The Gift of Being Present

I always come across angry FB posts about the war on body image. People going on rants, upset about fat mannequins or super thin models or overly photoshopped images, etc...

Here's the reason why I don't give a shit about any of those:

People go on and on about how those things give young people, particularly girls, a wrong sense of what society expects them to look like - ok, before I go on, let me clarify that I don't have daughters. I have a house full of boys and perhaps having a daughter or two might make me think differently (though I strongly doubt it) but I really feel that the key to all of this is to be present.

Yes, I find it quite simple.

I truly feel that amount of time I spend with my kids and how present I am in their lives has a much stronger impact on them than any overly photoshopped magazine image or super thin runway model.

It's a choice. I can run around Facebook "liking" pictures about how "real women" have curves ...which, by the way, I have fluctuated in weight and body types many times, I have been with and without curves, and both ways I felt quite real... or I can sit down to have real conversations with my children to tell them how incredibly unique and special they each are in their own way. And I can teach them healthy eating habits and encourage them to stay active and invite them to join me on my jogs and workouts.

When my boys come across ads and commercials with seemingly "perfect" looking people, they will know that their mother thinks they are beautiful people inside and out. They get their "body image" from ME. They get their confidence and self-worth from ME. Not from TV ads or FB memes. The world is ALWAYS going to be full of crap and bullshit and people looking for tiny, weak-minded souls to prey on. There's nothing I can do about that, but I CAN raise strong, smart, productive children. *I* am raising these kids, NOT the world.

One day they will grow up and choose their own paths. Right now their hearts and minds belong to ME. I work hard every day to shape them into decent, kind, healthy human beings. I go to sleep emotionally and physically drained every night, knowing that every word that came out of my mouth today is going to affect who they are tomorrow. Of course some days are better than others. I am human, after all. I mess up. Some days I feel like I don't know what I am doing, but they go to bed every night knowing their mother thinks the world of them.

The truth is it's an ugly world out there. My job is to prepare them for that. I have to teach them, not only to survive in this ugly, ugly world, but to thrive and rise above all the ugliness. To find the beauty hidden in the ugliness, despite what the world has to say. To accept people for who are or who they choose to be. To know the difference between encouraging and judging. To believe that if they want to make a difference, they have to start with themselves.

So, who cares if some magazine editor went a little photoshop crazy or if there are famous voices everywhere constantly telling them what they should look like. At this moment, while their minds are still growing and being molded, my face and voice are stronger in their lives than ANY image or celebrity. They see ME and hear ME more often than they do anyone else. Until they get sick of me and move out, that is...

I  may not be able to give them a lot of material things, but they have ME.

Thank you for reading. Now drop your phone or your laptop or your tablet and go be present. Go on, now!

I will do the same.

Spanglish

Hay cosas que solo una persona que crecio en medio de dos culturas sabe. Como el Spanglish que vienen siendo palabras inventadas por Latino Americanos creadas al combinar el Espanol y el Ingles. No son correctas pero son aceptadas. Son utilizadas por grandes y chicos y son usadas hasta en papeles de la escuela y el trabajo o en anuncios en la calle.

He creado una lista -just for fun and because I'm bored and bilingual..

Puchar: Empujar - Push. Ejemplo: Ve y pucha a tu hermano en el columpio!!

Kiquear: Patear -Kick. Ejemplo: Kiquea la pelota, menso!!

Mixtear: Mezclar. Combinar - Mix. Ejemplo:  No te mixtees con la chusma!

Parquear: Estacionar - Park. Ejemplo: Mira ese pendejo no se sabe parquear bien.

Chequear: Rebizar - Check. Ejemplo: ahorita te voy a chequear la tarea y si no esta terminada te voy a chingar!

Yonque- Cochinada. Basura. Junk. Ejemplo: este pinche carro es un yonque!

Troca- Camioneta. Truck. Ejemplo: Ya se volvio a chingar la troca!

Esta no es palabra pero la gente aqui asi dice:

"Al rato te llamo patras" - "I'll call you back" - quiere decir que al rato te regreso la llamada o te vuelvo a llamar.

That's all I remember for now. Seguramente me faltan muchas.

Dime las que te sepas:

Ready. Set. Go.

Back to Blogging

You've missed me, don't lie.

Kidding, but seriously, I miss writing. It's one of the things I truly enjoy doing. It's hard to find time to do it right now, because I have four kids (five, counting my angel), including two babies, so I usually prefer to use my spare time to sleep, eat and wash off the sweat. 

As I type, I have Noah trying to close the laptop and poke random keys on my keyboard which, by the way, is missing the letter "Y" so I am forced to push this little plastic nub any time I need it. And with my foot I am rocking Ben to keep him from screaming.

Needless to say, the past couple of years have brought lots of changes. Sometimes I can't believe how much my life has changed. I'm still coping with lots of different emotions but I can honestly say I am the happiest I have ever been.

About 15 years ago, when I was I teenager and I thought I knew everything, I would have never imagined that before the age of thirty I was going to have to survive a rocky relationship, a divorce, the loss of a child, and the loss of my grandparents. I suppose I saw the latter coming. But it was still hard. I still cry every day. More on that later.....

So... after having three kids in three years it is no surprise I am about 70 lbs overweight. I've lost them before and I'll do it again, but UGH!!! what  a pain!! I'm gonna complain and mope and complain some more but it has to be done. I don't like the way my body feels or looks this way. I'm always tired and have frequent headaches and my knees HURT! I wish I could be one of those people who are big and happy, but personally, my body does not function properly at this weight. 

