Boy, oh, Boy!

With other avenues of social media connecting many of us, it isn't new news...

but baby BOY made his appearance on November 2nd, weighing in at 8 pounds 3 ounces and measuring a gangly 21 inches long.  (For reference, he was almost 2" longer than his sisters when they were born and weighed in between the two.  I think he's going to get some height from his Dad, thankfully.)

I was scheduled for a c-section on Tuesday, November 6th -- about two weeks before my due date -- to ensure I didn't go into labor on my own, stressing my heart.  At my appointment on the 1st my OB was concerned that baby was getting big and my amniotic fluid levels were getting high.  Both of which were physically putting pressure on my heart/lungs.  He offered to do a c-section that very day but I declined, opting to keep an eye out for warning signs.  I woke up the next day with some shortness of breath, tightness in my chest and just an overall feeling of discomfort.  A late morning call to the OB had us heading to the hospital with bags in tow.

Biggest sister was absolutely thrilled with the news of a baby brother!  Baby sister wasn't quiet so enthused -- not sure if this was related to the raging ear infection and cold she was fighting, or just losing her position in the family as the youngest child.

Even though he came 16 days early, he was perfectly healthy and has been an absolutely easy baby (which was fantastic considering I ended up with bronchitis just after we came home from the hospital!).  We thought we got really lucky with the girls when they were newborns but he makes their early days look challenging.  Hopefully he continues with his laid back personality.

And in other great news, both sisters now give him copious amounts of snuggles and big sister love!

Starting Over

It's one of those days around here.  One where the coffee isn't strong enough, nor is my patience or will power.  Instead of having to power through it and act like the parent/adult I'd like to tell the world to take a flying leap and crawl back into bed.

Ahhhh...Tuesday...

Getting through the Transitions

At times I sit here and wonder, how in the world, the underlying reason behind the start of this blog, is turning 6 in a few more weeks.  How did I manage to blink and all of the sudden have a big girl who goes to kindergarten, rides her bike without training wheels and has a very specific opinion about what she's wearing, how her hair is done and even the accessories that go with her outfit.

We've been through some major transitions/experiences this summer -- KT's best friend moving away, deaths of close family members in both mine and C's families, starting kindergarten, my pregnancy -- and at times it feels like the household is still reeling.  Still unsure of our footing as we continue to navigate through these changes.  Each day I wake up and hope that the day ahead will be calm and happy, but steeling myself for the likelihood that there will be chaos and tears.

Making the transition into kindergarten has presented many challenges.  Sending her off to school wasn't a challenge in itself.  I looked forward to hearing her stories, seeing her make the transition into a full-fledged student and having some much needed one on one time with her little sister.  What I wasn't prepared for was the emotional turmoil it would create within that beautiful little girl.

The first week was tough on her.  Tough on me!  She'd come home from school and scream at us over everything.  The slightest agitation immediately escalated into rage.  Didn't matter if it was because I poured a glass of milk when she wanted water with lunch or her sister took a toy she wanted.  No one, no situation was exempt.  And the task of trying to get her to rest in the afternoon was another matter.  Her school schedule requires us to wake her earlier than she normally gets up, and the activity of a full morning would send her home with big purple circles under her eyes and yawns through lunch.  To me, it was apparent that she needed rest, that she needed some time to rejuvenate.  The slightest mention of a nap though would initiate tantrums of epic proportion that would leave both her and I exhausted and in tears.

I just wanted to have good days.  To hear her excitement over school -- friends made, songs sung, games played.  Instead we've muddled our way through the screaming and the tantrums, hoping the transitional time would be short.

She just finished her third week of school and it's getting better.  We're making progress but there is still much ground to be covered.  Each week I'm trying to help the transition along.  Trying to come up with ways to sidestep the tantrums and screaming.  Trying to take little steps, giving KT a little more independence and helping to foster her self-confidence while finding a balance of showing her that I still love her dearly and she's still my little girl.

Admitting This is Tough

I am so tired of the "Mommy Wars", a debate started in the late 80's over who has it easier/better -- the moms who stay at home with their children or the moms who work out of the home.  We all need to do what's best for our children, our families and OURSELVES.  There are advantages and disadvantages to both scenarios.  What works for one family might be a complete disaster for another.  What comes easy for one Mother might be really difficult for another.

Instead of bashing and belittling one another for the choices we've had to make, we should support one another in our decisions and rally together to help through the difficult days.

I posted a status update the other day, saying,

I love my kids and am grateful that I have the chance/ability to stay home with them. But today is one of those days where I'm envious of the parents who work outside of the house.

It was one of those days where I was envious of the working moms who could go to the bathroom in peace without having a small child intently inspect what you were doing while trying to assist or having to hurry through your business because you could hear them emptying stuff out of the refrigerator.  A day where I was envious of the working moms who could hold business conversations over the phone without having to lock themselves into the bedroom for 3 minutes of semi-muffled quiet or asking your banker if you could call them back because you couldn't hear them over the screams of two fighting children.  A day where I was envious of the working moms who could take their kids to daycare and then take a sick day for themselves where they could actually get some rest and try to get feeling better.  A day where I was envious of the working moms who didn't have to sit and listen to an hour of their five year old screaming how they hate you, how you're a horrible parent and how they wish they weren't part of the family all because you tried to get them to lay down for a nap.

