Type A, for Anxious

Let’s talk about something…

As I’ve mentioned before, I am a Type A person. I have a Type A personality - To. The. Core.

Most of the time, I speak those words with confidence and pride. It is directly related to my organization, problem-solving, and planning skills. I feel like it allows me to simplify things – processes, plans, even thoughts. I believe it pushes me to be more assertive, and passionate, and strong-willed. It’s what makes me chant, “Girls!” right along with Beyoncé, when she asks, “Who run the world?”

But, medically speaking, a Type A person is not the most desirable of personalities. We are uptight and particular. Things, like straying from our plans or outlines, can upset us - physically. We get stressed easily and wear it longer. We have high blood pressure and a prevalence of heart issues. We are more prone to anxiety disorders, and thank God we find people to put up with us…

Our laid-back counterparts, with Type B personalities, live much longer. They can go with the flow and let things roll off their backs. They have simply mastered the “subtle art of not giving a f*ck.” In so many ways, I am envious. I want to let go of things. I want Heath to put a cup on the back of the sink and for my brain to tell me, “that’s alright; it’s no big deal.” Instead, I have a little itch in the back of my mind that continues, until I move that stupid cup. Ugh…

The particularity was certainly something that I was gifted by my father. I once made fun of how he stacked the mail, next to the toaster, biggest envelopes on bottom and smallest on top. Or, how he would neatly fold his paper towel, to set underneath his cup of iced water. Or, how all the items in the center compartment of his truck have a place, and are not to be touched. Today, that is me. And, thankfully, over time, I have watched some of my father’s particularities fade; there is hope for me yet!

Nevertheless, this personality of mine has always made me a bit, what I lovingly call, “crazy.” I assess things, I over-think, and I base my decisions off all of these emotions. This has made me a bit overwhelming, for lack of a better word, in the past. As you might remember from previous ramblings of mine, I have frequently obsessed about being away from my kids, the risks of SIDS, and many other things. I would dump those concerns on anyone with ears who made eye contact with me. Spewing my apprehensions made me feel comforted and more in control. That was really what my obsession was about – having control. Kids seemed to take that concept away from me. Once you have children, you quickly learn how not in control you are. You think things will go a certain way, and HA! Yeah….no, kids have their own agendas. And, ultimately, God runs the show.

For several years, I tried to explain to Heath how anxious I could get, over seemingly not very big things. I mean, everyone around me was telling me that I was over-thinking. I would agree, but couldn’t stop. 

“I’m just an uptight person.”

“It isn’t hurting anyone, by taking extra precautions.”

“I just get nervous.”

“I can keep it under control.”

"I can control it."

I seriously could control it, for several years. That is, until I couldn’t.

Almost two years ago, we made a very impulsive decision to buy a new home. We walked into a home, not planning on buying it, and then made an offer on it just three days later. The whole thing was a whirlwind, and so very much not like me. Many nights, I cried, thinking we made a huge mistake. We had three kids, and then we added another mortgage. We spent about six months showing our previous home. That meant, to this Type A woman, I spent six months cleaning the house like a crazy person, limiting the kids’ activities, and keeping them contained to particular rooms. We simplified, and organized, and planned for our uncertain future. And, I cried. I cried a lot. Honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. I was, to put it bluntly, “freaking out.” I like plans. I like knowing what the next step is. I like familiarity. The lack of control was draining me. Several evenings I would sneak out of bed, go to the living room, do fire-breaths, write in a journal, and cry. I tried so hard to control it. If I could just have a good cry, I would be fine the next day. 

One particular night, I was sitting on the couch, writing in my journal about my neurosis. I had tears streaming down my face. I was just…worrying…about nothing, and everything. I didn’t know what to think about our future. I was overwhelmed, and stressed, and tired. Heath came out from the bedroom and saw me. I tried to dismiss him, telling him that I was just a bit overwhelmed. 

This was the first time that Heath suggested that I talk to my doctor.

“I can control it,” I told him. “I’m fine.”

More months passed by. We sold our home, and decided to move into the fixer-upper that we bought. When I say fixer-upper, I can’t even begin to explain to you what that meant. We set up a temporary living situation in the lower-level of the home, with a very make-shift, but functioning kitchen. The upstairs living area, we gutted down to the studs. The environment was unorganized, hectic, and…made me crazy. I hated living in such an unorganized mess. Even better, I work part-time from home, so I got to be in this mess all day, every day – just looking around at all the things that needed to be done.

