it could have been different

First an injury update: still SO sore and in my sling, imobilized. And sadly, still swollen too much to put my wedding ring back on. Glad my Momma told me to take it off while we were sitting in the ER triage, otherwise we would have probably had to have it cut off my now chubby little finger.
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I've been doing a lot of griping lately.  And I feel like that's ok because I'm really struggling on many levels and emotions bottled up for too long end up rotten, right?
So here's a little more before I get on to something better:

There's this person in my life who has always, always made me feel inadequate, insecure, alone, and sad. (Let's call this person a him for simplicity's sake.) The sad is for him because I imagine he feels these things too along with maybe some depression, anger, and regret. I am also sad because things could have been, and definitely should have been, different.

Recently, I've come to the place where I feel like I've forgiven this person as much as I'm capable of in this life. And, all that's left is sadness for what could be if he would just try a little because I try a lot. I guess I can happily say that we have the best relationship HE is capable of... He has had his own set of trials of late but refuses to talk to anyone about them, even someone like me who is in a similar situation and really can understand what he's going through. Instead, he's grumpy and angry all the time.

Tonight, I needed help. Ya know, because I have a broken shoulder and am not allowed to use my left arm AT ALL which makes being 8 months pregnant, dizzy, light-headed, and off balance all the more fun. So, I called from another room, to a third person, that I needed help. I did not ask HIM for help; I did not even address him and I made it clear that my need was not emergent and that I could wait. Apparently, my needing help from this third person was extremely upsetting and inconvenient for HIM.

I'm not sure what upsets me more, that he seems to be bothered not to be the only one needing to be catered to right now or that for some reason I thought he, of all people, would understand what I'm going through and how I'm feeling. Maybe... maybe I'm upset with myself for not realizing that things will never be different.

Now to the part where I try to do better:

We know a family who's sweet 2yr old girl (the youngest of 5) has stage 4 neuroblastoma and has been battling this cancer and EXTREMELY painful and difficult treatments since January. They have a blog that they use to keep us (all of their supporters) updated on her progress.
This week, she has been enduring a particularly painful treatment.
I found her father's words incredibly inspiring and uplifting even in the midst of terrible adversity and trial.

This is extremely difficult to be a part of. I very much appreciate the doctors, nurses and facilities here who work hard at helping Abigail... I think they do a great job. Despite their noble effort to minimize discomfort, the intense pain caused by this treatment tugs at the heart of any normal parent. . .

To watch your baby look up with innocent eyes and ask (without words), "Daddy, why are you letting this happen to me again?" hurts. To make it harder, Abigail does so submissively, not defiantly. Each time we pull out a shot (every day) that hurts not only as it enters the skin, but especially as the medication is injected, she squirms in anguish but also in confusion as to why her Mommy and Daddy force this upon her.

We can only say, "We do so because we love you and because it will be good for your future." (Again, without many words, but more through our eyes, body language and spirit-to-spirit.)

With the administration of 3F8, the above experience is 10-fold. The pain for her is horrible... but watching Abigail submit to it without understanding but without holding resentment towards us is humbling. Instead of being angry at her parents for either letting the painful experience occur or for not fully explaining the experience to her, Abigail seems to draw closer to us for comfort, strength and love.

How I wish I could be more like my daughter! How often have I resented, sulked or angered over difficult experiences in life either because they hurt, or because I still don't understand their purpose? If I would choose to be like my angel daughter, I would allow those experiences to draw closer to my Heavenly Father, Savior, wife, children and friends. I would choose to let those experiences make those relationships more comforting, strengthening and loving.

May we all learn from the Spirit of the Lord as we watch the examples of the children. They have a lot to teach us.

I think his words speak for themselves. If only I could learn to be more submissive to my Heavenly Father's will, to know that all trials are to teach and better me, and to draw closer to Him, my Savior, and those who love me for comfort, strength, and love. How different would my choices, my impact on those trying to care for me, and the lessons I learn be?



