Monday, 31 July 2017

10 Years is a long time and I don't know where the time went...

September is very quickly approaching. I know, how did that happen? And, that means a few things. It means that it's back to school for 4/5 of this house, it means that we're one month closer to bulky sweaters, but it also means that mine and my husband's wedding anniversary is just around the corner. Our 10th wedding anniversary. This feels like a big one to me. Not just because it's 10 years, but maybe because there were several moments within these 10 years that I wasn't sure we would last to this milestone. In fact, I would have bet good money that we wouldn't.

Our meeting and subsequent dating are kind of odd in our somewhat limited circle in that, we didn't know each other well before our first date. We actually had only really met once....and it was kind of a horrible first meeting. We weren't good friends, we didn't meet online. You get the idea. I was 20 when we met. 20! Just a baby! I was still a high school student, I know, it took me a little longer than others. I was a moody, dreamer who was in and out of heartbreak with whatever boy had wronged me in that moment. Aaah, memories. And here was this guy, a guy I'd seen before. A guy who had never spoken a word to me, but I remembered him as "the guy who wouldn't stop staring at me at that one bbq" Yeah, not really a glowing recollection. The first time we actually spoke was at 2am on January 1st 2004, and he was incredibly intoxicated, and inviting me to spend the night with him with my dad standing 2 feet away. I had no intention of talking to this guy again. Who knew, that 2.5 years later we'd be engaged with a child? Certainly not me!

I agreed to go out with him when he called me the following week, because I am incapable of saying no. And every single day I'm so happy that I agreed to that first date. From the second he showed up at my door with a bouquet of candy flowers, because the flower shops were closed, I knew he was special. We spent the next several hours just hanging out and talking, getting to know each other. 2 weeks later we were talking about moving in together. It was a whirlwind. We went from that meeting on January 1st, to moving into our very first apartment together in July of that same year.

We didn't do anything according to a proper timeline. Everyone around us told us we were moving too fast. Nobody, including Rob thought I'd be able to live away from my mom, and I'll admit, that was the hardest part. We both knew that we were in it for the long haul. We were immediately talking about starting a family. Nobody could convince us to slow down, we knew what we wanted.

In 2006 Ciena was born, and that's when we both started struggling with how drastically our lives had changed. We were so young, we didn't really think any decisions through, we just leapt. We were trying to find our new roles in this relationship, which was difficult. I was no longer working, and with that had to deal with not having an income of my own. Rob struggled with trying to understand what kind of toll being at home all day with an infant took on me, and my personality. There were fights, big ones. But, we managed to make it through. By 2012, we were married with 3 kids. After many, MANY disagreements, we understood each other....or pretended to.

I think of all the things that we went through together. Miscarriages, mental health issues, drinking, moving. Things that destroyed little parts of us and our relationship. Situations that we sometimes had to claw to get out of. We discussed divorce more than once. But through it all, one thing remained. We wanted to be together. That has always been the constant.

This man tries me every single day. Sometimes it amazes me that we ended up together in the first place. But, there are also a million reasons why I know he's the one for me. He once drove 30 minutes to bring me a spare key for my car when I locked my key inside. He has coffee waiting for me every Saturday morning. He spends the weekend with my dog (who hates him) while I'm at my mom's. He always lets me pick the movie. And he still tells me every single day how much he loves me and how beautiful he thinks I am. I know I am a difficult person to love. I have zero chill, I am always operating at a 10, and I am insanely argumentative. So, I have to remind myself sometimes, that no matter how shocked I am that I put up with this man, I should be equally shocked that he puts up with me.

Marriage is never easy, and sometimes things do fall apart, and that's okay. But, I am thankful that I have this man. I am thankful that he knows me so well, I am thankful that he is my children's father. But, most of all, I'm glad that we're both still willing to be here together.

Sunday, 16 July 2017

My kids are animals, I don't get enough sleep, and I have unhealthy coping skills. A novel by me

Hey hey!