Within all of this, my brain decided to focus my worry, anxiety, and apprehensions on the safety of the kids. I mostly blame it on the unfamiliarity of the house, the walls, the layout – it didn’t feel like “home.” I still believe I have a somewhat rational fear for the safety of my kids. I mean, what mom doesn’t worry about her children constantly? But, it got to be too much. I started obsessing over it. I tried to control it. I tried to vent my way through it. One morning, I couldn’t stop my thoughts, and I actually became physically ill, worrying about the kids. Just worrying…

I couldn’t control it after all...

I called Heath and told him, “I need to talk to Dr. B.”

I imagine he was silently praising the Lord, thankful that I finally swallowed my pride.

When the words poured from my mouth, and into Dr. B’s ears, she immediately responded with, “I knew it was only a matter of time before you talked to me about this.” Unlike me, she wasn’t dismissing all of my rants. She was taking note, knowing that one day I would be ready for, well, help.

I was prescribed anxiety medicine. I was told that it may just be this season of my life, and I may find a time in my life that I can stop taking it – once again being able to control my thoughts a bit. But, for now, why fight it? Why suffer? Why cry my eyes out with worry?

So, I left the doctor’s office to go pick up my prescription. I was, ironically, anxious. Ridiculous, right? I called Heath, doing what you ask? Crying. Of course, I was. I’m going to be on meds. I was going to be taking a pill daily. There would be side-effects. What if they changed me? What if I could never go back off of them? What if? What if? What if?

I drove right passed the pharmacy that evening and didn’t fill my prescription.

The next day, I called the doctor’s office, basically asking the nurse to talk me into taking the medicine. And, she did. I went and bought them, and took them, and prayed. 

Then…I felt better. I felt so much better. I didn’t realize how “out of hand” it had gotten, until I was no longer dealing with it. That was when I decided that I wanted to talk to my family about it. It wasn’t until after I spoke about my experiences that I found out - both sides of my family have a history of anxiety. One family member, never really knew why she had anxiety and fought it her whole life (back in the “olden days,” before we understood). It made me sad.

So, I started talking about it to everyone who was willing to listen.

I once shied away from the topic, or felt the need to justify it. I know how important mental health is (obviously! Psych background!). But, having to be on this side of it, when you feel like the spotlight is on you, is not as easy as it is taught. Nevertheless, as time goes on, I become more confident in myself. I feel this weird sense of responsibility to talk about my anxiety. I hope I can make others feel more comfortable with their own struggles, and perhaps encourage them to talk to their doctor. It is not uncommon. It is not weird. It isn’t something that we all need to whisper about behind closed doors.

I know, for some, me talking about this makes them feel uncomfortable. Sorry, but really…I’m not sorry. This is the reality for some of us – more of us, I think, than you realize. 

I wanted to tell you all, because if you want to know much more about my journey in this life, you have to know this integral part of who I am. 

I have anxiety. And, I take medicine for it. And, that is okay.

Birth Story: Part 2

After finally getting to the surgery room, I felt great. I was a little scared of the spinal and I was still having contractions. But, to know there was an end in sight felt wonderful. Also, I had been to that surgery room before, when I had my gallbladder taken out; so, there was some familiarity to it all.

The spinal had a little sting to it, and I would say was very comparable to an epidural. It took a while, so I asked a few questions of the anesthesiologist. How much will I feel? Will this make me nauseous? How does it only numb me from the arms down?

I had drank some tart, grape drink before I went down to surgery. It was supposed to help with the nausea. I was hoping so. I had heard horror stories about women throwing up during their entire surgery. Nothing sounded worse than throwing up while laying on your back. Plus, talk about a moment ruiner...

I was on my back, arms strapped down, and the sheet was up before Heath was escorted into the room. They had already asked how much I could feel. It was the most bizarre feeling. With an epidural, it was somewhat scary to me. I felt completely out of control and almost paralyzed. I hated looking at my leg, trying to move it, and being unable to do so. It truly freaked me out. With the spinal, I could feel. But, I couldn't feel everything. I could feel them rubbing stuff on my belly, which I was told would normally seem cold. I only felt the movement and not the coldness. Then, she started to make the incision. I remember knowing that she was about to cut, when Heath came by the sheet. I thought for sure that he would see the blood and pass out on the spot.

When he got to me, he was feeling pretty good. He had popped a Xanax upstairs and was what I would describe as three-beer-Heath. He was invincible and when they told him that he could stand to watch, he did! I kept asking him, "Are you sure? Are you okay?"

Getting Olive out only took a few minutes. This is what I heard:

"Okay, get ready to meet Baby Olive."

