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The TRUTH About Motherhood

Category: Confessions

  • Blog Like No One is Reading

    Blog Like No One is Reading

    Discombobulated. Exhausted. What time is it? What day is it? Wow! I am in the throes of one of the worst Christmas hangovers I’ve ever experienced. It’s outrageous. My poor blog has suffered and fallen to the wayside of my priorities. With all the moments saturated in holiday joy and togetherness, sitting down to write about it seemed to feel like it might spoil the magic. I wanted to live it not write about it and that is what I did and it was magnificent.

    On December 14th the Nutcracker ended and then I played the most intensive game of catch up that I’ve ever had the misfortune to take part in. My blogging has been shit because I had so many obligations that I needed to get done. Then Christmas came and I have purposely been spending time with my girls and the Big Guy. I am like a damn quality time camel, I am trying to suck it all up while we are in this holiday bubble, before people start going back to school and work, before deadlines are mounting and the out-of-control-ness of life takes hold once again.

    I do want to get back to blogging like I did in the beginning before I had to worry about who was or wasn’t reading. I’m forgetting that my mom, mother-in-law and Homeland security have all been known to frequent my page. I want to blog like no one is reading once again. I want to comment and read blogs. I want to know what’s going on outside my bubble. I want people to give me their perspective on what I write even if they disagree. I want to have long, drawn out conversations in 140 characters. I want to make new friends online. I want to hug the necks of all those who have taken the time to engage. I want quality to matter over quantity. I want content to be king again. I don’t want to worry about fucking SEO, my “numbers” or how much to charge. I want to write what I feel and say what I mean and not give a damn.

    I have a list of goals for my life, the blog and my family (by the way, I always have a list of goals not just on the brink of a New Year. I am a chronic list maker, if you are one too, I am sure that you have a list of goals at all times too. Go ahead, flip through your phone, notebook or journal, I’ll wait). I want to be better and yet, I want to be who I am; loud and proud and free of over-thinking. I don’t want to worry about other people’s judgment or care what they think about what I have to say. I want to blog like no one is reading. I want to live like there is no tomorrow and I want to dance like no one is watching.

    Life is too short to do anything else. So this year, I have my list of things that I want to accomplish. Most are things that I do already, some are things I need to remind myself to do and others I have completely forgotten or given up on but I like a challenge so on my list they remain. 2013 was good to me, better than 2012, but I want to blow the roof off of 2014, in so many ways. Mostly, I want to be better, love harder and live fully. I want to mommy with compassion and patience, I want to be more present in my life and more passionate in my marriage. I want to give 110% to the things that matter and most of all, I want to be happy with myself with no regrets.

    I wish all of you an abundance of love, peace in your heart and success in your every endeavor. Be brave, blog like no one is reading and live like each day is a new beginning of your story. Embrace it with enthusiasm and wonder, because each day is a chance to rewrite your story. Each moment is redemption and salvation. Don’t plan for how you want to live your life…just live, right this moment; every minute of every single day for the rest of your life.

    Wishing you all the happiest New Year filled with moments that take your breath away!

    I am serious about wanting to read and comment of blogs and I am serious about more conversations on Twitter and I really want to have conversations and share on FB not just read and like links like its a job. I want to look forward to hearing what you have to say. Let’s do this. Let’s bring it back.Let’s blog like no one is reading…like it’s 2009.

    Leave your blog url, twitter handle or FB page in the comments and I will check you out. Here’s to 2014!

    What’s your #1 goal for 2014?

     

  • Do you Suffer from “The Other Shoe” Syndrome?

    Do you Suffer from “The Other Shoe” Syndrome?

    Christmas was a blur of warm fuzzy feelings and binging on family time. My cup runneth over. We cut back on the girls’ gifts this year but they still seemed to get everything they could want and more. My parents spent Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with us.  There were grandparents and new babies and lots and lots of love. There wasn’t even a Christmas Eve filled with wrapping sessions because, for once, we did it two weeks before. It was beautiful and magical and I even think I might remember some of it clearly but then the immediate overwhelming sense of impending doom infiltrated every fiber of my soul and I was still. So still that you could hardly notice I was there. I was hoping that disaster and doom would pass me by.

