Oh, my heart.
Ethan's school gives the kids planners. They are responsible for keeping track of what they did that day and highlighting any homework. I think it's a fantastic idea.
Today Ethan's planner came home and in the sidebar he wrote, "I need to get out of here." Then beneath that, "I need a break." The first he dated 12/1/13, the second he dated 12/4/13. Under both of those he drew a stick figure of a boy crying, tear and all.
I called him out to the living room and casually said, "What does this mean?" He responded with, "I'm just so tired of being yelled at."
My heart just broke. HE looked broken. He looked sad and his eyes were vacant. And what blows my mind is I have offered to switch his class and he will quietly say, "No, I am fine." I have repeatedly assured him that if we switch classes, there would be no repercussions. No one would be angry with him and he would not get in trouble or hurt anyone's feelings if we did. He still kept saying he was okay.
We received the assessment tool from his teacher for evaluating ADD. I have zero idea how they score it, as it's based on her assessment, mine, and Ethan's father. They combine them and somehow figure out if a child has the diagnosis or not. All of ours are negative on the questions pertaining to overly active or impulsive but they are all completely positive for everything else, including the inability to focus, lack of organization, inability to complete a task and stay on task, etc. I just feel deep down I know where this is going, and it is very uncertain territory.
Tomorrow is parent/teacher conferences. The planner is coming with me so I can bring it up. He also starts his counseling sessions tomorrow, and the planner will come with me there as well, along with all the documentation from his pediatric specialist.
I don't know what the "right" answer is. Some might say the answer is blatantly clear: get him into a better environment and see what happens. Others say that you can't pick and chose the different people you encounter in life, and this is one of thousands of challenging situations he will encounter and he needs to learn to cope. I am somewhere in the middle. I get angry, then I get sad. I get frustrated, then I get motivated. I get annoyed, then I get sympathetic. It fluctuates nonstop and I just don't know what is "right."
Parenting handbook, you out there?
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Kids to Leslie and back to kids
Oh, my word! I have missed my blog so, so much! Right around when I was due to deliver Evan, so back in May, our laptop started giving us issues. We went weeks without it, and nothing was officially found to be wrong, but it just never worked right. Then Internet Explorer started giving us issues so I switched to Google Chrome, simply because it was already downloaded onto our computer. It worked fine, but then we started getting a gazillion pop-ups. I had a pop-up blocker, and that wasn't helping, for some reason. Programs I used to use were not compatible with Google Chrome, including my blog, so I had to go on a major hiatus. Fortunately, I still got all my thoughts out, but unfortunately, I had nowhere to document them. It's far more therapeutic for me to write them out than to just sort through them in my mind, so let's just say: I am finally back!
This blog has taken a few shifts. First, it was a continuation of my livejournal, which I started nearly 10 years ago when I found out I was pregnant with Ethan. That style of writing had a more "Dear Diary" feel to it. It was (and is!) fun to look back on those times and I am so happy I have it all documented. When I switched to a blog, I started slacking in writing. Partly because then I had 2 children to care for so life became busier, and partly because I lost the desire to write. If I don't feel it, I can't force it.
When Leslie got sick is when my blog got a ton of attention. She has so many people that love and care about her, it was PERFECT for keeping everyone informed. And again, it was so therapeutic to be alone with my thoughts and dumping them out on the keyboard.
Now my blog is about to take another turn. I won't deviate from Leslie entirely, but really, no news is good news, and she is doing so amazingly well. It won't be so focused on her recovery, but her recovery is still a huge part of my life, so it will still be brought up. Now I want to focus back more on my life and more specifically, Ethan's life. I have discussed Ethan's issues before, I think immediately before Leslie got sick. Just little quirks he had and how frustrating they could be. That was 4ish years ago. Since then, he started showing more physical signs, including tics. I had him evaluated by a neurologist to rule out Tourette's Syndrome or some other neurological disorder. I was told his tics were benign, and it was related more to anxiety and stress. He was put on a low dose anti-depressant that worked well for anxiety, and things were okay for a while.
Right before Evan was born 6 months ago, we were blessed with an AMAZING opportunity to see, who I think, is the greatest pediatric behavioral specialist EVER. For the first time in Ethan's life, he had a complete examination, exploring all of his quirky behavior issues, and received an official diagnosis. Right now the diagnosis is generalized anxiety disorder, sensory processing disorder, and OCD. I have done a ton of reading on these, and I agree with them. I am more convinced with OCD over the sensory processing disorder, but regardless, they kind of go hand-in-hand. His medication was adjusted, and since then, we have been okay.
Over the past summer and into this school year, Ethan has had some significant setbacks. He went from having interests to having none except his iPod. He went from caring about things SO much, to not caring about anything or anyone. He preferred to be isolated in his room. He didn't play outside, he didn't ride a bike, nothing. He'd have play dates with his friends and have a great time, but still preferred to be alone over anything else.