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and then tragedy struck

Friday, Sept 16, TD had his 15 month check and, of course, he's a monster like usual :) He's 25lbs (71%) and just under 35 inches (97%). No wonder our backs hurt after carrying him for too long!

So, we'd been in the new house about a week, and hubby has maintained his crazy routine of work, class/homework, working long into the night at our condo or on the new house, so we've decided that a quiet Saturday night at home was in order.

Hubby and his brother spent the day working on projects at our house. We had dinner and swam with my parents. My mom came home with us to get her eyebrows waxed. She had just left and hubby was working on TD's bedtime routine while I planned to feed and water the dog, get everything unpacked to cut hubby's hair, and pick a movie.
I stepped out on to the patio--which has crappy, pink, porcelain tub surround or back splash type tile on it-- and walk toward Betsy's dishes.

And then, it happened: I slipped. I slipped and fell face (and baby bump) first. I reached out for the house to catch myself with my left arm. Sadly, my arm found the house but my body continued to the ground, effectively hyperextending and breaking my shoulder. The snapping sound that occurs when bone breaks violently is nauseating and something I'll never forget.
Luckily, I'd left the back door open so hubby heard my screams because, between the tunnel vision, dizziness, extreme nausea, excruciating pain, and broken shoulder, I could not lift myself up off the ground.
Hubby came running with poor, naked bum TD (mid diaper change, of course) and both looked frightened.

My angel mother was less than a mile from our house and was able to come to our rescue and whisk me off to the ER where, apparently, falling while your pregnant and having no color in your skin because you're about to pass out means you get to cut to the front of the line.

Some incredibly painful x-rays later,
I got some much needed pain meds and was transferred to OB triage to be monitored for FOUR HOURS. Baby girl had been moving and kicking just fine but I was having some contractions so we had to hang out until they were sure.
Sadly, the recovery time for my type of fracture is 6-10 weeks meaning I'm effectively useless to my family and can't work. Let's not forget that my baby girl is due just 8 weeks from when I fell. It's really not reassuring to have people keep saying "*hopefully* you'll healing quickly enough to be able to hold your baby" with a nice cheesy grin like some how that should make every thing better.
I'm unable to dress or shower myself without help and wearing much other than stretchy yoga pants and dresses is now out of the question as there's no way I could pull jeans up by myself.
I cannot lift or rock TD. I can't drive.
It's incredibly amazing to me how exhausting and appetite suppressing PAIN is. I feel like I can hardly function as a person.

I'm not good at a lot of things. I've been comfortable with that fact for some time. I am comfortable being good at a few things:
I'm a good mom and wife.
I'm a good waxer and hair dresser.
I'm good at taking care of myself and looking put together.
But now, I'm not capable of doing any of these things. So what's left? Who am I when all the things I've been identifying myself as are stripped away?

That's an extremely difficult question to answer and I'm definitely feeling lost and alone even though I have so many wonderful people supporting me through this most difficult time.
In all my pain, exhaustion, and feelings of loss, I've become cranky and irritable. We all knew I was bitchy before but now its worse and on a whole new level.  So, in addition to being a burden to all those who care about me as I now need a baby sitter and can't be alone with my own child, I'm also no fun to be around.

What do I do now? How do I find myself again?
Clearly I'm supposed to learn something through this pregnancy as this is my third substantial trial, first the nausea and zofran pump, then the broken foot, and now a broken shoulder. Am I supposed to learn how to ask for help and how to allow people to serve me? Am I supposed to learn who I am without any labels? Or am I supposed to learn to quit apologizing and assuming that people are judging me so that I can be better at just being me?
I believe that Heavenly Father places trials before us for our good and our growth but I'm really struggling to see what I'm to learn here.
And I'm struggling with the weight of how my injury affects those around me. Hubby has been late to work to chauffeur me to appointments and pick up misc things I need. My mom has left work early numerous times and passed on other responsibilities to be there for us, not to mention being with me at the hospital until 3AM the night of my fall knowing she had an early meeting the next day. My mother in-law cleared her calendar for a month and left her home to come stay with us and be TD and my caregiver.