I know you find me fabulously fluffy, but if I expect to keep up with my posse (my four boys) I better start getting healthy.

Let me warn you I am bored AND sleep deprived so I may be updating frequently and talking a whole lotta nonsense at times. 

You Get What You Give

Note: Please ignore the typos and grammatical errors. I don't like to edit what I write , because it makes me want to change it and it takes away from the pure emotions I felt as I wrote it. So unless it's a school paper or such, I write what I feel, then breeze through it once, hoping to catch most errors. 


My brain is especially weak today. I've been up for two nights in a row taking care of sick babies.  Perhaps I can blame the fatigue for my harsh thoughts yesterday. I hate it when I am quick to judge without hesitation. I can usually put myself in my place and replace judgement with compassion, but I've been feeling quite hostile due to an unfortunate series of events in my life.

I'll be honest. I'm a little disgusted with myself. After all I've been through during the last few years, I should know better.

I don't even know where to start. I have so much to say and the words just aren't coming.
I'll do my best. I apologize in advance for my brutal honesty (and my ignorance). I promise I am not into brutality. I need to make a point and I can't do it by sugar coating the cruel thoughts that ran through my head.

You've been warned.

Yesterday, after a morning of errands and doctor's appointments, the boys and I ended up at McDonald's. We were hot and hungry, so we got a couple of happy meals and I sat  while the boys took their time running back and forth from the table to the play area. I quickly noticed an older gentlemen sitting alone directly in front of me. He was tall, well over six feet, lean and fair-skinned. He was dressed nice. Slacks, a dress shirt and a cotton pilot hat. A cotton pilot hat? in the middle of summer? His skin looked damaged. He had red, dry patches on his arms and his face. The left side of his face was droopy. But his most noticeable physical feature of all was a big, open sore on the left side of  the bridge of his nose. It looked raw and moist.

Gross, I thought. I hope whatever that is isn't contagious.

My kids kept running by him as they quickly took bites of their cheeseburgers and french fries and ran back to play. Don't worry, I made them sanitize their hands each time they ran back. Because of the germs, I mean. Not because they were running by him.
I kept catching myself thinking about how he shouldn't be out around children like that. What if it is contagious? what if my kids catch it? I wanted him to leave. I wanted him to move away from the children's play area. What the hell is that thing on his nose? It looks so disgusting! I thought over and over. I watched him as he pressed a napkin against it numerous times, as if to dry off the fluid from the sore. It looked red and raw and concave.

He was there almost as long as we were. He took his time eating, then I watched him as he pulled out a bunch of change from a pouch and separated the coins. He sat there quietly, minding his own business. He didn't even look up when Julian ran so close by him that I thought he was going to run right into him, as my oldest boy often tends to do. Usually he runs into things (mail boxes, signs and such) but I have seen him dart right into people a few times. But that's a whole other story. Ahh, that boy of mine. I wonder about him sometimes...

Anyway... as a professional WebMD surfer and former (still working on it) hypochondriac, I resorted to the data base in my cluttered head to diagnose the poor, oblivious man. In my mind he had a flesh-eating bacteria, or perhaps he was allergic to the sun. I saw that on the Discovery Channel once. How else do you explain the cotton pilot hat in August? I believe I even gave him AIDS and cancer and then blamed a recent stroke for the droopiness in the left side of his face.

I sat there judging him for a good hour or so before I realized what I was doing. So many adjectives came to my mind.
Insensitive, cruel, mean, unkind, callous...
But sometimes I really just have to call myself a bitch.  So...bear with me as I appropriately scold myself and put myself in my place. *Ahem*

You bitch! who the fuck do you think you are? why don't you take a mirror and look at yourself before you criticize others. Your own nose looks like a cross between a cat's and a pig's nose, you cold-hearted jerk. You don't like what you see, then look away! Mind your own business! you want to diagnose something? then diagnose my foot up your ass after I get done with you, asshole.

Ok, I'm done. I have a few more choice words for me, but I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. I've had a rough week and I want to believe the recent events in my life have made me more hostile and bitter than the average human.

The truth is I am not perfect. I teach my kids to be open minded and kind, but I do the complete opposite when no one is looking. For a moment, I made myself feel better by putting someone else down. What if he needed positive thoughts and vibes and I sent out nothing but negativity? His eyes looked sad. What if he needed a smile? What if I made him as uncomfortable as he made me? What if he just wanted to have his lunch in peace without people like me staring at him?

I'm sorry. I hope he is well. I hope his skin feels better today. I hope he is happy and healthy.

And if you're one of those who is thinking "Ehhh, who cares? it's not like you said it out loud or  pointed and laughed at him.."  well, that still doesn't make it right. I truly believe that what you put out is what you get in return. Call it karma or whatever you'd like. Put out hate and ill will and you will get it right back. Put out compassion and kindness, it will come back to you.

I hate that I allowed my mind to assume and jump to conclusions so quickly without stopping to think about what a day in his shoes might be like. As humans, I believe it's natural to wonder and then fill in the blanks with whatever will keep our minds satisfied, even if it means being unkind and ignorant. The question is can that cycle be broken? Can I go out and not care about what people wear or how they look or how I think they should have handled themselves in a situation. Can I? Can you?

