Tag Archives: Pregnancy

Nipple Tittooing

16 May

I heard about this article on the radio this AM. I have to say I was intrigued. As a boob-obsessed chick I was both shocked and surprised to hear that there’s a new trend out there for getting your nipples darkened. My first thought was let’s put this right up there with bleaching assholes. #whatthehellisthepoint

I have had plastic surgery so I am definitely not one to put my nose in the air to cosmetic procedures. I think women need to do what makes them happy. I so badly want need Botox and lately I’ve been toying with the idea of some lip injections….seriously my mom would probably kill me.

But, nipple tattooing? Tittooing as they are calling it.

I read the article fully prepared to make fun of it. #whoarethesechicks

Yes, one of the stories is a bit odd in my humble opinion. After having breast reduction surgery a 21-year-old tattoo artist decides to reshape her nipples into hearts.

Click here to see the pic of 21-year-old Ashlea.

I think that’s completely insane but maybe this chick thinks lip fillers are insane too. #whoamitojudge

Side note: Are you loving or hating my hash tags? I’m copying this from Brandi Glanville’s book Drinking and Tweeting, which I highly recommend. Super funny and a quick and easy beach read!

Brandi Glanville Book

Back to tits…err tats.

I did, however, find that there IS a purpose for nipple tattoos. Bleaching assholes, no purpose found yet that I’m aware of.

Take Janice Day. A 55-year-old breast cancer survivor, Ms. Day had a mastectomy and breast reconstruction.

She says: “The doctor told me they could create a new nipple out of the skin from my vulva – but I didn’t fancy that at all!”

It never occurred to me that getting your breasts removed would result in having no nipple. I thought they took your nipple and put it back on? Am I wrong? I must be.

Ms. Day continues: “I had no idea of the psychological impact of not having a nipple. Without one, your breast is simply a mound of flesh.”

Click here to see the pic.

This got me thinking. As a boob-obsessed chick I remember being quite concerned about my nipples when I was pregnant. They were huge. Like the size of my head. Will they be normal again I would wonder – or I will be destined to have these gigantic gross nipples??

With time my nipples returned to normal, and I’m back to loving my boobs, but what a wake-up call to think about a breast cancer survivor – or even a woman who chooses to get a mastectomy for preventative measures [Angelina Jolie] – having to endure this type of insecurity following a fight for their life.

Being a relatively affordable procedure at about $500 US dollars I think it’s a great procedure to help breast cancer survivors feel confident after the physical and emotional scarring they endure. Getting hearts or stars or diamond tittoos to me is a bit silly, but then again so is asshole bleaching. And lip injections.

Taylor Lips: Hot or Not?

Taylor Lips: Hot or Not?

Read the full article here.

Here’s another article on nipple tattoos. Also from the U.K. Hmm…

For here in the states I found this website while researching boobs: www.VinnieMyers.com. Here is a pic of his work, but do check out his website.

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No Soup For You

11 Feb

My husband is not the soup Nazi but rather has become the baby Nazi. It began with me getting pregnant with the Chiquita. Even back then he questioned my ability to parent.

The Post Partum Depression only confirmed his fears that I ‘couldn’t handle it’. I think when PPD is talked about (which is too little in my opinion except when they throw a bunch of paperwork at you after your delivery…too bad when I actually said ‘Yes, I have PPD, now please help me’ they put their arms up in question like …now what do we do?) the focus remains – rightfully so – on the mother.

But, in my experience, the fathers are completely forgotten about. My poor husband not only had to deal with taking care of the Chiquita on the days I simply couldn’t do it but also had to wonder every day if I would actually come home from work. Many-a-days I told him I was going to drive into a concrete barrier.

I don’t even think some of my friends know the depths of the depression I was drowning from. I sheltered everyone. Yes, I said I had Post Partum Depression.  Yes, people knew that I had suffered from depression/anxiety since my teen years thanks to PMDD. But, the fact that I hated being a mother as much as I did had to be a secret. The fact that I prayed every night for God to take me in my sleep I couldn’t tell people. No one would understand.

I remember after I had the Chiquita I was like why do people have kids? Seriously. I couldn’t believe that anyone in their right mind would have more than one child. I felt like all the friends and celebrities who said how great being a mother was were lying. Like it was some big scam.

My husband tried to be supportive but my erratic behavior frightened him. I honestly don’t know if he questioned whether I would hurt our baby. I wouldn’t have and I never did.

I remember one time he was sitting in the dentist’s chair yanking the bib off during a cleaning saying he had to get out of there…trying to explain that his wife had Post Partum Depression and was home with the Chiquita…and that he didn’t know what I was going to do.

I had called him sobbing. He had been at work all day and then went to the dentist immediately after. I was on maternity leave and was still recovering from my near-death experience and was dealing with a sick infant (the Chiquita had gotten very sick on bad formula, but we didn’t know so had continued to feed it to her. Eventually we had to get X-rays done…this was all more than I could bear) who had spent the last six hours screaming. I thought I was going to lose it.

I put her in her bedroom and shut the door. She screamed and screamed and screamed. I was losing my mind. I was sobbing. I wanted to die. I called him in a complete panic and he raced home ….

Fast Forward.

Those devastating times are behind us. If you’ve been reading you know that I hit rock-bottom in February 2011. Yes, I admitted to and reached out for help for PPD in as early as September 2010 (two months after the birth of the Chiquita). But, because I wasn’t getting proper treatment my downward spiral continued until February 2011.

At that point I knew it was do or die. I fired all my doctors. I quit writing my blog. I quit drinking alcohol. I started intense therapy. I turned it around because I knew I would lose it all if I kept it up. It was terrifying. It was six months of recovery. Well, that’s an understatement. I’m still recovering to this day, but it was six months of Britney Spears head shaving therapy.

And here I am. I tell you my story because it helps me to forgive. Forgive who? I’m not sure. All I know is for a long time I was really angry. Why? Why did this happen to me?

I don’t know why.

A couple of months ago I started to yearn for another baby. People have asked me time and time again about Baby #2, and my response was this, which is still one of my top-rated posts. I really like this post as well ~ and I still agree with it. Nothing has changed…my husband is still old, my family is still complete, I’m still blessed with an amazing kiddo.

But now I wonder about trying it again. I feel like it would be different. I have a great team of doctors and therapists behind me. I’ve done it before so the whole ‘unknown’ no longer applies. I’m mentally better than I’ve ever been.

I didn't know how lucky I was because I was sick

I didn’t know how lucky I was because I was sick

I was truly robbed of the first few months of my daughter’s life. I was there physically for it all, but mentally, I was not. My brain was in trauma so I’ve actually blocked a lot of things out. I can’t recall many things, and I ache for that time back. I look at pictures, and I cry. I see mothers with their infants, and I feel so deprived.

I approached my doctor about it, almost expecting her to say it was a bad idea. My old doctor had suggested that I not have another child due to all my complications, both physically and mentally. My new doctor – who I love – was excited, supportive and very encouraging. She said that in her experience PPD is not nearly as bad the second time around. She would help me every step of the way and we would be proactive in my treatment.

