babies – Hot Mess Mom

DEPRESSION is an ugly word…

What do all of these pictures have in common?

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•• D E P R E S S I O N ••

After my first pregnancy. I had depression.

During the end of my last pregnancy and after my last pregnancy, I had depression.

For those of you who don’t know, depression is NOT general sadness. It is not grief. It is not something you can change by the amount of faith you have or something you can “will” yourself out of by optimism.

If it was, I would be the poster child for that particular remedy.

Believe me, no one has more grit and determination than this girl.

It’s is different for everyone.
But for me, the first time, it was crying all of the time.

It was knowing that I should be so happy but all I could do was feel sad and then when I couldn’t feel that anymore, it was emptiness.

Then, during my last pregnancy, it was dark. It was being so overwhelmed at the thought of answering a phone call, getting out of bed, getting dressed, going to work, taking care of my child.

The thought of the next day was almost too much.

After Chloe was born, it was better but still so much emptiness.

It was dark.
It was lonely.
It was overwhelming.
It was guilt at the type of mom I wasn’t being to Landry.

Guilt over not being so happy when all I wanted was a baby.

Then guilt at not being so overjoyed at having the baby girl I always wanted.

It was guilt over not being the wife Trey deserved.

And I did feel happiness. I did feel joy, at times.
I was so thankful for my babies.
I never wanted to harm them or anyone else.
I just wanted to feel like myself again.

Luckily, after Landry, I knew depression.

I knew medication helped me tremendously the first time.

After Chloe, I accepted that this was something I had to fight.

I knew what to do.
I went back to my doctor and I got on medication.

Did I ever want to be on medication?
Nope.
Was it something I resisted and tried to explain away?
Yep.

Could I will myself out of it?
Nope.

Was my life good?
Yep.
Everything I ever dreamed?
Yep.

Did that change it?
Nope.

That last picture, the Golden Gate Bridge, 1600 people have jumped off that bridge to their death.

Because they wanted to escape the pain they felt day in and out.
An overwhelming and inescapable hole.

I was lucky.
I have an amazing support system.
I figured it out early on and know that it’s something I will likely always face.
I found something that works for me. Medication.

It’s an ugly word.
Well…for mental illness it is.
For cancer? Not so much.
Of course you would take medication for cancer, but if you take it for depression, you’re weak.

Nope. I’m strong.
I’m strong because I choose to look my illness head on and say, I see you and I’m fighting you.

I know everyone has their “theories” on antidepressants and therapy.

And guess what?
You’re wrong.
Until you’ve struggled with it, you don’t get a vote.

Anything other than your personal experience isn’t helpful to anyone that does have a mental illness.

It’s harmful.
It stigmatizes.
It makes getting help more difficult.
It makes you look ignorant.

It causes jumping off a bridge seem like an easier option than getting actual help.

When jumping off a bridge seems like a better option than seeking help, you could say that we as a society have failed.

Be kind to others.
Chances are, that person you’re talking to about mental health, may be someone diagnosed.
Or, they might know someone very close to them who is.

There are SO many people who struggle with a mental health illness.

Until we start talking about it and normalizing it, we will continue losing lives to it.

#depression #mentalhealth #stopthestigma

We meet again…

Photo Cred. Janean Gray Photography.

That baby. That boy. That husband. This life.

I have dreamed of it. All of it. Since I was little. A boy and a girl. A great neighborhood. A job I am passionate about. A husband that I adore and who adores me.

I have it all. I’ve had it all. And yet, I can’t seem to capture the happiness I should be blissfully entangled in. I know why. I’ve met her before. Our last encounter was horrible, unwelcome, and completely by surprise. Her name, Postpartum Depression.

She’s the worst. She used to tell me ugly lies. She used to make me cry for no reason. She used to make me feel worthless. That was the first time we met.

Now, I don’t cry. Ever. She makes me numb. She puts a filter on my sunshine. She used to make me feel less than, not good enough, anxious, like everything was wrong. I’ve become wise to her tricks. I have outsmarted her. I no longer think those things or feel those feelings. This time, her approach is different.

Now, she makes me tired. The kind of tired that is never relieved. The kind that is exhausted just thinking about the next day. She makes me feel nothing. Empty.

I feel happiness, most days even, but not to the extend that I should.
I feel sadness, sometimes, but not to the extent that I should.
I mostly feel nothing.
My babies, they bring me happiness. The kind that makes me laugh until I cry and the kind that makes me thank God endlessly for the sweetness he has placed in my life. Other than them, I feel nothing.