    I’ve been missing from the blog, social media and any online activity lately. Sure, I still wake up every morning and check my phone before I get up. I share and like and comment on my friend’s warm and fuzzy posts about the love of the holidays and then it happened. I began to read all the posts about being alone, going through divorce, losing someone, losing children, losing parents, being sick and dying of cancer, missing those who they lost and my heart nearly burst from sadness and then from guilt. How the hell am I so blessed when so many others are in such pain? Then I remembered how much pain I was in last year. My heart was broken. I spent nearly a year muddling through the fog and pain of surviving a shitty year. A monumentally shitty year and then I realized that last year I was the sad status.

    Then I began to wait for the doom. It sickens me that I can never enjoy happiness because I am always waiting for the counterbalancing hurt of life to even out the joy because no way life is going to let me walk around smiling like a happy, dopey dumb sonofabitch. Life is going to kick me in the balls. It always does, when I least expect it. I know happiness does not last forever but I so want to enjoy these little moments of happiness without worrying about the next bad thing around the corner. The sickness, the death, the loss, the pain and the hurt. So this is me, wishing all of you love, laughter and happiness. This is me trying to overcome my own neurotic state of impending doom. This is me enjoying the small moments of happiness that permeate the air and fill my lungs.

    May God bless and keep you all happy, healthy, and wealthy with warm beds and full bellies. May life smile upon you and may your children be safely in your arms, your love holding you tight and may you be blessed with all the love, prosperity and success that the world can muster because life is too damn short to worry about the impending doom that may or may not be right around the corner. The price of happiness is not doom. The price of happiness is laughter and a full soul.

     

    Image via Zetson

  • Sandy Hook Always on My Mind

    Sandy Hook Always on My Mind

    Saturday was the anniversary of the Sandy Hook Elementary massacre. I was backstage, watching from stage left as my daughters performed their final show. I wanted to be in as close proximity to my girls as possible. I half expected some deviant, somewhere to decide to commemorate the anniversary with his or her own massacre. This is who I have become since December 14, 2012. I am afraid and I can’t shake it. Sandy Hook changed my life. Saturday, my heart was heavy for the mothers and fathers of Sandy Hook. The air was so thick I could barely breathe.

    In our world, shootings happen frequently, so much so that it is no longer shocking. A crazed gun man walks into a post office, a disgruntled employee walks into his place of business, a religious zealot walks into a church, a long gunman walks into a mall or a theater, a jilted lover walks into a house…this happens all over the place, all the time but Sandy Hook was different it hit many of us where we live. Adam Lanza made us all feel vulnerable in a place where we already walk around like an open wound to the world; our children. He stole the one place we felt comfortable and safe leaving our children away from us; school.

    Every morning when I drop my girls off at school, I am afraid that it might be the last time that I ever see them. Every time I hear a siren, I call the school to make sure everything is all right. If the girls are in a bad mood in the morning and we argue, I always rectify it before dropping them at school. I always hug them goodbye and I always tell them that I love them because I am terrified that something might happen and it might be the last time that we see one another and I don’t want my last words to them to be mean ones. The events that transpired that cold Friday morning at Sandy Hook Elementary did that to me. I know life goes on but my trust in the world has been broken and I am not sure that it can ever be mended.

    For the rest of my life, my heart will stop when I hear a siren if my children are not in my line of sight. For the rest of my life, I will watch my children until they are all the way in the building. For the rest of my life, I will remember that my children are the most precious gift that life has given me and I will not take them for granted. For the rest of my life, I will not trust the world to protect our children. That is what Adam Lanza and his shooting spree has done to our world.

    Children are not disposable. Human beings are not replaceable. No one needs a gun. Gun violence needs to stop and we need to prevent something like Sandy Hook from ever happening again.No parent should ever have to wonder if this is the last time they will see their child alive at morning drop off. We should not have to live our lives in fear. If you believe that the right to bear arms is more important that the lives of 26 people than we probably can’t be friends. Please pray for peace for the mothers and fathers of the Sandy Hook victims.

    How has your perspective on life changed since Sandy Hook?

  • Cold Season & Damaged Lady Bits

    Cold Season & Damaged Lady Bits

    Why is it that women of a certain age who have children can no longer cough or sneeze without crossing their legs to stop themselves from pissing. Don’t even get me started on the coughing fits. I have another cold and I am terrified that I might piss myself in public. I am actually choosing my wardrobe based on which is least likely to reveal my coughing fit piss stain. I am becoming a Holiday hermit for fear of urinating myself in public.

