I’m sitting here in my car, baby napping, reading other mommy blogs, wondering what I’m doing with my blog and if anyone will ever read it. As I am researching the internet I come across all sorts of stories but today the one the caught my attention was about a mom who lost her 6-year-old son to cancer. I can’t even begin to fathom the heartbreak, grief, and sorrow that accompanies a loss like that one. And the fact of the matter is, tragedy can strike at any minute. One phone call and your entire world changes. As the reality set in that anything can happen at anytime, another reality hit me hard. Life is too short to worry about the 50 toys thrown around my living room, about the dirty dishes in the sink, about the crumbs underneath the high chair. Life is too short to worry about what the lady in the check out line behind me is thinking as my son is screaming because he doesn’t want to leave the store without his pack of gum, although at 1 years old, he has no idea what a pack of gum is, he just knows that it is colorful and he wants it! Life is too short to worry about the fact that my 2-year-old already wants to pick out his own outfits and half, ok-let’s be serious, all the time, it doesn’t match yet he will kick and scream until he has his own way. Instead of complaining to my friends, how tired I am all the time, maybe I will start sharing how blessed I am instead. Maybe I will share how lucky I am to have a little boy who thinks I am his whole world, and who definitely is my whole world. Maybe I will stop constantly pick up the mess, and instead, start making the mess as I play crazy games with my toddler. Maybe I will just stop trying so hard, and start simply enjoying the moments I have with my precious boy. Moments that go by all too quickly, and moments that could change at any given moment. Here’s to enjoying the mess and enjoying life! xoxo
3 months postpartum diary entry. Motherhood is hard. Understatement of the year! It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done and gone through. I had a great pregnancy, however, they say there are really four “trimesters” and the fourth one kicked my ass!
My labor was a disaster I started having contractions four days before my beautiful boy came into this world. I was in active labor for 19 hours, 14 hours without an epidural. I hired a doula because I really didn’t want to have a c-section. Ultimately other plans had been made. After 19 hours it was determined that my baby was not coming out naturally and an emergency c-section took place. It was the strangest feeling knowing that things were completely out of my control and in the hands of the doctors. I couldn’t even see my baby for about five minutes after he was delivered. I heard his cry and knew he existed. But the time between hearing his cry and when I finally had him in my arms seemed like an eternity. It was so surreal to hear people saying “oh, he’s beautiful” about my child who I hadn’t even seen yet. I really did not like that feeling.
To make matters worse, I was completely exhausted. When were moved to the maternity ward, we did not have a good nurse. It felt like we were thrown to the wolves with a new baby in tow. Our nurse didn’t even give us our handbook or explain how things worked. She apparently had better things on her mind, given that her shift was ending in thirty minutes. That she did tell us.
I had taken breastfeeding classes and read the books and watched the videos. You would think that should have prepared me a little bit. Yeah, right! I might as well have watched Breastfeeding 101 with my eyes closed and earphones on. That’s about as much as I knew when it came down to it. The night nurses didn’t offer to show me/teach me. I had to wait till the next day when the lactation nurses were in! And this was supposed to be a good hospital! I think I was there on the wrong day. It was St. Patty’s day— looking back they all probably were off to party and drink green beer!
Summing up my delivery experience I would say that it could have been a lot worse, but it also could have been a lot better. Emotionally, it set me up on a difficult course. One that eventually would take me to my lowest lows and my highest highs. A course that would lead me to self discovery, spiritual awakening, and the greatest love I could ever imagine. I discovered the love a mother has for a child. And I discovered the love of the Father. The ultimate, unending, unconditional love of our Lord and Savior and His desire to always help us get up.
I decided to start this website because adult-ing is really hard, and being ‘mom’ is even harder. I felt the need to create a space where we can all come together to share and relate to one another through the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, the triumphs and the challenges.
I suffered through postpartum depression after the birth of my first son and I wish I had a place to go and know that I wasn’t alone. I discovered that as many as 1 in 7 moms (and that is just diagnosed cases) suffer a period of postpartum depression after childbirth. That’s a lot of moms! Knowing that we are not alone in our struggles is such a relief. I wanted to create a space where I could share my experiences with others, with the slight chance, that maybe I could help someone in the same situation. I am happy to say I am fully recovered and now I want to share my story with you. A story full of self discovery, spiritual awakening, and the greatest love I could ever imagine. I discovered the love a mother has for a child. And I discovered the love of the Father. The ultimate, unending, unconditional love of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and His desire to always help us get up.
“For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper, not to harm, to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11.
Here’s to our wonderful futures!
Exactly 16 months ago today I became a mom. My son came into this world full of life and my entire world changed the minute I heard his little cry. My delivery did not go as expected and ended with an emergency c-section leaving me with a fat belly and an ugly scar, albeit a beautiful baby that overshadowed all of the above. That is until a few months later in the scorching heat when I went to put on my swimsuit. My incision had not heeled as well as it should have due to complications after the surgery. I have never had much confidence in my own body and now I had even more to hide!
My bikinis either did not fit or were too low and showed my scar. I tried to shrug it off and sum it up to the fact that I was now a mom. I purchased a one piece that covered as much of me as possible. I felt very self conscious that first summer. That is until everything changed one night.
I had come home from the beach and was changing when my husband walked in. At this point I was even self conscious about my scar in front of him. He could tell that I was guarded in front of him lately. He looked at me and then ran his finger along my scar and said “your scar is beautiful.” What?! It was not beautiful, it was red and raised and bumpy, anything but beautiful.
“It looks like a happy face!” I giggled, in a way I could see what he meant. I asked him why he thought it was beautiful. He proceeded to tell me that he loved my scar because that was how our son came into our world. He was right, my whole heart was full because of that scar. Now that was a new perspective. While I still don’t love how my scar looks I do love what it represents. This summer I have a much better body image. I even wore one of my bikinis and felt great in it. Learning to love your body is all about your attitude and I am so grateful to have a new perspective on mine.