I went home and told my husband. He said, “If you want to have another baby we can have another baby!”

Many of my friends and cousins are on babies #2 and #3 and here’s me still with one. Not that I’m looking to compete or feel like something is wrong with me, but it’s more that I’ve just officially moved into this next chapter of my life whereas right after the Chiquita was born many of my friends were still without child…and going out and doing all the things I used to do and was longing to do in my depressive state.

Life is completely different now. Life is no longer manicures and bars. It is going to bed at ten o’clock and watching The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. And you know what? That’s fine!

But then a few weeks later on a hard parenting day (those do happen!) he said, “There’s no way we’re having another baby.”

I started fighting with him about it but then left it alone for a while.

I brought it back up this weekend. He looked nervous and uncomfortable. He said that he doesn’t want to have another baby.

I felt hurt and betrayed – he said he wanted another one. What happened?

Was it because I got angry with the Chiquita for hitting me with Mr. Bear and yelled, “If you hit me with him again I’ll cut off his arm!” to which Hubs said, “Hey now…geez…that’s a little Mommy Dearest…”

Mommie_Dearest

Oops, it is?

He must think I’m a bad mother. He’s told me before he sees me get flustered sometimes. I do yell a lot – Italians are yellers. We always agree that we like it two against one.

But why? Why was it yes and now no?

“I can’t go through it again,” he said, suddenly, with my persistence to answer me. He looked into my eyes and said, “The Post Partum. I just can’t do it again. I can’t risk it.”

I wanted to cry but said nothing. What’s there to say? That night I cried in bed after he fell asleep. What am I supposed to do? I’m supposed to support my husband. We are a team. We tell each other the good, the bad and the ugly.

Yes, this is ugly. Yes, this hurts. But I respect his opinion, and I’m going to choose to thank God every day for the Chiquita and will continue to enjoy all the beautiful bundles of joy around me. Not everyone is meant to be a mother. I’d hate to think that I’m not meant to be a mother, but in this case, I think one is truly a blessing.

My blessing

My blessing

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The 12 Most Important Books to Read Postpartum

13 Sep

I received an email a couple weeks ago from a gal named Christine who works with Medicalbillingandcoding.org. She told me they recently published the article “The 12 Most Important Books to Read Postpartum.”

She asked me to share the post with my readers and as someone who suffered from Post Partum Depression I, of course, have to share this with you.

I would never claim to be the voice of PPD, however, I will always share my experiences – my triumphs and my failures – of my PPD journey and of being a new(er) mom. I am sooo honored that Christine found my blog and asked me to share this with all of you.

Continue to read ~ note this is the exact article which I have posted here for your convenience. In full disclosure this was not written by me. You can find this article at this link: http://www.medicalbillingandcoding.org/blog/the-12-most-important-books-to-read-postpartum/ or by going to Medicalbillingandcoding.org.

And please please! share this…we moms need to remember to hug each other sometimes. We should not be competing against each other but rather should be embracing each other. :)

—

The 12 Most Important Books to Read Postpartum

Your baby’s here. Now what?

Chances are good that you read plenty of books on pregnancy, but did you remember to pick up a few about what happens after you deliver your bundle of joy? Breastfeeding, sleeping, postpartum health, and a brand new view on life are just some of the issues that new moms can really use help with in the early months of parenthood. Check out our list, and you’ll find 12 essential books for supporting brand new moms.

1. Confessions of a Scary Mommy:

As a new mom, you’ve just strapped yourself into an 18+ year ride of hilarious and sometimes embarrassing moments. Confessions of a Scary Mommy hits on so many of these moments, featuring original essays that share the truth about parenting. From doling out M&Ms at the grocery store just for survival to looking pregnant several months postpartum, this book is both relatable and hilarious. Read it now as a new mom to find out what’s coming, then pick it up again in a couple years so that you can smile and nod in agreement.

2.  Natural Health after Birth:

This highly regarded book is an essential guide to taking care of yourself as you learn how to take care of your new baby. It covers everything from breastfeeding to eating and sleeping well, plus tips for finding balance as a mom. Be sure to check it out and find practically everything you’ll need to find support in your first year of motherhood.

3.   The Happiest Baby on the Block:

News flash: sometimes babies can be a bit grouchy. And whiny. And refuse to sleep. It might even make you a little grouchy and whiny yourself. But there is hope, and it’s in this often-recommended bestselling book from Dr. Harvey Karp. In it, Karp explains how to hit the “reset” button on your baby and trigger a calming reflex through the five “S’s”: swaddling, side lying, shushing, swinging, and sucking. This book is a can’t-miss read for any parent struggling with a crying baby.

4.   The Baby Book:

For attachment parenting families, this book from Dr. Sears is practically a bible. Featuring an attachment-style approach to every aspect of baby care, The Baby Book is an essential read for moms who want to explore this type of parenting. Specifically, it includes tips for bonding, breastfeeding, babywearing, and the development of strong family relationships.

5.   This Isn’t What I Expected:

For some new mothers, postpartum depression is a terrible reality that they have to deal with. Although there’s no replacement for professional treatment, this book offers a great guide to overcoming postpartum depression. Check out This Isn’t What I Expected to learn about the myths surrounding PPD, and find advice and support for working through this difficult stage.

6.   What to Expect the First Year:

There’s a good chance you read What to Expect When You’re Expecting (and maybe you even saw the movie); here’s the postpartum companion. What to Expect the First Year follows the same format as the pregnancy edition, walking you through the development stages of your baby’s first year. Follow along to find tips and reassurance for everything from newborn car seats to dealing with a colicky baby.

7.   Breastfeeding Made Simple:

Breastfeeding moms may laugh at the idea of breastfeeding being “simple,” but that doesn’t make this book any less helpful for those who are still struggling to get it right. Breastfeeding Made Simple is an excellent companion for moms who are just starting out, explaining milk production, pumping, breast refusal, and other issues that may pop up. This book is even a great resource for established breastfeeders, offering advice for gently weaning your baby on to solid foods.

8.  The Nursing Mother’s Companion:

Another great guide for breastfeeding, The Nursing Mother’s Companion has been trusted by families for more than 25 years. This book is all about overcoming difficulties in breastfeeding, from the first week all the way to the toddler years. You’ll learn about what’s normal and what’s not, with clear, concise resources for making things work. In addition to tips and guidance, you’ll also find helpful resources like a drug interactions section that will help you quickly find out what effects your over-the-counter and prescription drugs may have on a breastfeeding baby.

9.   The No-Cry Sleep Solution:

This book from Elizabeth Pantley offers an alternative to the Ferber technique, sharing a sleep solution that doesn’t involve “crying it out.” In The No-Cry Sleep Solution, you’ll learn about the stumbling blocks to sleeping, find out how to work with your baby’s biological sleep rhythms, and create a plan to get your baby sleeping through the night. The highlight of this book is the Persistent Gentle Removal System, which is designed to teach your baby to sleep without breastfeeding, bottle-feeding, or pacifier use.