His 4th grade teacher this year is stricter than most teachers he has had. She is very firm on organization and independence in her students, which I think is very important. However, I know my child and I know these are issues he struggles with in a big way. His brain is chaotic so his organizational skills are chaotic. He is a major introvert (diagnosed!) so he'd rather just go unnoticed. This teacher is what I would call an older generation teacher. And as much as I hate to make generalizations, it seems the older generation see diagnoses like Ethan and see it as an excuse for bad behavior. I actually totally understand that thought process, and in some instances, I agree with it. I think kids are overly diagnosed and overly medicated. I think parents would rather make an excuse for their child acting out than to actually help the child. THIS IS NOT THE TYPE OF PARENT I AM. I will bend over backwards for the teachers my kids have. I WANT my kids to be successful, and I want their teachers to have a great year. But I can't force them to understand my child if they aren't going to even try. Our most recent visit to the specialist started the possible diagnosis of ADD. When she said that, I immediately said, "No, he is definitely not ADD." ...but then I saw the checklist that is filled out by the parents and teacher to assist in an ADD diagnosis and read it realizing it described Ethan almost exactly. I was SHOCKED. And fascinated. How amazing would it be to know exactly what was going on in that little brain of his and FIX IT??
So that is where we are now. Conferences are next week. I am waiting to get the teacher evaluation back and once I get it, I'll be taking it to the pediatrician to analyze and hopefully by the time he has his follow-up in 6 weeks, I will know if he meets the criteria for ADD. I am also learning all I can about 504 plans, which is a plan I can create (with the teacher) for ways to help Ethan succeed. For instance, he is fidgety and always has his hands moving. He usually will draw on everything. His teacher does not like his and has made it very clear that she does not want him drawing. My question is...why? If he gets his work done, is not disrupting others...why? A 504 would make it so legally she has to allow him to draw or do SOME type of activity with his hands (stress ball, silly putty to squeeze, etc.) If this would help him stay focused, I am all for it. A 504 would make it so even if the teacher disagreed, it would still need to be implemented for Ethan's success.
Next week he sees a psychologist for the first time as well, to help him with his coping mechanisms and just be someone neutral to talk to.
This is the start of a long journey, but it's for my child, so I am ready to tackle it head on.
This blog has taken a few shifts. First, it was a continuation of my livejournal, which I started nearly 10 years ago when I found out I was pregnant with Ethan. That style of writing had a more "Dear Diary" feel to it. It was (and is!) fun to look back on those times and I am so happy I have it all documented. When I switched to a blog, I started slacking in writing. Partly because then I had 2 children to care for so life became busier, and partly because I lost the desire to write. If I don't feel it, I can't force it.
When Leslie got sick is when my blog got a ton of attention. She has so many people that love and care about her, it was PERFECT for keeping everyone informed. And again, it was so therapeutic to be alone with my thoughts and dumping them out on the keyboard.
Now my blog is about to take another turn. I won't deviate from Leslie entirely, but really, no news is good news, and she is doing so amazingly well. It won't be so focused on her recovery, but her recovery is still a huge part of my life, so it will still be brought up. Now I want to focus back more on my life and more specifically, Ethan's life. I have discussed Ethan's issues before, I think immediately before Leslie got sick. Just little quirks he had and how frustrating they could be. That was 4ish years ago. Since then, he started showing more physical signs, including tics. I had him evaluated by a neurologist to rule out Tourette's Syndrome or some other neurological disorder. I was told his tics were benign, and it was related more to anxiety and stress. He was put on a low dose anti-depressant that worked well for anxiety, and things were okay for a while.
Right before Evan was born 6 months ago, we were blessed with an AMAZING opportunity to see, who I think, is the greatest pediatric behavioral specialist EVER. For the first time in Ethan's life, he had a complete examination, exploring all of his quirky behavior issues, and received an official diagnosis. Right now the diagnosis is generalized anxiety disorder, sensory processing disorder, and OCD. I have done a ton of reading on these, and I agree with them. I am more convinced with OCD over the sensory processing disorder, but regardless, they kind of go hand-in-hand. His medication was adjusted, and since then, we have been okay.
Over the past summer and into this school year, Ethan has had some significant setbacks. He went from having interests to having none except his iPod. He went from caring about things SO much, to not caring about anything or anyone. He preferred to be isolated in his room. He didn't play outside, he didn't ride a bike, nothing. He'd have play dates with his friends and have a great time, but still preferred to be alone over anything else.