I'm so tired. The baby is asleep and I should be resting, but I can't stop thinking about that man. Wherever he is, I am sending out good thoughts to him. Goodnight.

Four Pounds

I honestly didn't even give it my all but I must have done ok because I'm down four pounds. Just goes to show that a few changes can really make a difference.
This week I:
-stopped eating three hours before bedtime.
- added one serving of veggies to all my meals.
- Didn't drink any sodas or fruit juices
- replaced afternoon sweets with fresh fruits and sugar free jello
- went out for brisk walks
- walked to the store several times

Don't get me wrong. I do mess up and give in to temptation more often than I care to admit. I'm only human. But this week I learned that I don't need a huge fizzy drink with my meals or a giant pb&j before bed.

I didn't have much time to work out last week, but hopefully I can get a few workouts in this week.

Four down. Fifty six more to go.

1 Down - 29 To Go

Weight and measurements as of now:

Weight- 185.4 lbs
Waist- 39 "
Thighs- 28 "
Hips- 45 "
Calves-  18 "
Neck- 15 "
Biceps-  14 "

Yesterday I made a blended concoction of power foods. I used kale, spinach, chia seeds, banana, coconut milk and water. Unfortunately, the taste of the kale sort of took over. I need to play with the ratios. I drank it anyway. It was drinkable, but not exactly pleasant. Gave me a good burst of energy, though.

Yesterday I went for a short walk ( about 1.5 miles), it would have been longer except Spring time is really rough on my allergies. I'm still recovering from this tonsilitis too. I look like a zombie right now.

Anyway, I'm on my phone and I don't know how to place the pictures where I want them, so somewhere along this post you will find pictures of a few of my meals. Mostly veggies, with some sort of protein. I tend to use a lot of bell peppers, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, avocado, hard boiled eggs (no yolk), tilapia, small steaks, etc...

The baby is asleep right now so I'm going to take advantage and do some cleaning.

30 Days

I've always wondered how much weight I could lose in one month if I did nothing but workout and eat clean for 30 days straight. It took me over two months to lose ten pounds, but I wasn't giving it my all and I kept falling off track any time something delicious was around me.
I love food. I love homemade food, I love junk food, I love fast food, I love microwavable junk and things in brightly colored packages and things with insane amounts of sugar, things with cheese and sprinkles and... well, you get it.
The last time I lost forty pounds, which was right after Tyler was born, I was going through withdrawals. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it's true. I was shaky and anxious, because I couldn't stuff my face silly. I wanted cookies and cake and pizza. As I get older, I can see the consequences of my bad eating habits making themselves more evident. My immune system is at it's weakest, I developed gestational diabetes during my last pregnancy and I'm always tired. I love food, but I refuse to spend what's left of my 20s as a tired schlob who can't keep up with her three (four) crazy boys.
I meant to start this on the first of June, but I managed to start the month with a painful case of tonsilitis. I'm on antibiotics and about 50% better now. Also, bear with me because I am doing this all via my phone as I am currently too "financially challenged" to afford internet.
So, here it goes. I have about 60 lbs to lose. Lets see how close to my goal I can get in 30 days. Just to make it clear, this is just me and some common sense knowledge about health and fitness. No weird, trendy diets or expensive personal trainers. I'll post my beginning stats as soon as baby gives me a minute. Right now he has other plans.

Anyway...

Ready. Set. Go!

Bubbles

Last year around this time I was broken. I'm still broken now, but last year around this time I was holding back tears and forcing myself to smile. It hadn't even been two months since I had lost my Ian and I was looking for ways to get through the days without losing my mind.

I went jogging one day and I saw that the Upland Lemon Festival had begun. I cut my jogging session short, ran back home, got the boys ready and took them to walk around the festival. It wasn't easy for me. I really just wanted to hide in a dark place and cry. I kept picturing myself walking around with my big boys and my little baby in my arms. I was so angry. I was supposed to have a baby with me. My Ian.

Still, I managed to force myself to pretend I was ok. I didn't want my boys to think I didn't want to be there with them. We were walking around looking for kettle corn, when we came across a stand selling bubble guns. Of course, the boys immediately forgot about the kettle corn and begged for a bubble gun of their very own. There were other little boys running around, filling the air with bubbles of all sizes, so I couldn't say no to them. I bought them their bubble guns and watched them as they joined the other little boys. It made me happy to see them smile. And the hundreds of bubbles floating around made me smile, which wasn't an easy thing to do.

I was standing to the side watching the kids play when a group of teenagers walked by. They were fanning the bubbles away from their faces, trying to make their way through, when one of the boys in the group, maybe about 16 or 17 years old, declared very loudly that is the most annoying toy in the world which, apparently, was quite funny to the rest of the group who laughed and glared back at me as if they had just offended me as a parent and a person. I looked at the teenaged boy as he walked away feeling like a hero for not being ashamed to speak his obnoxious, childish mind out loud. I smiled at him, which clearly took him by surprise. I think he expected me to frown and express my disbelief, but my heart was too exhausted from the all the trauma and the pain, so I just smiled.