I always like to keep you guys wanting more, that's why I only do a blog post every 6 months. No, I'm kidding. I'm perpetually busy looking at memes, and folding clothes. But, I didn't forget about you!

It's summer! Yay! Lol. No. My kids have been on summer vacation for 3 weeks, and my sanity left 5 minutes after their vacation started. There's always a fight. And when I say that, I don't mean, that they only get along 80% of the time....or even 50% of the time. I literally mean there's ALWAYS a fight. Someone is punching someone else 24/7. I've stopped breaking them up, at this point it's every man for himself around here. I have a tween that spends a lot of time in her room away from her brothers who annoy her to no end, and sometimes I'm envious of her. Because when I try to sneak up to my room, I have at least 2 children and 2 animals following me. I couldn't hide even if I wanted to. I always have at least a million ideas for fun things that the kids and I can do when summer vacation finally arrives, and then I take all 3 somewhere...anywhere, and it ends with me dragging them home kicking and screaming so I can lay on the bathroom floor and cry until my throat is raw. As a child, I never remember seeing my mother cry out of sheer frustration and stress, my kids see me lose my shit at least twice a week.

This summer was supposed to be different for me. I was going to get organized, clean out closets, and declutter and destress. I was going to finally start taking better care of myself, eat better, drink less, read more books. But, here it is in the middle of July, and I'm an overweight stressed out woman who made sure to stock up at the liquor store 3 weeks ago because they were threatening to strike. Why is it so hard to put ourselves first? As parents, we do whatever we can to make sure our kids have everything they need, and want. We want so badly to make their summer wonderful by taking them here, and there, and making sure they have all kinds of adventures. When I was a kid, our summers were spent playing in the yard, or visiting our grandma. We maybe got a trip to McDonald's in there somewhere, but there was never the urgency to make it a memorable summer for us. And we didn't need anything more than just playing, or riding bikes, or eating ice cream.

My kids wake up every day expecting an adventure. "What are we doing today?!" They'll ask me with excitement every.single.morning. And I don't even know anymore. Well, let's see. We're going to read books on the porch! No, not interested in that. We're going to finally sort the legos! No, that's not fun. How about we put the pictures into frames! No way, huh. And you can't ask them what they want to do, because if you do, you'll just end up feeling bad when you have to say no when they say "Let's go to the zoo!" or "Can we please go to the beach where you'll be the only adult supervising 3 insane kids who don't listen?!" They tell me almost every day that I'm not fun. And it makes me sad that their behaviour has scared me out of wanting to take them anywhere in public on my own. It's their summer, and I wish I could be more fun. But, then I think to myself, you need to get your shit together inside and out, so you're healthy enough to do anything at all with these kids. You need to start making your health a priority. Throw out the shitty food, and drink less, and move your ass! Start journaling, or meditating, or anything to find your zen so you can chill the fuck out.

I would love for my kids to look back and not only remember how stressed and not fun mom was. I want them to remember that I tried, I want them to remember that even on my worst days, they were always my number one focus. I want them to always know how much I love them, even on the days when it's really hard to like them. Parenting is hard, but loving your kids is easy. I want them to always know that.

Saturday, 18 February 2017

Life isn't bad

When I'm home alone, and it's quiet (like now) it's easy to think about how much our lives have changed in the past year. And then I start to congratulate myself for not having a mental breakdown, because it's been a lot in a short time.

Last summer we left our wonderful big house in the country to move into the front apartment of my mother in law's house. Now, let me explain the situation here, because it's easy to misunderstand. We share a house, yes. But, we are in a separate dwelling. Essentially, it's like living in a duplex. And really, we don't have any less space than we did at our old house. We have three bedrooms (the boys share) we have a bathroom, and another room that will be converted into a second bathroom. The kids have a yard that is twice the size of our old yard, which was really huge. And they have Grandma right next door, which I know they love.

The transition was a pretty big mess in the beginning. We all had to figure out how to share a house with someone, the dog had to realize that this was home, and he wasn't being abandoned every time we left the house without him, the kids had to realize that a house doesn't make a home, the people sharing it do. It took a few blowouts between us and the mother in law in the first week, but we all made it through relatively unscathed.

