Mommy Wars

To all my ladies, my mommy friends, I'm speaking to you tonight.  There's a crazy thing out there happening all over the interwebs that makes me furious every time I see it.  It's the elephant in the room among us mothers. It's the start of something that will forever be associated with my generation, and I'm ashamed to even be a part of it. 

I'm gonna rant, some of you may not like this, and others, you may want to give me an Emmy for this.  I really don't care.  One thing that taking control of my sanity in the past few months has taught me is that I can be chill and relaxed about life, but I don't have to tolerate ridiculousness. 

Either way, this type of thing needs to stop among women.

Mommy Wars are a real thing.

You guys know what I'm talking about.  It's like a jungle scene from a nature show on the Discovery Channel. Some unsuspecting sweet, probably new mom posts on a swap site asking what type of formula is good for her baby that won't stop spitting up. Seconds later, she's attacked by a group of hyena-moms that think that only Breast is Best and they sabotage poor unsuspecting mom that just wants to feed her baby.  They shame her for her boobies not working. Then some of the nature-riffic moms tell her how to grind her own tree bark from her pear tree in the back yard for formula.  Oh and while you're at it, get rid of those Pampers, you can make diapers out of tree leaves. Others offer encouragement and different pieces of formula advice from their experience.  But that pisses off the other moms on the thread. Before you know it, 15 ladies that DON'T EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER IN THE FACE are fighting over something that is not their business.  

I'm exhausted even thinking about this type of interaction.  I see it happen literally once a day.  And you know what? Why do we all care what other people think and why do we not trust our gut more? 

I'll tell you why this happens.  We live in an era where information is right at our fingertips.  I seriously don't know what I did before Google existed.  Don't we all feel that way? Just today I found myself Googling posts about "What is Bulletproof Coffee" and about 200 posts came up in less than 2 seconds.  (Because side note, I haven't slept in a month.  Oh teething, you will not get the best of me!)

We're so hungry for information that we lose sight of what's really important.  Rather than go spend time reading a book in the aisles of Barnes and Noble, or HEAVEN FORBID, go to the library for research, we click a button, and 100 answers appear.  Don't get me wrong, I Google probably 5 times a day and research everything from safe cars to healthy meals.  Even worse are the constant invitations to join mommy swaps and neighborhood area posts on Facebook that appear in our feed with constant things for sale, questions, and the occasional requests for mommy advice.  Not that these swamps are awful. I've purchased PJs, shoes, diapers and clothes from friends needing to purge their house of all of the baby items.  Which I now do myself.  Because it takes over your house like kudzu.  But heaven forbid the day that people ask a question, and then they're rewarded with 20,000 answers and opinions, all of them different, and some of them downright rude. 

The worst is to watch someone be torn down when they ask for advice.  In this day and time of equal rights, we embarrass each other by cutting down the other woman.  Why? Does it feel good? Do you feel gratified when you do it? Do you not know how to read something, keep your opinion to yourself because maybe, just maybe, you don't know what the other person is going through? 

Guess what? When I had Lila Eve, my boobs wouldn't work.  I had every odd stacked against me to not be able to successfully breastfeed her.  I had a previous surgery that made all the nerve connections suspect to not work. She was born early.  She was born via C-Section after 24 hours of no sleep and painful labor.  She was tiny and to this day, I'm still amazed they let us take her home without staying in the NICU a few days.  She looked like a doll.  Because she wouldn't latch, I had to use all sorts of contraptions to get her to feed, use some formula, and pump every time I fed her.  Every. Two. Hours.  It was a month of torture on top of already out of control hormones and not being able to stand upright. I would be proud of 2 ounces only to find out that was truly all that I could muster in such a crazy situation.  When I went for her weight check at 4 weeks, her pediatrician asked me if I was still pumping/feeding/supplementing formula.  I literally broke down into tears and sobbed that I was still doing all of that.  She looked at me and smiled and said "who are you doing that for, you or her? She's growing with the formula, you don't have to do this if you don't want to.".

BOOM.  Game. Changer. I returned my rented pump and never looked back. 

Now imagine posting this story on a mom swap and getting the range of reactions: 

"What a crazy doctor, you should have still tried! Bet your kid is sick all the time" (2 ear infections, in one year, kiss my butt!)

"Oh good for you! You go girl, do what you have to do to grow that baby!" (thank you, I am!)

"Couldn't you have stuck with it just until 6 months? I mean, pumping isn't that bad" (um, sorry, I was sleep deprived and tired to the point that I probably shouldn't have driven a car at times, I'll take my powdered formula now).

"What about a lactation consultant? Would that help?" (I saw 3! They all agreed formula was best!)