"Oh, she has hair!"

"Heath, get the camera ready."

"She's no peanut."

"Here she is!"

Heath stood up the whole time, snapping pictures with the camera in one hand and video recording with his phone in the other. The video is great! :) It is kind of gross though, and so are the pictures. I thought I would spare you.

She was born at 6:42 pm.

As soon as I heard her let out her first wail, I broke down. I just cried and cried. It still wasn't quiet real to me. Nothing quiet prepares you for hearing your baby cry for the first time, or seeing them either. While I was blubbering, unable to wipe away my tears, Dr. B leaned Olive over the sheet for me to see. In her gross, bloody, crying state, she looked like Lucy. Then, as quickly as she was there, she was gone. They took her across the room to check her. Heath followed, snapping pictures like crazy.

 

We all anticipated the weight. I overheard a conversation between Dr. B and the nurses on how much they thought she'd weigh. Dr. B was pretty close, saying that she thought she would be close to 9 lbs. She was 8 lbs and 11.5 ounces. She was 2.5 ounces more than Lucy and a week early! The shocker for me was, she was 21 inches long! That was 2 inches longer than Lucy. I just kept repeating it over and over. "21 inches? Wow, really? 21 inches?"

Olive cried and cried, until Heath said something to her. It seemed as though she recognized his voice, because she immediately stopped. It was so sweet. It warmed my heart. 

Olive and Heath were off to my right and a little over my head. After about ten minutes of watching, my neck and eyes started to hurt from straining. So, I stopped and laid flat again. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks the 36 hours of little to no sleep. I was so tired. It was like my body knew that it was over and Olive was okay. I let my eyes close a few times as I jerked them back open. Finally, I called Heath over. "I'm going to close my eyes and I might fall asleep, is that okay?" 

I felt like a jerk; but, I literally couldn't stay awake. He of course told me that was alright, as he went back to Olive. I then fell in and out of sleep for the next hour or so. I woke up once because I was nauseous. I thought I might throw up. When I told the anesthesiologist, she got me a "throw-up sleeve," as I like to call them. Dr. B heard me and said that she was pushing on my stomach and that was probably what was causing it. Thank goodness the nausea passed and before I knew it the sheet was pulled down.

While they were moving me to a bed, Dr. B went to check on Olive. She is such a caring person and you can tell that she loves her job!

Funny story about the nurse in the maroon, over Dr. B's shoulder. She was a student when I had Lucy. I remembered her, only because her name is also my middle name. When she came in for the surgery and introduced herself, I immediately asked if she was a student back in February 2010. It was her. She was present for both of my girls. :)

Once settled, I finally got to hold her too. :)

She still looked a lot like Lucy to me.

We were taken to the recovery room, where I was able to have a few guests. I asked for Heath to go tell my sister to bring Lucy down. Little did I know, Dr. B had already went to get Lucy! haha. :) I think she was excited too.

Lucy was pretty excited and surprisingly not freaked out at all by the hospital. She rubbed Olive's head and talked to her. For the first time that evening, Heath cried. My sister did too. It was a special moment.

We finally got back upstairs around 9:30 pm. Good thing we have our babies on the weekend. :)

Everyone was thrilled. I have to say though, do you see Heath's sister's boyfriend over in the corner with his arms crossed? Haha. I have a picture similar to this one, when Lucy was born. Except, then, my cousin was keeping him company. I just don't think men/boys are into this stuff as much, unless it's their baby or grand-baby.

Everyone stayed only for a while and left to let me sleep. I was able to breastfeed her downstairs in the recovery room. So, I waited until the next feeding and then let the nurse take her to the nursery. We learned from Lucy, that for us, it was better for her to go to the nursery. I didn't have any trouble sleeping and was excited each and every time they brought her in to feed.

- To Be Continued -

Dear...

Dear Lucy...know that when I recorded videos of your tantrums, I did it out of love. :) I just wanted to let you see what you will have to deal with someday. Also, I want you to know that I earned every one of those gray hairs that my future self will have.

Dear Mom...I think it is absolutely awesome that you have rescued two dogs from being put down. I wish I could do more too. Buddy (her new chihuahua-wiener dog mix) is absolutely adorable! I think I love him more, knowing that he is a rescue pup. How could anyone not want him?!

Dear Grandny...I cried last night again, over something touching and completely ridiculous to cry over. It made me think of you and smile. :)

Dear Facebook...Although you are kicking out baby photos, belly photos, and baby updates left and right, I am simply not fulfilled. I need lazier friends to update their statuses more often. See what you can do about that.

