Oh the twists and turns of life...

Life has a funny way of taking a sharp turn in a direction you didn't see it going.

Almost a month ago, I was sitting up at night trying to rack my brain to find a way to build my voice studio again. I wasn't sure I was 100% ready with an 8 week old at home

I missed teaching.

But more than that, since moving back to Utah, I had really been struggling to find students. I would find a few here and there, but they wouldn't stay long because they were either too busy to make the commitment they felt they needed to make, or they couldn't afford it and I couldn't afford to lower my prices much more than I already have... 

I needed to find a pool of students that was going to be more dedicated.

I decided to peruse the Utah State website to see if I could find a contact at the university and stumbled upon their list of teachers they endorse within the community with an email address to contact in order to get more information or to get onto the list.

I quickly typed an email. 

To be honest, I didn't think much would come of it, but I knew that the university would be a good place to find students who were a little more dedicated and serious about lessons.

Well, about a week later, I got a surprise call from the head of the voice department at the university.

She interviewed me over the phone briefly, but when she found out that I had previously taught at the collegiate level and had my Masters, her interest began to pique. She asked if I could come in for a more formal interview and audition.  I agreed...somewhat confused. I didn't see why she would need an audition for me to be on the list- I could see an interview to ask about methods and pedagogical points of view, but I went with it.

I dressed for success (red lips are SO not optional in these cases), kissed my littles goodbye, thanked my mother in law for babysitting, and made my way to the university on the appointed day.

I sang, we sat down and she said, "Okay, I'm just going to lay it out for you. I had a full time staff member decide she only wanted to work 8 hours, and I need to hire someone to teach the load she won't. Do you want to come work for the university?"

I sat, dumbfounded. I'd had an inkling as I'd thought about it before the interview and audition that, perhaps, the reason she wanted me to come in was to talk about an adjunct position, but I also thought, with it being less than a week before school started, that it was too late for them to hire anyone else so I put the thought out of my mind.

Jeff and I had discussed what I should do if she did offer a job. So, I knew that if she did offer and the parameters were what we believed we could handle as a family, I would say yes.

Well...I said yes.

The diva is now a professor...an adjunct professor, but a professor nonetheless.

Initially, I was hired to teach Voice Techniques (a lecture class...think of it like group voice lessons with reading involved so you can learn and practice some techniques on your own) and 4-5 hours of voice lessons...

It has turned into Voice Techniques and 10 hours of voice lessons a week... so I'm working about 12 hours... however, I knew that would be a possible risk of becoming an adjunct (you kind of sign your life away when you sign the contract...) but I have also been fortunate. The majority of my voice students have been willing to come to my home for lessons. This has made it possible for me to only be on campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays until about 12:30 in the afternoon. 

I am also fortunate that a good friend of mine from my undergrad days lives in town here and offered to take my kids while I'm on campus. This has helped quite a bit because, with only a few days before I started teaching, I knew there wasn't time to find a daycare facility that had room and would be able to handle an Autistic child.

Since then, everything has been a blur of awesome...

I won't lie. I never pictured myself going back to work with three young kids at home. However, with my husband gone as much as he is, it has been a nice way to unwind. I have found myself much less stressed and more relaxed with my kids.  

The beauty of this job is that I can drop everything if I have to in order to take care of them. As long as all my students get their 12 lessons for the semester and my Voice Techniques class gets through the required literature, if life happens, I have the freedom of revamping the schedule.

Next week...life is happening.

Last week, Faith had cognitive and speech communication testing for the special needs preschool. They said if they called back to schedule behavioral observation that it was likely that we were in.

Well, Tuesday morning, as I rushed out the door to get the kids to the sitter's house and my fancy butt to work the phone rang.

Wednesday and Thursday I have to drop Faith off at the special needs preschool. She will stay for the whole class BY HERSELF and then I will pick her up. We will know after these two days whether she is officially in or not.

I have already met the woman that I will call her teacher if she gets in,  Miss Joy. She is so sweet and wonderful. She was very patient with Faith during the cognitive testing and is a singer herself. She got SO EXCITED when she found out I had a Masters in music and was teaching at the university...let's just say I plan on offering my services to come in and do a music day with her classes. It will be SO STINKING FUN to set up a music lesson for small children. 

And...while we're on the subject of small children and life happening...

Phillie turned 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is so crazy that I have two 2 year olds now. Next month it will be 3, 2, and 4 months... but this month it is 2, 2, and almost 3 months...

Phillie has been SUPER into horses and being a cowgirl lately.  She constantly points at the television asking , "Horsey? Horsey?" because she wants to watch a horse movie like Flicka or a show like Heartland where horses are front and center. She also looks over my shoulder while I'm on my computer and points at the screen asking "Horsey?" because she wants to look at pictures of horses on the internet.

We knew that it would make her day to give her a plush rocking horse and possibly some cowgirl dress up stuff...

With the help of Facebook and friends, we were able to do both!

I got a super cute plush rocking horse off of the Facebook classifieds for $10 and managed to score a cowboy hat and bandana for $5 at Walmart, and a friend sent an old cowprint vest that her little boy used to wear and had grown out of to complete the look...

I think its safe to say she was SUPER happy. 

And...she was SO GOOD about sharing with her big sister. They still are. They happily trade off and take turns with her new horsey and take turns wearing the cowgirl dress up stuff.

In other news,,,, How adorable is my gummy bear???

It is so crazy that she is almost 3 months old.

It goes too fast.

So, in short, things are changing, but so far the changes have been good,,,stressful, but good.

and that is life right now in a nutshell...

Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.

Acceptance

I was going to write an entirely different post...but I feel compelled to write a post I've been waiting to write (and was going to write next) first because I have several friends struggling right now with this particular topic.

I don't profess to be perfect, or have all the answers, but I do feel like I've had a moment of personal clarity that I need to share in hopes that it will help others...So, here goes...

A few months ago I was really struggling. I was 30 weeks pregnant and still had people that were shocked and surprised when I told them that I was expecting. Who knows if they were just being nice and though that it would stroke my ego to say that they had no clue, but it wasn't helping...In fact, it was making me feel like a fat blob. I felt like a whale, I was securely fitting in most all of my maternity clothes, but nobody noticed...

Was I really that fat before I was pregnant?

That question plagued my thoughts every time I looked in the mirror...

I quickly took to Pinterest looking for any and all tips on losing weight post partum in order to be as skinny as possible as quickly as possible....but something funny happened while I was posting pin after pin of juice fasts, diets, exercises, smoothies that helped to foster rapid weight loss....

I came across a pin from a fitness instructor. She wanted to show how she could make herself look 10-15 pounds skinnier in a "Before and After" picture on the same day just by changing how she held her phone and a few pieces of her outfit...It was definitely an interesting pin to run across in the fitness section. I looked, thought about it for a minute or two and then continued in my fast and furious quest to find the weight loss secrets that nobody was telling me, trying to find the magic potion that would make me "gorgeous"...

However, this image stuck with me more than I thought it did initially.

I have many friends that are beach body coaches and selling various supplements and they are constantly posting "Before and After" pictures on Facebook for the programs they sell. (What I'm about to say next is not reflecting badly upon them. I'm sure their programs work for people and are great. Don't think I'm being negative about them).  I started to notice that in many of the "Before and After" pictures, I didn't believe that the women looked bad or fat in the Before pictures... The After pictures ranged from not much difference to me (making me think of the Pinterest pin I'd seen) and women that looked (to me) like someone could come along and snap them in half like a twig.  (Again, I'm sure the women in those pictures felt amazing about themselves, so good for them, but in my personal opinion, many of them didn't need to lose any weight at all and looked great Before...if they needed to lose some more to feel more healthy and happy, that is their prerogative)

Finally, one of my husband's friends posted a meme. It was a cartoon skeleton with the phrase "She be like, 'I finally met my weight loss goal!'"  I couldn't help but laugh...and it was in that moment that something clicked. This switch in my head that had me thinking so negatively about my body pre pregnancy, during pregnancy, and what it would be like Post Partum turned off...

My body was doing something AMAZING- something that not all women's bodies are able to do...So, WHY was I hating on myself? Why was I allowing myself to be so taken in by the world's standard of beauty? Why was I letting Satan win by choosing to believe the lies he was telling me- the lie that unless I have a body that is a certain size, weight and shape, I am ugly and unlovable?

My husband loves me. He makes that evident every day...no matter what shape I'm in...and, judging by the fact that his male friends were sharing that skeleton meme like it was a bottomless pack of gum and laughing about it on the comment threads saying how true it was tells me that the majority of our husbands probably feel the same....

I reached a place of acceptance.

I remember, before my wedding, several friends approaching me in an "intervention" because they believed I was starting to get "scary skinny" (let me clarify that at this time my weight fluctuated between 135 and 140... by BMI standards, I was on the edge of the overweight and average category...nowhere near underweight, but on my frame, I apparently looked "scary skinny".)  I assured them that I was eating healthy and not even trying to lose weight before the wedding because I didn't want to fall into the pitfalls of the bridezilla whose only problem is that she desperately needs a sandwich... I was the smallest I'd ever been before Faith was born. I had edged into a size 4, and was fitting very comfortably into a 6 (that weird in between place where one size is too big but the other is too small)...