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summer madness

WHAT. A. SUMMER.

It's been a while so let's begin by filling in the gaps...

TD LOVED his first ever taste of real sugar! I caved and let him have his very own cupcake for his birthday! SO fun!

Shortly after his  birthday, TD came down with Croup. Who gets Croup when it's 110+* out? My kid. We had 2 sad, fussy, miserable weeks. Just in time to head to hubby's childhood home for the Fourth of July holiday, he recovered. But his sleeping habits hadn't yet and he does NOT sleep well in unfamiliar situations. The majority of nights away from home, TD ends up right between me and hubby. And that's ok, except for my growing belly and a queen sized bed. Regardless, we had a wonderful holiday with the family and in cooler weather.

The night of our return, the dreaded Haboob happened and between cousin germs from the holiday and all the dust that lingered from the dust storm, we ended up back in pedatric urgent care, this time with Bronciolitis. :(
Since this was our third respiritory illness in under 2 months, they recommended we do inhaled steroids with a nebulizer daily for 2-3 months as if he had asthma to try to help his apparently weakened respiritory system. As I'm sure you can imagine, he HATES his breathing treatments. Just to go 6-8 minutes, he needs a toy, his favorite Baby Einstein movie, and a treat afterwards. Good Times.

In early August, we went to beautiful Park City, UT for my family's reunion.

The weather  and scenery were AMAZING but TD's sleeping habits were not, of course. At home, he sleeps 8PM-7AM like a champ... Not so much in a vacation rental where he has to share a room with Momma and Dad. So, we slept in separate queen sized beds so that one of us could snuggle the boy. It was so fun to catch up with family we hadn't seen in years and for TD to meet his Momma's cousins and their kids. GREAT weekend!

We've been actively looking for a new, larger house since January. Finally, in March, we found a cute fixer we could love. Its a short sale so we put in an offer, laid down some earnest money, and waited. And waited. And waited.

The week before Memorial Day, we received and accepted the bank's counter offer. And then we resumed waiting. SIX WEEKS LATER, we finally received the contract! We were getting a house!
While hubby works full time and goes to school full time, we had to squeeze in walk-thrus, home inspections, roof inspections, FHA aprasials, and a few other things. Unforunately, the previous owners would never completely vacate during these times making the whole process awkward and uncomfortable. But we were assured several times they'd be out 5-10 days prior to close.
After a myriad of issues with paperwork and other things with our lender, a snag with the appraisal, and finally clearing everything, we were going to close! YAY! Except for one big hitch: they STILL had not moved out 5 days prior to close. We were repeatedly told they'd be out "the day after tomorrow" until "tomorrow" turned out to be the day before our closing. We refused to do the final walk thru or allow the loan to be recorded until they were completely out. Just after midnight on Thursday (closing day) they finally were out. But, they failed to leave the keys, the garage door openers, or clean their misc crap out of the back yard.
The purchase was recorded and we changed the locks. We had a house! Thank Heaven!! We were able to get the garage door openers and the yard cleaned with some strategic threats and immediately went to work demo-ing the 60's wood panelling, chair rails, wall paper, and built ins. Thanks to all of our amazing friends and family, we had the popcorn scraped off the ceilings, drywall patched, texture sprayed, and every room painted in no time. Not to mention of course, my fantastic husband who spent countless hours each night at the new house after long days of work, class, and homework; I'm not so sure the man slept more than about 4 hours a night for the 3 weeks we were working on the place before we moved in.
There's still work to be done, but we're in, and feeling at home. TD had a difficult couple of weeks transitioning, but he is now loving the house and especially the yard. Betsy the dog does not love the new place quite as much because now she can be banished all alone outside which makes her extremely unhappy after about 5 minutes. HAHA!