The first time we met, I was utterly and completely sad. I cried ALL. THE. TIME. I wanted so desperately to be pregnant again. The anticipation and excitement of a baby coming was over and I was distraught. I loved my boy. Blissfully so. He made me so very happy. But, I still cried. Every day. I was still sad. Every Day. Blissfully in love and yet so sad. Can those two things coexist? Yes. they can.

Those first few days after birth, you are asked to fill out the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale. It asks you a variety of questions. The fist few days after birth, I felt happy. Exhausted. But HAPPY! So…I passed that test. Each time I took it. I passed. For each child, each time I took that test, I passed. Postpartum depression? NOPE! Not this girl. Not the first month…or the second…or even the third…and then month four came and HELLO SADNESS!

I didn’t know what it was. Because, the media, and even the doctors make you think postpartum depression is being huddled in a corner, rocking back- and- forth, crying. You have thoughts of suicide, self-harm, and no attachment to your baby. Maybe even thoughts of harming your baby.

By that account, I absolutely did NOT have postpartum depression. Not. Even. Close. I cried, albeit, a lot. But not a scary crazy amount. I felt sad. But I also felt happy.
I never, not one time, thought about harming myself. I never contemplated suicide. And my baby, I was smitten. I was attached. I adored him. I never thought about harming him. Ever.

Which is why it took me until month six or seven to reach out for help. To understand that I did, in fact, have postpartum depression. That I did, in fact, need help. And… help I got. Within a few weeks of reaching out, I was SO normal again. No more crying. No more sadness. Praise GOD!

I have fought back, I have. I have worked out, ran, prayed, got out of the house, talked for hours to my husband, and here I am, still feeling nothing. I will continue to do all of those things, until my hormones even out and I am back to the girl I used to be. But it is exhausting. I know, by doing those things, it will eventually bring me back to where I need to be. I know, from experience, that this has an end. It has an expiration date. It happens. It isn’t embarrassing. In fact, it is quite common.

This time, I know how to handle her. I know her angle. I know what she plans to do. I know how to combat her. I am fighting. Every day. If she becomes too combative, I will seek help. Right now, I think I have a good handle on her.

This post is for the girl who is experiencing this and doesn’t know what to do. SEEK HELP. Talk to your doctor. You don’t have to be suicidal or even unable to get out of bed to have PPD. You don’t have to spend the first year of your sweet baby’s life with a filter over your eyes. You CAN be happy. Reach out to someone. Let them know how you feel. Let them know what is going on in your mind and your heart. Talk to your doctor if it is seriously affecting your life.

And…most of all, know that you are not alone. You are not crazy. You are not a bad mother. You did not cause this, your crazy baby making hormones did. This is not something to be embarrassed about. A lot of women suffer from this. A LOT. Society makes us think we have control over this, we don’t. Society tells you that you are a crazy lunatic. You aren’t.

Postpartum depression, She is a crazy hag. Get rid of her.

You will be happy again. You can be happy NOW.

“Change your thoughts and you will change your world”

In the past month I have changed. I started BeachBody because I needed something new. I needed something to call “my own”. Being a stay-at-home mom was awesome but I needed something to call mine besides my child. I know that a lot of you mommas can relate. I can tell you that I haven’t made millions yet…or even thousands…but what I have taken away from this business is PRICELESS.

“Change your thoughts and you will change your world” I don’t know who said that but it is GENIUS. I have always called myself a “realist” which is really just a fancy word for negative. I have gone through life thinking that I would be “lucky” to get this job or get that job. I would be “lucky” if this happened for me or if that happened for me. I was SO concerned with everyone else. FACEBOOK was my downfall. I was so concerned with why this person had that…why did that person have that. “Trey did you see this?” “Why don’t we have that” “We deserve that” “We work hard” YUCK! I was concerned with what everyone thought of us…of me. Why don’t they respect me? Why don’t they follow our rules when it comes to our child? Why do they dislike me? What did I do? Why can’t we have this amazing relationship? I mean it was ugly and a ridiculous way to live. When I started with this company on June 26, 2014 my life CHANGED.

I began to understand that it does not matter what others think of me. It matters what God thinks of me. He has given me SO much and what have I done with it? A whole bunch of NOTHING! At the end of my life, what will he say? Probably something like: “you missed it! I gave you this opportunity, I gave you this talent, you had everything you needed, but you were too concerned with everyone else” Ouch!