It's been nearly a year since that day. I know this because the signs for this year's Lemon Festival are all around town. I can't help but wonder if that young man has matured a little since. I wonder if one year is long enough to learn to be kind and humble. I wonder if he would have acted the same way had he known the pain in my heart. I wonder if he knows that I would have gladly purchased three of the "the most annoying toy in the world" for my Ian to join his brothers at the Lemon Festival Bubble Gun Battle of 2013. He'd be a little over a year old. Just old enough to hold the most annoying toy in the world in his tiny hand and watch the bubbles fill the air. He'd be running and playing and exploring.

I wonder.

To the teenaged boy who thought it was cool to be shamelessly mean,

I hope you are well. I hope life doesn't teach you to be nice the hard way, as life often tends to do. I hope you never lose a child. I hope no one ever walks by you and kicks you when you are down. I hope you enjoy your youth thoroughly, because one day you will grow up and realize the world doesn't revolve around the kid with the loudest mouth. I hope that one day you develop an appreciation for annoying toys and it takes you back to when you used play with them. I hope you learn to be sensitive and kind. I hope you spread goodness. I wish you joy. I wish you love.

To my Ian,

I know you'd be saying mama by now. There isn't a single day that goes by that I don't think of you. I miss you so much. There is no way to describe the pain in my heart. I'm going to wonder about you for the rest of my life. What would your voice have sounded like, what color were your eyes, what would your favorite cereal have been.... People tell me God needed you. I don't know if I believe that, because no one could ever need you more than I do. I see your baby brother do things every day that I wish I could have seen you do. I don't know how I am supposed to go through an entire lifetime with this pain in my heart, but I'm doing it. Right now, your brothers need me here on earth, but one day I will join you in heaven and I will hold you and kiss you and tell you how much I've missed you. Until then, send me bubbles, baby boy. I love you like the ocean loves the shore, tiny angel.

Last year around this time, I was broken. I'm still broken, but now I don't have to force myself to smile. I have three beautiful boys on earth and one waiting for me in heaven. More than enough reasons to smile, I think.

Dear Ian

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday dear Ian

Happy birthday to you

 

This is nothing like I pictured your first birthday, angel. This is nothing like I pictured my life. I can't believe it has been a year since I first held your still, tiny body in my arms. And what a year it has been. A year of tears, pain and many life lessons.

 

I woke up at exactly five in the morning today. I was feeding your baby brother when I suddenly realized that it was exactly a year ago at around 5 a.m. when I knew something was wrong. I'll never forget that day. The day my worst nightmare became reality.

 

I clearly remember when the nurse looked me in the eyes and told me you were gone. No! I shouted. I have two babies at home waiting for their little brother. What am I going to tell my babies?! They're waiting for their baby brother. I turned to face the wall and I sobbed like I have never sobbed before.

 

 

 

The contractions were getting worse. I knew you were gone but I was still clinging to hope. Hope that the nurses and doctors were wrong. Hope that they'd take you out and I would hear you cry as you took your first breath. You were so handsome and your skin so warm. You were perfect, but you were gone.

 

I hope you remember how I held you for hours as I took in every feature of your tiny face. I hope you remember all the things I told you, the tears I cried over you, the lullabies I sang to you- the same lullabies I continue to sing for your brothers. I hope you know how much I have missed you this past year. Sometimes I can still smell the scent of your skin on me. When I close my eyes I always see your face. I remember exactly how perfectly your little body fit into my arms.

 

 

 

I have felt sadness many time during my life, but nothing comes close to what I felt the day I said goodbye to you. I held you close for many hours, I sang to you and I told you over and over and over how much I love you. I couldn't believe I would never hold you again. I watched as the nurse wheeled you away in your little bed and I cried and cried as she put your baby blanket over your face before leaving the room.

 

I wish you were here. I wish I could have seen you blow out your first birthday candle today. I miss you. My heart aches for you. I am always going to wonder about you. I have some beautiful pictures of you that a wonderful photographer from a wonderful organization took. I haven't seen the pictures since the day I received the CD in the mail. I can't. I'm not ready. I hope you don't think it's because I don't want to. Your sweet face is engraved in my mind and sometimes I can hardly handle that.

 

One year ago today I lost you, sweet angel and today, one year later, I am sitting here holding your baby brother, wondering if I would have him had I not lost you. I'd give anything to have you with me, but at the same time I can't imagine my life without my Noah-Bear.

 

Thank you, my sweet Ian.  Thank you because you have made me a better person. Because of you I appreciate your brothers so much more and I try not to take a single minute with them for granted.

 

Happy birthday in heaven, my little love. I love you so much and I know one day we will be together again.

 

Love,

            Mommy

 

     

 



Christmas Grief

Usually by this time every year, I am eating, breathing and sleeping Christmas. Sadly, I haven't had the time or the will to buy a tree or pull out any decorations this year. I could sit here and write about how I have been so busy with school and the kids, but I'd be lying.

The truth is I am just not feeling it.

 

A part of me wants to sing Christmas Carols and cover our home with tinsel, but most of me is just sad. I think a lot about what he'd look like by now. My precious boy. I wonder about what his first Christmas would have been like, about the look on his face when his brothers handed him his first present, about the mashed potatoes and soft pieces of biscuit he could have had for dinner on Thanksgiving.

 

This sucks...*sigh*

 

I'm trying, though. I even did something I never though I'd attempt again-

 

 Meet Rocky The Shih Tzu

 

It's been a couple of years since we've tried owning a dog. The last time we tried, our kids just weren't ready and I believe it ended with an overly-loved-by-two-subconciously-rough-toddler-boys pooch and a kid with deep teeth marks on his hand. I swore I just wasn't a dog person and vowed to keep pets as far away from my crazy kids for as long as I could (for the safety of the animals, really). Somehow, we ended up with this little guy and as much as I hate to admit it, (because I'm really not an animal lover) I kinda' like him. He has brought us a lot of smiles and even has us taking daily walks as a family.