His 4th grade teacher this year is stricter than most teachers he has had. She is very firm on organization and independence in her students, which I think is very important. However, I know my child and I know these are issues he struggles with in a big way. His brain is chaotic so his organizational skills are chaotic. He is a major introvert (diagnosed!) so he'd rather just go unnoticed. This teacher is what I would call an older generation teacher. And as much as I hate to make generalizations, it seems the older generation see diagnoses like Ethan and see it as an excuse for bad behavior. I actually totally understand that thought process, and in some instances, I agree with it. I think kids are overly diagnosed and overly medicated. I think parents would rather make an excuse for their child acting out than to actually help the child. THIS IS NOT THE TYPE OF PARENT I AM. I will bend over backwards for the teachers my kids have. I WANT my kids to be successful, and I want their teachers to have a great year. But I can't force them to understand my child if they aren't going to even try. Our most recent visit to the specialist started the possible diagnosis of ADD. When she said that, I immediately said, "No, he is definitely not ADD." ...but then I saw the checklist that is filled out by the parents and teacher to assist in an ADD diagnosis and read it realizing it described Ethan almost exactly. I was SHOCKED. And fascinated. How amazing would it be to know exactly what was going on in that little brain of his and FIX IT??
So that is where we are now. Conferences are next week. I am waiting to get the teacher evaluation back and once I get it, I'll be taking it to the pediatrician to analyze and hopefully by the time he has his follow-up in 6 weeks, I will know if he meets the criteria for ADD. I am also learning all I can about 504 plans, which is a plan I can create (with the teacher) for ways to help Ethan succeed. For instance, he is fidgety and always has his hands moving. He usually will draw on everything. His teacher does not like his and has made it very clear that she does not want him drawing. My question is...why? If he gets his work done, is not disrupting others...why? A 504 would make it so legally she has to allow him to draw or do SOME type of activity with his hands (stress ball, silly putty to squeeze, etc.) If this would help him stay focused, I am all for it. A 504 would make it so even if the teacher disagreed, it would still need to be implemented for Ethan's success.
Next week he sees a psychologist for the first time as well, to help him with his coping mechanisms and just be someone neutral to talk to.
This is the start of a long journey, but it's for my child, so I am ready to tackle it head on.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
If my husband were to say to me right this second, "I think I'd like to try for a fourth baby." ...I'd be ALL for it! Before, I always said I was d-o-n-e, but lately, as I care for Evan, my heart just feels so full of love, I just know I have room to love more.
But then I really think about it. Is my heart telling me to have more because I truly want more children? Or is my heart FINALLY at peace, and I am FINALLY allowing myself to just enjoy what I have? I have always been the type of person to think there is something more out there. Something better. Everything I had? It's good, but I could have BETTER. I could have MORE. That's not necessarily a bad thing to be like. You should always chase your dreams. I'm not really talking about it like that, though. For me, it was just never been satisfied with what I had. And that is a shame.
I can try to break it down: My family of 5 and 2 dogs live in a home that is less than 1000 square feet. We have always driven new, fancy cars, but now we have one leased car and one used car. Okay, van. A used van. No features. Our house is small and our bedrooms are tiny. So tiny, in fact, that now that we have three children, my husband and I had to retreat to the stinky basement to sleep so the kids could have their own rooms. It's not a luxury that they have their own rooms, it's a necessity. There is no room for more than one child per room. We don't have carpet in our living room because after one of our dogs got violently ill on the area rug, we literally had no choice but to get rid of it. It's not in the budget to replace it, so we have hardwood floors that are less than perfect. Most of our furniture is hand-me-downs and our kids need new bedroom furniture in the worst way. We could certainly use new paint jobs in several rooms and I am pretty certain we don't have matching window treatments in any of our rooms. There is dog hair under the couch and finger prints on the windows. The front door sticks when you close it and the side door creaks in the worst way. We desperately need a plummer to check out our bathroom sink, since the hot tap water doesn't work and the drain is constantly clogged. Shall I go on?
On the flip-side? We have a home. And it's a nice home. On cold days we are warmed by heat and on hot days we are cooled by air conditioner. Our kids have their own spaces with their own toys. Nice toys. We have Internet and a laptop. We have cell phones, DVR, and a big screen TV. We have two dogs that live like royalty. One dog has stomach issues and we are able to provide him with a special dog food that is pricey. He was a rescue, and it would be easier to give him back, but instead we do what he needs to be comfortable. We never go to bed hungry and we have two reliable vehicles. We have supportive families that would walk to the ends of the earth for us. We have reliable jobs and health insurance. We have love. A LOT of love. Our kids have a great education and are involved in extra curriculars of their choosing. We have a church we call home and the knowledge that God will provide.
All my life I wanted more, more, more. Looking at Evan, I appreciate the things I can give him. I love seeing him snuggled in bed, warm and comfortable. I love giving him a bottle, knowing his belly is full. I love seeing his smile, knowing he is happy. He is ALWAYS happy. I can take these feelings and say, "I love this so much, I want to do it with another child!" ...or I can take these feelings as, "I am finally at peace." I have all I want, I have all I need. There will always be bigger and better, but it's not a requirement to live.
With God's grace, I will learn to simplify and appreciate. Because I have so, so much to be appreciative of.
But then I really think about it. Is my heart telling me to have more because I truly want more children? Or is my heart FINALLY at peace, and I am FINALLY allowing myself to just enjoy what I have? I have always been the type of person to think there is something more out there. Something better. Everything I had? It's good, but I could have BETTER. I could have MORE. That's not necessarily a bad thing to be like. You should always chase your dreams. I'm not really talking about it like that, though. For me, it was just never been satisfied with what I had. And that is a shame.