I am a realist. My body has changed. My hips are wider because they have spread to allow a baby out. My body is carrying weight differently than it did before I had kids... everything is just different. I will likely never see that size 4 again because, honestly, even if I did get down to 135 to 140 again, I'd probably never be able to get the pants over my wider set hips...I'm totally okay with that. I was okay with that after I had Faith and Phillie...but why have a goal size?  Since things have changed, since I'm not sure what my body will do as time passes post partum is it really realistic to chase this goal of an elusive number? Also, as I demonstrated with my story, why do we even have goal weights? Let's be real, every body carries weight differently and scary skinny on me may be perfect on another frame... I will never be a size 0 perfect model from a magazine...even that model isn't the perfect model size 0 in the magazine (Hello PHOTOSHOP!)

So...this time around...there is no goal weight, no goal size....My goal?

How healthy do I feel?

I want to be healthy enough to run around the park with my girls without being out of breath. I want to have dance parties that last longer than 1 song on Pandora. I want to feel energized. I want to eat as healthy as possible so I can be around to see all the wonderful things that my daughters are going to do with their lives and I DON'T want my daughters to ever feel like they need to ascribe to some worldly idea of what is beautiful, because they ARE beautiful just for being them. I want them to be healthy and happy and the best way for me to do that is to be an example of what healthy and happy is.

I am going to love my body for all it does for me and continues to do for me. I am going to marvel at the amazing things it has allowed me to do. I am not going to hate it for not looking like some model in a magazine.

I will be beautiful, because I AM beautiful no matter what size I wear or what number is on the scale. All that matters is that I FEEL healthy and know that I am doing all that I can to be around for a long, long time.

I posted this photo to my Facebook and Instagram today:

I will be real...Right now, I weigh 175 lbs. By the world's standards am I overweight? Yep. Do I give a flying fart in space? NOPE.  What I care about is how I feel....and considering that I am running on average on about 3 hours a sleep a night and able to keep 3 kids under 3 alive and chase after them all day, I'm doing pretty darn well! I feel beautiful...why? Because my body, one month ago, did something AMAZING. I ran a marathon of 10 hours of labor, shock so bad that my teeth were chattering and my jaw ached, nausea from too much adrenaline, pushing out a baby that was facing the wrong direction and coming home 24 hours later to NO HELP while I learned to navigate taking care of an Autistic 2 year old, a very spoiled almost 2 year old and a newborn... I. AM. EPIC.

I should be a freaking legend!


Do I still have my moments where I feel let down about my body? Yes, but that is because most of my clothes are too big or too small...its hard to feel dapper when nothing fits properly...but my sweet husband helped with that this weekend.I have a few new items to wear that fits my body NOW...not my body in 3 months, 6 months, etc.  I am dressing the amazing body I have now, I am not going to focus on the body I will have down the road.

I am not on a diet. I am just making sure that I get more than enough water in the day, am eating 5 servings of fruits and/or veggies, and 3 servings of dairy a day (just like any nutritionist would recommend). I feel energized because I'm eating a lot of healthy foods (I feel like I'm always eating, but I'm always eating because its amazing how hard it is to get 5 servings of veggies or fruits in a day when you're only eating them at a meal...so I get lots of good snacks.) Of course, I'm tired and exhausted at times (who wouldn't be on only 3 hours of sleep?) but I know that I'm feeling much better than I would be if I was snacking on potato chips all day.

So...in short, there is no magic potion or pill that will make you "beautiful"...

Decide that you are going to embrace the body you have today and that you will embrace the changes that come through healthier living. Be natural and the rest will follow... Be YOU.

Right now, I couldn't imagine exercising full on. It takes quite a bit to run up and down the stairs to take 2 wiggly toddlers for naps, baths, and time outs and to chase them around the house and out of things they shouldn't be into. To top it off, my husband hasn't been home longer than 4 days at a time since we brought the baby home from the hospital...so I've been doing almost everything in the house and when it comes to caring for our children 100% on my own... but, I have decided to start doing 20 sit ups and 20 push ups twice a day to get my muscles back into order....

Nope, I'm not going to train to run a marathon. I've never been a runner...not even when I was a kid...I don't think that is going to change now.

For now, I am going to do things I enjoy, eat healthy and listen to my body.

If I want to dance with my kids, I'm going to dance with them until I can't dance anymore. I will run up and down the stairs in my house as many times as it takes to give all the necessary time outs and naps that my kids need...but I'm not going to stress about it. As they get older and I have more time, I will be able to do more for me to help condition my body to be more healthy.

I am not a Kardashian...I don't have thousands of dollars to pay a personal trainer...but on top of that, I also don't want to spend HOURS and HOURS away from my kids chasing an unrealistic goal.

I'm going to be ME and let things fall into place...because the ME that I am is beautiful all the time.

Oh, my fellow mammas, if you're working to lose weight, ask yourself one question...Are you doing it because you believe you're "fat"? If the answer is yes, then maybe we need a slight attitude adjustment. Lose weight to be more healthy, not because you are LESS because someone in a beauty magazine somewhere decided that a certain size or weight was more desirable.

If you're feeling down or overwhelmed...start small. Change the way you're eating, don't diet...Follow suggested dietary guidelines: 3 a day of dairy, 5 of fruits and veggies and drink your water...I promise, you will feel AMAZING... and if you want to eat a darn cookie- EAT IT! Don't feel guilty...

I'm gonna eat a cookie if I want a cookie...I'm just not going to eat 12 cookies because I know I won't feel so healthy afterwords...in fact, I'll probably feel like throwing up...as would anyone who eats 12 cookies.

Don't judge yourself by numbers...judge yourself by how healthy you feel. Make your fitness goals about what you'd like to accomplish as opposed to the numbers on your scale or your pants...a number is just a number...you are more than a number. How you function, how your family functions- those are the things that count most. If  you're not currently functioning, then YES, by all means make a change...but don't make the change because you are allowing yourself to hate the one person you should love more than you realize you should- YOU!

I am Brittany. I may not be the world's version of perfect,but to my children I am perfect. To my husband, I am essential. I matter. My body has done and will do amazing things. I choose to foster healthy habits and focus on developing habits as opposed to insignificant numbers.

This is my epiphany.

Hugs and loves until next time, darlings!

The Breastfeeding Breakdown

I want to start this post with a disclaimer... These are MY thoughts and reflections after my experience. Just because this was my experience, doesn't mean that it will be or is everyone's experience. I just feel its important to tell it like it is.

I will take you back to that special moment I described in my last post.

I laid in the delivery bed, shaking uncontrollably from shock and adrenaline after delivering one of the most beautiful babies on the planet... I FINALLY had the chance for skin to skin contact (something I had planned and wanted with my other two kids but because of pre-term labor with #1 and hospital policies with #2, I was denied the opportunity). Little Vi started to root, the  nurse, knowing I was shaking so badly, asked if I even wanted to attempt to let her latch. I nodded my head through my tears and like magic, she had a mouth big enough to latch (Yes, something you're not told when you're younger about breast feeding, when you're well endowed, sometimes the baby doesn't have a big enough mouth to latch and feed...this had been my fate with my other two kids.) Without any assistance to get the latch right, she started to suckle like a champ...

Of course, I had my other concern. Because of the way my breast anatomy is built, I don't produce milk until late in the game and normally don't produce colostrum until a few days after birth.

I voiced this concern to the nurse. She said she would send a referral into the lactation consultant ASAP.

My meeting with the lactation consultant this time around was VERY different from my experience after I had Phillie. This lactation consultant was kind, she listened, she didn't try to dismiss my concerns, and she tried to give me all the suggestions she could to make my attempts at breast feeding this time around successful.

Towards the end of our session, Vi started making gulping sounds every once in a while. The lactation consultant said that is usually a sign they are getting something...it may not be much but she was getting something...but considering that there were several minutes between gulps, she also knew that my production was slow to start.

She told me to keep at it, to pump as much as I could after I'd fed her to encourage production to be faster, and to take each day as it came. The best part was how supportive she was about the decision to continue or not to continue being mine and mine alone and that there was no shame if things didn't work as long as I had tried my best.

Well..I took that advice and gratefully accepted the support...I just wish that she had told me a few other things.

I wish I'd been told how painful it would be even with a good latch for the first few weeks... I wish I'd been warned about cluster feeding (where the baby wants to feed constantly every 5 minutes for 2-3 hours at a time), and I wish I'd been prepared for the feelings of indifference I would have.

I assumed that since we were latching like champs with no help (the lactation consultant gave us a 9 out of 10 score for our latch, and the only reason she gave me a 9 was because baby was so sleepy and I wasn't successfully able to get her to wake up very easily.), everything was going to be smooth sailing.

I was so wrong.

Here is where MY feelings come in. Take them or leave them, but I'm going to keep it real.

While I wasn't blistered or cracked, my nipples were bruised and sore because Vi had and has such a strong sucking reflex. Nursing was so painful that I would have to psyche myself up to do it EVERY.SINGLE.TIME.

