Day 16.2

     So after my post the other day, I needed to take a step back and ground myself. Conveniently, it also happened to be my oldest son's first reconciliation this weekend. The church has this beautiful tradition where the parents write a letter to their child for them to open after they have made their sacrament.
     Now, truth be told, I forgot all about this letter. In fact, when I wrote it at the retreat, I was half paying attention while I chatted with other parents and tried to mentally plan out the rest of the weekend. Not really appropriate I guess, but it's my truth. When we go the paperwork after the service on Saturday, I realized the letter was in the packet and I shared it with Lucas. I can't quite describe what happened. It's like he saw straight through me and was in my heart. I felt so vulnerable, like for the first time, my son had a glimpse into the love I have for him, and understood what kind of person we want him to become. He climbed into my lap and hugged me.

     I've made mistakes. A lot of them. I'll continue to make more. But if I'm able to forgive my son, I must also be able to forgive myself.

 

  I'm so grateful to be his mother. 

Dear Lucas,
We are filled with joy as we watch you grow and mature into the person you're becoming. You're a caring and thoughtful friend, a playful and kind older brother and a loving and helpful son. There are times when we all make bad choices, or do things we aren't proud of. The important thing is how we respond, learn, and grow from those times. None of us are perfect and we never expect perfection from you, but we do expect truth, kindness and respect for the world you live in and the people around you. I know that you will continue to grow and be your best self and we are so proud to have you as our son. We love you and support you in all of the great, happy moments & in all of the tough ones as well. We hope that you are able to find comfort in God's love, as well as ours. Daddy and I love you more than you'll ever know!

Love,
Mommy & Daddy

Day 15.2

     I've been thinking about this post for years, but have shied away because I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable. 

     

I'm so tired of making everyone else comfortable- it's time to talk about this. 

How does Mommy get her groove back?

     Before I had children, I was hot. OK, maybe that's an overstatement, but I at least looked in the mirror and felt attractive. I didn't have a 6-pack going, but there were actual abs. I was running multiple long distance races and working out a ton. I dressed well, did my hair and make-up, and partied with friends and went out on dates with my husband. 

     When we decided to try for children, it was an exciting time. I wanted to get pregnant and therefore, birth control was finally out of the picture. It was great. Until getting pregnant became a nightmare. I think that was the first time the "groove" started to have some issues. Sex became a thing that was precisely timed. Positions were restricted. Spontaneity was eliminated. And then, success led to loss and loss led to depression. Baby making became a job and it sucked. Once we had a successful pregnancy, my paranoia prevented us from being intimate. But, when my body began to have issues with pregnancy, the paranoia turned real and we were medically restricted. I'm sure there are millions of women who can back me up when I say that what I endured over the past nine years left me traumatized. The exams, the vaginal ultrasounds, the cervical checks- I've had more hands up my vagina than I care to recount. Seriously. I lost track. And it was brutal, painful, scary, and aggressive. I gave consent, but I didn't want the penetration. I don't think that any of the medical professionals intended for the exams to feel the way they did, but I cried after every single one.

     Maybe it's because it forced me to confront the time I was digitally penetrated against my will. I was in college. I remember what I was wearing. Bootcut jeans, a green sweater and my favorite doc martins. When he came up to me at the party, he specifically said that the outfit I had worn to class that day was much hotter than the one I had on. I didn't realize where this was going. I was drunk- it was the second time in my life that I had ever encountered alcohol. I trusted him because I was 18 and naive. I remember the weight of his body on top of mine. The scratchy feel of the rug under my body as he pulled down my pants. The absolute panic that I had never been touched this way before. The room was spinning and I was so scared. And I know it wasn't my fault. But when I spoke with counselors the following week, they questioned my experience in a way that made me feel that maybe I was "asking for it". Was I really sure I said no? 

     There was a lot of self hatred and many bad decisions that followed. I chose to numb myself with alcohol and hookups. I didn't have many serious relationships. I didn't see myself as a woman who was desired, instead I was a disposable body that didn't deserve respect. 