I'm happy to say now, things are so much better than I thought they would be when we first moved in. My mother in law is an amazing support for us. She takes the kids whenever we need her to, she's able to get them on and off the bus if I have early or late classes, and she's constantly going above and beyond for us. And in a plot twist nobody would have predicted, I actually enjoy spending time with her. We're finally starting to have the kind of relationship I'd always hoped we'd have. I'm not about to start calling her mom or anything, but, it's a start.

Probably the biggest change for me was starting school. I had honestly thought about going to college for years. I toyed with the idea of night classes, or online degrees. But, when we decided to move, Rob and I talked about it and decided that if I was ever going to do it, now was the time. I applied for the HSF course last Spring, and was so excited when I got my letter of acceptance. This past 6 months have changed my life. I know that sounds silly, but it's true. I went into this course knowing that I wanted to work with people, but not really knowing in what capacity. I originally thought that social work would be the job for me. But, over the course of my first semester, completely changed my plans, and in December I applied for the ECE program and got accepted for September. That means another 2 years of school, but at the end I'll be going into a job that I'm so excited about! I have also made some really amazing friends. I am not a person who makes friends easily, but somehow these people found me, and I'm forever grateful they did. We are in one of the smaller programs, so going to class, it feels like a family. We're there for each other, we look forward to seeing each other, and we genuinely want each other to succeed. This program has been so eye opening for me. The things we're studying and the knowledge I'm gaining is so amazing.

There have been some drawbacks to this move. I miss my family. I never realized how much I took for granted being able to drive 7 minutes to see my mom, or 10 minutes to see my dad and my best friends, or 15 minutes to see my Grandparents. I don't see enough of anyone. I feel out of the loop. And, I know that I'm to blame for the disconnect too. I went from talking to my mom multiple times a day, to seeing her once a week, and generally not talking at all during the week. I miss my best friends. I know I don't message them enough, and homework has me occupied most weekends, but I need to start making time for the people I love. I feel so lonely, and far away from my people. An hour really isn't that far, until you're an hour away, and then you realize how far it really is. I miss my little County so much. I miss the small town feel, I miss the people, I miss the community.

I know this move was the right thing to do, not just because it was our only option. But, because it has put us in the position to maybe, some day not be financially strapped. It has given me a chance at a real career, which is something I've always wanted. It has given my kids a chance to grow up in a culturally diverse place, and it has given my mother in law so much more time with the kids, not to mention it has given Rob's 95 year old Grandmother a chance to spend whatever time she has left surrounded by her great-grandchildren.




Thursday, 9 February 2017

Why does it have to be this way?

So, it's been a long time since I posted a blog post. Sorry, friends! Life has been crazy and hectic, all of which I will update you on in a separate post this weekend. Promise!

I will warn you, this post is going to be depressing, it's going to be heavy, it's going to be annoying probably. And, honestly, I won't be offended if you don't read it. I'm mostly getting it out there for myself, in hopes that it will spark some motivation in me.

I am a 33 year old woman. I have kids, I have a husband, I have a pretty decent life. But, I'm so unhappy with myself that it encompasses every single aspect of my life.

This year, my weight is at an all time high. Highest it's ever been. I need to do something about it. Like NEED. My life is at stake if I don't. But, I have no motivation. No motivation for anything. But, the effects of my weight are taking over my life. My clothes are tight, and I have a dresser full of clothes that won't even fit me, my back aches constantly, walking makes me winded, my skin is a mess, my face is puffy and bloated. Everything is just shit. Not to mention I look in the mirror and feel so horrible. I've never had great self confidence, but I've definitely never felt like this before.

When I say my weight affects every aspect of my life, I'm not kidding. I think about it every single second of every single day. If I sit a certain way I'm aware of how fat I look, if I'm walking a certain way I'm wondering if I look like I'm shuffling my feet and breathing heavy, just sitting down at my kitchen table when nobody else is around, I sit so that my stomach is hidden by the table, so I don't have to look at it. I wear sweaters when I'm hot, trying to cover up my body, I keep covered in a blanket at home, so my stomach isn't sticking out. I can't think of anything else.

