The Decision to be a Stay-At-Home Mom

I have been a stay-at-home mother (SAHM) for almost four years. That seems kind of crazy to even type. Four years. Wow. While I feel like I am finally getting the hang of being a SAHM, I also am not at all getting the hang of it. I am convinced that I may never be used to this ever-changing role that I have taken on. Life is that way, though, right? As soon as you feel like you have established some type of routine, you get that curve ball that resets everything.

(Type A cringe of grand proportion)

I have been wanting to address my/our decision for me to stay home ever since the decision was made. 

I’m telling you now, this post will be long - like six Word pages long. And, before I jump in, I am gonna say that I am in no way trying to guilt working mothers or convince them to stay home. I think you are amazing and I am in awe of you every day. I have been blessed to be both a working mother and a SAHM. Both are awesome and make me proud to be a woman/mother. As Beyonce would ask, "Who run the world?!"

The first time Heath and I discussed me becoming a stay-at-home mother, I had just had Lucy and was returning to work after an eight-week maternity leave. I struggled putting Lucy in daycare. If you at all read my blog back in 2011, you know how much I struggled. I just couldn’t get over it. But, many other apprehensions won out each time it was discussed and, well, I continued to work. With Olive’s birth, we visited the discussion again. At this point, we had become quite financially “comfortable,” and the idea seemed even further from a reality. I actually liked my job at that time and the people I worked with. The daycare was in my building and since Heath worked at the same place, we rode to and from work together. It really was a great situation for a working mother. It seemed stupid to walk away from something so seemingly ideal.

Then, without going into much detail, I became unhappy in my working role. It became very apparent to me, and every single person around me, that it was time for me to transition to something else. That very difficult point in my life was what pushed me to make the decision that I had been avoiding for many years – five years actually. I was pregnant with our youngest and again, Heath asked me, “Do you want to stay home?”

Every time I heard that question uttered, I immediately became nervous. I can distinctly recall moments in the car, on the way home from work, physically trembling with fear just talking about it. I had several concerns, and fears, and irrational worries. I have decided to share a few with you. Or, maybe ten...

1)      Money

The number one concern was an obvious one – money. We needed to figure out if we could even make it work, financially. I knew that we could, in a grand sense. However, we had certainly become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Were we ready to take that cut?

Four years later…
I do not take this point of discussion lightly. Honestly, when it comes to a two-income family, having one of them stay at home is sometimes not even an option. The fact that it was even a consideration for us, was and is a blessing.

At first, it was a huge adjustment that we took on as a challenge. It was actually kind of fun. I took my monthly “allowance” and knew that with every dollar saved, I could celebrate with that money – a night out, a new gadget, some type of splurge, and so on. I wasn’t sure if I could keep up the momentum, but was willing to give it a go. Thankfully, we saved a lot of money right away. Daycare for three children was going to be about 30-40% of my salary anyway. So, there was a huge savings. And, I didn’t need to buy work clothes any longer. My dream of living in Target yoga pants and cheap sweatshirts was now a reality. But, most of all, we were no longer using our money to make us happy.

When I was working, I became extremely unhappy. I was stressed, and pregnant, and working in graduate school, and took my anger/sadness/discontentment home with me every single night. We got home at 5:30 PM, unloaded and settled in by 6 PM, and the last thing I wanted to do was put a meal on the table. So, we ordered out a lot. A lot. I mean, A LOT. I think we were spending almost $600 a month on just eating out. We would justify it with working so hard. We had also started justifying big splurges too. When you work your ass off and are unhappy, you buy things to try and fill your cup. You feel like you deserve it; you work all the time and deserve to use some of it on something that makes you happy, right?  Well, we immediately stopped doing that. Mostly because we had to; but, we soon realized that we didn’t need to anymore. With me staying home, we were now happy without the splurging; we were content.

I must also mention that we were very fortunate in our path. It wasn’t long after I started staying home that Heath applied for and received a new job. It has been an amazing blessing in our lives in so many ways. Moreover, it did relieve quite a bit of the financial strain as well. Then, I applied for and received the opportunity to teach online courses as an adjunct faculty member at a local institution. It is sporadic and not a guaranteed income, but it helps financially (and I love it and hope to elaborate more on that another time).