     Flash forward 12 years- I'm pregnant, married to a man who knows none of this. And so, I stuffed it down, back where it had been hidden for so long. I tried to remind myself every time that this was OK, because it's all for the health of myself and my children. Still, after I gave birth, I couldn't bear the thought of anyone- doctor or husband- touching my vagina. 

     Clearly this has led to some real difficulties in my marriage. Sex is important. Intimacy is essential. I was shying away from both. 

     My body, which in many ways hasn't felt like "mine" since that September night in 1998, has been sacrificed for my children. I stopped carefully grooming myself after the c-section of my oldest, because I was so mortified by my scars. If I continued to shave, the marks on my body would be visible and I didn't want the daily reminder. My small, yet perky breasts had transformed into leaking porn-star boobs that absolutely terrified me. And the weight gain, loss, gain, loss...

9 years of this. 

     My husband has always maintained that he found me attractive. But how could that be? I would look in the mirror and I see such a transformation that I could hardly believe I was the same person. Yet, when I really think about it, I am changed. I'm not the same. 

     Boundaries don't exist anymore. I was once too prudish in my early 20s to flash a crowd at the Preakness, yet 100s of strangers have seen me breastfeed without a cover. I prefer to be covered in a gym locker room, yet I haven't showered alone in years. How do we reconcile ourselves as sexual beings and the perfect mothers that society expects of us. It's not funny that when I was home with my children, I showered once- maybe twice-a week. How can I possibly find myself attractive when the world views me as a "mom of three". I'm not exaggerating that more times than not, any compliment delivered on my physical appearance is followed by "for a mom of three". Was my husband some sort of special man because he thought my stretch marks were sexy? All of a sudden, am I supposed to be grateful that my husband still wants to have sex with me despite the toll motherhood has taken on my body? And when those feelings settle in, it's a pretty f-ed up situation. 

     I'm still figuring this out. I don't have an answer. It's something I struggle with everyday. How can I be "mom" and a "sexy piece of ass" at the same time. Is it even appropriate for me to want to be a sexy piece of ass? 

This is a conversation we need to have. Feel free to join in. 

Day 14.2

It's been a long road and I'm finally approaching the end of the "maternity leave era".

Our last day before she began full-time daycare

     I remember filling out the paperwork for leave when I was pregnant with Lucas. I thought I would take the standard 16 weeks and return to work with breast-pump in tow. I thought I'd have a sleepy baby who would give me nights of rest and days of smiles. I thought I would love my life as a mother. I never for one minute imagined the hell I would be living in after the birth of my oldest child- and then second and finally the last child. Post-partum depression nearly took everything from me. I can't go down the rabbit hole and imagine what could have been, had my husband not stepped in to get me the help I needed-the amazing lives that would have been shattered, or those never even brought forth at all. The sacrifices that went into the pregnancies, birth and rearing of our children were with out a doubt worth it. But they took a toll on my body, my mind, my career, my friendships, and my family. Living on a single salary for four years, all while racking up some pretty intense medical bills forced us to make life changes that we weren't happy about. It forced my husband and me into many deep discussions, and they often became heated arguments. We navigated many issues over the course of our fourteen years together, but coupling the stress of family, health and money together unlocked a new level.

     It's been almost 8 years since we began the journey to become parents. In that time I've been the happiest I could ever imagine, yet I've also been to the very edge of depression. I've experienced the absolute dependence of a human being who looked to me for their every need and it is the most awesome responsibility I could ever imagine. I've also felt the worthlessness and hopelessness that comes with loss. I'm humbled everyday by the strength of my marriage to survive and thrive throughout the challenges life has hurled our way.

     Next week, our lives take on a new challenge- that of being a home with two working (outside of the home) parents. I'm scared. I'll most likely never have this time with my family again. I will miss the friends I've made while staying home and the community of amazing women I've been welcomed in. The mundane things like grocery shopping trips in the early morning on Mondays when I could chat with the cashiers, or socializing on playground at pickup with the other parents. These are things that made me feel connected. I'm afraid of this change and how it will affect the relationships I've built while staying home. I'm afraid of being able to give the proper amount of energy to my job and my family. I never quite figured out the balancing act while staying home, and now I'm about to take on a whole new challenge.