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Operation: Sticker Therapy

This Sweet girl and her family are in our ward. The post below is copied off of her mom's CarePages blog that they use to keep everyone updated on her care and progress.
Please help us bring happiness into her life and the lives of other children battling cancer!

Operation: Sticker Therapy!! Your mission: to help bring happiness and distraction to toddlers fighting cancer by mailing stickers, sticker books, or happy vibes!
Hi! This is Abigail the day before her 2nd birthday.

You can see her central line and her surgery scar. When she was 19 months old she was critically ill, and diagnosed with cancer--stage 4, high-risk Neuroblastoma. She has been through a lot--with a lot still yet to go through.
Abigail loves stickers and they offer distraction and entertainment during multiple hospital stays. When kids are fighting cancer, they go through a lot of yucky therapies: chemotherapy, radiation therapy, antibody therapy, etc. We decided to call this project Sticker Therapy...a therapy they could look forward to!!
Our goal with Operation: Sticker Therapy is to receive enough stickers to be able to put some packets together to share with other children we meet who are fighting for their lives. We encourage you to donate some stickers, and then know that you are blessing the lives of some precious children.
Please mail them to:
Operation: Sticker Therapy C/O Fans Across America Charitable Foundation
18521 E. Queen Creek Rd., Suite 105-187
Queen Creek, AZ 85142

Thank you for your kindness and generosity, and may it be returned unto you! If you would like to make a financial donation to Abigail, that would be greatly appreciated. You can do so by visiting this site: http://www.fansacrossamerica.com/assist_a_family/registry/families/families_in_need/abigail_goss_family.php or by including a check payable to "Abigail Goss Medical Trust Fund" with your stickers.

Thank you dearly!

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catching up...

SO much has happened recently! It's hard keep up blogging with how sick I've been, working, TD getting busier everyday, and then in the evenings when he's in bed Hubby has hours of homework to do so no computer time for Momma :(((

I am FINALLY off the pump and happily back on the oral Zofran but still take two other OTC nausea medications to help carry me through. YAY!!!

TD turned ONE this past Monday, the day after my 25th birthday!

We did his one year old pics with Jacquilyn Avery Photography last Saturday. He was quite stoic during his photoshoot, like he was trying to figure out what she was doing and what all her equipment was but I think they'll be some cute ones and I can't wait to see them!

We celebrated our birthdays on Tuesday and had our ultrasound to find out baby #2's gender that day also.
We had our US tech seal baby's gender in an envelope. We went to target, picked out two take home outfits, one boy and one girl. We took them to guest services and asked them to open the envelope, ring up the appropriate outfit, and wrap it up while we went and got a snack.  We came back to pick up our change and our plain white gift bag and waited until the end of the birthday party to open it.

TD had is very first hot dog and his very own birthday cupcake (his first was during his pictures) which he happily devoured! After we cleaned him up, it was time to open presents!!
Hubby and I opened our gender present first:

ITS A GIRL!

I knew it would be; I knew TD was a boy and I know this one is a girl. My intuition streak is 2 for 2! :)

Of course I'm already planning and decorating her room and bedding! AND, of course my favorite bedding, hubby doesn't love... We'll see who wins that battle :)
I may end up sewing custom bedding for our princess, IF I get that ambitious... And I've been shopping for wall paper, paint treatment ideas, etc already because only the best will do!

One thing I'm definitely nervous about is how to integrate new baby into TD's life given that he's too young to really explain it to. He's still just a baby himself; they'll barely be 17 months apart.
I pray I do it well and it doesn't upset him too much... And I'll take any advice I can get.