It didn't feel natural. It didn't feel magical. It didn't feel like a bonding moment...in fact, it felt like the opposite of a bonding moment. I started to resent feeding time.

Because my production was slow, Vi started cluster feeding, which made it even worse.

I would cry every time it was time for her to eat (I'm not exaggerating. I was in tears every time I had to lift my shirt). I was scared. A) It hurt so badly that it felt like a sick form of torture and B) was this going to be one of those times where she would latch for 10 minutes on each side, then 5 minutes later she would want to go again and the cycle would continue for 3 hours making the pain even WORSE the next time?

I called my L&D nurse sister. She has done a few breast feeding consultations in her day... I knew my latch was fine. As long as I wasn't blistered or bleeding, I was assured it was fine...but there had to be something else I could do.

Finally, the truth: Its normal for it to hurt and be a sick form of painful torture...your nipples have to callous up. You just have to push through it,but it will get easier...

I felt defeated, but continued because I had no reason not to other than me being selfish and not wanting to be in pain...

Baby had stopped having bowel movements and wet diapers around day 4 post partum. This meant she wasn't getting enough of whatever I was producing. I did what the lactation consultant had told me to do and started supplementing. When we went to the doctor's office on day 5 post partum for him to check to be sure we weren't having any complications from Group B Strep, I told him I'd started to supplement and why and he agreed I had done the right thing...

Day 6, I finally started to produce milk as I pumped...but I was still not able to keep up with baby's needs and I was in so much pain that I wasn't sure I could keep torturing myself.

I realized that I wasn't enjoying my baby...I was dreading time with her. I was resenting having her attached to my breast every 5 minutes...

I won't lie when I say I was somewhat relieved on Day 7 when she started exhibiting symptoms of a milk allergy or intolerance. She was getting eczema on her back and face, she had mucousy diarrhea, she was wretching like she was preparing to vomit after she ate, and she was super gassy and irritable. I recognized all of the symptoms verbatim from what I'd experienced with Faith. It took us 6 months to discover that a milk allergy was the culprit with her and I didn't want to take that long this time around...

We tested for an intolerance first. I started to supplement with a sensitive formula and relied on information I'd read on breast feeding websites that milk proteins in breast milk were already partially broken down like they were in a sensitive formula. This helped with the diarrhea, but the eczema and gas were still catastrophic and we still had diarrhea in about half of the poopy diapers we changed, and she was still making wretching noises after a feeding.

Of course, while I was dealing with the pain of breast feeding and trying to figure out how to get baby over the symptoms she was exhibiting, everyone in the house came down with stomach flu. I will say I feel very blessed that I was still breast feeding when this was going on because it kept her from catching it. After watching how sick her big sisters got, I know without a doubt that we would have ended up in the hospital with Sweet Vi in the PICU if she had caught it. I got sick early on and Jeff fed her with a bottle while I pumped in order to spare her from being too close to me and catching it that way.

After about a week (a week of Hades...trying to breastfeed when you're in intense pain and don't want to AND clean up after puking kids while healing from delivering a baby just the week before is NO picnic..), we tried the soy formula. The plan was that I would pump to keep production up on the off chance that the soy didn't give us any change either. However, after the first bottle, it was like night and day. No wretching after her feeding, no gas after the feeding...for the first time in a week, my baby slept through the night with no tummy discomfort.  The night after we started our soy experiment, I woke up engorged and desperate to pump at the same time that baby woke up for food. Out of desperation, I went ahead and let her nurse because I knew I couldn't wait the 15-20 minutes it would take for her to eat her bottle to pump...BIG mistake... I spent the rest of the night up with a gassy, miserable, wretching baby.

That sealed the deal. She was so different after a bottle feeding on the soy. I broke the news to my husband that we were done breast feeding and secretly did a happy dance on the inside.

Beyond everyone being sick, I had realized how difficult it was going to be to maintain a breastfeeding schedule with my other kids to care for. My sister had assured me that around the 6 week mark things would be easier and baby would eat much faster, but, to be honest, between dealing with 2 toddlers , one of which needs to be on a rigorous therapy schedule for Autism and doesn't have the communication skills to understand why she has to wait for a snack or a sippy, and the other being impatient and adjusting to not being the "baby" anymore, and the pain that I was told would go away eventually, I was at the end of my rope... Jeff came home at the end of a week of hell with two sick kids and I broke down and sobbed in his arms. I was at the end of my rope. I apologized for giving up on breast feeding but explained that the bottle had made things so much easier that week...for one, it was nice to not have an irritable baby to deal with on top of puking kids, and it was so much faster to feed her with a bottle. She would eat, be full, and sleep so I could deal with the house that was slowly imploding around me.

It has been a week since we gave up breast feeding.

Yes, I know that I could have cut dairy out of my own diet and continued, but, to be honest, I don't necessarily think that is the healthiest option for either of us. It means I end up lacking important nutrition in my own body and she has to rely on me to be vigilant enough to try to replace what I'm lacking with another food option. Because of my Insulin Resistance, maintaining my diet to be healthy is already tricky and time consuming as it is. I lacked the patience to try to find substitutes and I knew that would leave both of us at risk for health problems. A few studies released the week before I gave birth actually addressed those concerns and found that in all cases, the mother that cut out the entire dairy food group to continue nursing ended up having a higher occurrence of osteoporosis later on in life and when they tested the nutrition content of the breast milk, it actually had LESS nutrients than formula.

I consulted her pediatrician about the milk intolerance on Tuesday at her 2 week well child check (we had to push it back a week because everyone was vomiting and I wasn't about to put 2 sick toddlers into the car and a newborn and drive to the doctor's office ALL BY MYSELF). He agreed that I had hit the nail on the head with the diagnosis and laughed that I was making his job too easy. I told him we were still dealing with extra gas sometimes as we were adjusting to the soy, but he said that unless it gets to the point it was before, we won't worry about it because the next option is the Nutramigen formula which is  much more expensive and smells SUPER nasty.  He said as long as she isn't having diarrhea and there is no eczema, we will keep her on the soy and label her with a milk intolerance and reassess whether its an allergy or not when she hits the year mark.

In the end, I will say that, in spite of the torture, I had every intention of continuing my breast feeding experience and would have had she not had the milk intolerance. I did get the experience of watching everyone in my house vomit and have diarrhea for a week and a half and my baby didn't get sick at all because of the antibodies in my breast milk. I see the benefits. I just couldn't let her be miserable and sick with a milk intolerance in order to continue.

Drying up sucks and is painful too, but I am sad to admit that I wasn't able to REALLY start enjoying my baby until this week.

I look forward to feeding time now. With my hectic schedule taking care of Faith and Phillie, feeding time is a time now when I can focus 100% on snuggling and loving Vianca. I no longer have the mental block of searing pain and fear standing between us. I feel more bonded with her now than I did 3 weeks ago when we were bringing her home from the hospital.

 I fully believe that it was an act of God that she was able to breast feed long enough to be spared being sick with the nasty stomach flu that hit our house. With Jeff being out of town, as well as ALL of my in laws that live in Logan, I don't know what I would have done if I'd had a baby in the PICU with stomach flu and dehydrated and two sick kids at home.  However, in an odd way, I feel like her milk intolerance was a blessing too.

I felt so guilty for resenting the time I needed to spend with my baby to feed her. I felt guilty for wanting to run and hide every time she cried out to be fed... the intolerance took the guilt out of the scenario. I was able to stop breast feeding without beating myself up for being selfish and just not wanting to put up with the pain anymore.

I find myself wondering if things would have been different had I been handed a different deck of cards when I brought Vi home. Jeff was sent away for the week on a business trip right after we brought her home, I had no family around to help and I was running on very little sleep because of cluster feedings and having a gassy baby. When you couple that with two toddlers, it definitely doesn't bode well for feeling well rested or like you're successfully adjusting to being a mom of three...but then add to that having a two week old baby, getting stomach flu yourself and having to take care of two toddlers with stomach flu. I really was fighting a losing battle. I'm sure much of the resentment, fear, and frustration I was dealing with came from a place of severe sleep deprivation and being completely exhausted beyond all reason... in the end, I really do feel blessed that I had the time I did in order to keep Vi healthy when everyone was sick, but I am also grateful that I was able to stop so I could focus on enjoying my baby and not have to focus on the pain and fear that I had come to associate with breast feeding.

Ultimately, I needed to remember my advice from a post I made a few weeks ago about breast feeding. You need to do what is best for YOUR family and focus on making the decision that is right for all of your kids so that you can enjoy being a mom without added pressure.

Breastfeeding is great, and my hat goes off to the blessed women who are able to push through and continue and those that are willing to put their own health at risk to cut out an entire food group and continue on, but I can honestly say that I'm not so sure its for me. I will, of course, try again with the next baby. I always want to try and I will continue to hope for the magical situation where I'm lucky enough to have it work out, but this time it was just too much with everything else I already need to be able to do for my other kids, and I think I would have gone crazy if I'd tried to find something to replace dairy in my diet. I barely have time to eat as it is right now...