     I guess I just have to trust that this is going to suck some days, but it's also going to be pretty amazing. There will be highs and lows, like just about everything else in life- but I'm going to try my best because it's really the only thing I can do.

Day 13.2

     I'm too young to feel this old.

Drinks on the patio before we demolish it to make space for bed rooms and bigger family room. 

     Recently as we've been navigating the trials and tribulations of three children, home ownership, and careers, I've begun to feel like this is way too much responsibility. Are we really in charge of three children, all of whom have very different personalities and very specific needs? Are we really adding on to the home we bought as a family of three because we've outgrown it in just 4.5 years? Am I really returning to work outside of the home?
Obviously, the answer to all of these questions is "YES".

     There are more days than I'm comfortable admitting, when I feel like I'm just not supposed to be at this point in my life. Is this the oncoming of a midlife crisis? Maybe just the anxiety over the end of my "childbearing/maternity-leave years"? I'm so far into the role that I've developed for myself over the past decade- and it's not that I want to walk away from it- but it's freaking scary!

     Ten years ago, when I was a newlywed, the future seemed so full of possibilities. Many of them have been realized, but some never will. For example, career goals I felt so strongly about will not happen because the realities of motherhood have changed my priorities- whether I like it or not.

     But we adapt. That's something I love so much about Jim. We don't go out that much anymore (we should have done more when we were younger). But every Saturday he makes us some cocktails, we order take out, and have a date night in. And as we close in on ten years of marriage in our fourteen year relationship, I'm so grateful to have him through the highs and lows of growing up.

Day 12.2

     Facebook reminded me once again that three years ago, I was clueless. I thought I was exhausted- I even used the term "blissfully exhausted". I've since discovered, that's not a real thing. I usually can't stand the parents who tell you "you think this is hard? Just wait!" and then they laugh knowingly that you are in for it. But they are right. Just as I know the more seasoned parents reading this are shaking their own heads as I reflect on my little guy turning 4.

Just a typical kid trying to squirm away from his mom

     Today one of the teachers at daycare told me that Ben reminded her of an elegant old man. I'm completely serious. The emotional, long haired, super hero loving, perpetually loud and messy little boy that our friends lovingly refer to as "Kegger" is also like an elegant old man. And the amazing thing is that she's absolutely right. This child defies stereotypes and could never be placed in a box. He will tell you that he is the fastest person in the world and race you to prove it. He refuses haircuts because he loves his long hair. He can identify every vehicle at a construction site and then build them for you using his older brother's Legos. He can make his sister laugh harder than anyone else can, even though I'm pretty sure she's slightly terrified of him. His dance moves are creative and always stylistically appropriate for the music they accompany. I prefer his version of "Gold on the Ceiling" and I love the Black Keys, so that's saying a lot.
     I don't know if it's the fact that life over these past two years has completely overwhelmed me, but I haven't really been aware of his transformation from a baby into a kid. I turned around, and he was growing up. I don't want him to be the middle child that gets overlooked. But really, no one says that they want to ignore their kid. Things get in the way. An older child starts school, a new baby is born, family roles change. I think I was conscious of his aging, but I wasn't able to appreciate it because of my own issues.
   
     Let's be honest, it's not Ben that was overlooked. It's me. I used to make time for writing and reflection. I used to strive for personal/emotional/spiritual growth. Now I hope for 4 good hours of sleep a night and anything else is a bonus. My kids are front and center. I haven't remotely neglected any of these kids. However, I've neglected me.
     Three years has found a lot of changes in my life. Another child threw things out of whatever balance they had-and it wasn't much. As I prepare to wake up to a four year old tomorrow, I'm not feeling the same optimistic hopefulness as I did three years ago. Of course we will celebrate and enjoy our time together, but I know there will be meltdowns from at least 4 out of 5 family members. Yet, life will go on. Years from now, he will look back on his birthday weekend and remember a few special moments. I will do my best to make sure they are the same kinds of beautiful memories like
I've captured of him over these past four years.

Day 11.2

It's too loud here.

Fingers in my ears can't drown out this noise

     I swear the kids spend at least 5 hours a day screaming. This is not an exaggeration. And the thing is, they don't do it all at the same time. It's spread out over the course of a day. However, in the above picture, they happen to all be screaming at the same time. I can't even remember why.