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Food for thought

I've been reading The Heart of the Matter by Emily Giffin (who I love!) and was struck by the following passage:

"... all women compare lives. We are aware of whose husband works more, who helps more around the house, who makes more money, who is having more sex. We compare our children, taking note of who is sleeping through the night, eating their vegetables, minding their manners, getting into the right schools We know who keeps the best house, throws the best parties, cooks the best meals, has the best tennis game. We know who among us is the smartest, has the fewest lines around her eyes, has the  best figure--whether naturally or artificially. We are aware of who works full-time, who stays at home with the kids, who manages to do it all and make it look easy, who shops and lunches while the nanny does it all. We digest it all and then discuss with our friends. Comparing and then confiding; it is what women do.
"The difference, I think, lies in why we do it. Are we doing it to gauge our own life and reassure ourselves that we fall within the realm of normal? Or are we being competitive, relishing others' shortcomings so that we can win, if only by default?"

I have never really thought of myself as a gossip, in actuality I strive to NOT gossip. But, as a woman who has (like most) struggled with my self esteem over the years, I must admit that I do take note of many of the things listed above about women I meet.

So, I wonder why we do it. Are we (me in particular) so self conscious that we are truly constantly comparing ourselves to other women and other mothers hoping that we fall somewhere above the middle, ideally at the top? And if we are really comparing ourselves, what has happened to each of us over our life span that has removed our ability to just be who we are and love that girl, including all of our short comings, however big or small? Are we comparing so that we may pass judgement on someone else's decisions and lifestyle choices?

Its interesting that one of my "beach reads" can be suddenly so thought provoking. But, I'm going to make an effort to quit comparing myself to other mommies and just be satisfied with the job I'm doing, the very best I can each day.


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No one really gets it...

No one really gets it. And because no one really gets it, comments (which I tell myself come from a good place and are well-meaning) come across patronizing and belittling. Do not down play something you don’t truly understand.

I am sick. And not just, “oh, it’s just a little morning sickness. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

This is constant, overwhelming and debilitating sickness worse than anything I ever experienced with TD, which was pretty severe. 

This is “I’ve lost 17lbs in 4 weeks,” and “when I vomit it is violent, forceful and downright painful. It feels as though someone is ripping my insides out through my nose and mouth. Did I mention that I frequently projectile vomit out my nose in addition to what is coming out my mouth?” kind of gross, I know.

With my son, TD, I was sick for 25 weeks. Thankfully Zofran helped – a lot. And, I was able to resume a substantial part of my diet with its help, but not this baby. This one is trying to kill me -- slowly and painfully. Maybe it’s punishment for calling babies in-utero your own personal parasite. . .

Oral Zofran tablets did nothing for this sickness. Thankfully, my doctor set me up with a wonderful home healthcare company and some great nurses. So, I spent 3 days on the couch with an IV and fluids flowing trying to rehydrate since water and I haven’t been friends for a while. I also got a Zofran pump.

A Zofran pump is very similar to an insulin pump in that it infuses medicine at a specified rate constantly through a port somewhere on your body, typically the stomach region. This means I have to stab myself in the stomach with a needle just over an inch long at least every other day and I can never be without my pump or the tubing that goes from it to my infusion site.

My doctor is pretty awesome so he started me at the highest recommended base dose for pregnant women. Unfortunately, I still got sick. So after a couple of days, they consulted the pharmacist and raised it. Even more unfortunate, my skin doesn’t really like Zofran so at some point it gets angry and quits fully absorbing leaving me with a hard, red, swollen, sore, and extremely tender welt much bigger than the port itself. Because of this, I have to change site TWICE A DAY.

LOVELY! I am now stabbing myself in the stomach twice a day and it really freaking hurts. I can’t put a new site within an inch of the welt left behind by a previous site – did I mention they stay red, swollen, and sore for 7-10 days? At this point (day 12 with the pump) I’m running out of approved places to stab myself and don’t really see my thighs as a viable option for myself… My entire stomach is swollen and tender. Holding TD is painful. Bending and going from standing to sitting or sitting to standing are painful.