The worst part is, 3 years ago, I was in the best shape of my life. I was working out consistently, running every day, eating right, and happy. I was so happy. My whole outlook on life changed. I was happy to be here. Now, I can barely walk a flight of stairs. I tell myself every day to just get out and run, even if I have to walk and run in intervals, just do it. But, I'm so self conscious about how I look, I can't manage to do it.

I worry about the example I'm setting for my kids. I want them to be inspired to be healthy because they've had a good role model. I want them to be proud of me, I want them to say you know what, it wasn't always easy, but she did it. Spring is fast approaching and then summer will be here again. I won't be able to wear sweaters and long pants like I want to. And more frighteningly, the longer I let this go on, the more weight I'll gain. I can't do this anymore, I need to make things right.

One thing I think about a lot is something someone said to me a year ago. This person had been a close friend of mine, and she had a big hand in helping me get where I was physically. In short, I owed her a lot. In a series of messages that ended our friendship, she told me to "shit or get off the pot" and that she "couldn't stand by and watch me go down the path I was going down." I was spiralling and she just couldn't help me anymore. Now, I look at myself in the mirror and think to myself, if she could see me now, she would chuckle to herself thinking how right she'd been. I was spiralling, and evidently, it didn't stop. It's still happening. And then I think to myself, can I do this on my own? Maybe I need someone to push me and hold me accountable. And I dread running into her somewhere, because I don't want her to think for a second that she was right.

And that's the one thing that's sparked a little motivation in me right now. Proving to myself that I am strong enough to do this myself. Proving to myself that just because someone "spirals" doesn't mean they can't get back to where they were. Proving to myself that I am worthy of living the good life and being as healthy as I can be, without feeling like someone else played a part in my success. So, this is me, saying the same thing I've said 275595 times before, I can do this. I can be present in my own life. I can fix what is broken inside of me. I can be more than just the fat girl.

Wednesday, 27 January 2016

Let's Talk

I remember the first time I knew that something was "off" with the way I felt. I was very young. Maybe as young as 6, and I would get hit with this intense feeling of sadness. It was so overwhelming that I almost couldn't function until it was gone. I used to refer to this as my "sad feeling" I never really thought anything of it, but looking back now, I realize that this was probably my very early experiences with depression.


I have been anxious all of my life. I had a lot of the same behaviours, that, my daughter had starting at age 6, that prompted me to take her to a therapist. Behaviours that would affect my day to day life, but that didn't really give anyone (parents, teachers, etc...) any pause. Given my age, and the fact that mental health awareness just wasn't what it is now. I found it difficult to function in situations where I didn't know many people, like birthday parties, or get togethers. I had issues with being singled out in front of people. I stressed about the most ridiculous things. But, it wasn't until middle school that things really took a turn.


Does anyone really like middle school? I mean, I guess some people did, but I think it's a hellish experience for most. I was no exception. The very first panic attack I had left me completely incapacitated for an entire weekend. My parents, brother, and I were visiting my grandmother when I was 12, and I fell apart. I couldn't breathe, I felt like I couldn't swallow, and I had a very fearful feeling that left me holed up in bed, refusing to get up. I was terrified. I never left bed, except to get into the tub once a day. That was it. Finally, after 3 days, I had a breakdown. I thought I was dying, and begged my mom to take me to the hospital. While there, they diagnosed me with a severe anxiety disorder, and gave me meds to relax me. I was able to relax for the first time in 3 days. After that, things just got worse. I was having multiple panic attacks a week, and had to carry a water bottle with me everywhere, because I would constantly feel like I couldn't swallow. With my anxiety as bad as it was, it wasn't surprising that depression followed.