I can try to break it down: My family of 5 and 2 dogs live in a home that is less than 1000 square feet. We have always driven new, fancy cars, but now we have one leased car and one used car. Okay, van. A used van. No features. Our house is small and our bedrooms are tiny. So tiny, in fact, that now that we have three children, my husband and I had to retreat to the stinky basement to sleep so the kids could have their own rooms. It's not a luxury that they have their own rooms, it's a necessity. There is no room for more than one child per room. We don't have carpet in our living room because after one of our dogs got violently ill on the area rug, we literally had no choice but to get rid of it. It's not in the budget to replace it, so we have hardwood floors that are less than perfect. Most of our furniture is hand-me-downs and our kids need new bedroom furniture in the worst way. We could certainly use new paint jobs in several rooms and I am pretty certain we don't have matching window treatments in any of our rooms. There is dog hair under the couch and finger prints on the windows. The front door sticks when you close it and the side door creaks in the worst way. We desperately need a plummer to check out our bathroom sink, since the hot tap water doesn't work and the drain is constantly clogged. Shall I go on?
On the flip-side? We have a home. And it's a nice home. On cold days we are warmed by heat and on hot days we are cooled by air conditioner. Our kids have their own spaces with their own toys. Nice toys. We have Internet and a laptop. We have cell phones, DVR, and a big screen TV. We have two dogs that live like royalty. One dog has stomach issues and we are able to provide him with a special dog food that is pricey. He was a rescue, and it would be easier to give him back, but instead we do what he needs to be comfortable. We never go to bed hungry and we have two reliable vehicles. We have supportive families that would walk to the ends of the earth for us. We have reliable jobs and health insurance. We have love. A LOT of love. Our kids have a great education and are involved in extra curriculars of their choosing. We have a church we call home and the knowledge that God will provide.
All my life I wanted more, more, more. Looking at Evan, I appreciate the things I can give him. I love seeing him snuggled in bed, warm and comfortable. I love giving him a bottle, knowing his belly is full. I love seeing his smile, knowing he is happy. He is ALWAYS happy. I can take these feelings and say, "I love this so much, I want to do it with another child!" ...or I can take these feelings as, "I am finally at peace." I have all I want, I have all I need. There will always be bigger and better, but it's not a requirement to live.
With God's grace, I will learn to simplify and appreciate. Because I have so, so much to be appreciative of.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Dear Allison,
Tomorrow you turn 4. FOUR! I can't believe four years has gone by. I remember the exact morning the digital pregnancy test said "pregnant". It was Christmas morning, 2008. I cried, and whispered to myself, "I know it's a girl."
When you were born, you were so amazingly perfect. The first thing I said was, "Look at those cheeks!" You were my biggest baby out of your siblings: 8 pounds, 3 ounces, and you were born 5 days before your due date. You were so gorgeous, I couldn't get over how PRETTY you were!
You were a good baby, but you loved to be held all the time. While your older brother, Ethan, could entertain himself for hours, you just wanted to be with someone all the time. You loved to nap on me. I'd sit you on my lap, facing out, and gently rub your belly as you'd sleep. You loved that.
Now those baby days are long gone, and you have grown into a sweet, vibrant, amazing little girl. I know how badly you would love to have sister, but I selfishly love that you are my only girl. My only princess.
You challenge me, in good ways and bad. You have so much fire inside of you. You are passionate about life and you aren't afraid to show it. You are so smart, clever, and full of silliness. You make me laugh all the time. You are independent and you like to do things your own way, yet at the same time, you are so attached to your daddy and I, and you don't like to be apart from us long. You have been crawling into our bed now for well over a year and as much as daddy complains, I think we have ALL grown to like the extra cuddle time with you. I love when you sleep with me, you sleep so close to me, we share a pillow. I call you my little sleep ninja, because you are so active in your sleep, but I love having you so close to me.
While I hate how fast time has passed, you make me so excited to see what life will offer you. Scratch that. I am so excited to see what you offer life. I know with your strong personality, you are going to go so far in life, and I am so proud of that.
Happy birthday, little petunia. I love you so deeply.
Love,
Momma
Tomorrow you turn 4. FOUR! I can't believe four years has gone by. I remember the exact morning the digital pregnancy test said "pregnant". It was Christmas morning, 2008. I cried, and whispered to myself, "I know it's a girl."
When you were born, you were so amazingly perfect. The first thing I said was, "Look at those cheeks!" You were my biggest baby out of your siblings: 8 pounds, 3 ounces, and you were born 5 days before your due date. You were so gorgeous, I couldn't get over how PRETTY you were!
You were a good baby, but you loved to be held all the time. While your older brother, Ethan, could entertain himself for hours, you just wanted to be with someone all the time. You loved to nap on me. I'd sit you on my lap, facing out, and gently rub your belly as you'd sleep. You loved that.