10.   Caring for Your Baby and Young Child:

Much like the What to Expect books, this guide from the American Academy of Pediatrics offers an authoritative voice on early child care. You’ll find guidelines and milestones, resources for basic care, and an entire health encyclopedia for under-5s, covering everything from illnesses to congenital diseases. Plus, there are special guides for breastfeeding, immunizations, child care programs, and car safety seats. This book truly covers everything new moms might need to know about.

11.  The Baby Owner’s Manual:

Simultaneously hilarious and helpful, this book solves the problem that so many parents have lamented: babies don’t come with an owner’s manual. You’ll have to purchase this one separately from your bundle of joy, but The Baby Owner’s Manual is an invaluable resource for learning exactly how your baby works. You’ll find instructions and even schematic diagrams that cover just about every question you may have as a new mom, from learning how to swaddle a baby to knowing when to bring your baby to the doctor.

12.   Baby Laughs:

Jenny McCarthy has been a divisive figure in the parenting world, but her views on vaccines make no difference in this wildly entertaining memoir about her first year of motherhood. Nothing is too brash for McCarthy in Baby Laughs, as she covers postnatal embarrassments including adult diapers, numbing spray, and medicated pads. You’ll even find out how she tackled dad obstacles like expecting sex, and grandparent antics including dueling grandmas. Read along and enjoy this incredibly relatable book for all new moms.

—

I honestly haven’t read any of these books except #12, Baby Laughs, which I highly recommend. Jenny McCarthy also wrote Belly Laughs and Life Laughs, and I recommend both of those books as well! Very quick and easy reads and also sooo hilarious.

My friend loaned me #6, What to Expect the First Year, and I did flip through that occasionally as a reference guide, but to be honest, the PPD was drowning me so I wasn’t doing a whole lot of reading at that time.

I wish someone had handed me #5, This Isn’t What I Expected. I’m actually thinking I may read it now even though I’m in a different state of mind to see if it is something I personally would recommend because a lot of people do reach out to me regarding PPD and depression/anxiety in general. So I will read it and let you know my thoughts. But, hang tight, because I’m currently reading 50 Shades of Grey….

I hope you found this list helpful. A big thank you to Christine at Medicalbillingandcoding.org for sharing this wonderful post with us!

**If you think you or someone you know may be suffering from PPD please contact a medical professional immediately.

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Jlee’s Review – petiteBox

20 Apr

If you’re like me then your friends have become baby breeding machines.  Four years ago all my friends were getting married, and then two years ago everyone was pregnant, and now everyone is having their second and third babies!

Don’t worry though – not me.  One and done – remember Babies on the Brain?  I’m sticking to that.  For now at least….so you don’t have to worry about reading crabby pregnant chick blog posts from me.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t love babies, and I don’t love baby showers and baby gifts.  Well, I don’t lovvveee baby showers, but I do love to shower my friends with gifts.

With Baby #1 I always say stick to the registry.  Babies require lots of “stuff” – long gone are the days of grabbing your purse and keys and running out the door.  Now leaving the house is a strategically planned operation.

Now I must have my Juicy Couture diaper bag filled to the brim with diapers, wipes, a bottle, a sippy cup, socks, an extra jacket, toys, crayons…and omg, I am so that mom that always forgets something.  Seriously, I’m the mom whose kid went poop and I forgot the wipes.  Luckily I’m a Warrior so I always manage to pull through.

But back to baby gifts…so what happens when you are shopping for a baby shower the day before the shower and like the entire registry is bought up?  Or when there is no registry for mom friends expecting baby two or three?

Sure I can grab a gift card or some diapers but that’s kind of boring and impersonal.  I could make a fleece blanket – you know the one with the knots; that’s about as crafty as I get – but I honestly don’t have the time I used to have anymore with being a full time working mommy and blogger-extraordinaire.  I can barely squeeze in much needed counseling sessions and hot yoga.

So what’s a busy mom to do?  What if I don’t want a same-old same-old gift?  What if I’m not a creative crafty person who can crochet bonnets and mittens?

I totes have your answer!

petiteBox is THE perfect gift for new moms, moms expecting babies 2, 3, or 4 or even a special gift for yourself when you find out you are expecting.

I was recently introduced to this FAB new company, and I love not only the product but also the company’s vision as well.  petiteBox is a new high-end mom and baby subscription service from the founders of GlossyBox (a hugely successful European beauty box brand) and is now launching in the U.S.! (And FYI, GlossyBox is launching soon in the U.S., too, and I totes want in on that!!)

petiteBox says it best (from the petiteBox website):

Not sure which baby products are the best for your precious little one? petiteBox is an exclusive baby box service that sends the latest baby product samples from top brands and wellness products just for Mom straight to your door. Each month you’ll receive a new baby box full of baby necessities such as baby lotion, baby clothes, baby food, calming oils and more. The contents of the baby boxes change each month, but only the best baby products are always included. You will never get the same thing twice.

It’s a great way to make sure your newborn has only the best baby products and save money at the same time. Experts carefully select each baby item and petiteBox subscribers also receive free baby care advice. Giving expectant mothers petiteBox subscriptions is a great alternative to baby gift baskets. Mothers enjoy the surprise and utility of receiving a baby box every month. Each petiteBox delivery is like getting an extra treat you weren’t expecting—and more.

I have to disclose that I was sent a petiteBox so that I can introduce all my readers to this new company!  So exciting, I know!  In saying that I accepted this gift please know that all opinions are my own. :)

I am also super excited to share that I was invited to petiteBox’s launch party in NYC, and I am planning to attend the exclusive Mommy Blogger event.  I’m soo thrilled that I can be a part of petiteBox’s launch into the U.S.

petiteBox is differentiating itself from other subscription services by focusing as much on pampering us mommies as it is on nurturing babies.  The company’s emphasis will also be on discovering new products as subscribers will enjoy sneak peeks and exclusive access to the most luxurious and soon-to-be coveted products in the market.

petiteBox consists of a team of moms and experts who are ‘on call’ to support you, and as a new(er) mom I found my transition to mommyhood to be stressful, exhausting and overwhelming among all the other emotions I was feeling.  I’ve had a very public battle with Post Partum Depression (I am since recovered), and I find it soo important for new moms to feel loved and supported.

This is a great company who is all about finding the best for you and your baby – you’ll get lots of tips and tricks to navigate motherhood from midwives and medical experts as well as stylists and beauty experts to keep you feeling the best you possibly can.  Given its beauty background through GlossyBox, petiteBox will apply their expertise to provide moms with the best products to enhance their natural maternal glow, plus pampering at a time when it’s needed most!