 

 

 

And look-

Fall has arrived

 

 

 



I love how the leaves crunch as we walk

 

I can't believe it has been ten months. Last year, at this time, my little angel was tumbling inside me as I counted the days until I got to hold him, so I could look into his eyes and tell him I'm his momma. I got to hold him and I got to tell him, but I never got to look into his eyes....and that just breaks my heart.

 

Grief is such a sad, lonely place. Especially around the holidays. While everyone shops and wraps and decorates and cooks, grievers wonder about that person who should have been there to share the magic. We wonder about our parents and brothers and sisters and uncles and grandparents and children gone too soon. We question if it is OK to smile and forget about the sadness for a second without offending our loved ones in heaven. We think about the memories- good and bad. We hide to cry for a few minutes, so that we can fake a smile for a few hours. We all know we aren't alone in our sadness, yet the solitude we feel is overwhelming.

 

I'm sorry if you are hurting this holiday season. Please know you aren't alone. I'm thinking of you. I share your pain. I'm praying for you. It's going to be ok. One day at a time.

 

 Cry. Breathe. Smile.

I will too.

 

Sweet precious angel, I love you with all of who I am. I think about you, I dream about you, I feel you near. Momma will never forget those 39 amazing weeks and those few hours I got to hold you, feel you and sing you the same lullabies I sing to your brothers. Thank you for picking me.

Your entire life took place inside me. I am so lucky.

Fly high, blue cherub.

I love you.

 

 





The Gift of Peace of Mind

Today started pretty bad. I had been up most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get into a comfortable position. I suppose it doesn't matter when you have to empty your bladder six to eight times a night.....or when there is a tiny person beating the heck outta your guts from the inside. Not gonna lie, I kinda' like it :)

Somehow I managed to get through a long day at school. By 2:30 p.m. Pacific Standard time, I was driving down route 66, in my red convertible with my hair whooshing in the crisp, fall wind....ok, not really...I took Baseline and I was in a truck with my hair in a messy bun, but I had the windows down and it felt really good.

Anyway, when I checked my voicemail, I heard a sweet message from a good friend asking me if she could drop something off. She didn't say what, but I like surprises, even though they make me nervous and a tad gassy, so I didn't ask any questions and offered to come pick it up instead since I was in the area.

I pulled up and saw her holding a little bag. Any pregnant woman can tell you the excitement that comes when someone hands you a little pastel-colored baggy.

Ooooooh! what can it be? bibs, bottles, blankies, brownies..... !!!!

Never could I have imagined what I'd find inside.

Last week, I freaked out because I hadn't felt the baby move the way he usually does. After a couple of days of worrying, I asked some of my closest friends for prayers before rushing off to the ER. Fortunately, everything was ok.

I don't know how I will ever be able to express my gratitude for this amazing, unique gift. I can't believe I can listen to his heart whenever I want. I hate to sound like a 13 year old girl (Ok, I secretly like it), but I seriously totally have like the bestest friends in the whole world. You guys rock! Like, yeah! *tear*

But for realz now, yo'-

These women have helped carry me through the darkest days of my life. Never once have they deserted me.  Even before my Ian went to be with the angels, they have always been there. I'll never forget the gifts, the cards, the meals, the flowers, the words, the prayers, the kindness....

I feel blessed.

 I love that I can still see the goodness in life, even after going through something as tragic as losing a child. Something I never thought I'd have to do. I love that the sun still shines through the clouds. And on particularly cloudy days, I love that I can still find it in myself to dance in the rain, even if it takes me a while to gather the will and the strength. I love that because of this wound, I am able to cherish the things I once took for granted. I love that I can hug my babies a little tighter.

I'll never get over it. I'll never completely move on. And I'm sure I'll still have days when I just want to hide in the dark to cry alone. Please know that on the days when the pain takes over, I am still grateful.

Today started pretty bad.....

but it ended so perfectly.

Last week, I added another lesson to my repertoire of Life Lessons I Wish I Didn't Have to Learn the Hard Way. I won't beat around the bush- I have gestational diabetes. I can't say I am surprised, as diabetes runs strongly in my genes.....that, and I have been stuffing my face silly. Fun's over. Time to get serious.

There are some cookies on the table calling my name, but putting myself in a position that may risk this baby's life is not an option. I'm too scared to even think of what this could mean.

Another Ian. No, no, no. I wouldn't survive.

I've been sticking to my meal plans very well. I lost three pounds in four days, which is a good start on the ton of weight I have to lose after this baby is done baking. 

I feel privileged in so many ways. I can't believe God granted me the opportunity to grow another one of His mysteriously complex human beings inside me. What an honor.

I love feeling him move inside me. It brings back sweet memories of carrying my other boys. Most of those memories bring smiles to my face. Others bring tears. It is always clear how truly blessed I am, though.

