time has gone, how quickly my baby is becoming less and less dependent on me. She will soon be two and a half years old, then her third birthday will be here before I know it. This means next year my baby will be able to play organized recreational sports and I don't know if I'm ready for this. With each passing day and each new milestone reached, she is slowly gaining her independence, she is slowly letting go of my hand and finding her own footing. Am I proud? You better believe it! My baby is growing up! Though I have learned, don't rush it!

So for now I will cherish each time she grabs my hand. I will cherish the moments where she plays as if she is shy and hides behind me, because I know soon these moments, these days will all just be a memory. I won't rush it!

Transparency

What if every day you felt like an inadequate parent? What if every day you constantly thought how your kids deserve much better than you, deserve more than you can offer? What if every day you felt bad for your spouse because they have to live with you? What if every day you hated the person you've become? What if every day you woke up just to go through the motions, but rarely found pure joy in your day? What if every day you were scared of some of your actions? What if every day you slowly felt pieces of your true personality slipping away? What if every day you felt alone? What if every day you felt disconnected from people who love you, care for you? What if every day you felt unloved? What if every day you struggled to get out of bed? What if every day you worried about things that could happen? 

What if every night you laid down and thanked God for your family, but hated how you treated them? What if every night you had to tell yourself tomorrow will be different? What if every night you told yourself it was just a bad day? What if every night you laid down to sleep but couldn't turn your brain off? What if every night you dealt with fears, irrational fears? What if every night you wanted to touch your children to make sure they were okay, that they were still breathing? What if every night you were also terrified to touch them, because what if they weren't okay? What if every night you wished it was day light because you don't like being in the dark alone? What if every night you laid your head on the pillow and just thought to yourself that tomorrow will be better, it has to be, because you feel like you're slowly losing control of your life? What if every night you knew deep down you'd wake up to do it all again tomorrow?

I am the face of postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety. 

I am not alone, you are not alone. Open up, speak out, and don't be afraid to ask for help. 

I wrote this last week and time has gotten away from me, so posting now and praying for a smooth and easy week! Ha!

"The days are long, but the years are short." I've often heard mothers mutter these words or heard others gently reminding mothers of this saying. Heck, I've said it myself more times than I can count. No one, I mean no one warned me how long some of these days could feel. Much of motherhood is all praises of those happy moments, those "winning mom" moments. Social media shows the high lights of motherhood and often puts up a false pretense of what motherhood really looks like sometimes. It's HARD, the days are long, sometimes way longer than we'd wish for. Will bedtime ever come? And let's be honest, even when it does, you're likely to have at least one (usually both) kid(s) up at some point during the night. So, perhaps the days and nights are often long, but the time flies by. 

Today I found myself in one of those moments, one of the moments that's rarely talked about. One kid head butting the other, both kids screaming, laundry piled on the floor, snacks spread across the living room, one naked child running around, the other dousing you in spit up, mommy losing her patience (patience lost...long gone)...yeah *that* moment. As moms we've all had at least one of those moments, where  you find yourself unleashing it all to the mom friend you know who won't judge you. --Can I just say thank the good Lord for placing one of those friends in my life!-- 

For every mother envying those who seem to "have it all together", don't. Just don't do it! Behind every social media account is just another mom who's likely losing it at some point, just like you. You are not alone! It's okay to have those days! Because at the end of *THOSE DAYS* your child is still loved and cared for! Deep breath and push on, this doesn't last forever and you won't always be needed in these ways, your kids won't always be running you wild or fighting with one another, your laundry won't always be piled high, and one day you'll miss those snacks covering your living room floor...so for now, breathe, take your moment, hide out in the bathroom for some "me time" if you muse, but BREATHE and remember YOU ARE NOT ALONE!!

A month in, how did this happen so quickly? I could've sworn just yesterday we were bringing Little Man home from the hospital. Walking in the house to see my Little Miss, giving her the biggest hug and settling in for our first tandem nursing session. But, no, that wasn't yesterday. This month has flown, it's been a roller coaster of a ride for this postpartum family. I knew the holidays would throw us off a bit. Let's be honest, the holidays throw you for a loop even without a huge life changing event, like adding a new member to your family. Toss in said life changing event and well it's a recipe...it's a recipe for sure. We welcome Little Man and we definitely welcome the chaos! Bring it on! As 2016 was coming to a close, I thought finally we can settle down, slow down and "enjoy" this adjustment period. I use the word "enjoy" loosely, and with many meanings. I was longing for a slow down, and just as I thought it was going to happen life tosses a curve ball! 

Then came the diagnosis of RSV, for not one, but BOTH KIDS! Welcome 2017!! Talk about being thrown in to life with two kids. There was no slow transition , we jumped straight in to having two sick littles. We prayed and really thought Little Man would breeze through RSV and not have a rough time with it. Little Miss had already seen the worst of it and was on the mend, when it ended up going downhill for our sweet little 3 week old man. Thankfully, after three nights in the hospital, he's home and they are both so much better!

So, to say the least, this first month has been a roller coaster, full of ups, downs, and many emotions (I'll open up about those soon)! Here's our first professional family of four photo. We kinda nailed it!