    I’ve tried party-liners and, let me just be frank with you, they only work if you have one of those teeny tiny sneezes or can slam your thighs shut in the spur of the moment like a bear trap. But if you have a full-on coughing fit or, God forbid, a child or dog sitting on your lap when the unfortunate incident takes place, foggedaboutit you better just get yourself a pair of Depends because in some situations its just better to be safe than sorry.  Sorry you pissed your pants Grandma. Yeah, I feel 105 every time I cough. I love my daughters but did their heads have to be SO damn big?

    As if it were not bad enough that they split me apart and there is no longer a urethra, vagina and asshole but just one gaping wound, now I can’t even keep liquids down..errr inside..you know what I mean! This should be included in the What to Expect when You’re Expecting manuals. This should be told to every little girl that watches the puberty video. We should all be forewarned that we will piss ourselves after giving birth.I don’t know about you but I don’t particularly relish the thought of running around all stuffed up from a head cold smelling of the faint scent of urine like the homeless women on Randolph because I can’t smell anything and no one has the heart to tell me. Just tell me.

    I was so concerned about shitting on the delivery table while pushing my children out into the world, if only I had known about the entire pissing ever after, I may have begged for a Caesarian section. They say that a steady regime of Kegels will rectify the situation but I say, they are damn liars. I have kegeled so much that I walk around with my vagina closed tight like a fist and yet, one rogue tickle in my throat and cough and there I stand, with a leaking closed fist where my vagina used to be. It should come standard to do some sort of urethra/bladder reconstruction for all women after giving birth. At the very least, can we stick an extra stitch or two in there to bring it back to some semblance of normal? Hell, sew it shut. I just don’t want to have a steady drip during flu season. Yes, doctor, I would like the number 3; urethra reconstruction, labia beautification and a tummy tuck.

    Anyone else dreading cold season and stocking up on panty liners? Don’t say know because I noticed a definite shortage of Tylenol cold and flu and pantyliners at the local Target, coincidence? I think not!

  • Women, Stop Hating on One Another

    Women, Stop Hating on One Another

    So it happened. You know that moment when something just clicks? Well, yesterday something just clicked. I decided to just do it. I am doing it. This morning was the first day.

    I’ve been seeing this photo floating around FB of Caroline Berg Eriksen, the Norwegian soccer wife and fitness blogger, in her undies and bra looking like a svelte supermodel four days after giving birth. People are annoyed by her and asking why she would do something like this. People are pissed off. How dare she look that good 4 days after giving birth! It has to be a fake.

    Well, not me. I say, Go GIRL! Hell, I don’t know how she did it. I am assuming that she was in pretty damn good shape before giving birth, being a fitness blogger and all and maybe she just has those good genes. We don’t know her story or her struggles. We just saw a picture and got pissed because life isn’t fair. I won’t lie, I’m a little jealous. She’s got my “after” body. You know the body I “hope” to have after getting in losing weight and getting into shape.

    caroline berg eriksen, weight loss, mommy warsMy sister-in-law had 4 kids and after every birth, she looked svelte. Of course, she was an athlete and I was not. Both times, I left the hospital at my pre-pregnancy weight, wearing my regular pants, with a muffin top and the best thing that ever happened to me bundled in my arms. As far as I am concerned, I was the luckiest girl in the world. I wish we didn’t all define ourselves by the size of our asses and that we didn’t always compare the size of our asses to everyone else’s asses, but we do.

    All summer, I was very diligent about working out. I was walking/jogging 5 days a week and watching and logging every single morsel of food that went into my mouth. It was becoming a habit; a healthy way of living. For someone who has obsessed over her weight for most of her life and then tried to cheat her way to skinny, a shift in my way of thinking and habits was almost a miracle.  I was embracing it. I felt proud of myself. Hell, I even felt a little sexy which is something I never feel. My clothes were fitting better and life just seemed brighter. If you’ve ever battled with body image, you know that this was not vanity; this was security.

    I felt good about myself and that was something foreign to me but it felt good. Then I went to BlogHer and I fell off the wagon. I was eating whatever I wanted, drinking alcohol to be social and snacking on tiny cheeseburgers at all hours of the night. I just wanted to be normal; enjoy my time with my friends and not worry about food. Fucking food is the bane of my existence but I didn’t just fall off the wagon, I went charging off the wagon head first.