To my friends that are questioning whether or not its for them, I urge you to try and don't be afraid to make the discovery that its just not going to work. Its worth the effort, your experience may be different than mine, but if you find yourself overwhelmed, stressed, and feeling like you can't enjoy your baby it may be time to ask yourself if its really worth  the emotional toll and don't fear the answer or feel like a failure for it. Every family is different. Every mom that works with an intent of the best for her family is a good mom.

Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.

Tender Mercies as it Storms

Taking a quick minute today to reflect on tender mercies...

I am scheduled for an induction on Monday, but my doc hopes I go into labor sooner. He is concerned that the baby may be growing too fast,  but Monday was the earliest the induction could be scheduled...

I am, however, feeling hopeful. After weeks of contractions and finding that my body once again doesn't want to do what its supposed to in order to get the baby here, I am grateful for a doctor with foresight who is willing to look ahead and be cautious.

Of course, as all of this is going on, the girls have to get sick with some weird, random summer cold.

Poor Phillie was miserable yesterday and the day before, but, after being up all night seems like she is feeling better today (in spite of her cough and stuffy nose) as she has returned to her chipper, silly self...

However, poor Faith woke up even sicker than I ever saw Phillie the last few days (being a few days behind catching the bug.)

Am I nervous? YOU BET...am I constantly, silently praying that the girls are better before we bring baby sister home? ABSOLUTELY...

However, in spite of all the things that could be stressing me out and making me nervous, I have seen small tender mercies in today and feel like I need to share them and record them.

Phillie, seeing how sick her big sister is, has been following her around like a shadow. She hands her toys when Faith wants to play, she hands her a sippy when she looks thirsty and has waited patiently for her turn without complaint all day.

I had been concerned in some ways about how Phillie would respond to not being the "baby" anymore...However, today has shown me that her care, compassion,and concern for others has grown leaps and bounds in such a short time. She will be an amazing big sister and I have no doubt that she will show that same kindness to the baby as she sees and understands that baby sister is weaker than her and needs her help and care.

Poor Faith has been super lethargic and has been running a low grade fever all day in spite of being given Tylenol or Ibuprofen...but, she has found comfort in a way that I didn't expect at all, but should have.

This morning she found a picture of Jesus on the top of the entertainment center. My parents were staying with us in anticipation of the arrival of the new baby and it somehow got knocked off our fridge and I placed it there this morning thinking it would go unnoticed.

Faith, has hugged and carried the picture around all day ever since she found it.

Isn't it amazing how intuitive little children are?

Even without being able to verbally communicate, my little girl is able to show me that she understands and knows Him and who He is, and that her knowledge brings her comfort.

I am grateful for tender mercies.

Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.

Fatherhood

As Father's Day has been approaching, I have found myself reflecting on my courtship with my sweet husband.

Had I known all that I do now, I think many of my fears would have been abated, but hind sight is always 20/20.

However, as I have reflected, as I have thought about how silly my fears were I have come to one astounding conclusion: My then fiancee was quietly demonstrating his manhood as we approached our temple date...he was showing me the kind of father he would someday be...and I, clueless, had to watch and wait until almost 4 years later to truly understand the scope of what had occurred during our whirlwind courtship and engagement.

I found this video on the Mormon Channel on Youtube as I had been searching for the best, most inspiring Father's Day tribute I could find.

As I watched and tears came to my eyes, I realized I was sobbing because my heart was full of love for my own dear husband. I knew from his previous actions that should we be in a similar situation to Elder Christofferson's parents, he would do exactly the same thing. He would make the necessary sacrifices to ensure the happiness of me and my children...because he does it every day...because he did it while we were dating and engaged.

Let me take you back almost 4 years.

A few weeks before Jeff met me, he broke up with a young woman he'd been dating for a few  months. There were other reasons that went into ending the relationship, but one of the biggest factors had been his schooling. He was approaching the hardest semester of his program...the "make or break" semester. Many in his challenging RSCET program ended up failing and repeating this semester, some several times.

Jeff knew that he emotionally, physically, and mentally didn't have the capacity to foster any "romantic" relationships as he completed this particular semester. He even quit his part time job, a job he quite enjoyed, in order to focus his attention 100% on school and this particular semester.

When we met, there were no fireworks, no instant attraction. I thought Jeff seemed like a nice fellow and he thought I was a show off but saw that I was kind and didn't discount the possibility of me being one of his many friends that he already had in our single's ward.

It wasn't until a few weeks after we met that I became smitten. Jeff knew that he needed time for fun, and had actually come to my apartment one night in pursuit of one of my roommates. He was intending to ask her on a date. They were running partners, he thought she was a nice girl, and he didn't want to be all work and no play. He figured it would be worth it to ask her out....however, she wasn't there that night. Instead, myself and my other roommate, a recently returned sister missionary that he had been friends with before her mission, entertained him. Eventually, my roommate went to study and Jeff and I were left at my kitchen table discussing everything from life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. I became intrigued by him as we discussed what we saw for our futures, I became smitten when I realized that our dating goals were similar and that we both had similar outlooks on what made relationships successful or broke them. His blue eyes sparkled as he talked about his education and we shared jokes.

I finally had to end our conversation and kick him out of my apartment at 1 AM. I had an early call time for rehearsal the next day...I didn't want him to leave. I could have talked to him all night, but I couldn't.  As he left, I went to bed knowing that I was completely twitterpated. This feeling made me nervous and happy all at once. He had made it clear during our conversation that he was focusing on school this semester and that dating someone seriously was going to be out of the question.  I decided and resolved to try to keep my crush a secret in order to avoid being hurt, but my roommates were intuitive and figured it out and banded together to get Jeff to at least ask me out on a date...

Our first date was a small disaster....but that is a story for another day...

What came next is probably a small miracle.

For some reason, Jeff, who had resolved not to pursue anything, continued to call and ask to spend time with me...and I, who had been offended deeply on our first date, found it in my heart to forgive him and to pursue a friendship... and then, our friendship started to evolve and change...before either of us realized it, we were dating...no talk defining the relationship occurred...we just liked each other and weren't pursuing spending time with anyone else.

During this time, unbeknownst to me, Jeff, who had always made it clear that he wasn't interested in marriage until he finished school, decided that he was going to propose...

He went to a local jeweler that was located inside a store that many of his friends would frequent. He had it in his mind that if he ran into anyone he knew, it would be a sign not to continue in his purchase of the ring...Nobody came...and a simple, modest engagement ring was procured...he then made the ultimate sacrifice.

In spite of much of our time together being focused on him studying, he was struggling that semester. He knew he couldn't be engaged and in school...Jeff made the hard choice to withdraw from his big, hard class that semester and to focus the majority of his attention on me, our relationship, and our impending engagement.

I have to laugh at myself when I think of the conversation that occurred after he made this choice and made his sacrifice.

We went to a CES fireside together on Sunday, it was (surprise, surprise) Elder Holland talking about marriage. As we listened to Elder Holland, we wrote notes back and forth. As our conversation progressed, I started to become nervous and scared. I had been to this point before in relationships and had come out hurt, confused, and alone.

The next day, we didn't see one another, I was busy with school. We texted back and forth and made plans to go to steak night at a local sports bar that served a cheap steak dinner every Tuesday. Dinner was pleasant, but my fears bubbled beneath the surface the whole time. I knew I was falling fast and hard for this young man and I didn't want to be hurt, especially knowing how determined he was to finish this semester. I didn't want to ultimately be deemed a distraction and liability and left alone...Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore and on the car ride home we started discussing my fears and feelings. We pulled into the parking lot of our apartment complex (we lived in the same complex a few apartments away from one another), and he held my hand as I cried and offered him his "out"...I told him that I loved him, I knew I loved him, it was terrifying me...But I loved him enough to know what his aspirations and goals were and that if I was in the way of him pursuing his goals, he needed to end it now before I got in any deeper than I was. He held me as I sobbed (UGLY SOBBED) into his shoulder and laughed. He quietly reassured me the if he had wanted out, he wouldn't have continued to pursue me and that he wouldn't have made the sacrifices he had made to continue to see me...I didn't understand the depth of those sacrifices until much later. It wasn't until after we were engaged that I would find out that he had dropped his classes.

He played this sacrifice off as a choice he had made because he was already getting poor grades and knew there was no way he would be able to recover with the time left in the semester...it wasn't until we had been married a few years that he divulged the sacrifice, sheepishly...and I couldn't have loved him more for it...

I could kick myself for doubting him as our courtship progressed knowing what I know now...

He was laying the foundation for our future relationship. He knew that one day, I would be required to make large sacrifices for him and our family, and he knew that this would be the first of many...he truly loved me... I sometimes wish I'd seen it sooner, but it makes me appreciate him and our relationship all the more now.

I, unknowingly, stumbled into a relationship with someone who understood what it meant to be a man, a husband, and, someday a father.

He knew and knows that true love means sacrifice. Some sacrifices, like repeating that semester of school, are big...He didn't ask for accolades or a grand gesture in return. He didn't make a big announcement. He quietly chose to make the sacrifice and trusted that I would bear with him through the consequences of that sacrifice...that I loved him enough to wait patiently as it took longer for him to finish his schooling...

Some sacrifices, like the ones he makes every day are small.