My intent wasn't to say or insinuate that working moms have it easier.  I wasn't saying that they're lucky to be away from home all day, to have someone else tend to their kids.  I know there are aspects of my day that working moms long for.

What I was saying was that *I* was having a hard day being a stay-at-home-mom. That *I* was struggling with the blessing I've been given.  That some days I question if this is the best decision for our family, for me, for the kids; that I wonder if the girls would be better if they didn't have to deal with a short-tempered, exhausted Mom some days. 

Some days I wonder what the hell I'm doing and if it's even close to the right thing.  Those are the days that are really tough.  Especially when I am criticized for complaining, criticized for saying I'm envious of others.  I carry enough guilt for feeling like I'm failing my kids and not appreciating or savoring the chance I have to stay home; I don't need others making me feel worse for just admitting my weakness(es).

Aren't we all allowed to have bad days?  Days where we question what we're doing?  Days where a part of us, even if only a teeny-tiny part, wishes things could be different?  That things could be easier?

All I know is that being a Mom is by far the toughest job I've ever had.  If you've never had a moment in this career where you drop your head into your hands, or stand in the shower, sobbing because you're overwhelmed, exhausted or just completely unsure that you're doing the right thing and praying that you're not messing up your kids, you're luckier than I.

I didn't mean for my comment to cause such controversy.  I was just trying to let the other side know that sometimes, I wish I could be in their shoes, even if they are simultaneously wishing they could be in mine.

The Next Step

I've been thinking about shutting this down.  For a while I made it so that only invited readers could view the blog.  And then I didn't invite anyone!  Haha.

But there were a handful of people I wanted to know that I was pregnant.  Knowing that one of the best ways to get the message to them was this blog, I opened it back up and posted the last stuff about my heart.  Now I'm back on the fence about shutting it down completely.

When I started this blog 6 years ago it was an on-line journal of sorts.  A no-holds barred place to dump my feelings.  A place that only a select few were privy to; a place where people supported what I wrote. Anymore I feel like I have to be cautious about what I say here because of how it's perceived -- spending too much time online, sharing stuff too personal in a public space...

It seems like I can't win for trying.  I'm trying to decide if the backlash that can come from posts is worth the relief I get, for getting stuff off my chest.

Mixed Emotions

On one hand, I exhaled a small sigh of relief yesterday.  On the other hand, my anxiety increased ever-so-slightly.

Yesterday marked the 28-week point in my pregnancy for baby #3.  

Yes, for those of you that are scratching your head -- both due to the lack of an announcement and also general confusion due to my declaration of not having any more babies -- I am pregnant.  To put it simply this pregnancy wasn't intentional, nor in our plans, just the opposite in fact, but apparently this baby is determined to be here no matter what.

There is no way to tell if I'll have the heart problems like I did after Baby Girl was born.  Some doctors say it's not a matter of IF but WHEN, while others are saying we have a safer prognosis if monitored very carefully.  

No matter the case there are two things I do know:

1. There is very little they can do for me, if my heart does start to fail as long as I am pregnant (because technically, any DECLINE in heart function is classified as the beginning of heart failure).  The usual such as bed rest, limited activity, etc. applies but at most will only help slow down the progression.  Medication is the only feasible option to STOP -- and begin to reverse -- the damage but is only an option if I have delivered the baby.
2. The end of the pregnancy and immediately following delivery are the most dangerous times for me.  As the baby gets bigger, it's actual size and the stress of the pregnancy in general will put more stress on my heart.  Also an increase in blood volume being pumped by the heart enlarges and tires the ventricles, further contributing to the stress.

So why the mixed emotions?  At 28 weeks I'm entering the home stretch -- when baby gets big and the chances of having problems increases.  (Most cases occur in the month preceding delivery and in the couple of months postpartum.)  As hard as I try it's difficult to not think about the what-ifs and become slightly anxious.  Every time I notice the slightest bit of swelling in my extremities, experience shortness of breath or feel an erratic pattern in my heart rate I have to fight a touch of anxiety that wants to build in the back of my throat.

Fortunately for me, the medical staff I'm currently working with are monitoring me and the baby closely.  Making sure that anything abnormal is closely examined instead of being written off as "normal" pregnancy symptoms (which many beginning symptoms of post/peripartum cardiomyopathy are identical to other common ailments in pregnancy).  

And although not an easy option by any means, there's a bit of consolation knowing that baby would have a good chance of survival any point from here on out.  If my heart started to fail/decline we'd have much less risks with an emergency c-section delivery.  I certainly don't wish to have a premature baby but it would mean they could deliver and begin treating my heart instead of walking the line, trying to gauge who (i.e., me or the baby) is at the greatest risk.

To say it's been an anxiety-ridden spring/summer would be an understatement.  Not a full explanation but at least a partial one on my lack of posts around here.