2)      Judgment from other People – Society

I kept wondering what other people might think about my decision. Would everyone think I was lazy? Would they think that I got fired? Would they think that I wasn’t smart enough? And also, for me, I was in the middle of a graduate program. The idea that I might start staying home and not “using” my degree, at least right away, seemed silly.

Four years later…
I still struggle with this. Because, let’s be honest, society is judgmental. SAHMs and working mothers both get judgement. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. For me, I am very insecure about this point in particular. When I thought about people asking me what I did for a living, I would feel sick. How could I say, “I stay at home”? Looking back, I think I may have judged SAHMs a bit too. I don’t even know why exactly; I guess it felt like the “right side” to be on. I blame ignorance. 

The entire idea of being scared of what society might think makes me laugh now. As I have become more comfortable in this role, and found other BA SAHMs out there, I don’t feel embarrassed or apologetic. I feel empowered and ready to fight ‘em on it. I am not lazy. I am educated. I am organized. And, WE ARE HAPPY. Period. That is all that matters. It was right for our family. It isn’t right for everyone. But, for us, it is.

3)      Judgment from other People – Our Family

Thinking about how Heath’s family might react scared me. Would they think that I was “taking advantage” of him? Would they think I should be doing more, financially, to contribute? And, of course, would they think I was just being lazy?

Four years later…
I was absolutely terrified to tell our family that I was going to be staying home. I made Heath tell his parents. I stressed how important it was for him to let them know he was supportive of the idea. Because, that was KEY. If he didn’t support the idea, it wouldn’t work. While I “run the show” at home. None of this is even possible without Heath. I acknowledge that and probably don’t thank him enough for it. 

In the beginning, while everyone was nice about it, I could see the fear in their eyes. They were scared for us. We had a nice home, I was in graduate school, and we had a third baby on the way. No one really knew what our finances were; but, I’m sure it appeared scary from the outside! The fear was again reignited when we decided to take on a fixer-upper, and had two mortgages for a brief period.

You can really only do so much to give family comfort. It took time, I think, before they could see that we are doing alright. And, it took time to see how much happier we became. 

4)      What if I am not meant to be a SAHM?

What if the idea of staying home seems great, but I wasn’t meant for it? I am not much of a “kid person” - really. That sounds terrible; but, I’m not. I ruled out being an Elementary School Teacher many, many years ago. So, what if I was just not built for this? What if I quit my job and hated being at home? It’s not like you can just go back to your old job and be like, “Ooops. Never mind.” And, finding a new job that I liked and was paid similarly was not guaranteed. 

Four years later…
If I said that my first months were easy, I’d be lying. It takes some time to get used to being at home. I felt guilty for any second that I wasn’t doing something. I would basically follow the kids around, picking up anything and everything, making sure the house was spotless. Moments that I now realize are necessary for recharging and sanity, I would fill with multiple activities each day. While Heath never said a word to me about it, I always felt this immense pressure to have the house looking beautiful and have dinner on the table when he came home. That was my new job, right?

Heath has said many, many times that he doesn’t expect anything. And, thank the Lord for him, because you know what? Life still happens. Some days I don’t get everything done. And, sometimes things come up. And, sometimes the kids have bad days. And, sometimes I have bad days. And, sometimes we make frozen pizza for dinner. When I finally embraced that idea, I embraced the reason for staying home. The priority for me was the kids.

Yes, staying home has also allowed me to get more things done during the day, to allow for more family time in the evenings. It allows me to be more involved with the kids’ school lives. And, I could list about a billion other things it gives me the opportunity to do. Bottom line is: I gambled and I won. I love staying at home. And, also, after being at home…I’m still not a kid person. Turns out, you don’t have to be. I just have to be a “my kids” person.

5)      Adult Interaction

Being a working mother, you aren’t necessarily privy to all of the SAHM mother programs or activities, day-time volunteer opportunities, or who to even call for play-dates. Everyone I was really good friends with and all of my family, at that time, worked. I would be at home with a 2.5 year old and a baby full-time; my five year old would be there when not in school. Could Heath carry the entire load of my conversational yearning?

Four years later…
I struggled a lot in the first year. I had a newborn too; so, that may have been a lot of the issue. But, mostly, I was not familiar with the SAHM “scene.” Where do I meet other moms? Is there an app that will match me with them? Swipe left? Right?