He comes home, tired from a day of work, or travel and snaps quickly and quietly into husband and daddy mode. I'm sure all he wants to do is hide in a corner somewhere to regain his strength and senses, but he walks through the door, accepts the eager hugs and kisses of our sweet babies, plays with them and meets their needs, kisses his tired, haggered wife- who probably not feeling so attractive after a day of housework and child rearing... and asks "What can I do to help?"

He could choose to sit in the corner- he knows I would let him for as long as I could stand it. He knows I would make that sacrifice of a little more of my sanity for him...but he chooses to sacrifice a little of his every day...

The big sacrifice was made so that he could demonstrate his ability to himself and to me to make the little sacrifices that we would need to grow together.

If I could give my girls any advice when it comes to dating in the future, if I could tell them how to know if a young man truly loves them, I would tell them to look to their father and his example.

True love means sacrifice.True love isn't selfish, and true love doesn't require rewards and grand gestures to acknowledge that sacrifice has been made.

I would tell them to look to see what that young man has sacrificed for them. Does he have a servant's heart? Is he willing to do whatever it takes to be sure that their relationship is being fostered to slowly grow and change into something more...can they openly express their fears and know that he won't use those fears against them? Will he, like their father, give up his own comfort momentarily in order to help them when they have no strength left?

They may not see it all at once, but their father really is a "true man"... He works every day to be more like his Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ. He quietly gives them love, strength, and sacrifice.

He is the best father they could ask for...I know, and he knows, that one day they will, without meaning it, tell them they "hate" him, he knows that his sacrifices won't always go noticed, but he has faith that he will be rewarded later on with the same courtesy and love he has shown them and me. He has faith that God will reward him for his efforts to be a good provider and for the sacrifices he makes in order to ensure their happiness and his.

Should we someday have a son, I can only pray that he will be able to glean from his father's example to become as wonderful a man as Jeff is.

Happy Father's Day, Jeff.

I love you more every day, with every sacrifice big or small. I only pray I can repay you in kind for all the kindness,love, respect, and sacrifices you have given me. Your small sacrifices don't go unnoticed. I wish I remembered to say more often how much every little thing you do means to me.  I couldn't ask for a better husband or father for my children.

I often tell you that my world doesn't work without you in it, and I mean that with my whole heart. Your small sacrifices allow me the chance to recoup my strength and make me a better person and a better mom. I hope that you can say the same about me, and if you can't, I hope that I can grow to become better so that you are made stronger and better by me.

I love you. Thank you for choosing me and for continuing to choose me every day. I will be grateful every day that you made that choice and continue to.

Together...Forever.

Shame and Guilt:Mommy Wars

Once upon a time, I actually was contemplating being a nurse. I thought it would be amazing to be a labor and delivery nurse at a local hospital. I started taking classes my high school offered that would prepare me for this. One of those classes was Health Occupations. As part of the class, we had to do a shadow project and follow a health care worker around for the day. I called early and managed to snag one of the coveted spots at the labor and delivery unit of the local hospital to shadow the nurses there.

The day I spent there was a whirlwind and a lot of fun to watch. A woman laboring invited me to witness her birth, I got to help in the nursery giving new babies their first "baths", it was a great day...except for one little blip that really bothered me and stayed with me.

There was a young mother getting ready to leave the hospital that day with her baby. I was sitting at the nurses station having a chat with the nurse I'd been shadowing in the nursery asking questions required for my shadow project and another nurse approached.

"The girl in Room 312 is going home in a few minutes...and she is still REFUSING to breast feed. Can you believe it?!" she announced incredulously to the nurses seated at the station.

another nurse that had joined in on my Q&A session spoke up and said:

"Alright, sounds like we need to have another chat."

I then watched as the nurse I'd been shadowing, and three other nurses entered into this girls room and BULLIED her about not wanting to breast feed.

She had her reasons. She was a single mom who worked in a male dominated environment and knew that pumping wasn't going to be a very good option once she went back to work because there wasn't much time to stop and take breaks to do it. She knew legally she had rights to take breaks to pump, but she would rather not have to worry about the hassle of it all.

To me, this made sense...but the nurses kept pushing, bullying, SHAMING her for not being a good mom and doing what was "best" for her baby.

This exchange stuck with me throughout the years.

I understood the importance of breastfeeding. I understood what the baby would be getting, but I didn't see why it was such a big deal that someone DIDN'T breast feed for valid reasons...how did that make them a "bad mom" (yes, the words "bad mom" were used by those nurses that day) if they were trying to do what worked best for their family and personal situation.

Then, my time to be a mother came.

I had planned on everything being as natural as possible. I didn't want an epidural, I didn't want Pitocin, I wanted to experience everything...

I naively spent hours writing a detailed birthing plan that I gave my midwife and handed in at the hospital when I pre-registered.

Of course, I was planning on breast feeding...it was natural. It was what I was supposed to do...I had no reason not to.

Then, the Little Diva came over a month early...the birthing plan I had made so painstakingly was null and void. My water had broken, but my body wasn't contracting and I was at high risk for infection...enter the Pitocin drip...Forget about attempting to breast feed within the first hour after birth- Faith was rushed to the NICU before I even had a chance to see her little face with respiratory issues. She ended up on CPAP for the first 8 hours of her life....

Then, the school of hard knocks really began.

There were so many things that I wasn't prepared for...that nobody had told me.

Since I had said I was breast feeding, the nurses hadn't fed Faith at all. I had hemmorhaged and couldn't walk or stand for the first 8 hours after birth because I was on the cusp of needing a transfusion. I couldn't go see her until late the night after I delivered her. Since she was on CPAP they couldn't feed her yet, so they told me they would bring call me in after they could get her on a canula later that night.

Nobody came.

The next morning, a sweet nurse asked if I was ever going to try to feed my baby.

I had been pumping all night trying to get food for them to feed her through a dropper and I wasn't producing ANYTHING.

Nobody had told me that there were different sizes of suction cups for breast pumps, and being well endowed, my awesome pump had turned my nipples to hamburger because the suction cup was too small...

There was problem number 1.

The lactation consultant and nurses banded together, got me the right size suction cups, and encouraged me to keep going....Still...nothing.

Finally, one sweet nurse said we could try to see about latching since Faith was on the nasal canula instead of CPAP, hoping that maybe it would get me to produce to have the natural stimulation.

Again, my well endowed nature worked against me. My breasts were too big to fit into Faith's mouth with a good latch. Every moment we tried again and again to make it work was painful torture with blisters and scabs opening up...and my baby wasn't getting anything.

The idea of a traumatic birth delaying my production was brought up. One nurse brought me a strange device that you put formula into and it attached to your bra, then a long tube extended down the  breast. The baby would still try to latch, but would suck the formula out of the tube until I could start producing milk.

I was still too large to fit into Faith's mouth and the addition of the tube was awkward and frustrating.

Again, I was told I just needed to keep at it.

Faith wasn't eating enough to go home. Finally, in desperation I asked one of the nurses if I could just try to give her a bottle. I was exhausted. I had hemmorhaged, I had been up all night for 2 nights pumping trying to follow the instructions of the lactation consultant and inside the NICU trying to make this breast feeding thing work, and I just wanted to jump over the last hurdle to get my baby home.

The nurse gave me a shpeel about nipple confusion, and I told her I didn't care, I knew she wasn't getting what she needed because we were focusing too much on the breast feeding aspect of things. Sure enough, she devoured a full 30 mL bottle of formula...shocking the nurses...and slept for the next  hours straight... the first sleep I'd gotten since I'd entered the hospital almost 3 days before.

I still would attempt to breast feed and then, after we would fail at yet another attempt, I would top her off with a bottle.

Sure enough, she was able to come home after  4 days instead of after 2 weeks like they had originally thought...all because she was able to eat like she needed to and wanted to...

I went home and continued my crusade. My poor breasts were broken, bleeding, painful to the touch and swollen all the time. I finally started producing, and decided to give up on latching. I was getting almost no sleep in my attempts to get her to latch and it wasn't successful because she couldn't get a good enough latch to get anything out. It also turned out that my little early bird baby was a voracious eater. No matter how much I produced, I was always behind and had to top her off with formula.

Things did get a little better...I went from NO sleep to maybe an hour and a half in a 24 hour period... My body and my baby were completely out of sync. I would just finish pumping, and she would want to eat, which would work out at first, but then, while we was STARVING, she took forever to eat. I would lay her down almost 2 hours later, and I would need to pump again...and the cycle would start over.

Finally, in desperation to produce more milk so I could be a "good mom" and stop having to top her off with formula, I followed the instructions of a lactation consultant and purchased the herbs that were supposed to increase your milk supply...

BAD IDEA...

I AND my baby ended up covered in hives- we were allergic to one or all of them. A call to the doctor revealed that I would have to throw out any milk I'd produced since starting the herbs and that I would have to continue to throw out anything I pumped for the next week to be sure they were out of my system...

Anyone who said there is no reason to cry over spilled milk never had to dump out six 30 mL bottles full of breast milk and face the idea of having to throw out everything they worked to pump after that for a week...