What do I KNOW about myself? I know that I am a good person. I am a great friend. I am compassionate. I am the most loyal person you will EVER meet. I am driven. I am passionate.I genuinely want to please God. That is my goal above all goals. I want to end my life and have used every talent and ability I have been given. I want to say to God…”I have NOTHING left”. What is great about you? What do you have to offer the world. God put something in you that is unique. He has a plan for YOU. What is it? What is God going to say to you at the end of your life?

My dad. You know him. And…I hope to have a legacy like he does. But guess what…God isn’t going to say “well done” to me because I have a great father. An example of one of my favorite things about my dad is he sends cards to people like crazy. Seriously! He remembers dates and events. He sends birthday cards, sympathy cards, he remembers dates when people have lost loved ones. People are BLESSED by that. He gives like it’s going out of style. He DOES for people. I told my husband one day, that I want to be like my dad but I can’t be like him until I start DOING and operating with what God has given me. I want to leave a legacy….what is it? I am 26 years old it’s time to start making one.

How do you begin to discover your talents and abilities? How do you tap into your calling? You have to stop thinking the way you are thinking! Stop with the negative thoughts. Those are from Satan and they will get you NOWHERE. Stop concerning yourself with everyone else. They don’t affect your life. Worry about YOURSELF! What are you good at? How can you bless others? What has God given YOU? What are you THINKING? What are you telling yourself?

The Bible teaches us that our words are POWERFUL. They will RETURN to you. Isaiah 55:11 says: “so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” Proverbs 18:21 says: “The tongue can bring death or life; those who love to talk will reap the consequences.” Speak positive things to yourself daily. Stop complaining. If there is a negative thought creeping in your head…dismiss it. Don’t dwell on it. The Bible tells us that we should only think about good things. Philippians 4:8 says:” And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.”

Why is that important? Because our thoughts become our words and our words become our actions or our inaction. You might say: “I can’t help what I think” You can’t help what pops into your head..but you CAN DECIDE whether you entertain the thought. If something negative or hateful comes into your mind, instead of thinking about it, CHANGE your thinking. Think about something positive instead. Try it! It will change your world. It changed mine. Do I wake up sometimes with negative thoughts? Yes. Do I have bad days? Yes. Do I have to change my thinking daily? Yes. What puts you in a good mood? Do THAT thing when you are having an off day. Go for a run, do a craft, get on pinterest, dream, play with you kid…do whatever it is that makes you happy. If you need motivation, read a motivating book, listen to a podcast, read your BIble. Surround yourself with positive people and positive things. When you do that…everything changes. I promise!

I’ll leave you with a quote by the amazing Zig Ziglar “People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing that’s why we recommend in daily”

BE POSITIVE. BE A BLESSING. USE WHAT GOD GAVE YOU! And…worry about YOURSELF!

Motherhood is not for {you}

If you like to collect accomplishments, love checking off a neat to-do list, and live for words of affirmation motherhood may not be for you. There is no end of the year evaluation. There is no boss critiquing you and then praising you for all the things you do well. There are no goals waiting to be demolished. There is no clock- in time and sadly, no clock-out time. There are very few breaks, if any. There is no paid vacation time. HR does not exist and you are left to handle any problems you might have with your coworker (aka your child) to yourself. There is no continuing education that needs to be completed. No conferences or seminars. There are no sick days. There is no one to call when you need a “mental health day”. If you need and thrive on these things then motherhood may not be for you.

These are all things that I need. I am THAT personality. I collect accomplishments, demolish goals, I live for words of affirmation. I love challenges and I LOVE checking off a to do list. I love all of those things because they reinforce all of my strong suits. Motherhood forces me to confront all that I am not. It forces me to be humble and selfless. It forces me to have patience, to rearrange my plans or even cancel them. It forces me to give up my desires and needs and put someone else s above mine. It forces me to live in the moment and leave the rest to God. Motherhood is an endurance event which is an event that I have some experience in. However, this endurance event doesn’t have a finish line. Motherhood, in a sense, forces me to become a different person.

Life is interesting. Sometimes God places you in situations that you never saw coming. I went to school for six years. I loved school and then I had a job for two years, that most of the time, I adored. It was challenging, it was rewarding, it was something that I was good at. Exhausted or not, at the end of the day, I felt accomplished. This mommy thing…leaves me exhausted and often times, most times, without a sense of accomplishment. It leaves me unsure of myself. I am not positive that anything I do is the “right” thing to do. It sometimes leaves me jealous. At times, I am jealous of working moms, jealous of single girls, and jealous of couples without children. Most days I am jealous of my husband. He gets to go to work and have his own thing, is own life, then he comes home and gets to be daddy. He doesn’t worry about his little man being in a stranger’s arms because his wife is the one taking care of his little man. Men have it SO good.