It was a blessing that a friend of mine suggested our local MOPs group (Moms of Preschoolers). We meet once a month and I absolutely love it. I look so forward to the meetings; but, it has linked me to other SAHMs in the area. I now have a weekly women’s group I attend, and many numbers to text for impromptu play dates.

SAHM full-disclosure: playdates are totally not for the kids, y’all. They are for our sanity. And, maybe a tiny bit for the kids…I mean, they usually sleep better burning off all that energy...

I also decided to just be more open to social interaction. If another mom started up a conversation at t-ball practice, I welcomed it. I never had a reason to seek out new friendships before. Now, it seems like I have so many, and I have so many people to reach out to for anything. My support system grew considerably! 

I don’t like to give advice, but I’m gonna. (Actually, I love to give advice, but acknowledge, like, who am I to be giving advice? Anyway, here is my advice…) If you are invited to something, go. I mean, if the only thing that keeps you from going is social anxiety and the fear of being awkward, then please try it. I am SO awkward. You have no idea! And, I am so glad I chose to say yes and to go. The first couple of times are scary and weird; but, you WILL figure out who you have commonalities with. It won’t take long before you…dare I say it?... "find your tribe.”

6)      My Husband Might Resent Me

I worried that Heath my start to resent me at some point. The first time we had to say no to a purchase, because it wasn’t in the budget, would he be mad that I wasn’t working? Seeing other people go on expensive vacations or buying this or that, would he be upset with our decision? And, when I was able to sleep-in, or do something fun with the kids, would he be angry that I got to do it and not him? 

Four years later…
Heath truly might resent me. In the depths of his soul, there may be some resentment. I don’t know unless he tells me. And, I check in on it from time to time. Heath consistently tells me that he is happy with our set-up, that I can stay home with our children. He is happy with all of it. And, I believe him. I know that there is always the possibility that he may someday change his tune. So, I just make sure that I remember such. I try to make extra time for him. I try to be thoughtful. And, I say, “Yes, you deserve it,” when he suggests buying something for himself – most of the time that is…

7)      A Resume Gap

I had a big worry that I would have a resume gap, which I wasn’t even sure at that time how big of a gap that might be! I was concerned that when I decided to jump back into the workforce, people wouldn’t respect the gap and my reason for it – especially men. And, was I ready to start out at a base salary again, and being older this time around?

Four years later…
As mentioned, I was fortunate enough to eventually start a part-time gig. But, before that, I decided to keep my resume alive by volunteering. I was able to apply for and get a position on a local board for a non-profit organization. It was something that related to my work experience, was something that I was passionate about, and gave me an outlet for that yearning to work. That last part probably sounds silly. But, after my first couple of meetings, I told Heath, I just liked the strategic thought and being able to use my work experience and degree in some way. It was a nice fulfillment for me. I got to be successful outside the home as well.

I have also become so comfortable in my role at home that I've become quite defiant about it. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. The more you love your decisions, the less you care what other people think about them. So, if you stay home and you have a resume gap, and a potential boss doesn’t respect it, then what does that say about them? It would indicate that they aren’t going to be A) a decent person to work for, or B) understanding when it comes to family needs. So, maybe you don’t want to work for them anyway… 

8)      I Cheated My Older Children

Since I didn’t make this decision earlier, when my girls were born, if I stayed home with the youngest, did I cheat the others? Will this make me even sadder about missing out on the time my girls spent at daycare? 

Four years later…
I don’t know if I can or will ever overcome this insecurity. Because it is just that. It is something that I personally deal with. I know other mothers who did the opposite of me; they stayed home with older children and then worked while the younger ones went to daycare. And, what it comes down to is doing what is right for our families. I believe in God’s plan and His timing. We weren’t necessarily in the position for me to stay home before, and I don’t know if I would appreciate staying home as much had I not experienced what I did. God is in control and I’ll know if and when it’s time to make another shift.

9)      Am I Thickening that Glass Ceiling?

I had previously experienced outright sexism in the workplace, more than once. I won’t go into details; but, I was told that since I was a female and someone else was a male, that [this] is how it was going to be. If I quit, was I just perpetuating the stereo-type? It felt like by staying home, I was telling everyone that I “wasn’t right for the workplace” and “my place was at home.” 