Now those baby days are long gone, and you have grown into a sweet, vibrant, amazing little girl. I know how badly you would love to have sister, but I selfishly love that you are my only girl. My only princess.
You challenge me, in good ways and bad. You have so much fire inside of you. You are passionate about life and you aren't afraid to show it. You are so smart, clever, and full of silliness. You make me laugh all the time. You are independent and you like to do things your own way, yet at the same time, you are so attached to your daddy and I, and you don't like to be apart from us long. You have been crawling into our bed now for well over a year and as much as daddy complains, I think we have ALL grown to like the extra cuddle time with you. I love when you sleep with me, you sleep so close to me, we share a pillow. I call you my little sleep ninja, because you are so active in your sleep, but I love having you so close to me.
While I hate how fast time has passed, you make me so excited to see what life will offer you. Scratch that. I am so excited to see what you offer life. I know with your strong personality, you are going to go so far in life, and I am so proud of that.
Happy birthday, little petunia. I love you so deeply.
Love,
Momma
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
I consider myself a bandwagon Christian. By this, I mean on Sunday I am all, "Wooo! Jesus! I love you, Lord! Praise God!" Then Monday-Saturday I get on with my life that is being a mom, wife, and nurse. No Bible reading, hardly any prayer, everything is on the back burner. I'm busy, ya'll! I don't have time to add more to my already busy schedule.
Several weeks ago, though, my Pastor did a sermon about how do you know when God is speaking to you. One of the things he said that really struck me is how often I open God's word to hear his message. Well, I don't. My Bible is neatly tucked away on my bookshelf, in a nice protective Bible carrying case. I don't know WHY it's in a case, because it certainly isn't going to get harmed if I never move it off the shelf. But the case sure looks nice! God speaks to us through the Bible and I never allow his message to get to me because I never READ it. How simple is that?
The other thing I learned is that when we have a feeling, or something nagging at our hearts and our minds to do something, we need to do it, as it might be God telling us to do it. I am EXCELLENT and shush-ing God, though. I can put his directions for my life right out of my head and never think twice about it.
Coincidentally (or maybe not?) I have had two instances where I think God is realizing I am not getting it. I am not listening but choice. The first was when we had a very sad death on my floor at work. A lot of people were pretty upset so the hospital chaplain came to speak to us. Not knowing anyone's religious affiliations, she didn't preach to us, but simply reminded us of how much of an impact we have on our patient's lives and if we ever need someone to talk to, they are there for us 24/7. Then she passed around a little bag and explained that the cards in the bag were all different, and we were to reach into it and pull out a card and that was our message for the day. I was the first to reach in and could feel a whole stack of cards. I jumbled them around and when I pulled one out, it said "Silence" on one side. The other side read, "I give you the gift of SILENCE so that you may hear My voice inside yourself." I'll be honest, I was disappointed. I wanted something more uplifting. Silence? Do I talk to much or something? I tucked amongst my pocket full of stuff and went on with my day.
Just this past weekend, I had an in depth conversation with another Christian and co-worker, and she talked about how much peace she achieves by stopping and meditating. Really LISTENING to what God wants her to know. She kept telling me, over and over, how important this was. This was when I finally noticed the trend. Stop. Listen. There are messages for me, I just need to receive them.
Two times throughout all of this, I had these moments where I had a strong urge to do something for someone, totally out of the blue. I tried to push the idea out of my head, but the desire to follow through was so insanely strong, I had to do it. One instance occurred at Meijer. I had to explain to the cashier, "I can't explain why, but I need you to ring my order up REALLY FAST. I know this sounds strange, but please hurry." This was so out of character to me, but what I was about to do was so strong, I absolutely HAD to do it. On my drive home, I called my mom to tell her about it, but left out any mention of it being a "God moment" because I don't know how people feel about stuff like that and I don't like to be preachy to people without knowing if they want to hear it. Want to hear something even better? My mom, after hearing my story, said, "I have a God moment story for you, too!" ...so she heard my story, realized it was God speaking, and followed up with her own moment. Never once did I mention I felt it was God telling me to do something.
I hear you, God. And I will try harder to listen. REALLY listen.
Several weeks ago, though, my Pastor did a sermon about how do you know when God is speaking to you. One of the things he said that really struck me is how often I open God's word to hear his message. Well, I don't. My Bible is neatly tucked away on my bookshelf, in a nice protective Bible carrying case. I don't know WHY it's in a case, because it certainly isn't going to get harmed if I never move it off the shelf. But the case sure looks nice! God speaks to us through the Bible and I never allow his message to get to me because I never READ it. How simple is that?
The other thing I learned is that when we have a feeling, or something nagging at our hearts and our minds to do something, we need to do it, as it might be God telling us to do it. I am EXCELLENT and shush-ing God, though. I can put his directions for my life right out of my head and never think twice about it.