After a couple of days at this new higher dose, I’m still dropping about a pound a day (sometimes 4) and still throwing up but I’m at the maximum recommended dose of Zofran for pregnant women. My nurse (whom I speak to daily) has to call the pharmacist who has to consult with my doctor and come up with a new plan.  They decide to add a new oral medication because I clearly cannot tolerate a higher dose of Zofran without having to change my infusion site more frequently and three times a day sounds even less fun to me than twice a day. 

Here we run into another problem. I’m already exhausted from being malnourished (I honestly can’t remember my last real meal) and of course from being pregnant – which is the cause of all of this – and the new medication is highly likely to knock me out. Great, just GREAT. It works really well at conquering my nausea but wipes me out and I can’t drive or work or take care of TD, my 25 lbs., active 11 month old. So, we’ll try a half dose. Not so tired but not so effective. At this point, I’ll take what I can get.

So I’m feeling a teensy bit better so I decide to try a little mild pasta. Bad choice. VERY bad choice. And, I’m throwing up again.

You’re probably wondering what I can eat. I’ll make you a list, its short.

Bagel, toast (no butter on either, Sad I know), apple slices, Yoplait strawberry yogurt, 1 scrambled egg (which is new and exciting this week), canned peach slices, ramen noodles, saltine crackers, peanut butter but only a teeny bit, sometimes fresh pineapple, and depending on the nausea level, a tsp. of pinto beans. Oh, and ice or Powerade ice.

I’m sure you’re all thinking that I’m 13+ weeks so it should be over soon or that if I can keep it down even 30 minutes that I’ve probably gotten some nutrition out of it or any other variation or sentiment that you think is helpful but none of it feels helpful and none of it feels supportive. It just feels patronizing.

Let's not forget that with TD I was sick for 25 weeks so I have no hopes of this being over soon.

My sweet husband gets it. He is watching me self-destruct in my sickness and sadness and pain over my sickness. He supports me by holding my hand and passing no judgment. He makes no suggestion that it’ll all be over soon, that I’m exaggerating, or that I should be better at handling it.

Maybe I should be better at handling it, but it’s really hard and it really hurts.

My heart is SO full

So, I have this absolutely AMAZING friend, who I call "my sister I chose." She is a truly awesome friend and we have supported each other through A LOT over the 7 years we've known each other. Together, we've survived quite a roller coaster of ups and downs and could take on the whole world hand in hand (with our cute hubbies- who've know each other since diapers in tow- of course!).

Sunday, I got the BEST news ever. Seriously, I think I'm more excited/overjoyed/ecstatic than any other day of wonderfulness in my own life!

My dear friend and her husband are adopting a baby girl in just THREE WEEKS!

My heart is SO full and there are no words to express my emotions. Along with all the love and excitement I'm feeling for them, my testimony has been so strengthened by their experiences, faith, and examples. Never before in my life have I been able to see so tangibly the hand of our Heavenly Father at work. I will refrain from sharing all the private details of their experience, but is aw-inspiring to see how He guides us and places us exactly where we are supposed to be when we are supposed to get there.

Often the path we walk is not how we thought it would be; its longer, rougher, has some blind turns and even forces us to retrace our steps at times but it is always for a purpose and for our good. And part of the process is learning not just to weather the storm but to dance in the rain. This cute couple has definitely learned to make lemonade and their dreams are coming true.

I know that they will be AMAZING parents and this sweet child will be so loved, blessed, and cherished. And I feel so honored to be a part of their lives. <3

I've become one of them...

I always knew I'd be a great mom. I'd be fashionable and fabulous just like my pre-baby self; I'd have it all together: great home-work balance, playdates and zoo trips, crafts and cooking, AND I'd look good doing it.

But then, reality set in... I've turned into one of those moms who's scattered and a hot mess from sun up to sun down. If its not attached, I've lost it or will loose it in the near future. I'm frazzled the majority of the time and constantly wishing I had just TEN MORE MINUTES to get ready/where I'm going/etc.