    I had every intention of getting back on the wagon when I got back home but I never did. I tried but here I am 5 months later confessing that I gained all the weight back. I am disappointed with myself but instead of doing something about it, I just fed my shame with more carbs and it made matters worse. Since Halloween, all bets have been off. My eating habits have been like a runaway train chocked full of poor choices and absolutely NO.EXERCISE! Every day is a perpetual walk of shame. If you’ve ever been heavy or unsatisfied with the skin you live in, you know what I am talking about.

    This is a mighty slippery slope for the girl in recovery from Eating Disorders. I’ve caught myself lately thinking; maybe I should just throw that up. Mostly, I don’t but in all honesty, a couple times I have; silently and quietly and then I find myself thinking, I can do this. But I don’t want to and I don’t let myself but right there in my brain, I know the cheater’s solution. I know how to gain control of this runaway train (or maybe just trade it in for a better looking model). I have little girls and my selfish days are long over, I can’t be that horrible example for them. I need to be better than that, in spite of myself. I need to be strong. I need to be healthy.

    I’ve had some very inspirational women present in my life lately; my sister with hard work, exercise and a change in eating habits has changed her life. My friend Erin is bravely facing her challenges in life and getting stronger every day. It’s not easy but she is worth fighting for, finally she knows that. My friend Jenni is one of the strongest women I know and she never gives up. She dusts her self off, does what needs to be done and kicks another day’s ass. My friend Niki always keeps going, even when she is too tired and weary to take another step. She stays positive and never loses sight of what’s important. My friends Amy & Jennifer, they are busting their asses and you can see the changes in their bodies, minds and in their spirits. They are happy and determined. All of these women are changing their lives by making the decision to face the hard choices and to take control when the whole damn thing is out of control. They inspire me. I am happy for them. I support them for being their best even at life’s worst an for persevering even when life’s challenges seem insurmountable. I want to do the same.

    I don’t need to knock anyone else down in order for me to stand tall. Who cares if Caroline Berg Eriksen looks unnaturally perfect after giving birth, we don’t know how she’s come to where she is in life and we don’t know her struggles and challenges. Truly, I’ve got plenty to worry about in my own house, like my own weight and making sure I am being a good example to my girls, I don’t have the time or energy to be hating on a new mom who looks fantastic. I’m happy for her because I wouldn’t wish unhappiness with your body on anyone.

    I am doing it. Today, I made the decision to stop listening to the self defeating voices in my head and know in my heart that I can do this…the right way. Thank you for the inspiration ladies.

  • Like a Mack Truck

    It’s been one of those weeks. You know the ones where you are bone tired but at the same time there is something inside that won’t shut off. It’s like your flight or fight response has kicked in and you have no one to fight and nowhere to run because the cause follows you because it is within you.

    The week started with a midnight ding on my laptop; a comment on a blog post about my battle with anorexia. God that seems like a lifetime ago in the miserable state of affairs my body stands in today. The comment was left by a 15-year-old girl in New Zealand who is struggling with eating disorders. She is crying for help but no one believes her. I know how this turns out if no one pays attention; the story ends with her dying. Gone. No more because even her own parents wouldn’t take her seriously. I reply. I give her some number and emails to a hotline. I am triggered. I want to swoop in and save her but I can’t. I am here. I can only offer assistance, listen, believe her and hope she takes the next step. Fight.

    Then a couple days later, I hosted a twitter party. I was really excited about it because it meant that I could giveaway  a prize that I thought would make some little girl’s Christmas morning. That meant something to me because I know there are mothers out there who can’t afford to give their children anything for Christmas and I could help a mom give her child the best Christmas ever. It took a lot of work. I’ve been planning and negotiating this since August. Then I even got to give away 2 houses and then after it was all said and done, I was called a liar and a cheat by two participants who didn’t win. I know I shouldn’t take it personally but I do. Fight.

    Then I read a post by an asshole man called, Five Reasons to Date a Girl with an Eating Disorder. You know, the disease that kills women, the disease that might be killing a 15-year-old in New Zealand right now and the disease that could have killed me. He makes light of this disease that I suffered from for 8 years; the very same thing that I will be in recovery from for the rest of my life; the disorder that kills women. He obviously has no understanding of it or is the most callous and unkind human walking the face of the earth. Fight.