All I'm saying ladies is I'm gonna do me, you do you.  And you know what? It's OK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's fine! Co-sleep or put them in a crib.  Breast or formula, or both.  Cry it out or go get them and rock them. Cloth diapers or regular diapers.  Whatever you do, it's totally up to you.  You're going to get criticized for it by someone.  Hopefully it's an old lady that's so senile that she doesn't know what she's say and you don't want to smack her in the middle of Publix (had that happen a few times when the baby bump was touched by strangers).  But you do what is BEST for you and your family.  And that's all there is to it.

I reach out to my mommy friends for advice all the time and I'm always grateful for the tips they give me.  Do I follow every suggestion? I'll probably try it once to see what happens, but if it doesn't work, onto the next thing.  And in the 10 months I've managed to keep my child alive and breathing, I've usually gone with my gut.  And she's turned out perfectly ok. 

It's got to stop you guys.  No more putting each other down or tearing each other apart.  We should be lifting each other up for accomplishing such great things while raising a family.  It's not easy.  There are days where I have to gather myself like a general going to battle.  But I do it.  I signed up for it. And nobody will tell me what kind of mother to be.  Especially not a stranger. 

Love each other, but most of all, love yourself!

Five

I arrived at work today for a sweet surprise from my team.  I've been at my job for 5 years.  Technically, 9....or 7.5......long story short, I started in April 2007, worked until November 2009, left for a year, then came back in March of 2011.  Had I stayed the entire time, it would be nine years.  So..........happy 5 or 9 or 7.5 years, either way, it was quite a milestone to celebrate that I wasn't expecting.  AND a bottle of champagne definitely made me happy after dealing with a sick 9 month old for 4 days.  I may drink all of it tonight!

After my last post about my dealings with post partum anxiety, I was shocked at the feedback and positive support that I received.  I did not realize how my story spoke to so many people.  After feeling so down and anxious for months, I finally feel empowered and confident.  All of this has caused me to do some major thinking about myself as a woman, wife, mother, co-worker and friend. Life has changed so much in the past few years.

Five years ago,  my professional career at the time was just starting over after leaving my old job, going to a new one, and then realizing that it wasn't for me.  I then came back to a new job where I'm celebrating my 5 year mark today (back at my old job). 

Five years ago, my biffy Steph and I had traveled most of the Eastern Mediterranean on a single girls cruise, followed by a trip to Vegas 2 months later.  Yes, I will admit we had an accidental couples massage and drank champagne pretty much all day every day, and it was amazing. It was by far the most incredible summers of my life and it happened at the right time.  I had been through a crappy breakup and desperately needed a pick me up.  After coming back from that trip, we both met our now husbands. We ate a lot of sushi. We drank a lot of wine.  We danced and brought sexy back. 

And my world slowly started to change. 

Five years for me consisted of dating, figuring out HOW to be in a relationship for the first time in a long time, getting engaged, planning a wedding, getting married, getting pregnant after 10 months of marriage, re-homing a dog, busting my tail at work, buying a house, loosing 2 grandparents, starting a side business, and welcoming a tiny baby into our lives this past June.  OH and replacing our HVAC after moving in and it crapping out with a newborn. That was the suckiest part about that entire 5 years.

I look at all of that and I'm already exhausted when I get to the "getting married" part.  A lot has happened in 5 years. And in the midst of it all, I did not see the woman I was becoming.

Five years ago, I was desperate for affection, a title, the money and was always concerned about what people thought of me.  I think part of that stems from being a preacher's kid, or as I like to call it, being part of the "First Family".  When you grow up in church all your life and your dad is in the pulpit every single Sunday, everyone is watching you to see if you will be a perfect angel or turn into a pot-smoking party girl.  I was always obsessed with being perfect. I heard someone explain in church recently about being a "PK".  When tasked with re-evaluating his life and spiritual relationship, he said that like most preacher's kids, he had to go through his own path to see that.  That struck a huge cord with me.  I have always followed my own path without really listening to anyone but my own gut intuition.  Some of those decisions were good, and others, not so good.

In that time that has passed, I've learned a lot about myself. I can see a glimpse of that person from time to time, and I'm so glad she's changed. 

I learned that I don't have to be so hardcore when it comes to my body.  Having a baby taught me that all of those stretch marks and new curves grew a human that lights up my world every single day.  And I would do it all over again tomorrow.

I've learned that it's ok to be mad for a day, but that you should apologize and move on.  Life is too short to hold a grudge. 

I've also learned that it's ok to stand my ground and not care about what the world thinks of me, because I'm fine being confident in my decisions. 

I've learned that even though I don't see my close friends every week or multiple times a month like I used to, that we can spend 2 hours together and pick right back up where we left off.  The latest social event doesn't entice us anymore, but a good deal on diapers certainly does!