He makes his “own” money. He has his “own” accomplishments. When people run into him they automatically ask him about work. When people run into me…there is that awkward silence because…I do nothing. I sit at home all day, watching TV, taking bubble baths, doing my hair and makeup, going tanning, laying by the pool, and spending hours at the gym. Occasionally, I might change a diaper here or there. At least that’s what I imagine they think I do all day. When we…or I should say he pays for dinner the other person automatically says thank you to him. That bothers me SO much. Because, we might not be able to pay for their dinner if we were paying for daycare. I am so jealous of him. But then…he is probably jealous of me. He is probably jealous that I get to stay home with my little every day. He is jealous that we have such a unique bond. He is jealous that I don’t have to worry about all of the stresses a job brings. And…make no mistake, I know how unbelievably blessed I am to be in a position where I can stay home with my little man.

I know, you are thinking, why not just go back to work? A legitimate question. I feel like this is a calling. A calling on my life. I am home with him because it is where I am supposed to be. It has to be a calling, I have been doing it for nine months. If it wasn’t my calling I would already be back at work. I am called to be his mother. I am called to be my husband’s wife. I am called to serve. I have peace with that. Even when I sometimes really wish I had a different calling.

I have said all of that to say this. If you have the calling to be a stay at home mom, know that others recognize your sacrifice. I know how you never get a moment to yourself. I know that you were a woman with hopes, dreams, and life plans before you had a child. I know that you have much more to offer the world than just being someone’s mom or someone’s wife. I know that you contribute just as much to your household as your husband does. I know that most of the time you get no recognition. I also know that the reason your child is meeting every milestone is because YOU played, taught, and nurtured your child. I know the reason your baby knows baby sign language, can say “mama” and “dada”, can drink out of a sippy cup, knows how to read, can count to 10, can throw a ball, is nice to others, and always says his prayers before bed…is because of YOU. I also know the reason your husband can be so successful at his job is because of you. I know you are the one picking out his wardrobe, having a healthy dinner for him every night…OK most nights. I know that you are the one challenging him to reach his goals and to set new ones, the one who makes his lunch, and makes sure he has shampoo and deodorant. You are the one washing his clothes and then covering him in prayer daily. I know that you are his biggest cheerleader.

When you are having one of “those” days, when you are becoming jealous of others, remember that motherhood is not for you. It is for your child. It’s not about you, it’s about your child. You are doing this for them and because of them. With or without recognition, know that your tears, time, and prayers are making a difference in your little’s world. And know…that there is no one else in this world that has the calling to be your little’s mom. That is a job that no one can fill.

*Working moms…I know that you do all of these things and go to work. I know that is so challenging. Please know that I admire and am sometimes envious of you. This blog applies to you as well. You are inspiring. You are a superwoman.

– Court

{Long run gone wrong}

Friday was supposed to be my long run. 14 miles is what I had planned to do. 14 miles was so much easier before a baby. I started by making a trip to Starbucks to get a venti chai latte to really get me going.

After the chai, I was physically and mentally ready to complete fourteen miles on a treadmill. Yes, a treadmill. I absolutely hate running long runs on a treadmill. I don’t think I am mentally tough enough for it. I brought tons of toys upstairs to my room and sat my little man in front of them. I turned on the TV and said a silent prayer that he would be happy to play alone (what was I thinking?!).

It wasn’t long before I had to stop (2.5 miles in) to drag him out of the bathroom. He had crawled in there and was climbing on my scale. Then I jumped back on the treadmill and made it to 5 miles before having to jump off the treadmill and try to get him interested in a toy. I jumped back on and made it to 7 before he had a complete meltdown. Then I gave up. This was Friday. I had grand plans of running yesterday but I ended up watching movies with my boys in my pj’s before church.

Today, I had to work the booth at church for our 5k that we are having on March 29th! So excited for that! Now, I am back home in my sweats contemplating trying that 14 miles again…or just chilling until the Superbowl. I totally don’t care at all about the Superbowl but I feel like it would be UN-American of me to do my long run during the Superbowl.

Our gym has a daycare…but when I picked him up the last time he was laying on the floor chewing on a toy the size of a Barbie doll shoe. I can’t get that image out of my mind. He has also been wrapped in their community blanket multiple times. I’m really not “that mom” that freaks out about every germ. But a community blanket grosses me out. And…I’m not sure if they ever change his diaper. I have heard that some gyms don’t? I guess that’s something I should have asked about. I just assumed that they did.