    Then today, November 24th, what would have been the first birthday of the baby I lost. I accidentally watched a 1st birthday video of a friend’s daughter and that’s when it hit me like a MACK truck. I should be celebrating but instead my lap is empty and my heart is heavy today. The air is thick and it’s hard to breathe. I don’t know when this will stop happening. I don’t know if we ever really get over our hurts in life. I think maybe they grow to be a part of us and change us. Flight

    I’m here, hammering out deadlines and avoiding my reality. My heart is pretty fragile this week and the slightest push of pressure in the wrong way may break me completely. But in this moment I thank God for what I have; a man who loves me with all my flaws, children who I can hold in my arms a little longer than I need to today, a best friend who reaches out from across the universe to make sure that my heart is still in tact and work. Work that keeps my mind occupied and tears at bay.

  • People Without Children Should STFU about Parenting

    People Without Children Should STFU about Parenting

    I love British humor and this comedian, Michael McIntyre, has wrapped up parenthood about as well as anyone ever has. He says what we’ve all thought at one time or another, people who don’t have kids have no idea what they are talking about when they discuss parenting or offer their advice on how you, in your sleep deprived, baby brain, overwhelmed self, can be a better parent if you would only just stop making it so damn hard.

    My daughters are 6 & 8, so I have been doing this parenting thing for quite a while now. I love it almost every single moment but there are moments like when my 6-year-old wakes up in the middle of the night, goes to the potty ( in my bathroom after turning on the light in the hallway in my room) sits down and when I go to check on her, promptly develops the worst case of potty rage, I have ever seen. “Get.OUT.MOMMY@!!! I don’t want you in here!” This usually continues for about 30 minutes until I give up and my husband comes in to help at which point she screams at the top of her lungs that she now hates him and wants me.Then she walks past us both and gets in our bed and hogs all of the covers.

    Or what about every morning when the same said 6-year-old, who is a complete sweetheart between the hours of 8 am and 7 pm, wakes up shouting that she doesn’t want to get up. She’s tired. I’m mean and her stomach/eye/nose/butt/and/or ankle are all hurting her and I don’t care.You know why? Because it’s hard to care when she does it every day and she spent the previous night waking you up to yell at you that she hates you in her potty rage. Then she stares at her food for 30 minutes, only to complain that it is cold when she takes her first bite. When she does finally make it upstairs, she dawdles around for another 20 minutes which ends in a fast and furious mad dash for the front door with hair being brushed out the door, shirts not tucked, forgetting water/snack/book or homework and usually, her yelling, “Why do you always rush me?” Let’s not even get started on her sister who has mastered the art of the eye roll and walkaway.

    Anyways, this comedian has mastered the toddler/preschool years. I know, I’ve been there. Some days we still have to beg the 6-year-old to put on her damn shoes and walk out the door. It’s fun to watch if you’re not in the middle of it and he is so right, people without kids have no idea because they have nothing to compare it to. Just like you can’t explain labor to a person who’s never given birth because they can listen but they can not understand the all consuming pain that comes with evicting an unwilling dweller from your body.

    So, 25-year-old lady at the grocery store with the perfectly manicured nails, clean clothes, bright eyed and bushy-tailed because she got laid before her 10 hours of sleep, stop giving me dirty looks when I hand my kid my phone to keep her occupied so I can get the groceries I need to feed her before she decides to go off like a nuclear bomb in this joint because she missed nap time. And never, ever, if you value your life, give parenting advice to a parent if you don’t have children of your own because you might think you know what it’s like but you have no fucking idea of the things we’ve seen and done since giving birth. You should be afraid, be very afraid!

  • Coming Out of the Closet & Having a Hard Conversation

    Coming Out of the Closet & Having a Hard Conversation

    I watched this TedX video of Ash Beckham and she reminded me that hard is hard and we truly all do have our closets that we live in. Me, I’ve had a few. Unfortunately, they shroud you in shame but better the devil you know, right? Rejection is the worst and no one wants rejection. Most of us would prefer to not try at all than to try and fail and that is why we live in closets. Closets are not just about being gay; closets are about being afraid to tell your truth. It doesn’t matter how big or small or what color you paint it, a closet is a closet is a closet. No one should be afraid to tell his or her truth because your truth is what makes you who you are.

