The #1 Situation to Keep Your Mouth Shut

I'm going to warn all readers now that this is a rant. I'm also going to be talking about some things that are hard to talk about and it is not my intention to insult, hurt, or burden. 

I am currently pregnant, due with my third boy in December. I don't like attention, especially when I'm pregnant, but somehow I am yet the blinding beacon wherever I go and all anyone can talk with me about is my pregnancy.

And I HATE IT!

There is so much more to me than motherhood and pregnancy. If there wasn't then I don't know how I ever made friends or met and married FATMAN before becoming a mother. I wish people would just stop seeing me as "pregnant" or "mother". 

Especially since people seem to think they can just say and do whatever they want without thinking about the hurt they may cause. There are many trials that pregnant women go through without anyone else's input or comments. (Then again we women in general go through so much without anyone else's input or comments, but that's a different post.) I've been holding in my anger, hurt, and frustration for far too long.

From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I yearned for a girl. Not because I'm already out numbered or because I want to do all the girly things (God knows I'm not that kind of female). I wanted a girl because I wanted something different. That's all. Just something a little different. So when I saw that baby #3 is a boy, yes, I was devastated and heartbroken, because I had let my hopes up. Later that same day, when I announced the gender, I can't tell you how many times people commented with "He will be just as loved." OF COURSE HE WILL BE LOVED! It's not like I'm going to give him away or get rid of him just because he's a boy! I prayed and prayed and prayed for this child for a year! A YEAR! My other two pregnancies happened so fast that I was starting to get scared that I wouldn't be able to have any more of my own. And that fear became even more so after I miscarried. So yes, he will be loved, but there was no need to say that. That comment (which I still get today) has hurt the most.

The other comment that has hurt more than others is "You can always try again" or "Your next one will be a girl." People hear me out hear me now: IF I get pregnant again is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! My sex life is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! Where your business and pregnancy are a common concern is with your own body. Stop meddling where you aren't to be meddling. Do you know how much heartache I went through month after month with each test? When you try for something and things don't go "according to plan," you get sad. When things don't go "according to plan" time and time again, you get depressed, angry, scared, anxious, worried, and, most of all, hurt. My heart broke each month when I was "late" and the test came back negative. I can not go through that heartache again. But me getting pregnant is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! So stay out of it!

"At least you're all set on clothes." No, actually. I'm not. For two main reasons. When we moved from Wyoming to Utah, we got rid of a lot of unnecessary items, including most baby items and clothes. We didn't need them at the time so we donated or sold what we weren't using to make room in the truck and to make more room in our new home. A lot of baby items are not collapsible and take up a lot of space that can be used more wisely, including boxes of baby clothes. Also, my other sons are summer babies. This one is going to be a winter baby. Even if I did still have all of those clothes, they would be the wrong kind. Too cold in the winter and too warm in the summer. 

There have also been so many comments on how tiny I am. Some of them have been made in awe, some in jealousy, but most in unbelief and almost concern. Yes, I have been able to stay fit and not put on as much weight (so far) in this pregnancy. I was in a musical this summer, starting rehearsals right after I got the positive tests. I was dancing, walking, and working out all summer (with caution). Even with my first pregnancy, I ballooned and looked pregnant from early on and put on a lot of weight. I am so happy and proud that I have been able to keep my weight gain under control this time around and that I am small. BUT what so many don't understand is that because I haven't put on as much weight this time around, I have other physical issues. My body hurts even more this pregnancy, because my belly is all baby and my belly is heavy. My belly pulls in all directions and hurts my ribs, hips, and back. It feels like I'm carrying around a 20 lb medicine ball all day, every day. I move slower and slower every day, it's hard to get up off the couch or a chair or out of bed, and I have the worse case of acid reflux. I had heart burn with my other two boys, but this is so much worse and it will only get worse until after the baby comes. 

And while we are talking about physical things, DO NOT TOUCH A PREGNANT BELLY! If you didn't put it there, you do not touch. Don't even ask. Don't even think about it. Just. Don't. It's awkward enough that we have to carry around this big heavy belly, don't make it more awkward by touching. 