I could have taken him in the BOB for a run outside but it’s fourteen degrees and the roads are covered with sleet and ice. I am so not THAT dedicated. Friday was a bust. Saturday was a bust. I am sure today will be a bust. I’m signing up for the marathon. I’m doing it one way or another. It may take me 6 hours. But I will finish it! I will! Even if I have to crawl…

{Straight from my heart}

This one has been a long time coming. This blog has been torn straight from my heart…straight from my soul. I love to write and I write about semi-personal things. However, I have had this story on my heart since the day I started this blog. Now, now is the time.

As many of you may know our family has been through some rocky times. When I was in eighth grade my mom started getting sick. She and my dad visited the Mayo Clinic multiple times to figure out what was wrong with no luck. After numerous hospital visits, tests, possible diagnoses, and doctors she was diagnosed with something called NASH (non-alcoholic steato hepatitis). Which basically meant her liver was failing and for no apparent reason. She had none of the characteristics that a person typically diagnosed with this has. She had to stop teaching and was basically confined to our house and bed my whole high school career.

She suffered. We suffered. It was the single hardest thing I have ever faced. There were many times I questioned why my mom? Why us? What did we do? We had always went to church. We had always believed and trusted in God. So…why was this happening? My parents did a pretty good job of keeping my little sister and I sheltered from the worst of it. But sometimes, we peeked through the cracks and we saw the worst. In those times of weakness, sadness, worry, doubt, and death, HE was there.

He was there every time I saw my dad open his Bible to read. He was there in my Aunt’s unwavering faith. He was there when my mom and aunt habitually took the Lord’s supper. He was there in the form of a man that would end up being my husband. He was there in my grandmother’s prayers and my sisters’ tears. He was there in my mom’s strength. He was there when bills were paid. He was there in each meal or card we received. I remember finding verses on healing in the Bible and posting them all over our house. On the doors, in my mom’s room and her bathroom…everywhere. I would declare and pray the verses aloud every time I saw them. He was very much there.

She spent many many nights in the hospital. She was on a list to receive a transplant. She was called once around Christmas. However, she was too sick to undergo the transplant. We kept praying and believing…even when it looked impossible.

This picture is from Hoop Queen the January before she received her transplant. She had just had a liver biopsy (if I remember correctly) and was sent home with a pain patch. JUST so she could watch my sister and I walk for Hoop Queen. She was in so much pain. She was so strong.

If my mom ever reads this I will be in SO much trouble for sharing this picture. She hates it. So do I. It tears at my heart each time I see it. Our storm…her storm looked impossible that night. I was afraid I was losing my mom and I was afraid I was losing her quickly.Fast forward to May and we got THE CALL. The one that meant she would be saved. This hell was over. We packed up and left in the middle of the night to drive to St. Louis. I still remember stopping at the gas station with Trey, Shelley, and Ciara. I remember being so excited, nervous, scared, and thankful. I remember the song that played over the speakers outside the gas station “everything is going to be alright…rock a bye”. I felt like that was God calming my fears. We all thought it was our happily ever after.Fast forward a few hours. My mom has been prepped for surgery and is waiting to go in. We get a call. Its a NO GO. The liver from the donor is BAD. I cannot remember a time I have been more angry at God. I was so heartbroken. I remember thinking “really? Is this a joke to you? Do you think this is funny?” So back we went to the “normal” we knew. I remember her…she was so strong. She was so positive and HER faith was astonishing. Mine, mine was diminishing by the second.

Three months later we receive another call…at night (because for some reason these things don’t happen during the day). It was my dad’s birthday. I called my boyfriend (my hubs now) he was in Detroit interning at General Motors. He told me he would be on the first flight he could catch. I remember walking downstairs cautiously excited. My dad was in the living room getting things organized. I remember asking him “how do you know this is going to work? it will probably be bad again!” His reply, I will remember all my life…”Let’s pray”. Right there, in the middle of our living room, my little sister and I joined hands with my parents as my dad led us in the most powerful prayer I have ever heard. A few hours later…well a lot of hours later, my mom had a new liver.

The day my mom came home with her new liver. HIS grace is sufficient.

I told you all of that to tell you this. No matter what your storm is, God is BIGGER. I have been struggling with some things. I have been struggling with personal, little, everyday things. I haven’t been able to shake them,no matter what I do. Tonight at church we sang Cornerstone. The part that spoke to me is this:Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Savior’s love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of allAnd then he spoke to my heart. He asked me why I trusted him with my mom but I couldn’t trust him with my own personal struggles. Why do I keep picking up those struggles up seconds after laying them at his feet? Then I thought about the lyrics…Through the storm HE IS LORD.