Dear Lucy...You are a princess. You will always be a princess. And, princesses can achieve any dream they choose!


Dear Olive...I am sorry if you don't like chicken wing sauce. You seem to kick a lot when I eat it. I am hoping those are kicks of joy.

Dear Heath...I think that you secretly put Lucy in bed with us sometimes, just so when it's just you and me it feels roomier. 

Dear Sonic...Thank you for giving us half-priced drinks at 4:02 pm the other day. I really appreciated that. And, the strawberry slush was delicious! :)

Dear Lucy...when I take pictures of you in "time-out," I do it out of love. :) I am hoping that this spot, on top of the toy box, does not become a routine thing. Hopefully I am documenting some long, lost childhood memory of yours that won't be so clear. Also, I think that mommy and daddy are pretty awesome for letting you sit with Aurora and Miss Alex, the puppy purse, in time-out - enough said. :)

Dear Pinterest...I sure do love you sometimes. You give me the most helpful, daily tips and you make me motivated to craft and organize my home. However, you make me feel completely inadequate as a homemaker. I have also discovered that I am not that crafty...whomp, whomp.

Dear Weekend...Can you please pick up Friday-day as a regular staple? That would be lovely. Think about it.

Am I Missing a Few Teeth?

Because, if I get reverse head-butted one more time...

Oh, you don't know what the reverse head-butt is? It is when a squirmy toddler, who is experiencing either the sleepy wobbles or a major tantrum, is in your lap; they lean forward and without any warning lean back really fast, cracking their head right into your mouth.

This has resulted in some sore, and I swear almost loose, front teeth. She has even bloodied my lip! Thank goodness it seems to hurt me a lot more than it does her. The bloody lip experience is the only time she cried. I am not sure it was the pain or my moaning that made her cry. 

"So, Lucy, what did you want to watch on...oohp....son-of-a..."

No - I didn't cuss. I stuck to the Tommy Boy version.

I may have teared up too, since no one else was there to judge. The few times Heath has seen it, he just gives me one of these:

- eyebrows raised
- teeth fully in view, clenched
- nose scrunched
- head titled

Are you trying this out as you read? You should. You'll get the idea.

The expression says, "Holy crap - that looked like it hurt. Are you gonna cry?"

I am scared too. Lucy is only getting bigger. There will be a day that she pops back and breaks my nose! Nothing is worse than getting hit in the nose too. Okay, a few things. But, it is like cutting onions, water rushing up your nose, Dr. Pepper burp, and getting punched all at the same time!

Haha...did I go a bit far with the Dr. Pepper burp? Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, wish me luck in my future. I will be sure to get lots of pictures of these pearly whites, just in case they decide to exit my mouth, via Lucy's head. Good thing we have great dental insurance.

10 Days Away from Lucy

Besides the quick post last week and the television schedule for Christmas, you may have wondered where the heck I was! Or, perhaps, you didn't even notice - which is fine too. Well, I was in Mexico...on a cruise to be exact. I didn't want to say anything before hand because I am paranoid about people knowing we are gone.....you understand.

It all started when my mom got remarried. She wanted to go on a family trip to celebrate. I highly recommended a cruise, since we just loved our honeymoon cruise. When I was 8 months pregnant with Lucy we decided that we would book it. My thought process was, "Lucy will be 10 months old by then and it won't be as scary." It was a thought for such a 'non-mother.' What the heck was I thinking? Heath even asked me that a few days before the trip. What were we thinking, leaving Lucy for this long? We seriously thought it wouldn't be THAT difficult.

Well, as she grew and we grew into parenthood, I became increasingly nervous about the situation. I was basically 'freaking out' in all of my paranoid ways. In the last month I cried lots of nights to Heath, just pouring out to him how scared I was of leaving her.

As most of you have gathered, I have some control issues. I like feeling somewhat in control of the situation - especially if I feel emotionally attached. So, giving up control and trusting things will be alright is very difficult for me. I did the only thing I knew how, as a self proclaimed, organized, control-freak. I made a Lucy 'handbook' for the relatives who were keeping her.

It was a 7-page manual about her routine, feeding, teething, sleeping...you name it, it was in there!

Over the top? I know what you are thinking, "you left her with relatives (specifically her aunt & uncle and her grandma), not some bum on the street!" Yes, you are correct. I know that and I told myself that over and over again. Also, I've left her before for overnight visits with my mom and even full days with other family members. I even trust daycare to watch her for 8 hours a day!