I encourage you all to visit http://www.petitebox.us/ and ‘like’ their Facebook page.  You’ll be one of the first to discover this new and high-end service.  And dad’s, this is for you, too!  Here is your chance to shock your wives by surprising them with their own petiteBox subscription.  She can thank you every month for a whole year!  You can also sign up for the petiteBox online newsletter to be placed in a drawing to win a petiteBox.

I’d like to give a big thank you to petiteBox for my wonderful gift – some of which I will pass on to a new mommy friend and some of which the Chiquita has already dug into – she loves the sippy cup! :D

Ohmigosh, isn't this gorge???!!!

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Case of the Mondays…Repepepepepeat

28 Mar

I’d like to bring you another fan favorite from back in the good ‘ole days when I was a very crabby pregnant chick.

Beware, this post not only involves this Italian chick’s bad attitude but it also details crapping my pants, losing my panties, and, also a reader favorite, conversations with my stalker….

Enjoy!

From "Office Space"

Image courtesy of Yahoo Photos

I can’t even begin to tell you all that had gone down in a 24 hour period, but because I can laugh at myself I will tell you this.

I am pregnant – and how I LOVE being pregnant – NOT – and one of the joys of pregnancy hit me on Sunday afternoon.  I pooped my pants.

Seriously.  I’m not shitting you – LOL – I pooped my pants.  WTF you ask?  Well, I went downtown for brunch with my bestie.  After brunch we went back to her place and talked in her sitting room for about 30 minutes before I decided to head back to the ‘burbs.  I had to go to the bathroom, but her boyfriend was upstairs sick and lying on the couch.  I figured I could hold it the 30 minute ride home, no problem.

The ride home wasn’t too bad.  I was listening to Lady Gaga and enjoying the sunshine.  My window was cracked and I was texting away (naughty, I know.)  I exited the highway and was nearing home.  As I turned down my street it was as though it hit me like a ton of bricks.  ‘Shit, I need to shit.  Shit, I need to shit NOW,’ I think.

I put my car in park and ran in the house.  Thank God my husband, who had left the house, left the back door unlocked.  I raced in the door and my dog was under my feet.  I was yelling “Dexter, MOVE!”  I’m trying to set my coffee down, my purse, my keys…I’m running towards the bathroom.  And then it happened.

O-M-G.

Honestly, it was so unbelievable and so funny that I wasn’t even upset about it.  In fact, I texted those that I’m close to and said, “OMG, I just pooped my pants! I’m not shitting you, LOL.”  I laughed.

I would think that would be my FML (f*ck my life) for the next year….but then I woke up Monday morning.  After a restless night of sleep the alarm went off.  I felt like I slept a total of 1 hour the entire night.  I was exhausted.

I got up and still half-asleep managed to take a shower and get ready for work.  I decided to throw on the jeans that I wore the night before. (Don’t worry, I wore different jeans Sunday night then the jeans I pooped in.)

Driving to work all that was on my brain was COFFEE NOW.  I pulled into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot.  I get out of the car to walk inside.  There sits my stalker.  Side note – let’s discuss my stalker.  I have a stalker at Dunkin Donuts who loves to talk to me about my perfume, my black “hooker” boots, my love of the Cubs, and whatever else he can get me to talk about with him in the 4 minute trip to get my morning java.

He seems like a nice enough guy, albeit strange.  He once told me that he makes his own coffee at home to save money.  WTF?  And then you still come to the DD parking lot to sit around?  Strange.  But, I decided to have him checked out by a cop friend and he came up clean so I just say hello and keep our conversations to a minimum.

So back to the story, I am walking inside DD on this breezy Monday morning.  My stalker jumps out of his car and says, “Starting Monday off right, huh?”

I think, ‘If only you knew, Mr. Stalker, what the last 24 hours of my life have entailed.  If only….’ But I really smile and say, “Uh-huh,” while I walk in.

I’ve gotta be honest, I was sort of feeling like “the shit” despite my exhaustion that morning.  I was sort of feeling like a “hot mess.”  I was wearing my tight trendy prego jeans and a cute black maternity top.  The maternity top was quite low and when I walked even I was intrigued by my bouncing bosom.

A man and a woman pull up in a Lexus and both give me an odd look.  I think to myself, ‘Daaammnnn, I look so good today that this couple is checking me out!’

Yeah – It gets better.

I get my coffee and am walking back to my car.  As I walk I look down.  I see a pair of black … panties?  WTF, is that a black thong in the parking lot?  I continue to approach it and see a white tag that says DKNY.

HOLY F*CKING SH*T BALLS, that is my f*cking thong!  WHAT THE F*CK!?!?!

On Sunday – after the pants pooping – I showered and dug in my under garments drawer for a pair of panties I hadn’t worn in some time.  My hand pulled out the black DKNY thong.  ‘Holy sh*t,’ I thought, ‘When was the last time I wore this?  I haven’t seen these in forever.’

I was super excited putting them on.  My DKNY thong.  What a purchase.  I remember the day I bought those at Von Maur.  But, let’s not get off on a tangent.

As I step over my thong – far too embarrassed to pick it up – I get in the car and grieve for my DKNYs.  ‘This is a sad day,’ I think. ‘How could this happen?’

It starts to come full circle.  The night before, I came home, ripped my pants off and tossed them on the dining room table.  (Again, I can’t get off on another tangent, but my house in under construction and currently my closet = the dining room.)

This morning – when I’m half asleep and dressing – apparently I never pulled the thong out of the pants?  Apparently I never felt the thong in my pants?  Apparently I never felt the thong fall out of my pants.  Truly mortified I sit in the car in disbelief.

I shout out loud, “Is my f*cking life a joke to you, God?”

He doesn’t answer.  I probably shouldn’t have said f*ck.  Well, so be it.  Good-bye DKNYs.

Fast forward to today.  I’m pulling into the DD parking lot and am certain that my stalker stole my panties to display on his probable shrine of me in his station wagon.  But wait – NO – the DKNYs are there!  They lay in the same spot.  I contemplate this for a moment.  Do I be a pussy and leave this $20 pair of underwear or do I pick them up?

I place my car in park near where the DKNYs sit.  I get out of the car, deep in thought.  What to do…what to do.  As I step out of DD, something comes over me.  I decide I’m taking my life back.  I’m picking up the DKNYs.  I’m just gonna do it!

With my Couch purse on my shoulder and my head held high I walk over to the thong.  I look at my stalker who sits in his station wagon watching me.  ‘F*ck it,’ I think, ‘I want my f*cking panties back!’

With a shit eating grin I smile and bend over.  I pick up the thong and try to stick it in my pocket.  Yeah, well, I f*ck that up to.  My stupid pocket is buttoned close.  I continue to smile and open the door of my Mercedes Benz and sit inside.  I feel an overwhelming rush of true happiness.  I did it!  Holy sh*t, I did it!  I picked up my thong underwear!

I put my car in drive, wave at my stalker and pull out of the DD parking lot – while I scream.

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#5: Does It Make Me a Bad Mom If – You’re Snooki

1 Mar

Snooki preggers???