After I completed grade 9, my family moved. New area, new people, new school. An anxious person's nightmare. My very first day, it was clear that I didn't fit in with anyone. I spent most of the first few months by myself, nobody to talk to, nobody to hang out with, and I really didn't want to interact with anyone anyways. I eventually made friends, but that didn't solve anything. My anxiety was getting so bad that I was missing a lot of school, which would lead to more anxiety once I realized how far behind I was. It was a vicious cycle. In 11th grade I tried to kill myself, I had already been cutting myself for months, and everything kind of culminated for me after everyone started getting concerned about all of the school I was missing. I was completely defeated. I felt like a burden, I felt like a chore, I felt so, so alone. I started therapy not too long after that. I first experienced the stigma that goes with mental illness around that time. I had to take time off school after everything, and of course in a small area, news travels fast. When I went back to school several of my friends knew why I was off, but I later found out that someone had told them all that I was doing all of this for attention. That was when I first realized that when it comes to mental illness, you trust nobody. You are instantly labelled "crazy" "unstable" "emotional" "faker" "attention whore" You name it. If only they had known what it took for me to just drag my ass out of bed everyday. I mean, that was the hardest part. And the fact is, depressed people don't always look depressed. We smile, we laugh, we hide. We don't want attention brought onto us. We don't want people to coddle us. We don't want to feel like someone has to take care of us.


Everyday in my head is a struggle. I fight with myself all day everyday. And I feel "crazy" a lot of the time. I suffer from depression/generalized anxiety disorder/panic disorder/obsessive compulsive disorder/social anxiety disorder. If I sat down and told someone that, they would run in the other direction. That sounds scary.  I remember being treated for postpartum depression after the birth of my first son. I confided in another mother. Well, immediately after hearing the words "postpartum depression" she looked at me differently. And said "I don't have that. I could never imagine hurting my kids." I just sat there, mouth open. I had never ever thought about hurting my kids, that wasn't the defining aspect of ppd. But, I also knew that when you have any type of depression, you are simply not yourself, and any thoughts you have, about hurting someone or otherwise, are not your own. My ppd didn't manifest in thoughts of hurting my children. But, I did have a lot of scary thoughts, thoughts that even now, I haven't told anyone but my therapist. Because I know that people will look at me differently. They will see me as a different person. I personally fight stigma surrounding mental health issues every day. When my gram tells me "people create their own depression" When my husband says "Why can't you just be happy?" When people tell me "Calm down, you're overreacting." All of these things are proof that we need to educate people on mental health awareness. Nobody should feel ashamed, or embarrassed to tell someone that they suffer from a mental health disorder. I have come to the conclusion after trying to get off my meds many many times over the years, that depression and anxiety isn't something that just goes away, and in all likelihood, I'll be dealing with this for the rest of my life. But, in seeing some early signs of anxiety in my daughter, I will continue to fight the stigma. Because she deserves to grow up in a world where her mental health doesn't define her, and so do the rest of us.

Wednesday, 30 December 2015

Farewell 2015

Hello, friends.

So, here we are. At the end of another year, and another year end recap.



I just sat here staring at this blank page for 20 minutes. Trying to be funny, trying to think of something positive to say. Nothing. So, I'll be honest. 2015 sucked.

Well, maybe sucked isn't the right word. I mean, my family is healthy, my kids are happy, and we made it through. But, generally, it wasn't great.





2015 started with one of, well, no, scratch that. THE WORST day of my life. My Cash boy, my friend, my family, my dog, passed away. That day is still etched in my brain, and probably will be forever. I still think about him every single day. I feel responsible for his death, and I truly feel like that day just kind of set in motion a crappy year. I'm still hoping that one day I'll be able to think about him, and be happy, and smile. But, that hasn't happened yet. I was completely astounded by my grief, after losing Cash. I have lost grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, people I loved dearly. But, none of those losses even came close to the soul crushing grief that came with losing Cash. But, if not for losing him, we wouldn't have Batman. So, I guess that's some light in the darkness.