Tired, broken, in pain...at that point, after 3 weeks of trying to make it work, I decided to stop breast feeding. It just wasn't going to work.

I already felt bad enough...I knew formula was going to be an extra expense, I knew that breast milk was what was going to be "best" for my baby because that is what everyone had pounded into my head...and of course, when I reached out to fellow mommy friends, I was met with another obstacle...SHAME...so much SHAME.

I was being selfish. It would get better. I could make it work if I really wanted to, I just wasn't trying hard enough. Had I called my local La Leche League? They could help give me more pointers. If not, I most certainly hadn't done EVERYTHING I could do. I just COULDN'T stop...PERISH THE THOUGHT! My declaration that I was giving up after 3 weeks of hell for my own sanity, so I could be a better mom, so I could enjoy my baby, was akin to having killed a baby seal on national television to the people that I thought were my friends...

Fortunately, I had a supportive family and husband who had watched me struggle through the last three weeks and were completely on board and helpful in any way they could be.

I decided to ignore the nay sayers and detach myself from them for a while, and focus on learning to enjoy my baby and finding a way to get caught up on sleep so I could feel like a normally functioning human again...

A breast exam by my midwife at my 6 week post partum check up revealed that my breast anatomy is actually slightly askew. I was told that no matter what it would likely always take longer for me to produce anything and I would likely have difficulty producing period.

When I found out a few months later that Phillie had surprised us and was on her way, I was dreading my decision...I didn't know what I was going to do.

I definitely didn't want a repeat of what had happened with Faith, and the realization that I would have a 10 month old AND a newborn to take care of weighed heavily.

My older sister was an amazing voice of reason. She calmed me as best as she could when the subject came up. She said to just try and see what happened and that I knew better where my breaking point was going to be this time...that I was prepared to deal with the public opinion because I'd been through it if I decided it just wasn't going to work.

The day came. Phillie arrived. I learned from my previous experience. There was no birth plan. No expectations. After going through 4 weeks of contractions that weren't causing any change, I was scheduled for an induction at 39 weeks ON THE DOT.

Everything went smoothly. I didn't tear, didn't hemmorhage...and Phillie slept through the entire first night of her life (she had a large head and probably a very large headache. The nurses said to not be surprised if she didn't stir since she was probably sleeping off the pain as the swelling in her head went down.)

I had also learned to say that I was going to do "both" when it came to breast or bottle. Of course, I was met with a shpeel about nipple confusion, but the nurses grudgingly brought some bottles of formula in for me to use should the need arise.

I attempted to get Phillie to latch...and, again, we had the same problem...her mouth was too small and I was too large...and of course, there was nothing coming out...

Since Phillie was eager to try to latch, I would try to get as good a latch as I could and let her suckle until frustration of not being satiated would settle in, and then switch to the bottle. I had figured that this would be better than being up all night trying to pump every 45 minutes.

My last day in the hospital, I had a knock at the door. In walked the lactation consultant...smug, and very proud of herself she announced, " I hear you say you're going to do both breast AND bottle...well, that just isn't going to work. I'm here to help you because you NEED to breast feed and breast feed only..."

I sat in shock for a moment.

Finally I said, "If you have any extra tips, I will happily take them. I just know what my body will and won't do. I don't even have colostrum right now. I'm letting the baby latch as best as I can to stimulate production but I know she is going to need a bottle at the end if I don't want her to starve to death."

The lactation consultant walked towards me, "That is just ridiculous. You have something. You HAVE to have SOMETHING."

She moved my baby down on the bed, and quickly reached out and grabbed my nipple, squeezing as HARD as she could for what felt like an eternity...squeezing every which way to try to get some colostrum to come out and determined to prove to this lesser individual (me) that she was dead wrong...she didn't even ask for my permission to touch me.

Finally, after the shock and horror wore off I asked her to stop and she said, "Hmmm...I guess you don't have anything...well, let's work on that latch then so we can be sure that you're stimulating production the RIGHT way." she said very condescendingly.

I showed her what I was doing. A technique the lactation consultant I'd had with Faith taught me in order to try to encourage the baby to get the nipple and as much of the surrounding skin as possible in an attempt to get a good latch.

"Oh, NO NO NO! That is ALL wrong."

She then proceeded to try to show me a very awkward, very ineffective way to get a good latch that wasn't going to work with my well endowed status.

"There," she said, so proud of herself, "Isn't that better?"

"No, actually, its worse. She has all nipple and no surrounding skin. At least she had some skin in her mouth when I was doing it the way they taught me with my first." I said, eager to get a little of my own back since this woman's obvious aim was to humiliate and shame me into submission...

She then proceeded to try again, each latch getting worse and worse. Finally, she reached out and grabbed my breast again, this time doing the EXACT SAME THING I had done.

"That's what I was doing already." I said.

"Well, " she said, "YOU can't do it because you don't have the vantage point that I do. It will be more effective if I do it and you keep practicing that technique I have been trying to teach you. Right now, I just want to get this baby latched." She said smugly.

"How is that?"

"Mmmm, better." I lied...it felt exactly the same as it had when I had done it...but I just wanted this woman OUT of my room.

She got up and said, "Well, keep at it...and I don't think you should use the bottle. You never know when you'll start to get something in and I would hate for there to be nipple confusion keeping you from being successful..." followed by a shpeel about why formula was so evil and bad and breast milk was so superior...

We came home from the hospital that evening.

Upon seeing me walk up the stairs to my apartment, Faith saw me and started to wail and scream. She hadn't seen me in 2 1/2 days...and, right on cue, Phillie let out a banshee roar to let me know she was hungry.

I had a screaming baby in a car seat on the floor and a screaming baby in my arms that just wanted to snuggle her mamma...

I handed Faith to my mom, took Phillie back to the bedroom for some privacy and then proceeded to have a panic attack...

My mother, knowing something wasn't right, had handed Faith off and joined me in my bedroom.

I was struggling. Wrestling with guilt and shame over the very idea that I wouldn't want to try to MAKE this work...breast feeding was natural. It was something that I was supposed to be able to do. I was a big fat failure..

Lactation Consultant lady had succeeded. I was feeling fully ashamed for my "selfish" thoughts.

My mother stroked my back and held my screaming infant. After a bit, she took Phillie out of the room and asked my mother in law to make a bottle and feed her and returned to me...shaking, in tears, unable to breathe or move...

and then she said, "Brittany, you have to ask yourself this question: Is breast feeding more important than being the best mom you can be to BOTH of your kids. If you're going to have a break down, I think you know the answer to that and you shouldn't feel guilty. It just doesn't work for some women and that is okay. You need to be the best mom and wife that you can be and if you're too focused on this one aspect of it, then you're going to miss everything that matters."

As she spoke, I calmed and I realized how right she was. Yes, nutritionally, breast milk was best, but emotionally, physically, I was going to be a wreck fighting to MAKE it happen for one child, and in the process I was going to miss out on time that my other child needed, that my husband needed. I couldn't spend weeks taxed and worried about making this work. Nature had put me at a disadvantage, but it didn't make me less of a mother...or even a bad mom. My baby would still be fed, diapered, bathed, and loved. It didn't matter what was in her tummy as long as she was healthy.

And with that, I dried my tears and decided to stop feeling guilty, to stop letting all the other voices shame me. It was MY choice and I was making the best choice I could make for my family as a whole...a choice that would allow me to function as a mom of two infants and be able to function as a wife and home maker at the same time....

In the end, Phillie had the worst type of reflux a baby could have. Even if I had struggled to "make it work", I would have had to stop because the only way to avoid surgery for her reflux was a switch to AR formula and giving her the strongest reflux meds a doctor could prescribe an infant in a rather large dose.

So...why am I bringing this up? Why the long preamble to share my story (especially because it may be TMI for some people...and for that I apologize)?

In the last few weeks, I've had several friends voice their intention to stop breast feeding for one reason or another and I have been truly sickened and saddened to watch them go through much of what I did...

Comments from well meaning "friends" shaming them for their decision, begging them to reconsider...or even their own statements saying that they felt like complete total and udder failures for making the decision to stop... emotionally pained that their child easily took a bottle and slept well for the first time since they came home from the hospital.

I understand that a few years ago, the statistics on breast feeding were grim and more and more moms were opting to bottle feed...I understand that ideally, you want to be able to breast feed because for the first 6 months it allows the baby a chance to get extra antibodies from mom to help keep them healthy...

but I also understand that we don't live in a perfect world...and things don't always work the same way for everyone...

WHY then are we allowing ourselves to be shamed for making decisions that work best for our families as moms? Why are we allowing ourselves to be shamed, to feel shame and guilt, when we bravely, openly admit that something just won't work for us? Why do we shame someone else or try to guilt them into going against what they know is right in their hearts?

I know the breast feeding debate is just another facet of the "mommy wars"...but let's get real...Do you get a medal for making it work? No...you don't. Yes, some statistics somewhere say that breast fed babies are healthier and don't have ear infections...blah blah blah...

Both of my kids were mostly formula fed. Neither has ever had an ear infection in their life so far and the only illness we've ever dealt with was RSV in the winter of 2012...which was running rampant and MANY kids got it...