My boss comes into the office [yesterday] and asks: “Is Davy Jones dead?”

I stare at him blankly.  “WHO?”

I’m mixing up Davy Jones, Davy Crockett and Leif Garrett.

“I guess you don’t know then,” he responds, which is true, I don’t know.

“Well, the news of the moment that I am concerned about – [I clear my throat for this rather large announcement] – Word on the street [I start again, do they even know how BIG this is?] – is that SNOOKI IS PREGNANT!”

My office explodes in laughter.  I’m not sure if they are laughing about the possibility of Snooki being preggers or if they are laughing that I even care.

Here’s the thing.  I pretend to dislike Snooki, and maybe I sort of do seeing as though she pretends to be Italian, but really isn’t, all the while giving Italian women a questionable reputation, but I think I really do sort of like her given the fact that I actually dressed up as Snooki for Halloween.

And, truthfully, I guess I shouldn’t even go there considering what the Mob Wives do for Italians.  I watch that show and thank my lucky stars my family isn’t “that kind” of Italian.  We’re the Bill Cosby of Italians.

Honestly though, if they had cast me on Jersey Shore say five years ago I’m sure I would maybe be a disgrace to my family – and all Italians for that matter – because let’s face it, alcohol and video cameras don’t always display people at their best of bests.  You know what I’m sayin?  Remember JUST STOP TALKING, thank the lord there were no cameras to film that train wreck!

So, sorry I’m not sorry that maybe I sort of actually like Snooki.  Not those fugly shoes she was wearing though.  Yuck!

Don't you dare go to http://www.SnookiSlippers.com

But what are your thoughts on her being a mother????

I have to admit, my first thought is:  Omg, that poor kid has a short degenerate alcoholic for a mother that humps her friend in a rabbit suit.  I mean, right?  Pretty sure I saw that on a preview during Teen Mom 2.  I watch Mob Wives and Teen Mom 2, but I don’t stumble so low as to watch Jersey Shore. ;)

But, then I think of Kendra, Hugh Hefner’s former girlfriend, and another of my fave celebs (besides Giuliana Rancic, of course) who famously told her mom she was pregnant at her wedding shower on an episode of Kendra and the world (well, maybe not the world, but definitely E! and her fans) were SHOCKED.

I’m sure there was speculation of what kind of a mother can that big boobed, blonde haired former Playmate actually be????  And if you watch her current reality show and have read any of her books (I plan to post on that later) you will know that she is actually a good wife and mother.

No nanny for this mama

And then I think of me.  I was raised in the good ‘ole Midwest, sure my parents divorced before my 1st birthday, but they both remarried and had children by the time I was 4 thus making this lifestyle very normal and giving me a great big family with two different viewpoints and opinions on raising children and on life.

I like to credit my two families for giving me a more balanced outlook on life because of these varying viewpoints and opinions.  It made me see what different families can be like on the inside.  My dad and stepmom were pretty laid back parents who never grounded or spanked their children, while my brother and I were often getting grounded, spanked, soap in the mouth, whatever it may have been to encourage straight As and good behavior.

I once jokingly said “You’re such a Focker!” to my brother (after the movie Meet the Parents came out in 2000).  I was saying it referring to my brother as a dork, and my mom nearly had a heart attack trying to tell me that Focker was a swear word.

“Nu-uh!  It’s a dude’s last name!”

Needless to say I never said that again.

I went off on a tangent though.  My point is such that I was raised a very well-balanced, respectable, nice young woman and look at me now, the crazy still managed to get me.

Back when I got pregnant I thought I was going to be this fan-frickin-tastic mother who was dressing her kid in designer kid clothes and sipping cappuccinos at the local Starbuck’s while my baby sat in herSilver Cross Balmoral Pram baby carriage, which according to The Most Expensive Journal, is likely the most expensive stroller in the world, priced at $2,900.00.   And how hilarious (or depressing) that Snooki can actually afford one!

It's not even cute!!

I never thought I would be the one struggling, or the one suffering from Post Partum Depression, or the one writing “Bad Mom” blog posts….

This is not to say I think I’m a bad mom, but more to say everyone is a mom in their own way, to the best of their abilities, and influenced (whether positively or negatively) by their own lifestyle and upbringing.

Who is anyone to judge?

The “Bad Mom” stories are silly and funny and are meant to remind us that no one is perfect.  We all have meltdown moments.  And what’s a “Bad Mom” to me may not be a “Bad Mom” to you.  I mean, we can all agree I’m not talking about crazy people who lock their kids in attics that you see on the news.  Those people weirdos need to die.  I’m talking about those of us just living life day by day, trying to be good people and trying to make it in this big crazy world.

As for whether or not Snooki will make a bad mom; I guess it depends on time and your bad mom criteria.  According to The New York Post, despite Snooki’s denials according to sources she IS in fact preggers.  Read Snooki Lied – She’s Preggers  and MSN’s Wonderwall for the info.

And remember that many people might think that Madge is one of the best mom’s out there, but I would BEG to ask Lourdes that question.  For one, Madonna doesn’t even let her kids watch TV!  Wonder if Snooki will let her bambino watch Jersey Shore?

If Snooki is in fact preggers I have my Halloween costume for 2012 – Pregnant Snooki! :D

Don’t be shy…please share your “Bad Mom” stories?  Or if you’re the perfect mother afraid to share what sticks out in your mind as something your parents did to you???  Email me at jlee5879@live.com.

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Babies on the Brain – Reasons I “Just Say No”

23 Feb

I remember when I had the Chiquita and I was like this shit is nuts!  Life is a blur of feedings and poopy diapers…you’re in a state of complete exhaustion, shock and disbelief.  Life as you know it is OVER.

I thought to myself, I don’t get it.  I just don’t get it.  Why do people have multiple children, seriously?  I couldn’t believe women would choose to go through this nightmare again.

That would sooo never be me!

And now here I am, 19 months later, and I long to have another one.  Maybe because I was robbed of the Chiquita’s infancy.

I had a 5 lbs. 8 oz. baby that ended up in NICU, and it pained me that I had to leave her there – only 1 extra night, thankfully - but I couldn’t help but think what did I do wrong to make this happen to my baby?

Finally seeing Chiquita after 11 hours...this isn't what newborns look like in the movies?!? I was scared to death.

I suffered extensive blood loss immediately following the delivery and didn’t see my baby for 11 hours.  No skin-to-skin bonding time for us.

I should have been given a blood transfusion but the hospital decided against it.  So not only did I suffer from normal “just had a baby” exhaustion, but I was even more exhausted for weeks while my body upped its blood supply.

One month later – to the exact date of Chiquita’s birth – I ended up in the ER nearly unconscious from blood loss with vitals so low I was sent to the nearest hospital instead of the hospital where my OBGYN was, and then nearly died during a routine D&C because I started to hemorrhage and it took the poor doctor hours to stabilize me.