Last year, I got in the best shape of my life. I definitely wasn't at my smallest, but I felt better than I ever had before. I left 2014 with a healthy mindset, and a confidence I had never felt. I wish I could say I was leaving 2015 the same way. my motivation took a real nosedive this year. the body that had given me so much confidence last year, changed before my very eyes this year, and not in a pleasant way. I gained back all the weight I lost, and then some. And my mental health made it almost impossible to dig myself out of my self destructive hole. That's not to say I'm not still digging, but, yeah, it sucks.

Towards the end of summer, I started to feel....off. I was angry. Angry at everyone and everything. I would get upset over the smallest things. I would yell, and scream, and cry, and just generally terrify my husband. I knew that it was time to go back on meds and talk to someone. Feeling this way makes it so hard to care about anything else. I just wanted to lay in bed, and ignore everyone in my life. Being back on my meds didn't magically change everything, and I'm still struggling a lot, but I have amazing family, and friends who kick my ass when it needs to be kicked, and pick me up when I fall.

I don't want to give the impression that this past year was all bad. It wasn't. The proof? This face.


I started looking at new dogs almost immediately after Cash passed away. Not because I wanted to replace him, but I just needed a dog around. I told Rob that I would never not have a dog. No matter how painful it is to lose them, they just make everything better. At then end of March, I talked Rob into going to a rescue event. There were so many dogs that needed homes, and I thought we could at least check things out. Rob had been very hesitant to even talk about another dog. He looked at it more like a replacement, and he didn't think another dog could hold a candle to Cash, and I agreed. But, my heart was so empty. I needed to at least look. When we stepped foot inside, there were puppies everywhere. I mean, it was like a wonderful dream. Puppies just wanting to be held, and played with, and loved. But, then I looked to my left, and there he was. He was so calm, and had this look in his eyes that I couldn't explain. Like a sadness. Rob, and I both zeroed in on him, and that was it. He was ours. From the moment we left, he was attached to me like glue. He wouldn't leave my side. He slept almost right on top of me, he followed me around the house, he hid behind me when the cat scared him, he was mine. This dog and I have a bond that I can't explain. The first person he looks for in the house is me, he will come inside, and run insanely from room to room until he finds me. If I leave the house for any period of time, Rob tells me that Batman will lay at the end of the driveway until I come home, at which time he screams and howls in excitement. I love this dog so much, and he is definitely a high point of this year. 

I have a 9 year old, a 6 year old, and Logan is almost 4! How did that happen?? My kids are pretty amazing. I mean, they have their moments when they are complete assholes, but mostly, they're great kids. Ciena has turned into a pretty kick ass young girl. She helps around the house, she does whatever she can to make her brothers happy, and she has my sarcastic sense of humour, which makes me pretty happy. She and I are able to banter back and forth, and talk to each other like adults. And even though I know everyone around me says, "just wait until she's a teenager! She'll become a horrible version of the little girl you used to know. And you'll become the enemy to her." And, while I know that's possible. I'm not entirely convinced. My mom and I have always had an awesome relationship. And obviously, the teen years suck for everyone, and I'm sure we probably fought a little bit more during that time, I was never horrible to my mom. She was (and still is) my very best friend. So, maybe I'm being naive, but, I believe that Ciena and I will be just as close when she's a shithead teenager. My boys are equally amazing. They are crazy, and wonderful, and so much fun. I complain about my boys a lot. They fight constantly, they yell, they scream, they destroy everything, and they just generally don't give a shit. But, they have their finer moments. Joel is such a sweetheart. He will go out of his way to say or do something nice for someone. And Logan loves to make people laugh. Whether it's because he says something cute, or insists on doing a funny walk, or because he farts and thinks it's so hilarious. He is definitely one of a kind.