Coincidentally (or maybe not?) I have had two instances where I think God is realizing I am not getting it. I am not listening but choice. The first was when we had a very sad death on my floor at work. A lot of people were pretty upset so the hospital chaplain came to speak to us. Not knowing anyone's religious affiliations, she didn't preach to us, but simply reminded us of how much of an impact we have on our patient's lives and if we ever need someone to talk to, they are there for us 24/7. Then she passed around a little bag and explained that the cards in the bag were all different, and we were to reach into it and pull out a card and that was our message for the day. I was the first to reach in and could feel a whole stack of cards. I jumbled them around and when I pulled one out, it said "Silence" on one side. The other side read, "I give you the gift of SILENCE so that you may hear My voice inside yourself." I'll be honest, I was disappointed. I wanted something more uplifting. Silence? Do I talk to much or something? I tucked amongst my pocket full of stuff and went on with my day.
Just this past weekend, I had an in depth conversation with another Christian and co-worker, and she talked about how much peace she achieves by stopping and meditating. Really LISTENING to what God wants her to know. She kept telling me, over and over, how important this was. This was when I finally noticed the trend. Stop. Listen. There are messages for me, I just need to receive them.
Two times throughout all of this, I had these moments where I had a strong urge to do something for someone, totally out of the blue. I tried to push the idea out of my head, but the desire to follow through was so insanely strong, I had to do it. One instance occurred at Meijer. I had to explain to the cashier, "I can't explain why, but I need you to ring my order up REALLY FAST. I know this sounds strange, but please hurry." This was so out of character to me, but what I was about to do was so strong, I absolutely HAD to do it. On my drive home, I called my mom to tell her about it, but left out any mention of it being a "God moment" because I don't know how people feel about stuff like that and I don't like to be preachy to people without knowing if they want to hear it. Want to hear something even better? My mom, after hearing my story, said, "I have a God moment story for you, too!" ...so she heard my story, realized it was God speaking, and followed up with her own moment. Never once did I mention I felt it was God telling me to do something.
I hear you, God. And I will try harder to listen. REALLY listen.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Evan is just over two months old. FOUR TIMES in the past two weeks, I have had people ask me when I am due while at work. FOUR TIMES. One went even as far to ask "boy or girl?" ...so clearly I looked far enough along to know the gender. I don't have the guts (no pun intended) to correct them, so I just kind of smile and walk away. The first two times it was funny to me and I joked about it. The second two times... it got freaking OLD and started to make me feel really bad.
It also got me thinking, though. I take terrible care of myself. There was a time, many years ago, when I never took any medication. Ever. I remember a time I had a headache and my mom suggested I take a Tylenol. It literally never occurred to me to take some Tylenol, and when I did take some, I was amazed that it helped! I just never thought "medicine" when I had any little symptom.
Being diagnosed with post-partum depression 9 years ago after Ethan's birth, I believe, started the downward spiral of turning to chemicals to help every little symptom. When I saw my doctor and was evaluated (I was in a very, very bad spot, so medication definitely saved me, please don't get me wrong) ...I had no idea what I was taking, as I had never heard of antidepressants before. Prozac? Zoloft? Lexapro? All foreign to me. I remember she also gave me Ativan for the panic attacks I was having, and I couldn't even pronounce it. I had no idea what it was, I just knew it made me sleepy.
I haven't taken medication for the past 9 years straight and I honestly don't know exactly when it started and what started it, but I because I legitimately do suffer from anxiety and depression, I started taking an antidepressant daily, and an anti-anxiety medication as needed. My anxiety caused horrible insomnia, which lead to being prescribed a sleeping pill on top of that. Then it got to where I was dependent on sleeping pills to fall asleep, and since there is literally NO sleeping pill that is safe for every night usage, I was put on all different kinds of medications to help, none of which worked or magically cured the inability to fall asleep without relying on some form of pill. Then I started getting daily headaches, so I took Excedrin. Excedrin is VERY well known for causing rebound headaches, which meant I started taking it more frequently, which lead to taking it daily for the headaches. So I would take a pill to help me sleep, wake up feeling groggy with a nagging headache (gee, wonder why?) and take medication for the headache and caffeine for energy and to make me feel more alert, then at night repeat the cycle. It has now gotten to the point that for every little symptom, I think, "there's gotta be a medication for this." Where the heck did I go wrong??! OF COURSE I feel crummy every single day. My body has literally zero idea how to just do what it was meant to do. My brain has become so trained to think this is okay, that I have allowed it to continue far too long.
(This started out as a weight thing and I totally went off on a tangent...stay with me, here.)
Bottom line, I feel like I lost control. I eat terribly. I skip meals very often and I love sugar and carbohydrates like it's nobody's business so I am sure my blood sugar is all over the place (no, I am not diabetic) ...but that can't be helping the headaches. When I work a 12 hour shift, I will not use the bathroom ONCE during the entire time, so my fluid intake is horrendous (hello, headache!) I don't even allow my body to try to fall asleep naturally, so that thought is completely foreign to me now, but I have zero consistency in my sleeping regimen... I stay up late, some days I nap, I occasionally get to sleep in on the weekends when I'm off work and Jay is home, etc. There is no routine whatsoever. I don't exercise AT ALL with the exception of my job (which I do feel is pretty physically demanding).