I've learned that at 34, I'm probably "old" to some people and a bit set in my ways. I do it because structure is good for my life and I'm not one for a 2 day hangover anymore.  Plus hangovers with kids is worse than any torture that Jason Bourne every endured. (But TONIGHT, I will celebrate 5 years of success!)

Jarrett came home last week with a card out of nowhere. I won't embarrass him with all of what he wrote, but the words he used to describe me included "passion", "remarkable", "love" and special".  I've been waiting 5 years to hear those things about myself to know that they're true. To know that he sees me the way that I see myself after all of this time just lets me know I'm in the right place. 

Sorry! (but not sorry)

It's been quite awhile since I've blogged, and I felt the need for a really honest "Come to Jesus" blog post. I spend 90% of my time taking care of a spunky 8 month old and trying to maintain a good marriage.  All while trying to work, not be fat, and keep it all together. Life is busy! But I'm finding my groove these days. I miss writing. And tonight I have some peace and quiet to myself while the little one sleeps and before J gets home from work. 

I will note that this is something I've wanted to write about for awhile, but have been scared to death to do it. I am completely baring my soul right now and it's frightening as crap, but, here goes!

I feel like there are times in your life where you feel like you're letting everyone down.  Motherhood is one of those times. What becomes your new normal feels so abnormal because you live your life in this little box that doesn't include happy hours or pedicures or long naps by yourself anymore.  It becomes this whirlwind of not sleeping, feeding and loving a tiny little life form that depends on you for so much. And at times, you just feel suffocated. You feel like your girlfriends call or text you and that you should reply, but you just can't.  Your husband looks at you with one eyebrow raised when you go check on the baby for the 10th time in an hour. And you can't bring yourself to admit that's crazy. You walk into a room filled with your loving family and you cringe on the inside when your child is passed around.  You feel the eyes on you and feel the disappointment in your soul on how you're handling yourself like an escaped mental patient. 

I had a real wake up call with myself about some anxiety that started creeping into my life right around Thanksgiving this year. I didn't notice it at first. I started sleeping less even though my sweet girl slept through the night from 7-6 most days. With the occasional pacifier plea at 4 in the morning.  Now she's big enough to just pop it right back in! I started checking on her in this insane "let me make sure she's breathing" way after not really worrying about it for months. I drank coffee all day long. Morning and afternoon. I was angry at everyone and everything.  The smallest thing like a piece of dirt on the carpet would send me into a vacuuming frenzy and a stare down my whoever traipsed it in my house. I lived in my leggings and baggy shirts and felt like it took all of my energy to just get up most days. 

When I wasn't around the baby, I felt like the walls were closing in. Even though I knew she was in good hands with grandparents or daycare, I was constantly worried.  I quit seeing my friends and when I did, I was one text message away from getting up and heading home because I just did not want to be away from her.  I protectively watched her when people like my own mother held her.  Needless to say, I felt crippled and not like myself at all.  The sparkle from my smile was gone and I felt like a flabbier, more anxious version of myself with an anger management problem.

I finally realized after a crippling weekend of not even being able to drive that I needed professional help.  I saw my doctor.  I found a support group. I started talking to complete and total strangers that didn't even know me but that understood what I was going through.  I didn't feel depressed nor did I want the label of post partum depression put on me, but I did not feel like myself. I learned that everything I felt, the rage, the intense need to feel perfect, was all totally normal. I made a list of things I wanted to do again and started doing them.  Jarrett realized that it's important for me to get away and have breaks. I have an amazing support group of mommy friends that have all told me how much they support me in getting the help I needed.  I changed my diet and started to take better care of me, not just everyone around me.  I bought jeans that fit and decided to stop air drying my hair in a mess of waves without any sort of style. I slowly started to feel like myself again.

It's been almost 3 months since I started my journey to feeling whole again.  I'm not perfect and I still mess up.  The biggest thing that I've learned in getting help is that I'm no longer sorry for being myself.  I've learned to stop apologizing for my shortcomings and just keep going.  I'm not sorry for things like shopping for 2 hours alone and having a moment to myself to feel like a person again.  I'm not sorry for all of those missed texts or texts I thought I wrote, but I didn't.  They'll get to you somehow. I'm not sorry for telling people that their comments make me anxious and to let me parent my way. I'm not sorry for stopping breastfeeding after a month and not trying harder, because it physically wasn't possible for me.  It was the best thing for my child. I'm not sorry that some days, I take my child to daycare first, and then come home and get ready alone.  I'm not sorry that I leave work at 4:30 most days and have time with my daughter that requires complete focus on her and not on my inbox.  I'm not sorry for planning a vacation in a few months that involves only my husband, because we need a chance to be just the two of us again and not just Netflix and chill. Most of all, I'm not sorry for staring down my fears and facing them head on. I feel like so many people go down the rabbit hole of insecurity these days only to be crippled and never recover.  I don't want to live in a world where I feel scared. nor do I want my daughter to feel scared because she sees that fear in me.  That is not the way I want her to grow up.  I want her life to be an adventure in being an independent and pretty cool person. 