My husband. What can I say? A marriage isn't always easy, and there are times when you feel like giving up. But, at the end of the day, I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else. He is the first person I think of when something good or bad happens. I still look forward to seeing him at the end of every single day, and I never get tired of talking to him. I'm starting to realize, the longer Rob and I are together, there are many times when I feel like he does or says things with the intent of hurting me. But, really, I think men are just idiots. Rob very rarely lets things bother him. He is able to shake things off, and move on. I'm the exact opposite. Words hurt me a lot, and I have a very hard time letting go. I remember wrongs forever, and even though I'm able to keep those feelings to myself, I never forget.  But, I also don't forget the wonderful and amazing things that people have done for me. And, the older I get, the more I realize that my husband does amazing things for me every day. Things that I wouldn't even think about. He always brings me back coffee when he goes to town, even when he doesn't get anything for himself. He always lets me pick the movie we watch after the kids are in bed, even though we have the exact opposite taste in movies, and tv. He tells me how beautiful I am every single day, which means more than anything to me right now, at a time when I'm feeling anything but beautiful. You don't realize how much work a marriage is before you are married. It's not always what you expect, but I still couldn't imagine my life any other way. 

I cannot leave my best friends out of this recap. This year has been amazing as far as friends are concerned. And my friends are the best. These girls kick me in the ass when I need it, but they also pick up the pieces when I fall apart. Whether it's trailing through Canada's Wonderland, behind 3 crazy kids in the blazing heat, or running frantically through the streets of Niagara On The Lake, or just screaming obscenities at each other during our weekly dinners, They have, in some ways, been the best part of my year. I love them like sisters, which also means, I sometimes hate them like sisters, but when all is said and done, they are my family. I couldn't imagine not messaging with them all day long, and our crazy adventures that never quite turn out the way any of us expect. I trust these girls with my life, and my kids lives, which says a lot. I can only hope that we have just as many crazy, and amazing escapades in 2016! 





Going into 2016, there are a few things I want. I'm not calling them resolutions. Maybe just plans that I have. I am going to take care of myself, and put myself first. My health, and well being have taken a backseat, and I've lost track of my goals. First things first, I'm packing my scale away. This year will not be about losing weight. It will be about getting strong, and feeling healthy and fit. I will not put the pressure of a number on the scale, on myself. I've found that all that does is discourage me, and make me feel like a failure. I am determined to get my confidence back, and start to feel better about myself. 

I want to find my voice this year. So many times I bite my tongue, and keep my feelings to myself, and let people push me around. I've been called a pushover too many times to count. I want to gain the confidence to feel comfortable telling people when they've upset me, and the balls to stand up for myself. I don't want my kids to walk in my footsteps, and hold their true feelings in. I want them to be able to speak up if they have something to say. 

And finally, this year, I plan to spend less time online, and more time reading. I have a box of unread books, and several new books that I got for Christmas, and I plan to read them all, and then some. I have always loved reading, but after I had kids, I felt like I never had the time, which is complete bullshit, because I've found time to do other things. But, I want to make reading a priority this year. I may even set a goal for myself, to read a certain amount of books before the year is over. 

I really want to thank everyone that is reading this. Because, in one way or another, you have been a part of my life. You have been important to me, you are my friend. And the older I get, the more I realize how important friendships are. Whether they're distant, or close, or long lost. They've all shaped my life somehow. So thank you. It's been one Hell of a year, and I hope for health and happiness for every one of you in 2016. 



Saturday, 1 August 2015

August 1st, 2008

7 years ago I was laying on a cold operating table, counting back from 30, waiting for the world around me to stop. I was pregnant when I went to sleep, and when I woke up....I wasn't. Just like that.

Seeing those 2 pink lines 2 months earlier was one of the most amazing feelings. Becoming a mother to my daughter was better than I had ever imagined it could be. And there wasn't ever a second thought that my husband and I would do it all over again. Pregnancy,birth,sleepless nights,midnight feedings,absolute joy. So, when we found out we were going to have another baby, we were both really excited. We told everyone immediately. Why wouldn't we? We had no reason to not tell our family and friends, and they were just as excited as we were.