So yeah. A light bulb went off in my over-medicated brain this afternoon. I hate people looking at me and thinking that I am pregnant when I am certainly NOT. It hurts my feelings and makes me feel more self-conscious than I already am. But... obviously I am showing the signs of being very out of shape to make people question it so I can't place blame on anyone but myself.
So I am going to try something new. I'm going to "detox", so to speak. I'm going to attempt more structure. Less inactivity, more activity. It's going to suck. BIG time. I'm already feeling the caffeine headache. But I am going to do this. If not for me and my own pride, then for my kids who need a positive role model in their lives and we can ALL benefit from healthy living. My 9 year old already plays way to many video games. This is an opportunity to break him from the television and get active. My 3 year old is SUPER active, but has my sweet tooth. If the two of us don't have the sugar in the house, then we will have to find something else to satisfy the urge. She's 3 and I am 31. It's time to retrain her little brain NOW while she's little than to wait until she's in her 30's like me. She's worth it.
I have no idea if I can do this. I don't have much confidence in myself at all, but it's worth a shot, right?
That's what I thought.
It also got me thinking, though. I take terrible care of myself. There was a time, many years ago, when I never took any medication. Ever. I remember a time I had a headache and my mom suggested I take a Tylenol. It literally never occurred to me to take some Tylenol, and when I did take some, I was amazed that it helped! I just never thought "medicine" when I had any little symptom.
Being diagnosed with post-partum depression 9 years ago after Ethan's birth, I believe, started the downward spiral of turning to chemicals to help every little symptom. When I saw my doctor and was evaluated (I was in a very, very bad spot, so medication definitely saved me, please don't get me wrong) ...I had no idea what I was taking, as I had never heard of antidepressants before. Prozac? Zoloft? Lexapro? All foreign to me. I remember she also gave me Ativan for the panic attacks I was having, and I couldn't even pronounce it. I had no idea what it was, I just knew it made me sleepy.
I haven't taken medication for the past 9 years straight and I honestly don't know exactly when it started and what started it, but I because I legitimately do suffer from anxiety and depression, I started taking an antidepressant daily, and an anti-anxiety medication as needed. My anxiety caused horrible insomnia, which lead to being prescribed a sleeping pill on top of that. Then it got to where I was dependent on sleeping pills to fall asleep, and since there is literally NO sleeping pill that is safe for every night usage, I was put on all different kinds of medications to help, none of which worked or magically cured the inability to fall asleep without relying on some form of pill. Then I started getting daily headaches, so I took Excedrin. Excedrin is VERY well known for causing rebound headaches, which meant I started taking it more frequently, which lead to taking it daily for the headaches. So I would take a pill to help me sleep, wake up feeling groggy with a nagging headache (gee, wonder why?) and take medication for the headache and caffeine for energy and to make me feel more alert, then at night repeat the cycle. It has now gotten to the point that for every little symptom, I think, "there's gotta be a medication for this." Where the heck did I go wrong??! OF COURSE I feel crummy every single day. My body has literally zero idea how to just do what it was meant to do. My brain has become so trained to think this is okay, that I have allowed it to continue far too long.
(This started out as a weight thing and I totally went off on a tangent...stay with me, here.)
Bottom line, I feel like I lost control. I eat terribly. I skip meals very often and I love sugar and carbohydrates like it's nobody's business so I am sure my blood sugar is all over the place (no, I am not diabetic) ...but that can't be helping the headaches. When I work a 12 hour shift, I will not use the bathroom ONCE during the entire time, so my fluid intake is horrendous (hello, headache!) I don't even allow my body to try to fall asleep naturally, so that thought is completely foreign to me now, but I have zero consistency in my sleeping regimen... I stay up late, some days I nap, I occasionally get to sleep in on the weekends when I'm off work and Jay is home, etc. There is no routine whatsoever. I don't exercise AT ALL with the exception of my job (which I do feel is pretty physically demanding).
So yeah. A light bulb went off in my over-medicated brain this afternoon. I hate people looking at me and thinking that I am pregnant when I am certainly NOT. It hurts my feelings and makes me feel more self-conscious than I already am. But... obviously I am showing the signs of being very out of shape to make people question it so I can't place blame on anyone but myself.
So I am going to try something new. I'm going to "detox", so to speak. I'm going to attempt more structure. Less inactivity, more activity. It's going to suck. BIG time. I'm already feeling the caffeine headache. But I am going to do this. If not for me and my own pride, then for my kids who need a positive role model in their lives and we can ALL benefit from healthy living. My 9 year old already plays way to many video games. This is an opportunity to break him from the television and get active. My 3 year old is SUPER active, but has my sweet tooth. If the two of us don't have the sugar in the house, then we will have to find something else to satisfy the urge. She's 3 and I am 31. It's time to retrain her little brain NOW while she's little than to wait until she's in her 30's like me. She's worth it.