I think it was the idea of the ship - being disconnected from the world. I kept thinking of this horrible story I once heard about a girl whose grandmother passed away while she was on a cruise and she didn't find out until she got back. No one wanted to ruin her trip and she hadn't contacted anyone back home. I just knew I would come back to Lucy in the hospital or with stitches or something! Calm down Cori, you're crazies are emerging...

Finally though, the day came. It was time to say "Until Later." I kissed her and told her how much I loved her over and over again. I prayed for her more times that day than I can remember. I was terrified. I of course bawled my eyes out, which resulted in my Aunt and my Grandma crying too. It was an emotional one for the moms.

I thought about her the entire trip. We ended up being able to check our email on the boat. It was like $25 for 60 minutes; so, we'd check it fast. Our family sent updates, pictures, and videos. It was something that I looked so forward to during the day. It almost made me cry too; but, it was a happy cry. It was exactly what I needed. Thank goodness she didn't pass any major milestones during those 10 days. I really would have been upset then!

The cruise was exactly what I wanted; well to be honest, it was what I needed. Heath and I both needed it. I needed to learn to trust and let go of a little control, every once in a while. I needed to get away from work and stress too. Overall, it was just nice to feel like Heath and I were married again! We haven't really celebrated each other in a long while. On the cruise we were able to get dressed up, go to nice dinners, relax, and actually get some alone time.



The hardest part, I thought, would be saying good-bye to Lucy. Wrong - coming back to see her was harder for me. She changed! She looked different! He hair was lighter, her hands were bigger, her face changed a little, she just looked different! She even smiled differently! If you ask Heath, I am delirious. Hey, a mother knows these things and she had changed, seriously! I felt so left out. That was when the guilt came pouring over me. She was kind of shy and confused when we got back. It broke my heart. I just held her tight and told her that we'd never leave her again - to that, Heath laughed. He thinks I'm dramatic; I'm sure. Today, she is finally back to 'normal' and I am used to her always changing looks.

Would I do it again? Yeah, probably. I feel like a much more seasoned mother now, for some reason. I feel like I took a major step that I would have had to experience at some point. I just skipped ahead a few chapters. Plus, the cruise was so fun and as I said before, it was great for Heath and me.

Thank you, family, for keeping my baby girl safe. I owe you! :)

I Want My Mommy...

Ah, how many times have we been holding some one's child and they utter those words.....or worse, the child just lets out a gigantic wail. Both result in a blood-curdling cry that encourages all those in ear-shot to run.

Well, although very uncomfortable for the so-called "stranger" trying to hold the child, it has to be a little nice for the mommy (or daddy). The baby, or tot in some cases, finds so much comfort in their mother's arms. What a wonderful feeling! To know that of all the people in the world, they trust you the most. They rely on you to protect them, to take care of them, they ultimately love you more than anyone else in the world!

I never knew how beautiful the words "she wants her mommy" sounded, until now.

Lucy is a good girl. She lets out an occasional wail or two at people when she is cranky; but, otherwise, she likes everyone. I honestly believe that a bum off the street could walk up, take her out of my arms and she'd just poke at his scraggly facial hair. Alright, perhaps she has a little bit more of a 'stranger-danger' radar than that; but, you get my point.

I'm pretty sure daycare has made her that way. There are the main women who work in daycare that she knows very well and then, there are the other, part-time ladies that are always in and out and changing.

Sometimes I get sad because she doesn't seem to really prefer me. When I walk into a room, she smiles at me; but, then she'll do it to a stuffed animal too. So, my high goes right out the window. A few weeks ago she even started raising her arms for me to pick her up! That felt wonderful! She wanted me to hold her - yay! :) Now, she only does it sometimes.....which usually results in me saying something along the lines of, "Oh come here, ya turd...."

Perhaps when she gets older, bumps her head, or is scared, she'll find comfort in her mommy's arms. And, perhaps 9 months old is just an oblivious age, where she doesn't really care who's around. And, perhaps, I think WAY too much. :) Just perhaps.

I know I mean the world to that beautiful little girl; but, I sure wish she still liked to cuddle, like when she was really little. And, I cannot wait until she knows how to give hugs!

So, next time that you are semi-uncomfortable holding a wiggly child who wants their mommy, remember: it makes the mommy feel great! :)

UPDATE: Lucy is army crawling like crazy! She even sometimes gets herself into a bear-crawl position. She can go from crawling to sitting and wants so bad to pull herself up. Also, she is eating puffs and putting them in her mouth on her own! There are lots of changes going on in our house and more baby proofing has to be done. Exciting times!

Did I mention Christmas is coming soon? :)