Yes, you don't want to ignore data, but you also shouldn't ignore your heart.

You are NOT less of a mother if you don't breast feed. You are not less of a mother if you can't breast feed...

What kind of a message does that send to adoptive mothers who have no other choice but formula?

What kind of message does that send to mothers who anatomically have issues that prevent them from breast feeding?

Immediately, when well meaning people ask me about my breast feeding experience and I say that I stopped early, there are looks of condescension and the conversation quickly moves on...

I do not deserve to be vilified for making a choice that worked best for MY family.

My friends in the last few weeks that have had to stop for various reasons don't deserve to be vilified either. They made a noble effort. Their choice to stop was a choice made out of love. A choice that allowed them to be the best mother that they could be for ALL of their children, and the best wife they could be for their husband.

We need to end the culture of shaming that occurs around breast feeding on BOTH ends. People complain all the time that they don't get tolerance to breast feed in public... Well, here is my complaint that I don't receive tolerance for having to make the tough choice not to breast feed because nature has decided to work against me...

Why can't we all just get along and admit that everyone is the best mom they can be as long as they are trying as hard as they can to meet all the needs of their growing families?

Nobody is perfect. Nature didn't bless everyone...and nobody is exempt from having life throw you a curve ball.

Yes, by all means, we need to be supportive...but there is a fine line between supportive and condescending.

Yes, you can suggest that a woman thinking about stopping visit with a lactation consultant or a rep from the La Leche League, but you don't need to imply that if she chooses not to do so that she hasn't done all that she can do to try to make it work if she did try... you don't live her life, in her house...you don't see what her struggles are and you don't see the painstaking hours she has spent going back and forth about her decision.

Yes, you can suggest someone at least give it a try if they aren't planning to breast feed period...but the same logic applies...maybe she has a demanding job and she knows that, while legally they have to give her breaks to pump, its just not practical...Maybe she wants her husband/partner to be more involved and feels that sharing the feeding duties is a good way to encourage that bonding? You don't fully know her heart, her thoughts, or her situation.

To my friends that breast feed, I love you! You are amazing! Congratulations on being able to make it work. I am so excited for you and your family.

To my friends that don't, I love you! You are amazing! Congratulations on being able to make a decision that works best for you and your family! I am excited for you too.

To my friends contemplating giving up because its just not working. You are amazing! Look at you try! There is NO SHAME in stopping if its just not working. You are your own best gauge about whether or not you've tried all you can, and its completely your choice. Fortunately, your baby doesn't have to starve because there are nutrient filled options and you can work to find the one that works best for your baby and their digestive tract. You're not a bad mom, or a monster for considering it. If you decide to soldier on, I support you in that as well and hope that you find success quickly.

I saw a meme on Facebook the other day that I loved...it said something to the effect of:
I breast fed, I bottle fed, and it didn't matter because they all ended up eating the same french fries off the floor of my minivan and was like "thanks for cleaning"....

In the end, kids are still going to be kids.

The ultimate gauge of what kind of mom you are, good or bad, is going to rely heavily on what they think, and I can tell you that 99.9% of kids think their mom is the best mom ever no matter what...

Take comfort in that.

As I get ready to have another baby and contemplate whether or not I am going to attempt to breast feed again, I think about that often.

She isn't going to remember that I breast fed her, but she is going to remember the time I spent with her and my attitude.

If the best mom I can be is one that doesn't breast feed because I know I need to sleep, or I know nature hasn't exactly blessed me in that department, or I'm sick of getting mastitis every month without fail, or they have teeth and are biting me and I can't get them to stop no matter what I do...then I am okay with that.

I would rather enjoy my kids than stress over one aspect of their upbringing for months, making myself sick, tired and exhausted.

The only medals for motherhood are the ones we give ourselves in our own minds. We all have a journey to travel as mothers. We all have choices to make. We shouldn't shame or make one another feel guilty for making different choices because that is all they are: different choices for different families who lead different lives.

Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.

Love is an Open Door

I walked into my OB's office to sit down for what will now be a weekly ritual of waiting once a week for an ultrasound and a quick visit to hear "Everything is good." until the baby is born in a few weeks.

This week's appointment was earlier than my appointments normally are and what I walked into seemed somewhat shocking....I checked in, sat down and started doing a little people watching and realized that the faces I was looking at were MUCH younger...in my opinion too young.  The waiting room as a hodge podge of young mothers around my age and teenage girls either accompanied by their mother, their baby daddy, or both.

Of course, since people watching is one of my favorite things to do, I sat...I observed and I pondered what I was witnessing.

The girls all appeared to be clean cut, wholesome cheerleader types. They were dressed well, their hair perfectly coiffed. Mothers fussed next to them with paperwork while the girls rolled their eyes and rubbed their growing bellys...but the boys were the most shocking sight...

Greasy, oily ballcap covered hair, jeans and t-shirts with holes... in many cases making fun of largely pregnant women waddle back and forth from the check in desk....

Hardly Prince Charming.

As I watched one girl chastise her "baby daddy" for not showering after whatever athletic practice he'd come from, and listened to her worry out loud about how her mother would react when she got there later when she got off work before the appointment, I wondered to myself:

"Oh, sweetheart! WHY?!? Why would you let THAT touch you in the most intimate ways that you can be touched?" What made these greasy, disgusting, OBVIOUSLY immature goofballs so appealing?

I then began to ruminate on a conversation I had with my husband a few weeks ago.

We were watching Frozen for the umpteenth time with our girls (we've probably watched it at least once a day since it came out on video, but quite frankly, my husband and I find a new layer to discuss every time we watch it.)

My favorite song came on. "Love is an Open Door".

Jeff remarked, "You know, its rather ironic that that saddest song in this whole movie has the peppiest beat."

I was taken a back..."This song is NOT sad! How could you even think that?" I asked.

He sat back and smirked a bit (that smirk that tells me he is happy to have a deep conversation about something...a smirk I love and find awfully attractive.)

"The words aren't inherently sad." He said. "This song is exactly right. Love SHOULD be an open door." He paused for a minute and then looked at me, "This is the saddest song in the whole movie because its true and the way it should be, but one of them is lying through their teeth as they sing it."

Clever, clever Disney.

I spent years in college, listening to single friends complain about how Disney has given them a false sense of what romance should be...there have been studies and papers written trying to demonstrate the harmful effects of "Prince Charming Syndrome."

Don't get me wrong. I believe it exists in some ways...but that is a thought for another day.

What does Disney do? They write a heroine character who deals with what EVERY girl is faced with at one point in her life...

A frog that turns out to be a frog... a guy that tells you everything he knows you WANT to hear in order to get everything he WANTS before disposing of you.

Anna spends the whole movie insisting that what she has is "true love", ignoring the concerns of family (Elsa) and friends (Christoff) when the reality is that she hasn't really had a chance to assess the character of her "Prince Charming" to be sure he's everything he should be to make her happy and that she is everything that he needs and not just a notch on his belt... She decides to jump in and give it her all because she is driven by her desire to have companionship and be loved...She wants SOMETHING,ANYTHING to be different from the life she is living. She sees love as her ticket out.

What makes the fake "Prince Charming"with his pretty words so appealing? The idea of getting something different...the idea of finally being SEEN...

I see Facebook memes all the time about what we should be "teaching" our daughters.While that advice is all well and good...HOW?

Disney shows that answer too... Anna is deprived of TIME. She is left to her own devices because she seems happy and content, even though deep down she is miserable.

Yes, you can tell your daughter to wait for a man that truly respects her, you can tell her that she is worth more, but what are you doing to PROVE IT?

Are you giving her your time or are you depending on "things" to make up for the lack of time you have with her?  Do you tell her she is beautiful and valued every day or do you belittle her and bring up EVERY TINY MISTAKE she makes?  Do you SHOW her that you value her by asking what in her life is important to her and supporting her- not just FINANCIALLY...do you SHOW UP?  Even if its the art fair, science fair, making it to the school play to watch her (even if she is just in the chorus or only painted sets), going to the football game to watch her cheer?  It doesn't take much to reorganize your priorities... it may seem like a lot, and it may be a pain in the butt...but did you become a parent to just open your wallet every time they want something or to nurture a new generation with guidance- to help them navigate life and avoid the mistakes that you made?

Do you know her friends? Have you bothered to meet the parents of her friends? Do you show you care by setting boundaries? (Yes, giving a curfew and being awake to wait for her to get home is a way that you can show her how valuable she is to you... who knows, she  may even tell you about her date, the party, or the school function she just got back from if you'd give her a chance...)

Elsa spent her days in a room,locked away from her sister. She thought that avoiding time with her to work on herself was the  best course of action, but it ultimately almost led to her sister's destruction.

We need to TEACH our daughters that they are important, valuable, special, and loved regardless of the tiny mistakes they make, but we need to SHOW them every day...if we SHOW them, they will be able to FEEL it. Once they feel it from us, from their siblings, they will be able to model that in the other relationships in their lives. They will be able to recognize an unhealthy, toxic relationship, they will be able to have better self esteem because they won't be relying on JUST the attitudes of their peers to make them feel valued and important.