I had 2 overpowering feelings during my all too short pregnancy. The first one, was that I was having twins. I don't even know how to explain the feeling, but it was very strong. I just knew. And the second, was that something wasn't right. Physically I felt fine, but that didn't worry me too much. I had zero morning sickness with my daughter, and I just figured every pregnancy is different, and not feeling those symptoms was no big deal. But, as the weeks went on, I just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. My doctor didn't routinely give early ultrasounds, and really, there was no reason for me to have one. I was healthy, I wasn't high risk. It was, by all accounts, a "normal" pregnancy. But, I asked for one anyways. I needed to see the little heartbeat(s) and know for sure that all was well.

My doctor set my ultrasound up, and the day I went in, I was 11 weeks along. I had actually started to reassure myself that everything must be fine, after all, I was so close to the 3 month "safe zone" I had no real reason to expect things weren't okay, other than a random feeling. The second I laid back, and the ultrasound started, I felt dread. I didn't feel excitement. I was there alone, which was actually for the best. I wouldn't have been half as calm had I had someone there. She ran the wand over my belly, and I could tell instantly that I was right. She looked worried. She looked sad. She started asking me questions. "Have you had any bleeding?" No. "How far along are you?" 11 weeks 1 day. "Could your dates be off at all?" No, I got a positive pregnancy test almost 9 weeks earlier. Then she told me. She wasn't supposed to, and she could have gotten into real trouble, but she told me. I am measuring you at 7 weeks. There are 2 sacs, but there was no fetal pole. She tried to reassure me and told me that maybe my dates were off, and we would see something in a week or 2.....but I knew that wasn't what was happening. My dates were definitely not off. My babies were gone. She sent the report off to my doctor, and sent me home with a hug.

I was numb. I could eat, I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think. Why was this happening? This was what my body was designed to do, I had failed. It was my fault. Telling my husband was torturous. He was very positive, and light. Maybe the dates WERE off? Maybe in a week, we'll be getting ready for 2 babies?! I didn't even have the heart to tell him that I knew that wasn't the case. My body had been trying to tell me for weeks. I just ignored it.

The next day, my doctor called. As soon as I heard his voice I knew it wasn't good. First of all, it was a Friday, my doctor had no office hours on a Friday, and second of all, he called himself. That had never happened before. He told me to come right in. Once I was there, he told me that he had gotten the report, and it looked like a missed miscarriage. But, he wanted to do another ultrasound to be sure. He told me that if this ultrasound was the same, he wanted to do a D&C to remove everything. Since at over 11 weeks, my body hadn't started to miscarry naturally, it was probably safer to just go ahead and do that. He set me up with an appointment at the hospital for the next day, and sent me home.

The next morning, I woke up with spotting. Not really anything concerning, but, it was there. So, off to the hospital I went. Everything happened so fast. Within an hour, I had the confirming ultrasound, I had met with the surgeon, and I was being prepped for a D&C. I barely got to kiss my husband before they wheeled me back. Everything about that day sucked. And, the worst part? It was over so quickly. I woke up, and just like that, my babies weren't a part of me anymore.

I felt empty, I felt sick, I felt guilty. Like I had caused this. I had no idea how horrible this would feel. It cut me to my very core thinking about everything we almost had. I couldn't shake the grief. I laid in bed for 2 days straight, while my mom spent the weekend with my daughter, but on Monday, I had to get back to reality. I had a child that needed to be taken care of, so I couldn't sleep all day, or cry in the shower. She was too young to understand, and I was just heartbroken. I had hoped that she would forget that we had told her about the baby. But, later that week, I was getting changed, and she looked at my belly and said "Where's your baby?" I crumpled into a ball on the floor, while my confused 2 year old comforted me.

I will never be okay with going through that. I think everyday about how different our life would be today, had I not miscarried. But, I also think about Joel, and Logan. Would they still be here? Maybe not. I might have had my hands so full, I would have been done. How could I live without Joel's laugh, or Logan's silly faces? How could I survive without hearing Joel tell me "today was the best day of my life!" Or Logan telling me "I love you most mama!" So, I feel like, if not for the absolute storm we went through, after the miscarriage, we wouldn't have our rainbow babies. These 3 kids, as difficult as they are some days, and as hard as some days are, are my life. I could never imagine my world without them.