And finally, if that’s not a bad enough start to motherhood, I wound up suffering from Post Partum Depression so badly that I wanted to end my life, was later hospitalized again, and then lived in a fog for nearly six months until I FINALLY got the help I needed.  The full length of this trauma lasting one full year when one day the fog finally lifted just after the Chiquita turned one.

The Chiquita’s birth was obviously a very difficult time for me, and while I will always be grateful to have my baby, and while the physical pain of birthing her has disappeared, sadly the emotional scars of this trauma still sit with me to this day.

I understand that complications do happen.  I understand that every woman has a birth story – no one’s birth is as easy and beautiful as Beyonce would like you to believe.  Shit happens in delivery rooms…there’s screaming, there’s fluids, there’s needles, there’s wires and medications and hours of discomfort and the list goes on.  None of this is new to any of my mom readers out there.  I hope you all understand that I’m not saying my situation was any worse than anyone else’s, I’m just saying this was my situation and it was very difficult for me and still is when I think about the time I lost with my infant.

Which brings me to my current topic of babies on the brain.  I was told by a couple friends that as time passed I would surely want another baby…it just takes time…time, time, time.  And now I see that my friends were right – the Chiquita is awesome and is doing really well, we finally have established a routine, and I’m in a good place and have started to make things in my life a priority again, like working out and spending time with friends.  I’ve finally found that balance I was searching for!

And then people started asking me about babies…were we planning to have another one?  Did I want another one?

This usually comes up over girl talk after a couple glasses of wine and leads to my very over exaggerated, “No way will there be any more children for me!  One is enough, and I am very blessed with the one I have!” [Chug wine so they move on to someone else.]

But I always leave thinking, really?  Is that it?  Just one [biological] kid for me?  Maybe it would be different the next time.  Maybe I would enjoy it more.  My analytical brain starts to see everything as “the last time.”

I’ll never be pregnant again. :(
I’ll never hold another baby that is my own. :(
I’ll never experience my baby walking for the first time again. :(
I’ll never…I’ll never…boo hoo hoo.  I’m crazy, I know, but that’s what I do!

As the Chiquita is nearing two now I’m stressing about no longer having a baby.  I have a toddler now!  I’m being told to get her off her bottle, get her off her paci, when will I introduce a toddler bed.  Holy shit!  I want to cry.

But then I remind myself of all the reasons I “Just Say No” to babies:

1. I Was a Crabby Pregnant Chick
While I (sometimes) long to be pregnant again – usually only when I see a really cute maternity outfit that I know I would rock – I must remind myself that the whole time I actually was pregnant I hated every single minute of it and complained incessantly about being pregnant.  My whole way of thinking was, “You’re having a bad day?  Well, add being pregnant to that bad day!”  In other words anything you do I’m doing pregnant!

Thinking I was such a stylish Hamptoms mom. I look back and think: Wake the f*%# up chick!

2. My Husband May Be in a Wheelchair at High School Graduation
You’ve all seen it.  The kid at school whose dad you mistake for their grandpa.  Well, friends, yes, one thing I don’t touch on much in this blog is that I am in a May-December romance.  My husband is 17 years my senior, so while he says he’d be willing to have another baby, I’m sure he doesn’t want me to be changing his diapers and our baby’s diapers at the same time.

3. Don’t Mess with Perfection
I have been blessed with a healthy and loving daughter, and for that I am very grateful.  I sometimes act like I have it sooo hard when I know I really don’t.  My kid is perfect!  Hard is people having to deal with sick children, like my aunt’s friend whose two-year-old daughter has cancer.  Now that’s when you go to bed at night and ask God wtf!?!

4. My Family is Complete
Blended families can be many things.  They can be frustrating and stressful, but when that family finally clicks they can be utterly amazing.  I have two bonus daughters who I have always loved and adored.  Sure there were moments I wanted to strangle them, and I know there are moments they have wanted to strangle me.  That’s family!  But when you all decide to work together, to accept each other’s good and bad, and to love each other with an open and forgiving heart you can truly heal and become a family.

5. I Was Advised to Not Have More Children
Last but not least, not more or less important than the others, is that yes, I was advised by doctors to not have any more children.  My doctors feel that because my Post Partum was so severe it is not in my best interest to have another baby for fear that it would be the same or worse.  While women who have suffered from PPD are at higher risk for suffering from PPD in subsequent pregnancies that doesn’t mean you will for sure suffer from Post Partum Depression again. But, there is also no way to guess what the severity would be if you did.  I don’t think I want to roll the dice on that one.

So, that’s all I’ve got to say about that.  Your turn blog readers and friends – what is your birth story and do you want more children?

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Don’t Walk in My Choos

8 Dec

I know these shoes are amazeballs, but I guarantee you don't want to walk in these Choos....

I’ve said before I wouldn’t wish Post partum depression on my worst enemy.  It is isolating and debilitating.  It is scary.  And it is misunderstood.  How is it that this illness is so misunderstood in today’s day and age when people actually talk about depression and Post partum depression unlike in previous generations?  I think it is misunderstood because it’s “the middle of the road depression” so to speak when it comes to new mom’s suffering from some form of depression.  The three forms of mommy depression are:  Baby blues, Post partum depression, and Post partum psychosis.

What do I mean by “the middle of the road depression?” On the one hand, it is very common for new moms to suffer from the Baby Blues.  Because (according to www.americanpregnancy.org) “approximately 70-80% of all new mothers experience some negative feelings or mood swings after the birth of their child” it is very commonly talked about by doctors and hospitals as well as by other mommy friends and mommy groups.  The baby blues generally last up to 14 days after delivery and consists of tears (often crying for no apparent reason) and feelings of helplessness and irritability, often due to lack of sleep and severe hormonal changes following childbirth.

Then wayyyy on the opposite end of the spectrum are those women you read about in the news.  The ones that are at their breaking point and sadly all too often kill themselves or their babies.  Post Partum Psychosis occurs in only approximately .1% of births, according to www.postpartum.net, but usually becomes news.  Post partum psychosis involves delusions, hallucinations and paranoia.  While it is very rare, it is taken very seriously and women who find themselves in this unfortunate predicament are well monitored by doctors and hospitals.  Post partum psychosis is temporary and treatable, but demands immediate medical attention.

But, I was one of the “middle of the road” rarely discussed Post Partum Depression sufferers.  I was one of the approximately 15%, also according to www.postpartum.net, of women who experience significant depression following childbirth.  I was actually even one of the 10% of women who experience depression during childbirth, which is referred to as Perinatal Depression, and is honestly new to me from doing some research for this blog post.  I just thought I was a raving lunatic during my pregnancy.

Now when I say post partum depression is “rarely discussed” I’m sure some of you went…what?!?  Yes, Post partum depression is often discussed…and obvs by me, but I’m bitter because of what I went through.  My experience has taught me that PPD is very misunderstood because no one knows what to do to “fix” it.  No one “gets it.”  You’re either “normal” with the baby blues, or you’re bat sh*t crazy with post partum psychosis, and therefore hospitalized, but what do you do with women who are simply depressed? 