    In my lifetime, I have had many closets. Thankfully, with the birth of my blog, I started busting out of all of my closets. It was one of the scariest things I ever have done; telling the whole world all of my faults. Most of the time when I hit publish, I feel sick to my stomach and I think that is a good thing. How can I be honest with you, if I can’t even be honest with myself? Now, I wish everyone had a blog to help them bust out of their closets. Hard conversations: mental illness, child abuse, obesity, eating disorders, alcoholism, miscarriage and not being the kind of mom I want to be to my children. I used to hide them deep inside me, because who wants everyone to look at them like they’re a freak? It’s one thing to be crazy, it’s quite another to announce it to the world.

    When you spend your whole life pretending to fit in but feeling like you are an imposter in the house of life, you might be living in a closet. Have the conversation and like we’ve all heard, those who matter won’t care. Well, that’s a lie, they might, but they will get over it because they love you. Those who have a problem with you being your authentic self? Well, who the fuck wants them in your life anyways? Not me.

    You know. I spent all of my life, up until I met my husband, pretending to be what everyone wanted of me. Good girl, good grades, friendly, attractive, fun-loving and life of the party but inside, inside my closet, I was a hot mess and it was like juggling jello trying to keep myself in the closet while the version I thought everyone wanted to know came out every day all day. I cried a lot. My poor husband, he had no idea what he got himself into.

    When you hide in that closet for so long, you become a master of convincing, even yourself, that the performance you give every day is the real you but at night, when you are all alone with nothing but your thoughts, you feel like a fraud and that is one of the worst feelings you can have. You feel like a liar. Turns out, once I came out of my closets and had those hard conversations, I was free to be me and guess what? Anyone who has read this blog and then met me will tell you, I am the same online as I am in person only slightly less in your face. Turns out with the freedom of being out of my closet and living out loud and proud, I am the person that I pretended to be only I don’t need to cry at night because I’m not living in that damn cramped, dark closet hiding like a scared child anymore and it is liberating.

    So, watch Ash Beckman’s video and come out of your closet. I promise you’ll be so much happier out in the open. Sure, you might feel nauseous right before you have the hard conversation but that’s because it’s important. Do it anyways. Teach your children to be honest with themselves and the people who love them. A closet is no place for a human to live.

    What’s your closet?

  • Living in the Purgatory of Loss

    Living in the Purgatory of Loss

    It’s been a crazy emotionally draining few weeks. The kind  that makes you take stock in who you are, where you are and what your life has become. Weeks that makes you stop and catch your breath and reassess what is important to you.

    On Tuesday evening in casual conversation, I asked a my daughter’s ballet teacher when she was due. She said Thanksgiving and just like that, I was punched in the gut. Thanksgiving last year was my due date, this year I should have a one-year-old sitting on my lap. I don’t. It’s not fucking fair! I just want to collapse into a pool of snot and tears and cry until I can’t cry anymore.

    It all started last week when the Big Guy and I were having a conversation about the big things in life, already happening. He feels like all the big things have already happened for us. He specifically mentioned our children and though he never said it, I felt that it was unspoken that maybe our loss was on his mind, even if he didn’t realize it. This made me sad because, I already blame myself and on some days the loss is too much to bear.

    Then I had to take Bella to the hospital for passing out cold in my arms and for those split seconds I thought she was dead. I really did and my whole world exploded like a nuclear bomb went off and wiped me off the face of the earth. As I sat there in the emergency room waiting to hear the results, my mind went back to that moment on May 1st, 2012 when I sat on a stretcher waiting for them to wheel me back for my D & E. I remember seeing a mother holding her 18-month-old daughter on her lap as they awaited surgery for the child and I said to the Big Guy then, “At least I am not here with my sick child!”

    I was thankful not to be sitting there with a sick Bella or Gabi waiting for them to be wheeled back to get surgery when in fact I was sitting there with my baby in my belly with no heartbeat. I had completely separated myself from the situation and that is how I’ve survived the loss. The Big Guy looked at me like I was crazy. I probably was but when I sat there with Bella on that Thursday morning, I felt more helpless and useless than I’ve ever felt before.