Honestly, there is so much more I want to talk about but I feel like I'd get nowhere. Please keep all comments to yourself, even if they are well intended. You have no idea how your comment may come across because you don't know the whole story. 

One last topic. Pregnancy is a very touchy subject because so many women struggle. I am guilty of saying some thoughtless comments myself and I can't take them back. Before saying anything to anyone about pregnancy, miscarriage, abortion, fertility, etc., please stop and don't say it. Better to be a silent supporter or comforter, than one more person who said something without thinking. Every pregnancy is different. Every miscarriage is different. Every story is different. Don't assume that you know the right thing to say. 

Dear Lady Who Skinny Shamed Me

The other day I was out in public and was stopped by a women who said, "There's something wrong here." I looked around to make sure I had everything and I could see nothing "wrong". After I looked back at her confused, she continued and said, "You shouldn't look that good right after giving birth. It's just not right." She may have meant it as a compliment, but it sure as heck did not come across as one. She was not the first to comment on how well I look but the way that she said it left me feeling sick and frustrated.



Dear lady who skinny shamed me, 

Thank you for noticing me and feeling like you needed to make a comment. However, what you said was a harsh, back-handed compliment and you should have thought about what you said before saying it. 

There is nothing "wrong" with me. So what if I've lost almost all of the baby weight two months after giving birth? What business is it of yours? 

You have no idea what I felt like when I was pregnant. You have no idea how uncomfortable I was in my pregnant body. You have no idea how much I am negative about my appearance, especially during and after pregnancy. 

Did you know that I had no tearing during delivery? Did you know I was given permission by my doctor to start working out as soon as I felt up to it? No, you didn't! Why? Because you didn't ask how I was. You didn't even sign up or offer to help me after I got home from the hospital. In fact, all you have said to me after delivery is that there is "something wrong" with how good I look after delivery. 

About 90% of the weight I gained while pregnant was all baby. I got sick with food poisoning about halfway through my pregnancy and lost a lot of the extra weight I had gained at that point. Then afterwards, I tried to eat healthy and do whatever exercise I could manage to help me not gain too much weight. So after delivery, I didn't have a ton of weight to lose, mostly just loose skin to tighten. After a few weeks, I was finally getting the energy to work out and Kickboxer was on a schedule where I found the time to get in a ten minute work out and start feeling more comfortable in my skin again. 

I'm still not where I want to be. I still have a pouch. I can still see many of my stretch marks. My butt and thighs are bigger than I wish they were. I have love handles. And I still have loose skin. But I am working on it, because I want to feel like me again. I want to feel comfortable in my body again. 

I'm not working out because I am vain. I'm not working out for my husband. I'm working out for me. I want to better myself. And if wanting to better myself and feel comfortable is what's "wrong" with me, you need to reevaluate your life and what you think "right" and "wrong" is. 

So, thank you for noticing me, but no thank you.

Sincerely, 
Sarah

Today Was a Bad Day

Today was a bad day.

Today I almost didn't get out of bed.

Today I yelled at my kids.
Today I was exhausted beyond belief from lack of sleep.

Today I sat on the couch and played on my phone.

Today I didn't want to hold my baby.

Today I had thoughts that I am ashamed of.

Today I didn't care if my toddler threw a fit.

Today I just let my baby scream.

Today I wanted nothing more than to just go back to bed.

Today I felt nothing.

Today I felt anger.

Today I just wanted to scream.
Today I have barely eaten.

Today I didn't want to be a mom.

Today I wanted my old life.

Today I wanted to run away.

Today I hid myself.

Today I didn't care about anything.

Today I cried.

Today my demons got the better of me.

Today was a bad day.

But tomorrow is a new day!

Tomorrow I have the chance to be better than I was today.

Tomorrow can be completely different.

Tomorrow hasn't been stained with negativity yet.

Tomorrow is a clean slate.

Tomorrow is a new chance.

Tomorrow could be a good day.

Tomorrow could be a great day!

Tomorrow I could defeat my demons.

Tomorrow I could be happy.

Tomorrow is a new day.