     How do people do this? I swear, it just gets more difficult each day. I love these kids. We both agree that they are amazing, but the 3 on 2 thing just isn't working. Is there another parent we can rent to help us out?

     I know, everyone tells me... it gets worse. But it also gets easier. And if I didn't want insanity, why have three? And 8 years ago, didn't I envy every family with children? 8 years ago wasn't I cursing my uterus?

     The journey into parenthood has been ugly, beautiful, imperfect, joyful, insane, painful, and messy. I thought it would get better as I figured out what I was doing, but it's only getting tougher and I still haven't figured much out. Well, I'm positive that I have a real love/hate relationship with the sound of my screaming children.

Day 10.2

     Another #nationalselfieday and a great day to get out my thoughts about technology and raising kids.
 
      Here's a picture of me documenting our hospital stay on Monday.

I love this kid so much

     So my second born has had a rough few weeks medically. We found out he contracted Lyme disease about six weeks ago. Although he's been treated with the standard three week course of antibiotics, any parent who has experienced this will agree, we have been rocked by the diagnoses. Symptoms vary and can last from a few weeks to six or more months. There could be long term effects, but we will just have to wait and see. Many recover completely and we are hopeful that we will be in that category. In the meantime, any fever, aches, pains, swelling, mood swings and illnesses send me into a panic.
     On Monday we awoke to a vomiting and lethargic child who couldn't string together a sentence in response to my questions. To the ER we went to find that our little guy was quite ill and very dehydrated. Due to the Lyme disease, there was some concern that we may be looking at meningitis, although that was unlikely. We were kept in the ER for testing and then transferred to pediatrics. He was so brave through the blood work, X-rays, IV placement, and general poking and prodding during examinations. We sang songs, read books, played with cards, built stuff with legos, raced matchbox cars, made up stories, and snuggled a lot. It was the most one on one time we had shared together in years, and although it was scary, it was also a very special experience.
     During the night time, he insisted that I sleep in the hospital bed with him. Also, he snores like an old man. I couldn't sleep, so I spent some time scrolling through Facebook and Twitter. I came across a few postings and discussions about technology and children. There are the standard "Dear Mom" ones, where someone addresses a random mother to either encourage or chide her for parenting choices. There are also the various Today Show posts about mom shaming and the like. I didn't sleep much that night- mostly because of the snoring, but also because of some intense reflection on parenting.

     The following morning found my little guy much improved, although completely wiped out. Further blood tests suggested this was a nasty virus and unrelated to Lyme disease. Relieved, I put on Disney Jr. to entertain Ben and sat down to send some follow up texts and emails. One of the hospital chaplains knocked on the door and I sprung up, tossing my phone aside and quickly went into defense about why the TV was on and why I was using the phone. I didn't want him walking out of the room thinking he needed to pray for Ben and his negligent mother. I also didn't want him going home to write a "Dear Terrible Mom in the hospital who was ignoring her child" posting.
     I wanted him to know I had spent the past 30+ hours with a very sick kid and was at the end of the my rope. I wanted him to know I had two other kids at home who my husband and I were arranging care for. I wanted him to know that I try so hard 24/7, but there are moments that I just need to stop.

     So many of these posting and articles claim that they are not shaming or judging, but the truth is they are. If you would not say the words that you post online to another person, why type them out? Both the good and the bad. If you don't tell a random parent you encounter that they are doing a great job despite being in the thick of it, why write an anonymous positing doing so? Open your mouth and say something- it would make their day! If you wouldn't approach that same random parent if they handed their child an iPad, don't go on Facebook to complain about how parents these days rely on technology to raise their children. Offer some time to help a family you know- I don't know anyone who couldn't use a little more support.
     None of us are our best selves all of the time. In a 24 hour day, I'm probably a pretty good person for a solid 3 hours. I might have half an hour when I'm a superstar. The rest of the time, I'm either struggling to get by or trying to sleep. I'm tired of the click bait out there that reminds me there are others who think I'm an awful parent. From now on, I focus on the opinions that matter- those of my husband and three kids.
   
     Ben thinks selfies in a hospital bed that move up and down are pretty amazing, and so do I!