I watched Rabbit Hole on Netflix a few nights ago. I knew what it was about before I started it and I knew I'd cry (more like sob), but I think I needed that, so I watched it anyway. It was comforting to see people fall apart the way I do almost every day. It made me feel a bit more normal to see people grieving in their own way. Believe it or not, it was nice to see that gut-wrenching pain that creeps up on you during the most inconvenient moments, strike someone besides me. Although scripted, it was healing to see these characters cry for their children the same way I do. Whether it was a four year old boy who ran into the street chasing after his dog or a thirty year old heroine addict who couldn't break the habit, they both had mothers who loved them and wanted nothing more than to have their babies back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was hoping to write a bit more tonight, but I can feel my blood-sugar getting low and cookies are not an option. 

I hope you all had a beautiful weekend. 

XOXO

Selective Amnesia

Disclaimer: I apologize if this post makes no sense. I wrote and wrote and wrote without stopping or looking back.

Last night I had a dream that I was breastfeeding a baby boy. I'm not sure if it was Ian or the baby growing inside me now. Either way, it was beautiful and I was reminded of how much I was looking forward to breastfeeding Ian. Any mother who has breastfed can tell you what an incredible bonding experience it is. I wanted that for us.
I'm trying very hard to be at peace. Some days it takes more effort than others. Today is one of those days. I can't stop thinking about him and my heart throbs with love and pain all at once. Every day, I remember something that my brain had managed to block from my memory in an effort to keep me functioning as normally as possible.
When I stepped into a hot shower after a long, busy day a few weeks ago, I remembered the events of that morning, one bye one. I remembered how I got up really early with a dull back ache and how I stepped into a hot shower attempting to relieve the pain a bit and trying to make baby move. I remember poking my belly and whispering "come on, baby, kick me, move, do something". I remembered knowing in the back of my mind that he was gone, yet desperately trying to hang on to hope.
That could never happen to me, I thought. Never. Not me. That kind of thing only happens to others.
It's impossible to think of that day without shedding a few tears.

I also remembered how a few days before he was born, I was folding his clothes and making space for them in the closet when I had this strange feeling come over me. It was telling me that I was never going to use these clothes, not for Ian. I tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid as I often tend to be about any of my children. It was a powerful feeling, scary and sad, but I ignored it. That same night, I had this sudden urge to google "stillbirth stories". I thought for sure my hormones were going crazy and I was simply looking for a way to have a good cry. I read a few stories, sobbed like a crazy, pregnant lady and went to bed. All these signs God was sending me, yet I chose to cling to faith.

The most painful memories, that just recently decided to slap me in the face as well, are the ones of the few days after his birth. That baby-less car ride home, those cold March days without a warm baby to snuggle with, the sudden bursts of tears at the grocery store or any public place at the sight of any mother holding their infant child, my mom literally lifting me off my bedroom floor every time the pain became too much to bear alone....those memories torture me like no others. I don't know if I'll ever make peace with any of those.

The list goes on and on. I don't know if my brain has suddenly decided to torture me with all of these fresh memories or if it has simply decided that I'm ready to cope with them without losing my mind. I've been crying a lot. A lot. There are so many thoughts and emotions going through me all at once. I feel like I have so much to say, yet I'm speechless at the same time.

I feel like the world has moved on without me. Everyone's lives go on and I'm stuck on that day. I hate waking up to beautiful, sunny days and feeling so ugly and dark inside. I hate having to answer questions from two very curious little boys who wonder if this baby will die too. I hate knowing that I will spend an entire lifetime wondering about a little boy who never took a single breath outside of my womb.

It feels like yesterday, but on the 23rd it will be eight long months since I last felt his soft, little body nestled in my arms. Eight months since his short life inside me changed who I am forever. Eight months of warm, salty tears running down my cheeks. Eight months of wondering what he would look like by now. Eight months of trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy. Eight months of grueling heartache. Almost the same amount of time I spent dreaming of holding him, has now gone by with me looking for ways to live without him.

And now, the only things left for me to do is to be grateful. Hard to believe, but I have found ways to be grateful. I feel so blessed and lucky to be the only one who felt him while he was alive. I am the only one who knew his every kick and hiccup. His entire life took place inside me. He went from my womb, straight into the arms of our Heavenly Father. Of all the mommas in the world, He chose me. Me. I carried an angel inside me. And one day, when it is my turn to go, he will be there, waiting for me. I hope it isn't any time soon, but I look forward to it, the same way I was looking forward to breastfeeding him.

There are no words to describe how much I miss you, little boy. I fight through the pain of not having you (physically) with me. Every. Single. Day. But I know your spirit is near. I smell you often. I feel you with me. I love you, cherub. I know some day we will be together again.

Today, Pain Took Over

I don't even know how to start this post. This unspeakable pain is unpredictable.  I'm so heart-broken, angry, confused, sad...so many feelings all at once. I don't know how I manage to get through most days, because today I cried all day long and that felt more "normal" than smiling. The sadness felt like "home sweet home". I needed to cry so badly. I needed to go back and allow myself to feel the raw emotions of that day.
Today was hard, to say the least. Today, I threw all the wisdom and strength I have gained during the past seven and a half months out the window and I allowed myself to scream and pout and kick. I let myself go back to that very moment when my own body betrayed me and I became a walking, living, breathing grave to my unborn child's tiny body.
I wish people would stop telling me how strong I am. I'm not strong! I'm the weakest I've ever been. Some days I have to fight through tears and sorrow just to make breakfast for my little boys. Other days I want to close my eyes and disappear, so that I don't have to explain to anyone why I can't stop crying.
This stabbing, sinking, unbearable pain is so deep, it takes my breath away at times. It makes me question everything I thought I knew for sure, like His presence in my life and my will to keep on going. I question it all, because I miss him so much and I just can't imagine getting through an entire lifetime without him.
It's not fair, it's just not fair. I want to fall on the floor and drown in a pool of my own tears. I'm broken. So broken.
Ian, baby, I need you so much. Come visit me today, please. I need to feel you close.
I don't know what to do with myself. I just want my baby.
Today the pain took over. Tomorrow, who knows?
I'll be OK, I know I will. I'm holding on tight to the three little people who need me here on earth. Tomorrow I will wake up with a swollen face and a wounded soul, and I will make breakfast for the two bravest, most sweetest little boys I know. They need their momma.
I love you, Ian. Fly high, angel boy.