As you know, I recently gave birth to my second son. And as many of you know, with my first son I got hit with a mild case of postpartum depression when he turned 8 months old. I wish I could say the same thing again, but I'd be lying. This time around it's hit me much earlier and harder. But this time around I have gotten help sooner. I still have my bad days, but I can handle them a little bit easier. I just have to keep reminding myself that if today is a bad day, if yesterday was a bad day, if I've had many bad days in a row, tomorrow is a new day to try again. 

A Blessing Amid Chaos

Baby Kickboxer has made his debut! He's about three weeks old and FATMAN! and I are absolutely in love with him. Though he has warmed up to a baby being in the house, Squid still doesn't fully know what to think about Kickboxer or being a big brother. 

But the way that Kickboxer made his debut is one for the books. If I hadn't been there and witnessed it myself, I wouldn't believe it happened like this. 

First, a little back story: My labor and delivery with the Squid was quite easy, typical, and had very little problems. I was able to labor through the contractions with breathing techniques and relaxing in the tub. I did not get an epidural (but I was asking for it at the end when it was too late). I had to have my waters broken by the doctor. Squid decided to start coming before I was fully dilated and I ended up pushing for two hours. I tore a little bit and needed 4 stitches. For it being my first labor and delivery, it was good and much better than I expected it to be. 

My labor and delivery with Kickboxer was completely different. It was hard. It was ugly. 
My water broke at 3 am when I rolled over in bed after FATMAN! bumped me when he rolled over. I immediately sat up getting my bed all wet and woke FATMAN! up then jumped to action to get everything together and ready to go to the hospital. As soon as the sitter arrived to stay with Squid until my parents arrived, FATMAN! and I were off. 

As soon as we got to my room and somewhat settled, I was told my water had indeed broken (they tested just to be sure) and that I was only dilated 1 cm. It was going to be a while before Kickboxer arrived. Both FATMAN! and I did our best to relax and rest while contractions started and progressed. By the time the nurses rotated 3 hours after we arrived, I was dilated to 3 cm and my contractions were all over the place.

My new nurse suggested I lay on my side to help move contractions along. So I did... and my contractions sure did come closer together, but they also became more and more intense as time passed. I did my best to manage the pain, but as time went on and my contractions became unbearable, I started to cry and started to ask for an epidural, which I had planned on not doing. After about an hour and a half of crying and asking but being torn with making a final decision, I gave in and told FATMAN! that I wanted an epidural. Which was perfect timing because my nurse had just come in to check on things again. I told the nurse my decision and after checking the progress (I was dilated to 5 cm), she went and got the anesthesiologist. He was super nice and quite funny. It took about 20 minutes for the epidural to start working, but once it kicked in and my pain started to subside, FATMAN! left to get lunch and I rested. Within an hour, I was starting to feel much better and fell asleep for about an hour. 

The next few hours were quite uneventful. FATMAN! and I sat and laid around watching TV and checked in with my parents who had come up to help with the Squid. Progression had slowed so I was put on oxytocin around 3:30-ish and I was rolled onto my side yet again. Nearing the end of labor, I started feeling pressure from my contractions and a kick here and there from Kickboxer, but other than that, nothing exciting happened. 

And then at about 5:20 (I honestly don't know, I'm guesstimating) I felt this odd feeling near my hip. The best way I can explain it is that it felt like a fluttery kick (when you first start feeling your baby moving around inside you at the beginning of pregnancy). I thought it was odd, but didn't think anything else about it. Then I felt the exact same thing a minute later.... then thirty seconds later. It was after that third time that I told FATMAN! to go get my nurse. Instead of doing what I said, he came to the other side of my bed to check on my contractions on the monitor. When he saw that nothing was wrong, he turned towards the door and saw a bulge under the sheet that wasn't quite right. He said something to the effect of "He's here" and ran out the door. I immediately threw back the sheet just in time to see Kickboxer's butt and legs emerge. At that sight I was overcome with many emotions: relief that it was finally over, happiness that I didn't have to push at all let alone two hours, fear because he was bluer than Squid when he was born and the umbilical cord was wrapped around his body (and the sheet didn't clear his head), and awe and wonderment (possibly a little shock). 