Much love to all of you out there that struggle with anxiety, depression, or just anything that throws a wrench in your life. Get the help you need, let your friends be your sounding board, but most of all, learn to love yourself.  You just might see how amazing your are. 

Finding my fight again...

For those of you guys that have followed my blog, this has always been a space where I blogged about my fitness journey.  It started off as a way to hold myself accountable before getting married in 2013.

I totally had a great time posting all of the fitness things, offering advice, what was working for me, recipes etc. I got really really strong and was actually getting into incredible shape and doing man-like lifting right through last fall.  Every day was like leg day.

And then I found out I was pregnant with Lila Eve in October. 

The fitness posts dwindled, as did my blogging.  I had a fairly decent first trimester, but was SUPER tired and was working a really stressful job at the time.  I was super emotional and just downright exhausted at the end of every single day.  Walking and spinning made me feel better, so I tried to hang with it. The struggle was real. 

Second trimester was awesomesauce and I felt amazing and super healthy.  I ate great and I kept on with yoga, Pilates, and more walking.  I didn't think I could get big and feel beautiful, but I did! 

Third trimester was definitely hard.  I think this goes without saying for all of us that have been pregnant, those last few weeks are super tough.  I waddled more than walked, I was carrying more weight than I wanted to, but 30 pounds was all I gained.  On a 5'2 frame though, it was challenging.  Rolling over in bed and shaving became Olympic sports to me.  Don't EVEN get me started on the heartburn and reflux.  

And then our sweet nugget joined us and life has truly not been the same.  That little smile completely melts me every single day.  Even on the mornings after sleepless nights. 

In true chubby fitness girl fashion, I immediately contracted my friend and trainer that I knew from 2 years ago and came up with a plan to start working out as soon as I was cleared.  We met and discussed my goals (which was of course to be Ronda Rousey BA in a few weeks), and then started my training twice a week.  

Has it been hard? YES.  I've been sweating like a pig for an hour at a time, almost unable to breathe at points, but I'm doing it.  Is eating healthy again tough to do? Abso-freaking-lutely, because when you have a kid, good luck feeding yourself at regular intervals.  I'm lucky to shove in a sandwich some days before I realize it's dinner and I've had no other meals.  You come second to that little starving mouth which is always hungry!

But here's what I've learned in the past few weeks.  Underneath all the loose skin and farms (AKA fat-arms), is a strong woman that didn't lose her strength, she became stronger.  Mentally, I'm much tougher than I've been in awhile.  Well, minus those moments when I emotionally cry due to lack of sleep, but I'm seeing a warrior emerge in me, and that has really astounded me.  For 2 weeks, we've battled reflux and projectile formula vomiting and I stopped at nothing to figure out a solution.  The times I've wanted to quit during my training sessions, there's a set of eyes watching over me pushing me to go further, and at the end when I'm gassed, I did it.  One of the first weekends I worked out in a group, I went 6 rounds in an AMRAP and it's been at least a year or more since I've done that.  2 months after a baby and surgery mind you.  And while my body was tired, my mind pushed me to be better and to go hard like I always do. Bringing that little life into the world has toughened my skin in a lot of ways.  The little things don't matter and I care about the health of my daughter, me, and my family.  Even Jarrett is on the bandwagon!

Mommy skin is a unique thing. It's stretched and marked with new colors after carrying something so beautiful for 9 months.  It's made me look in a mirror and now I have a new drive to be a better version of myself.  It's also made me appreciate what women have to take on and how flexible but strong they have to be as they grow as mothers. 

When Colt asked me my goals about 3 weeks ago, it wasn't to run a marathon in 4 months out or to dead-lift 200 pounds.  My first response was "I want to get back to fighting shape".  He even wrote that on my assessment and that's now become my mantra.  To fight.  Not to fight against people or like go around beating people up.  Or even to fight for my right.....to paaaaaaaaaaartaaaaaaaaaaaay.

The fight in me is to do what I know in my heart is be the best "me" I can be.  Meaning mommy to Lila Eve.  A good wife to Jarrett.  A good daughter to my parents and in-laws.  A good co-worker and a good friend.  And this doesn't mean being perfect, which is something I've always struggled with.  Perfection is not my goal, it's being strong.  Allowing myself to break, but then get right back up again and keep going. Those days where I'm exhausted and the baby cries only after 20 minutes of a nap and all I want to do is close my eyes and sleep for a year....I just keep going. I don't know how, but I do it.

Happy Friday you guys.  Find your fight this weekend and be the best "you" you can be!