No Regrets

When I was a teenager (and even early in my time at Michigan State) I had this vision of what I wanted out of life.  Or rather, what direction I wanted my life to take.

It went, specifically, in this order:

1. Graduate from college.
2. Get a job.
3. Work for a while.
4. Get married.
5. Work for a while.
6. Have a family.

I wanted to establish myself in my career -- at that time I was headed on the track to teach agriculture/life sciences at the High School level -- before I got married and started my family.  With going through the teacher certification  program at Michigan State it meant I'd teach somewhere in Michigan.  Close to home? Perhaps. Certainly within a couple hour drive of family. It would completely depend on where I could find a job.

When I went away to Michigan State I wasn't interested in sorority life.  I knew I'd have to work; I knew I'd have to study and I knew I wanted to do a study abroad somewhere.

My trip to Nepal turned out to be so much more than a study abroad.  It opened my eyes to a vastly different way of life and a vastly different mentality.  My meticulously dreamt-out plans were unraveling at the very seams and I was learning to revel in the unexpected.  My life went completely off the path I had hoped it take.

I got married first.  Meandered my way across the country with my husband, following a desire to find a job and a way of life that matched our personalities.  After a total of 3 universities I graduated with my degrees in fields that had little to do with teaching, albeit still agriculture/life sciences.  I went to work.  I worked some more.  Trying to start a family was a challenge I never expected; a challenge I'd never wish upon anyone.

I never expected to end up in Idaho.  I never expected to only be 6 years out of college and make the decision to not go back to work in my field for a while.  It all works for us, though.  We feel like all of the decisions we've made to get us where we are today have been the right decisions for us. 

There are aspects that make me sad.  It's hard being so far from family.  It's hard being removed from family events, birthday parties, Sunday dinners, holiday festivities.  It's hard knowing our families miss out on so much of our lives and so much of the girls growing up.

Through it all, even the sadness, I've never regretted the choices I made. I know that not everyone has agreed with my/our choices, nor has liked them.  But they were chances I had to take.

Six Divided by Three...

Means that within the next two weeks I'll have been unemployed in Idaho longer than I was employed in Idaho.

Six years ago Memorial Day weekend we made the almost-five hour drive from Provo to our new place of residency in Idaho.  Bringing with us two whiny dogs, the boat, all the stuff the movers wouldn't take and everything we thought we needed to survive the 4 days until we could get our stuff off the moving truck.  I was (fairly) newly pregnant, sicker than a dog (still), giddy about the prospect of using my degree for actual research work and optimistic about the new adventure we were about to begin.  The weekend was cold and rainy but we didn't let it dampen our spirits.

Three years ago I was entangled in a tornado or emotions greater than I'd ever known.  I'd busted my backside working on a last ditch effort of a grant proposal to keep myself employed.  We'd found out it hadn't been funded and I was waiting to hear when my last official day with the University would be.  I was devastated.  Completely and utterly knocked off my feet.  I knew I was bordering on some serious depression but didn't want to face it.  It was only a job; JUST a job.  But I dreaded what lay ahead -- being laid off, trying to find a job in my field, or any job that would pay enough to make it worthwhile to work, going through interviews, the thought of putting KT in daycare.  I wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers up and sleep it all away like a bad dream.

We've come a long way in those three years.  A long way in the six, period, but the last three have been particularly trying.  

My vision was clouded at the time, my heart as heavy as stone but the lay-off turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  For months I'd been downplaying some physical symptoms that were creeping into my life.  Telling myself that I was just overworked and exhausted.  The layoff made me hit rock bottom and I hit hard.  I forced myself to find a counselor for therapy and a new physician for some meds to help me through.  Along with the meds came some medical testing and very unexpected news.  I trudged my way through the summer, fighting the depression, getting my life back on track and preparing for the scariest thing I'd ever faced.  Brain surgery.

I was lucky.

I lost my job.

I had successful brain surgery.

I started my own business.

I got pregnant again.

I got another PICC-line.

I had a(nother!) beautiful baby girl.

I was diagnosed with a heart condition days after her birth.

I worked tirelessly at getting my business to be successful. 

The blessings in my life are numerous.  Even though there are days where the clouds seem to linger a little longer than necessary, the sky dumps a little more moisture than we need, the sun doesn't shine as brightly as I'd hope, the wind blows a little too strong for my liking.  There are days where I get sad over the things I don't have, there are days I get mad over the things I don't have, there are days I get jealous over the things I don't have.  But at the end of the day I can't help but be grateful for what DO I have.

Especially because it took my world falling apart to get here.

I AM LUCKY.

Quiet

Things are busy here. 

Things are chaotic here. 

And I'm quiet.

Tantrum

Nothing major, but today is one of those days where I'd just like to lay on the floor and kick/scream like my small one.  Although it breaks my heart to see her mad like that (and sometimes it makes it me laugh) I imagine there's a huge sense of relief in just getting all of the frustration out.

I guess I just need to put my big girl pants on, pour myself another cup of coffee and face the day like a grown up.

It sounds so much nicer to throw the tantrum.