He is the God who made the Universe. He is the God who hung the stars. He is the God who knew us before we were born. So, why can’t I trust this awesome God with something so small? Because, instead of letting go and letting God, I tried to control the problem. You see, with my mom, I had no control. I HAD to give it to him. With big things in my life I have no control. But with little things I think I have control. In my own arrogance I decide to help God.

God doesn’t need our help. Whatever you are going through…know that our God’s grace is sufficient. If he can hang stars and form the mountains and heal my mom, he can take care of whatever you are facing. Let go, and Let God.

My sweet Jesus healed my mom. I am SO thankful he did. Because without his perfect blood, I wouldn’t have these moments.

– Court

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{Quarter life crisis}

I have come to the very sad conclusion that I am in the middle of a quarter(ish) life crisis. I never really believed in those until, well…now. My actual quarter of life was last year, but I guess I am a late bloomer. When I was little, I always heard adults talking about how “time flies”. They would make comments about how they couldn’t believe how this child or that child had “grown up before their eyes”. I would just smile politely all the while thinking “whatever…” Now, I understand. Time flies. In school it was slow…it was painfully slow. College was also painfully slow. Then it was like I got put on a fifteen second roller coaster. We wanted to start a family…bam I am pregnant. Then just like that… bam our baby is here. Now, he is almost eight months old. EIGHT MONTHS OLD. Which means that in a few short months he will be one year old. Then, I might as well start packing up his stuff for college. I feel like it was yesterday I found out I was pregnant. But it wasn’t yesterday…it was, in fact, 16 months ago. I went to peak in on my little baby tonight, instead I found this not so little baby sleeping in the very top corner of his crib, as if he passed out while trying to escape. I knew he was growing up, but seeing him pulling up on everything today, really pushed me over the edge.

I also turned twenty-six this year. Yep…you read that correctly 26. FOUR years away from….you know…don’t make me say it. How is that possible? For some strange reason, twenty-five did not bother me. Twenty-six bothers me a lot. So much so, that I gave my father strict instructions that my birthday cake was to say 25, not 26. This past August, we celebrated my grandma’s 90th birthday.

That brought on a whole new wave of emotions. No, not the “oh, she sure is growing up” emotions like my little man…but the “how many more birthdays will I get to celebrate with her?” emotions. My husband will be 30 in August. For those of you past 30…don’t hate on me for this blog. I’m sure you had similar emotions as you were nearing this dreaded age. I just cannot understand how I am this old. I am totally and completely getting old. I am thinking adult thoughts, I am worrying about adult things, I am saying and doing things my mother did/does, I don’t even know what is considered “cool” anymore, and after owning an iPhone for almost four years I still don’t know how to use all of the features, and I have now started to use wrinkle creams. Because…I figure I better get a head start on it now!
Where does life go? Why did it seem so slow when I was younger? Why am I so nostalgic about everything? I can’t walk into my little guy’s nursery without flashbacks of us decorating it. I can’t drive by the hospital without thinking about the last time we were there. I can’t shake the feeling that I need to call my grandma at least once a week because if I don’t I might regret it later. I know what you are thinking…”that’s life honey…just enjoy each moment.” At least, that’s what my husband told me as I was sobbing into his chest earlier. That is hard for me to accept. Because, I am the girl who has always enjoyed every moment. I am the one who saves voice mails, cards, movie ticket stubs, and even boarding passes. I think I have taken a picture of my little man every single day of his life. I savor every second and document every moment. Still, life flies by. Is motherhood just a huge emotional ball of nostalgia and worry? If so, I don’t ever remember signing up for that.
I guess there is nothing I can do to slow it down. I will have to keep savoring and documenting. I will continue to hold on to each moment until my knuckles turn white. I will replay every sweet memory in my head and my dreams until a new one happens. I will continue to wish and pray that time would slow down even just a bit. If that doesn’t work, I guess I will have to just thank God that I have a life so blessed that I wish it would slow down.