I know my fellow blog readers and friends all know about my post partum depression, and I know I incessantly discuss it, but the reason I bring it up today is because two things have recently happened to me which have made me decide to nominate myself as a spokeswoman for this sickness or um, illness, I’m not a doctor, so I’m unsure which term to use.

But, in nominating myself, here’s what I want to do: I want to take away the whispers about it, the “what’s wrong with her, she has everything”, the “Why can’t she just be happy?” and the “Get over it” ’s that may or may not have been said to or about me.  I’m sure there was some “What a drama queen’s” and “Wow, she’s gone bat sh*t crazy” in there, too.  Or maybe not?  Maybe there were just a lot of prayers for me????

To the ‘why can’t she just be happy and get over it?’ comments, which I did get, I can tell you this.  I don’t know.  I wish I did.  I tried soo hard to just get over it for a long time.  Finally, once I resigned myself to it, once I was able to stop saying, “Why did this happen to ME?” I was able to heal.  It took a lot of time and work on myself, as I detailed in “Mother is God” to get through this trying and difficult time.  I prayed to God many nights to take me in my sleep, “I’m no good here,” I would reason with him.

No, I never wanted to or ever thought about hurting Eva.  But, I did think about hurting myself.  I would imagine what would be the easiest and least painful way to kill myself.  It depressed me even more that I knew I didn’t have the guts to do it.

Now that I am on the other side I don’t want other women to feel as alone or as completely hopeless as I felt.  And what’s so crazy – and makes me so bitter! – is that they repeatedly ask you in the hospital how you are feeling before they send you home kick you out after two days.  They hand you a yellow piece of paper that’s probably been photocopied thousands of times and is crooked and spotted on the sheet.  The paperwork has information about baby blues, PPD and post partum psychosis.  They give you help numbers to call in case you find yourself suffering from one of the two latter post partums. 

Well, what happens when you look at the sheet and finally admit to yourself that something is wrong?

NOTHING.  That’s what happens.

You call your OBGYN who almost killed you, oh wait, that’s just me (see Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door), who tells you to call a psychiatrist, who wants you to see a counselor, who sends you back to a psychiatrist, who says you’re “f*cking neurotic” who then wants to dope you up on all kinds of anti-psychotic medications and then starts throwing bi-polar around – WTH!?!  And then, after all this, sends you a $1,000 bill that more than 1 year later you are still fighting.

This is what they do to new mothers after they kick you out of the hospital within 48 hours when new mothers are in a state of shock, both physically and emotionally, and it pisses me off!  This really upsets me because I could have been a news story of some poor soul who decided to stand on the train tracks at 2 am.  I live 6 blocks away….

But I got through it! :)

And here I am to tell my story.  And now, here I am watching someone I love go through these same hardships.  I don’t know her exact story, nor is it my place to disclose such details, but I do know she is struggling and it scares me.  It breaks my heart.  I want to snap my fingers and fix it for her.  I want my friend back because I love and miss her so much.

Which got me to thinking….could this possibly have been what some of my own friends went through? 

There is a line in the movie Overboard that I love.  It’s from when Joanna/Annie (Goldie Hawn) comes back to the yacht and realizes that she’s a different person after being with Dean (Kurt Russell) and his four sons, and she says to Andrew:  “Everyone on this boat thinks I’m crazy.  Do you think they’re right?”

Andrew replies: “Oh no, madam.  Oh no.  You…most of us go through life with blinders on.  Knowing only that little station to which we were born.  But you madam, have had the…rare privilege of escaping your bonds for just a spell.  To see life from an entirely new perspective.  How you choose to use that information is entirely up to you.”

I am reminded of that quote as I decided between giving my friend space, as some of my friends did, and not giving her space because I don’t want her to feel alone and abandoned like I did.  It was at that moment that my heart was able to truly heal, to truly forgive, and my head was able to say, “I get it now.”

Because no one knows what to do with these people – not even doctors.

So, how do we overcome this?  How do we fix it?  I hope that by me telling my story it will help some people to understand more about it – heck – maybe that will be my book #2!?!

The second thing which happened and has led me to nominate myself as a spokeswoman for PPD is that yesterday I took my final step in healing.  YES!  I know, I did it!!  I have been bursting with joy all day.  My final step was going back to bowling.  This post will help you understand if you missed it: Don’t Trigger Me.  The last time I was at bowling I had a breakdown which led me to quit my bowling team.  It was in the midst of my PPD, and I was so angry about it.  I felt robbed of my life.  I was angry about it for a long time.  And even once I wasn’t angry anymore I had extreme anxiety about going back.

-        The people

-        The memories

-        The alcohol

I couldn’t face it.  Some bowling friends emailed me they had an opening on their team.  Finally I decided I was ready.  I decided my time was here, and I could do this; I could face my fear.  I could go back with my head held high.  Walking through the bowling alley I was welcomed with hugs and smiles.  My bowling friends told me how happy they were to see me; how glad they were that I was back.  My heart was bursting.  I can’t describe to you what I felt.  You may be reading this and saying, “All this over bowling?”  LOL, what a loser.  But, it’s so much more than bowling.  It was a statement to myself.  I conquered something.  I am 100% fully healed from a very blessed event (the birth of my daughter) which in turn because of the PPD became the worst year of my life, a living hell.  And here I am, I made it to the other side.

Back in happier bowling days

A gal hugged me and said to me this: “Jen, I am soo glad to see you here.  I read your blog some time ago, and I know that you went through a difficult time, and honestly, it brought tears to my eyes.  And here you are.  Here you are back, and you’re happy, and it’s just so great to see you.”

And that, my friends, is the biggest compliment I could ever receive.  I need to be strong for other women, and it’s clear to me that this was all a part of God’s plan.     

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Little Miss Fickle

4 Oct

Little Miss Fickle by Roger Hargreaves http://www.openlibrary.org

So this is the 3rd time I’ve changed my blog?  Or the 4th?  I can’t seem to even remember anymore.  I’m a little fickle.  I mean, I’m strong minded, and I know what I want, but I also occasionally change my mind.  I think it’s my perfectionist and analytical nature that leads me over think anything and everything.

If you’ve read since the beginning (thank you!) my blog started as Jlee’s Blog; If You Think I’m A B*tch So Be It.  It remained that way for some time….my humble beginnings as a blogger through my crabby pregnancy days and finally through my post partum depression era which seriously almost killed me.

I took time away from blogging – and really life - to get well…to go to counseling and to try to find happiness again. For information on that time see my story Mother is God.

When I found myself well on the way to recovery I decided it was time to start writing again.  Writing is my passion.  I couldn’t imagine my life without writing.  If no one read my words I’d still write for me.  I decided that the old Jlee didn’t fit anymore.  I’m still me, but a little softer…a little more humble and mature.

So I revamped my blog!  I went to Jlee’s Blog; I’ve Gone BaNaNaS but Managed to Survive with the subtext “the working mom’s challenges and rewards.”  I liked it.  It felt more real.  More me. 