Boys

I always knew I'd be a mom. Always. I'm not going to lie, it's been a lot harder than I ever thought, but it has also been the most rewarding thing I've done in my 27 years of life. I grew up with two brothers and my mom is the only female out of six. Still, I never could have imagined that I'd have four boys. Four!

I always imagined dolls and little, pink toys laying around my home and combing long curls and applying lip gloss to tiny women eager to be all grown up. It never crossed my mind that I'd be helping little boys put transformers together or planning secret missions accross dangerous territory with plastic guns and RPGs at hand.

I believe it's human nature to want what you don't have. For yourself as well as others. When you see a mom with all girls, your first instinct is to ask if she wants a boy and the same thing for moms of boys. I'd be lying if I said I've never had that same thought, but life and circumstances have a way of teaching you to mind your own business.

Not long ago, after Ian passed away, I had someone say "well at least it was just another boy and not a girl". I suppose it was a sorry attempt to be comforting, and I'm sure this person has never had to say goodbye to their baby's little body and watch a nurse put a blanket over his sweet little face while wheeling him out of your hospital room for the last time. And I hope with all of my heart that this person never has to go home with a memory box of their child's footprints and a lock of his thin, brown hair. As insensitive as that comment was, I don't wish this pain on anyone. And just for the record, no my pain wouldn't have been greater had I lost a little girl and no, my pain wasn't any less because I already had two boys at home waiting for their baby brother.

I can't tell you how my heart melts when one of my boys hugs me and says "I love you, mommy" or how happy it makes me to hear them making zombie/ war/ monster/ explosion noises or how I admire their love for one another, even after they get done trying to strangle eachother.

I love watching them play super heros and I can't think of a better way to spend my Friday night than eating popcorn and watching He-Man. I've also developed a unique love for Transformers and Hot Wheels. And bathing with Bubble Gum scented Spider Man body wash makes me feel a little closer to heaven.

Words could never express how much I adore my little boys. I love knowing that they'll always have each other. I hope that they grow to be wonderful, sweet, productive men and amazing fathers.

And my Ian, oh my Ian, my heart beats a little faster whenever I think about him. My third boy. My sweet baby. My angel. With each passing day, I know I'm a little closer to seeing him again. An overwhelming amount of love and pain take over for a few minutes several times a day. Salty tears fill the crevice between my smiling lips while my mind is flooded with all the memories of that day and suddenly I'm there all over again. I can smell him and feel his skin against mine. I love you, cherub.

And now, another boy on the way. And I have boxes full of clothes in all shades of blue. Clothes that were for Ian. Clothes that will bring sorrow and sweetness all at once, when I see this tiny new being fill them. And my boys will always know that they have a brother in heaven. They will always know that they are one of four.

I'm sure having little girls would be a blast and perhaps some day I'll be blessed with one. Right now though, these four boys have my heart. All of it. Each one holding a special place.

I'm just grateful that of all the mommas in the world, God chose me to love and protect them.

And for the record, it's been a priviledge.

It's a Boy!

A sweet baby boy!

Milestones

August 27th was my boys' first day of school. Julian started first grade and Tyler started Kindergarten. I didn't go to school that day, because I really wanted to share that moment with them. Julian is usually my brave boy. Shy but confident. Boy, was I surprised when he started to cry minutes before I walked him to his class. I held him close and told him everything would be well. He stopped crying but I could still sense his anxiety. That is, until we got to his classroom and he saw his best friend from Kinder. After that, he waved goodbye and smiled like the brave, confident boy I know he is.

Next, was my Ty-Ty. I had been preparing for several weeks of tears and anxiety. I was convinced my boy would be that kid. The one who cries and screams and kicks as I walk away every day for two weeks. As a mom, I know my kids like the back of my hand. Or at least I thought I did..... I walked him to his classroom with him holding tightly onto my hand and even hiding a bit behind me. That is, until he saw legos. I had rehearsed speeches and prepared mentally for the tantrums and the fits, but in 2.2 seconds I had been replaced by a bucket of legos. The security he got from my sweaty hand had been replaced by colorful little building blocks....who knew? I waved goodbye and told him I love him, but he was too busy making colorful towers. I did manage to get his attention long enough to take a picture.