My nurse, the baby nurse, and an extra nurse all came rushing in with FATMAN! at the caboose. A fourth nurse went to the room next to mine to get my doctor (who didn't believe at first that I had delivered without his assistance) and he came in a minute later. While one nurse was taking care of Kickboxer and another one was taking care of me, my doctor, FATMAN!, and I were trying to figure out what had happened. My doctor has the theory that Kickboxer was in a bad position all during labor and then he finally rolled over and just slid right now. At the same time as we were discussing the miracle, I was waiting to hear my son cry. It must have only been about a minute, but it felt like forever to me. The nurse said that he had extra fluid in his passageways and that was what caused him to have a hard time breathing at first. Still the pediatrician put us on house arrest for a few days because of it. But as soon as he did cry, my fear subsided and I was so happy to know that my son was healthy. 

It's been an interesting and rough three weeks since then. Kids change everything. When one of those kids is a terrible two and the other is a newborn, hardly anything stays clean or gets done all at once, especially now that FATMAN! is back to his normal work schedule. I manage. Some days I go to bed tired and weary. Other days I go to bed exhausted because I've been up since before the sun with no break or rest. Some days I wonder why I even wanted children in the first place. And then Squid says the cutest thing and Kickboxer smiles while sleeping in my arms. It's the small things that make it worth all the crazy and stressful times. 

No, I Haven't Fallen Off the Face of the Earth

My dear readers, 

I just want to quickly say thank you for reading my blog and no, I haven't fallen off the planet. I have simply (dang pregnancy brain) forgotten that I have this blog. But I have also been busy. July brought on a couple of trips home, false alarms about labor, frustration, heat, and overall craziness. 

The Squid (now being just a few weeks from his birthday) has decided to become a full on Terrible Two Toddler before his second birthday. He's been very disobedient and rebellious and, frankly, I don't know how much more I can handle! It's crazy how my sweet little angel is now so picky, says no to everything, and doesn't listen to me. So that's been frustrating. 

My sister got married in the middle of July. That was interesting to say the least. Let's just say that I'm glad it wasn't my wedding, but I wish that certain people had minded the schedule that was put together (though one incident was my fault), especially when it came to eating food. It was good, but things did not go smoothly. But it was great to have some time off from work (both FATMAN! and I) and to just relax after all of the chaos with my family. 

Then work started up afterwards again. I love my "job" as a Jamberry consultant. I truly do, but everything has its ups and downs and July was a small down after April, May, and June. (Things are already looking up for August!) So that was a little bit of a bummer, but not quite as frustrating and/or stressful as it was for FATMAN!. He manages the store that he works in and summer is the busiest time of the year. So he (and I) prefer to have as many employees in the store as possible during summer. At the end of June, the assistant manager took a different job and moved away. It was a great opportunity for the assistant manager, but that left FATMAN! one employee short. AND he isn't getting a replacement for another couple of weeks. So he's gone all of July missing his assistant manager and he's had to pick up hours, clean up any messes caused by other employees, and do the manager and assistant manager responsibilities. He has definitely been stressed and run ragged. I am so grateful that he has sacrificed so much so that I can stay home with the kids. 

Speaking of kids, Storm, our puppy, has also become a brat. And I'm going to leave it at that for the sake of lengthy blog posts. 

Then a couple of weeks after my sister's wedding, I had the opportunity presented to me to go to a meeting at Jamberry Home Office. So I convinced FATMAN! to make the drive again to my parents' house and I was able to go to a very wonderful and much needed meeting. I got training, motivation, new ideas, and I got to go with my sister in law! It was great! (Not to mention the free and discounted stuff I got.)

On top of all of these events, it's summer. It's hot and miserable. On top of that, I'm near the end of my pregnancy. I hate summer in general. I hate being hot and sweaty and exhausted. This is my second summer pregnancy and I knew what to expect as far as pregnant in summer goes, but I never thought this time around would be harder to cope with. I thought my little angel would stay an angel a little bit longer, I didn't think my unborn son would cause me so much pain and worry (referring to the false alarm labor scare I mentioned earlier), and I certainly didn't expect that my husband would be so much busier and more stressed from work and other things in our lives. I am just over 7 weeks away from my due date. It's going to be the longest 7 weeks of the summer. I can say that with confidence because this whole summer has been LONG! I hate being pregnant in summer and I will never do it again, but I can't wait to meet my little boy. 