Monday, I called my husband frantically because I couldn't find my wallet. He knew right where it was at: on the back of the couch, under his suit jacket.


Yesterday I organized an errand trip with one of my most favorite people. We regularly go to Target, Walmart, and a few other random places together with one or more child in tow. Its easier and more fun that way.  So, we're doing our thing and having fun. We do our errands and buy our things and go home for naps.

An hour later I realize I've bought the wrong light bulbs and forgotten some things at Walmart (my least favorite store but that's a story for another day...). After all the kids are tucked in for the night, my friend and I trek back out together to Home Depot and the dreaded Walmart. We get the things I've forgotten, stop by Chili's for chips and salsa and head home.

Fast Forward to today and I realize (with child loaded in sling, diaper bag packed for sitter, my bag packed breast pump and all for work, a bag of books for said sitter, and my lunch) that I can't find my wallet.
I drive to our sitter's house; she happens to be the friend I was with last night. She checks her van and we go over the evening together. We're sure I had it when I got home.

My husband, who is really good at finding things I've lost, calls me to say he can't find my wallet in the house. I call the Chili's. They don't have it. I'm sure I had it at Chili's... Guess I'll call Walmart anyway. Sure enough, they have it. I've spent the whole day looking for my wallet and it was at the last place I looked.

I'm officially one of those crazy moms who can't ever seem to keep it all together or get where they're supposed to be on time. Guess the joke's on me!

awesome Ladies

I was watching The Princess Diaries which has lots of strong women in it. They quoted Eleanor Roosevelt, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." She also said "A woman is like a tea bag--you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water."
It got me thinking about all the strong women I have known or been influenced by over the years.

Over the weekend, we braved some cold weather to go to a dinner honoring Influential women of Scouting.
My sweet mother in-law was being recognized for her many years of service to the scouting program and the many boys she has helped get their Eagle. The love, service, and charity she has given to those around her (not just in scouting) is inspiring and I hope I can grow to be more like her.

At this event were many strong and inspiring women. I had the wonderful opportunity to meet Margaret Nadauld. She served as the General Young Women's President for several years and her talks and books have always reminded me of our divine qualities and abilities as women.
My very favorite talk of hers is The Joy of Womanhood where she reminds us of our inherent capacity to love, our strength and grace.
"Women of God can never be like women of the world. The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need more women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity."

My mother is also a very strong women. She pulled herself up by her boot straps and over came great odds to make a better life for herself and her family. Among many other difficult things, she got both her bachelors and masters degrees while she worked full time and had kids at home. She has always just done what was needed without a mention of any hardship she felt. She has been a great example of strength and courage to me over the years.

I feel so blessed to have been in the company of such great ladies who remind me of the strength I have inside.
... Just one more quote for Eleanor:

Do what you feel in your heart to be right - for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't.

Today is a new day

Today is a new day and I'm ready to embrace it, to move forward, and to quit looking over my shoulder.

But first, we should talk about where I've been...

Let me begin by telling you about myself...

I have struggled with depression and self loathing on and off my whole life due to my brutal childhood. Could have been worse, but definitely could have been A LOT better.

But, I was the girl who was cute and curvy, confident and fun. I LOVED to run, dance, and be on colorguard so with all that exercise, could eat whatever I wanted. When I graduated high school in 2004, I was a size 6 and tipped the scales at 140.

Quickly came the full time sit down job and the man of my dreams. Between working all day, playing all night, and adding "fourth meal" as we like to call it, (you know, those late night runs to Taco Bell because we stayed out so late we're hungry again) I couldn't find much time for running. And, dancing in a class setting was definitely out of the question.