I left with a happy heart knowing that my boys were ready to be on their own. It wasn't long before it hit me though. I sat in the car and cried for several minutes, after I realized that these were the very same milestones I'd never share with Ian. The moments a momma lives for, the ones we engrave in our hearts forever, would be the same ones I'd never have with my little boy. I sobbed in the parking lot and told myself how unfair it was. After a few minutes, I was able to pull myself together and go about my day. I never would have imagined the day would end with my in the E.R. with a broken foot after tripping and hitting the floor pretty hard. I'm ok. It's been two weeks and my foot has finally stopped throbbing. Perhaps they can try to cast it again after today, since they had to cut the cast off the first time due to severe swelling. Don't worry. Baby is fine. My arms took most of the fall, plus I'm well padded. Fluffy. Cushion-y. You know?

I have a doctor's appointment with my OB in a few hours. I have to leave extra early since crutching your way around a three story building isn't exactly easy when you are pregnant and broken. I'll figure it out though. I've been through worse....

Anyway, I want to thank everyone who has been touched by my the birth of my little angel. You have no idea what it means to me to have so many people share my pain and acknowledge his brief life. I am grateful and so proud to be able to share him with so many. I want everyone to know he was here and that he is part of our family. My heart goes out to those who shared their own experiences of loss and sadness. Please know you are not alone.

I hope you're all having a nice hump day.

New Life

I am nearly twenty weeks pregnant.

I'm not sure I am ready to announce it to the world, but you can only hide a pregnancy for so long. The few people who know have been incredibly supportive. However, every woman who's ever been pregnant can tell you that it is nearly impossible to avoid those well-meaning rude remarks about the new life growing inside of you. I've already had a few "I hope it's a girl this time"....as if, after what I've been through, I really care about the gender more than the safety and well-being of the tiny human baking in my womb. The truth is my life would have been more than perfect with a house full of boys.
And, of course, I could not get half-way through this pregnancy without the "you're having a new baby now, it's time to move on", because it's common knowledge that one baby replaces another, right? ....I might as well make it clear now, NOTHING and NOBODY will EVER fill this empty space in my heart. I still cry for him every day and my heart aches like it did the day I lost him. If anything, I'd say time has made the pain worse, because every day something reminds me that I should be holding a baby boy and my heart breaks a little more.
But, by far, the most unfortunate choice of words were "make sure you take care of this one" by a girl at my doctor's office. That one stung. She made me feel like I had somehow caused Ian's death.

I don't hold these things against anyone. I have learned a lot over the past few months, like that reading between the lines is a waste of time and that it's possible for someone to care about you and still say something unmeaningly hurtful while you're wounded and vulnerable. The biggest lesson though, has been the power of love. Like when emotion takes over and you don't know what to say, it's ok to not say anything. A simple heartfelt I'm Sorry along with a hug full of love and empathy is all you need. No need for cliche quotes or comparing the situation to a possible worst scenario.

I'd be lying if I said I am not a nervous wreck. And I'd really be lying if I said I'm not still grieving. And while the sadness and the anxiety manage to take over sometimes, most of the time I can be happy and thankful that there is a brand new human being growing inside me. I know our angel in heaven is watching over us every step of the way.

Dear Ian

Hi, angel. Happy six months in heaven, pumpkin.
Happy for you, not so happy for me.
I think about you every day, but today I couldn't get you off my mind. I kept thinking about all the wonderful milestones you surely would have reached by now.
I still have all your things. I'm not ready to let them go. I can't believe I have lived without you in my arms for six months. That's half a year!
A few weeks ago Tyler asked me if the reason you had gone to heaven was because he used to lay on my belly when you were inside me. Don't worry, I told him that wasn't the reason and to never think that it was his fault. I think your brothers miss you, they just don't know how to express it. They were so excited to have a baby brother. I remember how they would practice holding you with some of their stuffed animals and how they would tell me all of the wonderful things they wanted to do with you.
I love you so much, Ian. Sometimes I close my eyes and picture you laying on my chest like your brothers used to do when they were babies. And sometimes I can smell you on me.
It's hard not to think about all the things you'd be doing by now. It's hard not to wonder how I'm supposed to get through the rest of my life without you in it.
Please know that the day I take my last breath on this earth, I will go with a smile because I know you will be waiting for me. But hang in there for a little bit, because I still have a few things to do here. You have two brothers who need me and I'd really love to make a few contributions to this planet before I go spend eternity with you.
I miss you, honey, but I'm ok. Momma has good days and bad days, but I'll be alright. I smile more often these days, but I still have the need to shed a few tears for you every day. My heart aches every second of the day, but I've learned to soothe the pain with the love of your brothers and all the sweet memories of you tumbling in my belly.  I could have sworn you were going to be an acrobat :)
I love you, angel boy. Come visit me tonight, please. I need to feel you close. Fly high little cherub.
Love,
Mommy

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Six

Today I watched my oldest boy turn six.

I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. He was soft and tiny and perfect in every way. I remember crying when I had to leave him behind in the NICU for nearly three weeks. I remember the happiness I felt when the doctor said I could take him home.

My baby. I will always think of him as the boy who gave me my most important title. The boy who made me a mom for the first time.

It's hard to believe I lived for twenty-one and a half years without him.  It's hard to believe he turned six today. Where has time gone? Not long ago, I was sleeping entire nights with him on my chest. Our hearts in sync. His skin warm against mine. His tiny hand wrapped around my finger.

I'm so proud of the tiny person he's become. So noble and sweet. Generous and shy. Adventurous and curious. Pleasant and warm.

I love you, my little pumpkin-bear. You make me happy every day. Being your momma is such a privilege. Happy birthday, honey. Momma loves you infinity.

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