Once they can do this- a fake "Prince Charming"...the "Frogs" that lie through their teeth in order to get what they want will be obvious to her. She won't waste her time (and if she does, she won't waste it for long) because she won't equate love with popularity or sex (like society tells her she should)...

I won't lie. I wanted to be popular in school. It was hard to watch my older sister, who seemed perfect, have it "all". She got asked to every date dance, she had boyfriends... I, on the other hand, didn't get asked on my first date until commencement my senior year, and even then, it was just a friend who asked because he didn't want me to be home alone...

Yes, I relented in my "not popular status"...but you know what kept me out of trouble? (believe me, I could have found it if I wanted to...) I had a mom who was there for EVERYTHING. She was always available to listen to me...even if she was in the middle of something important, she would drop everything to listen to my teenage woes. She would REALLY listen, she would give valuable advice or help me assess situations so that I could change something.

When I was little, before his death, my real dad took his weekends to take us out on "father daughter dates" and "father son dates".... Sometimes we did things he wanted to do (like go to the driving range or golf course, but he always found a way to help us feel involved, special, and like he cared about our success and failure as much as he did his as he played his 18 holes or used his wood to drive a bucket of balls.) and other times, he would let us pick. He may have been busy, but once he was home from work, he was HOME. I can't tell you how many hours we spent snuggled up against him on the couch as he watched his favorite television show or how many hours he spent playing "cooking show" with us in the kitchen as he made our family meals... I never had to doubt that I was important to him. If he missed parent teacher conferences because of a work trip, he ALWAYS went to see the teacher on his own (even if mom had gone). He did everything he could to make up absences to us by giving us his time later to make up for it.

My step father would take time off of work to come to school plays, to come support us at cheerleading tournaments, speech and drama tournaments, choir concerts...He was always ready with a big hug if we'd had a bad day (he still is). He was a firm shoulder to cry on.

We didn't have everything we wanted...I have stories of times when my step dad was unemployed for MONTHS and we were down to the last pack of ramen in the food storage before he got another job... but through it all, we had everything we needed... I may not have worn name brand clothes, or fancy makeup from the counter at the mall...but EVERY MORNING my mom and dad would complement me. They would specifically tell me something that made me beautiful or radiant that day... because of this, I didn't feel so alone in my "unpopular" status... I knew that at the end of the school day I was going to go home to a sweet loving mother and father...that I had their support NO MATTER WHAT.  I made my fair share of mistakes, but they always made sure that the punishment fit the crime... they were fair and they helped me to see, amid the punishment, that I was BETTER than that through gentle loving ways. I knew where my boundaries were, I knew that I would disappoint them if I crossed that line, but I knew that they would never be too harsh or unforgiving.

In the end, Anna almost loses it all because she realizes almost too late that Hans isn't her Prince Charming...her mistake has been made and it seems as if there is no way to make it better. The damage is done and undoable...she finds hope in the love of a friend, but the ultimate saving grace comes through the love of family- through HER love for her family...she had known what true love was all along, she just wasn't able to see it... she had been blinded by years of solitude.

As I looked around my doctor's office, I quietly contemplated how sad it was that this room almost full of teenage girls wasn't the problem...it was a symptom.

May my daughters be able to learn from the story of Anna...May I as a PARENT be able to learn from the story of Anna...May they remember that a "Prince Charming" isn't the beat all end all of happily ever after...and may I remember that its my job to not only TEACH but SHOW through my actions what true love is so they can feel it every day of their lives...so they can reach their potential...and someday they will hopefully meet a real "Prince Charming" and be able to recognize it as they let their actions speak louder than their words.

Love is an OPEN door...Is yours locked or do you only leave it open a crack?  Leave it wide open. You never know what the person on the other side is truly missing out on until you start giving of yourself.


Hugs and loves until next time, darlings...and thanks, Disney, for the reminder.

Slowly but Surely

Sorry I've been sporatic lately with my posts. Sadly, life has taken over a bit in the Nielson household (once again...) and I haven't really had time to formulate thoughts that I've been wanting to share.

I've been having contractions for the last 2-3 weeks, and last week at my appointment, the doc put me on bed rest (because bed rest is TOTALLY possible with two toddlers, one of whom has little to no communication skills and the other whom has hit the "terrible twos" early)

When you add to that the fact that it has been 6 months since Faith's last round of testings so they have to update everything to keep her services on point, let's just say things have been interesting.

The testing process has been easier this time, but its frustrating that it seems like people still feel like I need to be treated with "kid gloves" when it comes to saying that Faith hasn't made the kind of progress they would have hoped.

I am well aware...its okay to say that she is still "severely delayed"...it doesn't hurt my feelings or make me mad or sad...

You see, using the sage advice of our speech therapist in Wyoming, I am content. (Baby steps are still steps...)

No- she may not be using simple words like "drink/juice", "snack", or even calling me mamma or her dad "daddy", but I can look back to where we were 6 months ago and see that things ARE better...

To someone on the outside looking in, I can see how it would be nerve wracking to have to tell someone that the tests aren't showing much change. Everyone wants a miracle. Everyone wants Faith to wake up one morning and magically decide to talk.  I will openly admit to having those thoughts some days (when things are really hard and I'm at the end of my rope.) but miracles don't have to be HUGE or completely life altering all the time.

What has changed in 6 months?

Faith is  making better eye contact. We still have our struggles, but she has started to figure out that her non-verbal cues aren't going to cut it and that she has to look at me while making whatever sound signifies what she wants in order to be successful in getting it. She has the capacity to learn and adapt- that is HUGE! I've seen and read of parents that aren't even sure about that when it comes to their kids on the spectrum. How blessed are we to know that she can pick up on a behavior and, after prompting (sometimes lots and lots of prompting) successfully do what is required.

Faith engages mom and dad to play. We will be sitting on the couch and the next thing we know there are blocks in our lap, or a pen and pad for drawing.  We have to get her to look at us and make some kind of sound to get what she wants (which can be frustrating) but she is showing she WANTS us to be a part of her world. She wants to let us in. She wants to be around us. Considering that 6 months ago, I couldn't get her to look at me, let alone get her to play with me doing something she enjoys, this too is a miraculous shift.

She lets me hug her. Sure, she wiggles her way out of my arms sometimes, but considering that 6 months ago any and all physical contact had to be initiated by her or we'd have a melt down of epic proportions, we have made leaps and bounds of strides in the right direction. There is nothing more heartbreaking than not being able to physically show your child how much you love them and to not have them seem to want to physically show you any affection.  I can't tell you how many times a week I have to choke back tears because Faith has crawled into my lap, given me a kiss, and just laid there, allowing herself to "be" with me. 6 months ago, I wondered if that would ever happen.

She is slowly learning to engage her sister.  There are only one or two games that she has made up that she will play with her.One involves finding one of daddy's church ties, handing Phillie one end and taking turns dragging each other across the room. The OT says she likely does this because she needs the deep sensory input that the dragging sensation brings and she knows that Phillie will be able to drag her lightly enough that it won't hurt her.... but at least she is bringing Phillie into her world.

A few weeks ago, I happened upon this scene in the living room after cleaning up breakfast.

I admit to sobbing like a baby as I took this picture.  They happily sat watching Frozen just like this for nearly 30 minutes. You could see Faith wasn't 100% comfortable because she was "flicking" her hands the whole time, but she didn't move, she didn't try to push her sister off. She let Phillie lay in her lap and show her affection.

Yes, she may still be non-verbal...she may still not know how to match pictures when prompted...she may not know how to play with ALL of the toys kids her age should know how to play with... but what she is slowly learning and figuring out are incredible!

I definitely have my days...days when I pray and wish and pray some more that she will just learn to talk already, that she will just eat normally, that she would be able to make friends and play with her cousins and sister...

but on those days, I try to remember where we've been.

The journey of life isn't just about the starting point and the place you'd like to end up, its about enjoying the stops along the way- even when they're tough and you want to keep moving to the end destination instead of stopping.

Right now, I'm going to embrace this "stop" on our route to seeing Faith's true potential. Yes, my child is Autistic. Yes, she has severe delays,but she has potential and I have faith that as we travel together I will be directed along the paths I need to go to help her reach her best "end goal point" in this life...

and ultimately, that is what this life is about. We all have potential, we all have an optimal "end destination."

I am blessed to know that even if that earthly "ending destination" isn't where I saw Faith when I first held her in my arms when she was 8 hours old, potential NEVER ends. Her delays and disabilities will not last forever. She will be blessed with a perfect body at the coming of our Savior. She will meet the endless potential she has...and she will have more compassion and knowledge than I think any of us can understand in this life.

She may not be the world's version of "perfect", but to her Father in Heaven, she is perfect just the way she is. She has been given the opportunity to learn lessons that few of us will be able to fathom until the next life...and I have been given the opportunity to learn from her. How lucky am I?

Yes, she is still severely delayed. Yes, she isn't like other 3 year old kids...but she is MY 3 year old. She is a part of my journey. She is teaching me more than I ever imagined I would learn in this life.

As long as I'm doing all I can do, the Lord will make up the difference.

He has been all along. Slowly but surely.

Hugs and Loves until next time, darlings!