But as I’ve grown as a blogger (and have now won an award!!!) I started to look at my blog with complete distaste.  Let me not put this delicately.  This is fugly!  Seriously – FUGLY!  And what is up with the bananas?  Who am I trying to prove myself to?  I was trying to appeal to all audiences…I want my mommy friends to read and like me.  I want my single friends to read and like me.  I want people who don’t even know me to read and like me.  I was torn.  What is this new blog about?  What do I want to say?  What’s my message?

OMG.  My brain hurts.  HELP!  What is my message?  The answer is I don’t know.  I don’t know what this blog is about.  I don’t know who my core audience is.  I do know I need to go back to basics.  I need to remember to write for me, and I need my blog to represent me.

So, good-bye “if you think I’m a bitch” and later crazy BaNaNaS – I haven’t survived.  I’m currently surviving.  I’m evolving.  My life is changing.  Everyday.  I may still go crazy again.  I’m a lovable, neurotic, anxiety-ridden working mom.  I like to drink wine (a little too much), I’m very sensitive – but loyal, and I simply want to write my thoughts about my life!  Why am I trying to prove I’m “something” to everyone?  I don’t even know what or who that “something” is.  Why am I trying so hard?

Yep.  Clearly I need help.  Stay tuned.

So…here it is.  Ta-Da!  My new blog….Jlee’s Blog.  Let’s keep it simple.  That’s it.  It’s Jlee’s blog.  I’m Jlee and it’s my blog.  Just Jlee.  Oh…maybe I should change it to that????

Do I love Snooki? No. But am I being Snooki for Halloween? Yes.

And the leopard, OMG, is that totally a crazy Italian girl or what?  Love the leopard…sorry if it’s a little Soprano’s or – the horror – Jersey Shore.

Tell me: Do you like my new blog?  I guarantee I won’t be changing it from this.  I don’t think.  But, ask me tomorrow.

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Finding Balance

8 Sep

Photo courtesy of photobucket.com

I’ve always been a very yin and yang type of person.  I’m very black or white – I’m either off or on, I either like you or I don’t, I’m in a good mood or a bad mood.  A lot of that might have been the instability of my hormones, and therefore my moods, or maybe I’m just a typical chick who never knows what she wants.

When I was pregnant I remember thinking that after I had the baby life would go back to as it was before…you know once this pregnancy was over with.  Then one day, at about 9 months pregnant, it occurred to me.  I will be bringing home a baby.  Yes, wait a minute.  Life will never be the same again.  It scared me – it scared the shit out of me.

With everything Eva and I went through with the after-birth complications and then my near-death experience (See blog post: Knocking on Heaven’s Door) I don’t think I ever had the chance to properly process my feelings on the unfortunate way in which Eva was welcomed into the world.

Instead, I internalized those feelings of fear and anger and self-pity – as I’ve said before I was plagued with feelings of ‘Why did this happen to ME?’ and ‘Couldn’t I have had a “normal” experience? – and I did what many dependents do best.  I drank.  I shopped.  I pretended like life was good.  In hindsight I don’t think I pretended that well because I remember a time of sad blog posts and angry status updates.  I remember the day I dyed my blonde hair black.  I remember the emptiness inside.

At the point that I could no longer stand feeling like a selfish and uncaring mother I faced the depression that was drowning me.

I hated myself.  Why was this change so hard for me?  I felt like all of my friends approached motherhood with ease and here I was a big fat failure.  I was failing miserably and all I wanted to do every day was get drunk and forget about it.  I wished for the ease and comfort of my old life which shamed me.

In the heart of my debilitating Post Partum era I had to make the decision to stop socializing in order to start getting well.  My friends had always been a huge part of my life; especially recently – in say the last 10 years – when my mom and I had our falling out and many of my family sided with her.  At 22-years-old I felt alone and betrayed by those who were supposed to love me unconditionally.  Sure I had other family members that I was close to, but that is a story for a different day.  Or one that may stay private forever.

At that time I was forced to turn to my friends for love, guidance and support.  My friends became my family.  Sometimes I probably leaned on my friends too much.  I knew that and tried to respect their boundaries.  I had friends that would invite me over for Thanksgiving and Easter.  It made my heart burst with love that even though I was alone (which I wasn’t, I just felt that way) that I wasn’t alone.  I was loved.

Making the decision to stop socializing was in a way abandoning my family, those friends who were my family now.  My fremily. :)   There was an even bigger hole inside me now.  A hole I needed to learn to fill with love for myself.  It was very hard for me to face this obstacle all alone.  I’m not good with alone.

I can’t thank those friends enough who continuously reached out to me even though I constantly declined plans or was unreliable – even if it was just a text message to say hello.  Just to let me know they cared.  I knew that if I continued on the destructive path I was on I would never get well.  I had to make my health front and center.  I had to face it head on.

And now here I am 6 months later.  I’m happier and healthier.  But.  I have damaged friendships.  I have no social life.  Now, as with my yin and yang personality, I have done the complete opposite and refused to leave my house.  I mean, I go to work, Target, the gym, but as far as meeting up with friends – I decline.

Making plans?  I just don’t bother.  I make excuses about doctor appointments.  I’m not lying – I do have these appointments, but the truth is I’m scared.  I’m scared of who I am now.

Have I become old and boring?  I don’t get shit faced anymore or dance on bars…I kind of don’t even know how to be fun anymore.  Will my friends even still like me?  I have some major social anxiety going on, too.  Like I don’t even know what to talk about with my friends anymore.  I could sit and stare at them and have nothing to say.  The old me would have been drunk and laughing up a storm about whatever thing I was babbling about.  Now I have nothing to say.  It’s not that I have nothing to say.  I’m just afraid to say it.

I also want to spend as much time with Eva as humanly possible considering I miss 40 hours a week of her development so I can’t bring myself to be away from her for even one night.  It’s bad enough I miss all day.  Our life is so simple now.  There’s no drama.  It’s dolls and Legos…it’s walks to the park and reading books.  It’s easy.  It’s safe.

I’m in the cocoon I surrounded myself in for protection which has ultimately had the exact opposite effect on me.  It is equally unhealthy, and I need to change.  Before I was going out too much and running away from my responsibilities and now I refuse to make time for myself and my friends for fear of missing even one second of Eva’s growth and change.

UGH!  How do I find balance?

Balance is the key.  I imagine that many mothers feel this way and struggle with this very issue.  My new challenge is finding balance; it’s finding time for me alone, time for me and my husband, time for me and my daughter.  And time with friends gets pushed to the backburner.  There just is no time.  There’s never enough time.

I’m striving to get to a place where I feel comfortable in all aspects of my life, where I stop feeling the constant guilt that has engulfed me for the past year.  Is that even possible?  Or has mom guilt set in and thus will be the rest of my life?  Or at least until Eva is 18 or 25 and I can have my own life again.

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