– Court

{I’m better than you}

I feel as though this may be more of a rant so bear with me. When I found out I was pregnant I was so beyond excited. I couldn’t wait to be a mom. I worried about my little man from the minute I found out I was pregnant. I was constantly asking my doctor…and Google what was safe and what was not. From nail polish to hair dye to caffeine. After worrying about miscarriage or birth defects I had a new set of worries. I had to be induced. I had pregnancy induced hypertension. Well according to the internet and message boards… I was at a high risk for excruciating pain (worse than normal labor pain) and there was a good possibility that I would rupture my uterus. Then of course there is the awful, horrible, no good, very bad….epidural. Yes, I had one. Yes, I loved it. I had been told that it would delay my l labor and that I would eventually end up with a c-section. This is interesting because it actually sped my labor up! like…a lot. I ended up with a “natural” delivery…although, I’m apparently not worthy of the medal because I didn’t do it without drugs. Doing it with drugs makes me selfish, a baby, and it means that I don’t care about my baby. I loved my labor and delivery and I wouldn’t change a second of it. WHERE DOES THIS NONSENSE COME FROM?

I did not know that becoming a mom puts you under this unwanted scrutiny from others. Every decision is constantly questioned. I did not know that I would be receiving advice from everyone and their dog. I actually don’t understand why everyone cares so much?!? There is the circumcision vs. uncircumcised, breastfeeding vs. formula, disposable diapers vs. cloth, pacifier or no pacifier, homemade baby food vs. store-bought, bed sharing vs. crib sleeping, cry it out vs. no sleep at all, working mom vs. stay at home mom, oh…and you CANNOT forget the vaccines! Then a little further down the road there will be home-school vs. public school.

It’s as if with each decision I will be awarded a gold star if I make the right decision. If not, I could be at the mercy of other mom’s who think that I should be put away for child abuse for giving my child a pacifier. Why do we tear each other down? Why does using cloth diapers and not giving vaccines make you a better mom? I briefly worked for the Children’s Division…and I can ASSURE you that none of those things constitutes child abuse. Nice try though. If you use cloth diapers and don’t do vaccines…good for you, you get two gold stars! If you are a working mother, use disposable diapers, and formula feed…you also get two gold stars! Why do we feel that we are better moms because we chose to breastfeed? How does breastfeeding make us better moms? It doesn’t. I am not trying to get into an argument over the benefits of breastfeeding. I actually took that class…I know. I breastfeed…but I have given my child formula too. I actually couldn’t care less what you do with your child (as long as you aren’t abusing them). The bottom line is that it’s none of my business.

At the end of the day, we don’t need criticism from other moms. We don’t need a reason to question our mothering skills. Because we have beat you to it! We are already questioning every decision we make. We are already worrying that by working we are missing out on our children. Or…we are worrying that we won’t be able to give them the best because we aren’t working. We worry about vaccines, diapers, formula, pacifiers, choking, development, car-seats, bullying, our bond with our child, sleeping, SIDS, abuse from babysitters, accidents, car crashes, lotion and rashes, intelligence…I could go on forever. We need to empower and uplift each other. We need to encourage each other.

Whether or not you breastfeed or you use pacifiers is irrelevant. That is not what makes you a great mother. Loving your child, spending time with your child, kissing boo boos, reading books, going to after school events, working hard to provide for them, holding them when they cry, and being their biggest fan…THAT is what makes you a great mother.

– Court

{My Guy}

“Everyone has a love story, ours is my favorite” Let me take a minute and tell you about my guy. After almost six years of marriage, I really thought we had this marriage thing figured out. I didn’t understand how couples had relationship/marital problems. Our marriage had always been so easy. I heard somewhere “real marriage doesn’t begin until you have a baby”. This.Is.So.True.
Ohmygosh! Unlike a lot those lucky couples, we were not prepared to bring a baby home (mentally speaking). Our house was perfectly clean, nursery was picture perfect, diapers were stocked, and of course we had taken a four-week course entitled childbirth. We really thought we had this down. All that we lacked was that perfect quiet baby… ha! What we hadn’t taken, was a four-week course entitled how to survive. They really should add that one. seriously, …they should!
We sent my mom home with my dad…we didn’t need her because we so had this covered. Little did we know, we would be calling her to come back just a few days later.
My little man had his days and nights mixed up, wouldn’t sleep in his bassinet, cried a lot, had reflux, and I had the mastitis. I learned very quickly that we didn’t have this thing figured out….not even close. How were we supposed to survive? Didn’t this kid know we needed sleep? Oh, how you come to appreciate even twenty minutes of sleep. What this taught me, is how very much my husband loves me.
I was awful ( I might elaborate in a future blog…if I am feeling brave). I cried a lot, especially, that first night. The picture I had in my head, you know, the one of the sleeping beautiful newborn wrapped up in their bassinet? The one where the mom and dad are all snuggled up watching him? Where they talk about how in love they are? um…ours didn’t look like that. Mine looked like a crying mama, a crying baby, no sleep, haven’t showered in days, house a mess, and a rock of a husband. Yes, he was also a bit sleep deprived, but I didn’t see it.
He took our baby and fed him, rocked him, walked with him. He slept with him on his chest. He encouraged me daily. He told me how beautiful I was (in my haven’t showered in days, just gave birth, gigantic ta-tas body). He told me how great of a mom I was (even with a screaming baby), he kissed me and held me (when I wasn’t kissable or holdable). He went to every appointment (in fact, he hasn’t missed an appointment. yet! and that includes every single prenatal appointment). He let me sleep when he needed sleep desperately. He searched high and low for things to do to brighten my day…to make my day easier. He brightened my day when I was crying, and sad. He did it when I felt incomplete and worthless. He did it when I looked awful and felt awful. He did it when I needed it most. He loves me more than I can ever comprehend. How did I deserve this man? I don’t. I will never deserve him. I am so thankful for him.
That girls….that is a love story.