    The baby that we lost has been on my mind a lot lately; practically daily. Maybe its because its fall and I know that the due date is right around the corner. Maybe it has something to do with seeing beautiful pregnant women everywhere I go. Maybe it has been triggered by the losses of my friends in the past few weeks. Or maybe I have still not yet let it go.

    When I first lost our baby, I was terrified of ever feeling that pain again. I still am but every once in awhile I see a glimpse of what if? I allow myself to wonder. But I’m older now  and so are the girls and it feels like the gap is unsurmountable. That part of our life has been forcefully surrendered and I know I could not survive another loss. That I know for sure. It put me in a very dark place that I never want to revisit. But still it hurts, I don’t know if it will ever stop hurting; the loss of our unexpected blessing.

    When will I stop marking time by events of loss? I feel like I am coping well and not dwelling on the sadness and then just as suddenly, my heart is in my throat and BOOM! emotional time bomb.

    Maybe we should have tried for another baby. Maybe it would have helped take up some of the room in this hole in my heart and then I realize, no, you can’t fill that void. I just have to learn to live in my loss and not being able to give my daughter a little brother or sister. When will I stop feeling like I need to be still and hide on these annual occasions of conception, miscarriage and due date?

    It’s all I have. I never got to hold my baby in my arms. I cling to these tiny milestones like they are my last breaths. When will I be able to exhale?

    Our babies who have gone on to heaven may not be here in our arms but they are always in our hearts. During National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, please remember what we can never forget.

  • The Hardest Part is the Waiting

    The Hardest Part is the Waiting

    When I was pregnant with Bella, I constantly listened to Celine Dion’s album Miracle. Honestly, it was my first pregnancy and I was so in love with my baby before she was ever born, like all moms-to-be. From the moment that I knew she was there, I loved her, more than life itself and I still do. This is how I have felt about every pregnancy and every child I’ve had the pleasure of growing in my body.

    I would sway back and forth in her nursery, rubbing my belly and singing the songs to her, imagining all the things I would get to do with her throughout her life. All the books said that you should talk to your unborn baby because they would know your voice, and she did. She kicked and we had our long conversations in that nursery as the sun shone through the window and kissed my belly; just the two of us.

    After she was born, I would soothe her to sleep in my arms, rocking in front of that same window looking down into her big blue eyes. My miracle realized; my child in my arms to love for all eternity. The love was sometimes almost overwhelming. It scared me to love someone so much; it still does.

    My Bella has been sick since last Thursday when she unexpectedly passed out in my arms and my whole world feels upside down. Nothing seems right and even the air feels thicker. Yesterday, we went for her follow up and they sent us for an echocardiogram…just to be sure. My heart stopped. I thought everything was fine but I’ve been here before, that unsuspecting moment when you think life is fine and it gets completely knocked upside down.  I don’t want to be here. I want to be somewhere else; anywhere else.  I want to close my eyes and cover my ears and pretend none of this is happening.

    The echocardiogram took what seemed like an eternity. I don’t know if that is standard or if they saw something. I only know that I feel like I can’t breathe. She’s been throwing up and laying around the house frail and sickly and I just want to take it all away.

    Now, I wait for the results of one of the most important tests of my life. I am freaking out and today was the first time I’ve had the chance to process my feelings. The Big Guy is back at work, Bella went back to school and I am waiting by the phone, listening to that CD that made me so happy when I sung those songs to my Bella when she was safe in my arms and sobbing as I type this because the uncertainty is breaking my heart.

    This could be the beginning of something we have to tackle or it could be nothing. Either way, I have to keep it together for Bella, my miracle.

    ***Update: After the doctor didn’t call last night, considering that I have been frantic since last Thursday when this all started, I called the pediatrician who is out of office until Thursday. I started choking up and crying on the phone with the nurse because my nerves are shot and practically begging them to call me as soon as the doctor walked in on Thursday morning, knowing full well that I will be a hot, sobbing mess until then. The nurse tried to talk me off my worried mommy ledge but it wasn’t working. She just called back and said she called the doctor at home and after consulting with the pediatric cardiologist: “No need to worry. No abnormalities. No issues. No Restrictions!” Thank You God and everyone who prayed. I’ve never been so happy to hear the word no in my life. WHEW!!!Exhale!Breathe….that’s what the nurse just told me. I am trying but first I must finish the stress crying.