Fast forward a year and on our wedding day I was barely squeezing into a size 10 and nearly 180 lbs. Yep, that's right! 40 lbs in just one year. I know what you're thinking "wow! Quit shoveling it in girl!" I was thinking it too. We bought a condo, worked and went to school, and tried to learn how to be married.
Add to the first year of marriage bumps and bruises to a whole mess of family problems and, you guessed it! Another 20 lbs.
So, there I was. Married just one year, turning 20 and weighing in at a whopping 200lbs! Sure, that may not sound like a ton, but I get fat all over and it was apparent. Gradually, over the next couple of years I added another 20lbs. Lost a few here and there with some crazy crash dieting but always seemed to find it again. I was comfortable in my job, my marriage, and trying to figure out what the future held for me and for us.

In 2008, I found myself turning 22 at 225, size 18, and in cosmetology school with a lot of girls who were cuter and trendier and all around prettier than me. So, with some determination and hard work I managed to drop 40lbs and tone up over the course of about 6 months that year. By Christmas 2008 I was squeezing back into my old size 12's and tip-toeing around the 190 mark. I was still not in love with my body, but I could live with it. And, I was happy; the future looked bright, I was finally getting closer to where I really wanted to be.

Unfortunately, in spring 2009 I got a little lazy in my post-school, working 3 jobs, haze and put a few lbs back on, but nothing I couldn't handle. I found a job I loved that would pay the bills all on its own and dismissed the others. Again, I got determined and started running. It was hard work but at least I was enjoying it...sometimes. I toned up a bit and could fit in that pesky Jr's size 11 that had been haunting me for some time but was still hovering around the 200 mark.
We were nauseatingly happy!

And then, it happened... We'd been happily married 4 years, worked out all the kinks, and were nearly blissful. Besides, I was 23, not technically in my early twenties anymore. So, its only logical that my sweet husband would persuade me the time was right to try and get pregnant. And we did.

I knew I was still over weight and that I should really only gain 20lbs at the most. And, for a while, I did okay. I started this pregnancy by losing 15 lbs from all the puking. But, sure enough, I found that weight and 50lbs more. That's right, I said 50lbs.
I was determined to get right to work and shed the unwanted pounds. I knew I was meant to be a mother, it was the one thing I always knew I wanted growing up. So, naturally I'd be great at it and would learn how to juggle and manage quickly, sure there would be a bit of a learning curve but I'd get the hang of it. Then it would be easy to squeeze in runs and Turbo Jam while my beloved munchkin napped.

The day my 8lbs 15oz, 23inch little bundle of joy came into the world I lost 23 pounds and by the time he was 5 days old I'd shed another 18lbs in water weight. So, that only left 9lbs left to get my pre-baby weight. I figured that would be a piece of cake to drop and then I could get to work on getting rid of those other pesky pounds I'd been hanging onto be for the pregnancy.

Some where between the midnight feedings, dirty diapers, and piles of laundry, reality set in. No one really told me how truly hard, exhausting, and LONELY being a new mother is. I've written in the past about the Post Partum Depression I've suffered from since my sweet boy was born. It took me a while to realize the toll that PPD took on my marriage too. I thought I was alone in the damage done, but I was wrong.
But, I'm doing the work and getting better. We're getting better as a couple too.

Over the years, I've had more than my fair share of ups and downs; I've had toxic relationships and successfully rid myself of them. I've been "better" before and know that I can be there again.
As I'm recovering, my thoughts naturally turn to the past... To the days when I was cute, I was vibrant, I was sassy, and I was SKINNY. I didn't bitch out my amazing, wonderful husband just because I didn't feel good. I was fun. And, above all, I was cute and skinny. I like me then.

Recently I have realized that to be truly healed and to truly move forward we have to let go of the past.
I read a quote from some one that said Forgiveness doesn't mean we'll ever go back to what we had, it means "I'm moving forward." A hard lesson I've learned is that the hardest person to forgive is yourself. In forgiving others, I must also forgive myself so I may truly move on.

So, Today is a new day and I plan to move forward. I can still work towards being cute and skinny again but only in the interest of health and learning to love myself the way I am. I can still strive to vibrant and sassy, funny and friendly again, but not how I was; I can be better than that.

I am moving forward.