Sorry for going on a ranting spree. I just needed to get it out in a different form. Thanks for sticking with me. Hopefully, I'll remember to post more often until D day. 

I'm Living One of My Nightmares

I am once again pregnant. I am currently 20 weeks and 6 days along. Tomorrow I (hopefully) find out for sure if this baby is a girl or another boy. But being pregnant isn't my nightmare. 

It's EVERYTHING ELSE! 

When I was pregnant with the Squid, I had a very easy pregnancy. No morning sickness, hardly any cramping, no round ligament pain, very little leg cramps, etc. I didn't really look pregnant until I was about 25-ish weeks pregnant. (Until that point I just looked like I was gaining weight.) And my active labor was only 11 hours. (I was in labor for a week, but Squid took his time coming.) The only complaint I had was that I was huge during summer, which made me twice as uncomfortable as I normally am during summer. 

This pregnancy is completely different. I had morning sickness, I'm cramping like crazy, round ligament pain is becoming more common, I feel huge even though I'm not, and I'm extremely aggressive. Oh! AND I have pregnancy brain like crazy! If I don't write something down (specifically on my calendar), I will forget completely. Sometimes I can't even remember what I did 10 minutes ago. And on top of all of that, I have a toddler and a puppy. I must be crazy for thinking that I could handle all of this at the same time. I know for sure that I am going crazy from trying to juggle everything at the same time. 

The nightmare part of all of this is that I am a completely different person. I'm constantly loosing my cool and getting mad at the tiniest thing. I'm more sarcastic (not in a good or funny way) with those whom I talk to most. I have had to refrain from making certain comments in person and on social media because as much as I would rather just say it, I know it's not my character to be so mean and/or rude. I am having a hard time seeing the positive in everything; in fact, I don't even try anymore. As much as I have tried, I can't seem to let go of any frustrations, angers, or offenses. I haven't even posted on here more recently because I couldn't think of anything to talk about that would really be worth reading. 

In other words, I have done a 180 and become a person I never wanted to be. And I do blame most of it on hormones and exhaustion. I know it's not a good excuse, but I have no other to replace it with. It's not my intention to be mean, rude, or hurtful (even if I don't actually say the words I'm thinking aloud). It's hardly ever been my intention to be anything but kind and the best person I can be. But some of the time, it can't be prevented. And that's why I'm currently living a nightmare.

A Confession

For when the going gets tough,

For when you have reached the end of your rope,

For when you feel helpless and alone,

For when you believe there is nothing else,

For when you are faced with yet another trial,

For when you think you have done all you can,

Or for when you just need a reminder,

Please remember,

All you have to do is find it. 

We all have a fight to fight,

A trial we are facing,

And every once in a while we may feel helpless,

Hopeless,

Alone,

Unloved, even. 

But you are not alone. 

There are others out there who are going through the same thing. 

I have been dealing with Postpartum Depression lately. 

It's hard.

Especially when I get it stuck in my head that I'm alone.

It's hard to shake those thoughts and push pass them.

It's hard when I feel like I'm stuck in a rut.

Sometimes my most favorite things don't even cheer me up.

Sometimes I feel completely and utterly alone.

Sometimes I don't even want to get out of bed.

Sometimes I don't feel like doing anything at all,

Just want to sit and watch TV.

Sometimes I don't even want to do that.

I have been hiding the secret of my PPD for too long.

It doesn't always happen right after having a child.

It can happen any time up to a year after childbirth.

Did you know that?

I didn't.

Not until my son turned 8 months.

That's when I became a victim of PPD.

After suffering alone for 2 1/2 months, I finally told someone.

That is the best thing I did.

I told about how I had felt lately.

It was a great start.

I now take each day one at a time and try my best.

If I need to, I take it one hour at a time.

If I feel like I have failed that day, I have the support I need.

And I know and remind myself that there's a new day tomorrow and I can try again.

I know I am not alone.

I may not always remember it,

But I do know it.

If you are experiencing depression, anxiety, loneliness, or other negative feelings, please reach out to someone you trust and ask for help.

It just might save a life.