– Court

A {not so} glamourous life.

This is my first blog. And…my first time to admit this internal and very constant struggle I have. Should I continue on this journey of a stay-at-home mom or should I return to the career world? Usually, when I am upset, I can do one of three things or a combination of all of them, run, write, or eat. Sadly, more often than not, I revert to the last of my three escapes. Today, it’s freezing outside and we have nothing to eat, so writing it is! I never in a million years pictured myself at home in my exercise clothes, changing diapers, tackling the never-ending task that is laundry, and making my baby food. Yet, that is exactly where I find myself. I had grand plans for myself. Plans that looked something like college, career, marriage, kids. I have had all of those things but not in the traditional order.

I planned to “have it all”. The perfect job (where I can prove my worth and independence and one where I get paid vacations, holidays, and I am at home by 5:00 everyday) , the perfect home (where all the laundry is done, house is spotless, dinner is healthy and on the table every night), the best body (you know…that picture you have in your head…you have one, we all do) perfect marriage (date night every Friday) full of romance and of course amazing you know what, and last but not least the perfect children (3-4 the number has yet to be determined). The problem with this picture, this life, and this woman is she may not exist. This picture may not be attainable. Yet, I am constantly striving to be her. Oh how badly I want and need to be her.

I try to have the house perfect but that usually ends with me in the middle of baskets of laundry and a screaming baby who wants his mama’s attention. I try to run/train every day or at least sneak in one insanity DVD but some days…most days, that doesn’t happen. Supper is sometimes perfectly on the table and other days it’s on the table made by someone else. If I spend the day playing with the little man I am thinking about how I should be cleaning and cooking. If I spend the day cleaning and cooking I think about how I should be playing with my little man. It’s Christmas and all I have this thought about lately is how much better I would feel about myself if I had a job…a REAL job. Yes, I said it. Before you start your rant on how being a mom is the hardest job there is…I KNOW, I DO IT EVERYDAY! But for some strange reason I don’t feel as I have as much worth when I am in my “mom mode” complete with a t-shirt smeared with baby food and spit up and of course no makeup. My husband commonly refers to this persona as “sporty spice”. Because these days, all I wear is workout attire even though I rarely make it to the gym. Then there are those six years of school and two degrees I have…and you can’t forget those student loans. Those 6 years and two degrees are doing nothing for me now.

The point to this ramble? I’m not sure there is one. Except…why do we put so much pressure on ourselves? Why do we let society paint this unattainable picture in our head? If I was working I would be thinking about all the time I was missing with my precious boy. You know… “the grass is always greener”. I’m at home because I chose this. I wanted to stay home and be the best mom I could be to this precious baby. Now, I am second guessing myself. But tomorrow I may be totally at peace with it again. That is exactly how this internal battle goes. The one thing I go back to is, at the end of my life, I will never regret the time I spent with my sweet boy. I keep seeing this poem and it gets me every time…

If you are somewhere in this battle with me, just know you aren’t alone. If you are working, good for you! You are making your child’s future brighter by the opportunities you are providing. You are teaching your son/daughter that women are just as independent and capable as men are. You are teaching them to go for their dreams and that they can have a family and a career. You are an awesome mom! To the mom trying to keep her home clean, child alive, and somehow manage to be halfway presentable, you are a great mom! And…no mom is perfect. That picture you have in your head of the “perfect” wife/mom…isn’t real. Instead of worrying about laundry and dinner, cuddle your little one and be thankful that you are able to stay home

– Court

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