I have no idea if I can do this. I don't have much confidence in myself at all, but it's worth a shot, right?
That's what I thought.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
I don't know the exact date, but right around this time last year is when I found out I was pregnant. Not with Evan. With a different baby.
How it came about is actually kind of strange. I have always used birth control and never had any issues. Both of my previous pregnancies were very much planned. I'd go off the pill, get pregnant, then resume it again. With Ethan, it took about 3 months to get pregnant. Allison took about 16 months. For this pregnancy, though, we were not planning on any more babies, so I was taking it as I always did. Then I started noticing that every single day I was having stomach aches. I never felt well. I thought nothing of it, just that it was really annoying. One day while grocery shopping, I threw a pregnancy test in the cart, truly not thinking much of it. I took it when I got home: positive. I cried. This was not what we planned. I was scared and unprepared. Little did I know, I would only knowingly "have" that baby for a week, because almost a week to the day, I miscarried. It was horrendous and so painful. I cried so much. I remember the exact moment Jay said, "I guess maybe our family ISN'T complete," based on how devastated we were by our loss.
It was then that we came to the decision that we would put it into God's hands. Jay would be turning 31 4 months from the miscarriage, so if I didn't get pregnant by then, we would make our decision final and turn towards permanent methods of birth control.
Three weeks later, I got another positive pregnancy test. The line was SO faint, but I could see it. I called my OB and she was VERY skeptical. She gave me an appointment to see her, but she made it very far out. I was nearly 11 weeks when I finally saw and and it was officially confirmed. I was pregnant again, and I was due May 15.
May 17 is when our miracle entered this world: Evan Jack. His middle name, Jack, is after Jay's Grandpa. My heart has ALWAYS told me he is still very much with us despite the fact that he passed away of brain cancer about 8 years ago. My miscarriage was what I would consider my "rock bottom" after my sister's incident in 2010. I couldn't stop thinking, "Really, God? Now THIS??" Getting pregnant again, while scary and the pregnancy was less than ideal with all the health scares, has restored my faith. I was blessed with this incredible little life, and I just KNOW a higher power sent him to me to soften my heart. And it worked. I stare at Evan in awe. Occasionally, he will look around the room and smile. He's not looking at anything in particular, but there is no doubt that whatever he IS looking at, he is seeing. I can't see it, but he can, and the smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes make me feel he is seeing something very, very special. I don't think it's someTHING, though. I think it's someONE. And the sparkle in Evan's blue eyes matches the sparkle that used to be in his great-grandpa's blue eyes.
Thank you, Jack Kowalski, for sending Evan Jack to us.
How it came about is actually kind of strange. I have always used birth control and never had any issues. Both of my previous pregnancies were very much planned. I'd go off the pill, get pregnant, then resume it again. With Ethan, it took about 3 months to get pregnant. Allison took about 16 months. For this pregnancy, though, we were not planning on any more babies, so I was taking it as I always did. Then I started noticing that every single day I was having stomach aches. I never felt well. I thought nothing of it, just that it was really annoying. One day while grocery shopping, I threw a pregnancy test in the cart, truly not thinking much of it. I took it when I got home: positive. I cried. This was not what we planned. I was scared and unprepared. Little did I know, I would only knowingly "have" that baby for a week, because almost a week to the day, I miscarried. It was horrendous and so painful. I cried so much. I remember the exact moment Jay said, "I guess maybe our family ISN'T complete," based on how devastated we were by our loss.
It was then that we came to the decision that we would put it into God's hands. Jay would be turning 31 4 months from the miscarriage, so if I didn't get pregnant by then, we would make our decision final and turn towards permanent methods of birth control.
Three weeks later, I got another positive pregnancy test. The line was SO faint, but I could see it. I called my OB and she was VERY skeptical. She gave me an appointment to see her, but she made it very far out. I was nearly 11 weeks when I finally saw and and it was officially confirmed. I was pregnant again, and I was due May 15.
May 17 is when our miracle entered this world: Evan Jack. His middle name, Jack, is after Jay's Grandpa. My heart has ALWAYS told me he is still very much with us despite the fact that he passed away of brain cancer about 8 years ago. My miscarriage was what I would consider my "rock bottom" after my sister's incident in 2010. I couldn't stop thinking, "Really, God? Now THIS??" Getting pregnant again, while scary and the pregnancy was less than ideal with all the health scares, has restored my faith. I was blessed with this incredible little life, and I just KNOW a higher power sent him to me to soften my heart. And it worked. I stare at Evan in awe. Occasionally, he will look around the room and smile. He's not looking at anything in particular, but there is no doubt that whatever he IS looking at, he is seeing. I can't see it, but he can, and the smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes make me feel he is seeing something very, very special. I don't think it's someTHING, though. I think it's someONE. And the sparkle in Evan's blue eyes matches the sparkle that used to be in his great-grandpa's blue eyes.
Thank you, Jack Kowalski, for sending Evan Jack to us.
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