Four years later…
Turns out, my place is at home - but, not for the reasons that sexist turd-bag implied…

I don’t believe that SAHMs are “less-than.” And, maybe I am perpetuating some stereo-type by staying home. But, I believe that I could become the first female president tomorrow, and those stereo-types will still exist. All I can do is continue to fight for women who want to do more, and empower my girls. We don’t have to do ALL things that men do. But, we should be able try, if we want, right? And, it goes the other way too, men. Stay-at-home Dads, are ya with me?!

10)   Independence

If I stayed home, I would be 100% financially dependent on Heath. I trust my husband. I do. Really. But, giving up all independence is kinda terrifying. What if I stay home, face many of the aforementioned concerns, and then Heath finds himself a 20-something-hottie to leave me for? To Heath, this concept is laughable. Literally, every time I have mentioned this idea, he laughs at me. I didn’t, or don’t, truly believe it would happen. But, I mean…I am a realist as well and I am not going to say that it is impossible. I would be trying to jump back into the work-force and adjusting to my own, likely lower than before, female (78 cents on the dollar) salary - all while adjusting to all the other issues a separation brings. 

It was a very small, in the depths of my mind, concern.

Four years later…
I have to trust Heath. I have to let go and let God. There are some things you just can’t obsess about. This, coming from someone who obsesses about everything! But, really, I can’t dwell on an insecurity. If I continue to work on my marriage, and just keep trying, then I can feel content with my efforts. You can only do so much; I am not in control of other people’s actions, and I never will be – no matter how much I would like to be sometimes. So, I try my best and that’s all I can do. And, I respect that.

_____________________________________________

It might be time, or age. But, I am finding comfort and contentment with my decisions. My life. My thoughts. All of it. I know that our life can turn upside down at any minute. I’ve witnessed it. I just continue to have faith in my family, my support system, myself, and most importantly, God. 

And again, working moms, you are killin' it. The grass is green over here. But, your grass is green too. Different greens, but both green. I promise.

Stressing for the Sake of Kids

Once upon a time I had one child in elementary, one in preschool, and one that was lovingly attached to my leg most days. I got up in the morning, barely put myself together, got the two older ones around, and maybe found a pair of Uggs to walk to the garage and get into the van. I buckled the youngest one in, who may or may not have been in his pajamas still, from the night before. At our school drop off, we were impressing no one.

During that time in my life, we also lived in a home that was a bit outdated and in need of a Johanna Gaines-type overhaul, but was completely maintenance free. It was new enough to be clean and nice; but old enough to have peach grout and honey oak everything. I had done all that I felt I could with that home, and cleaned almost daily. Also, I was not involved on any local Boards or teaching online yet. So, my cleaning schedule was fairly easy to maintain. And, yes, I had a cleaning schedule... (I heart organization.)

Do you have a clear photo in your mind of what my days were like? I actually had plenty of time to do things. Time to enjoy my kids before they were involved with numerous things themselves.

So, when Red Ribbon Week came around back then, and the school released the themes of each day, we went all out. We busted out the markers, old t-shirts, tulle, ribbons, and glue gun, and we made costumes. I remember that Lucy loved it and even told me on one such day, "Today is going to be epic." Whew! What expectations, right? When is the last time you got your hair done and that was enough to make the rest of the day "epic?" It meant a lot to her.

Fast forward to now. I am teaching three courses online, involved with one Board officially, one unofficially, helping out with the kids' activities, and am in the middle of a complete home renovation (different house, which we took down to the studs). I'm not saying that I am any busier than any other Mom. I am probably less so than most. Nevertheless, compared to two years ago, I am swamped.

We received the Red Ribbon Week schedule again this year. They had cut down on theme days; I believe it to be the voice of parents who implemented such a change. Only three days this time, and they were fairly simple (or so it would seem).

Today, Tuesday, was superhero day. I am sure this day was chosen as an easy option, as most kids have superhero gear already. But, sadly, we do not. Heath and I liked the Batman movies when we were kids, and who didn't love Captain Planet, etc.?! But, we have not gotten much into the Marvel comic characters or superheros, as adults. We saw Deadpool and that's about it... Naturally, this translates to our children and they do not watch much of that stuff or have clothing representative of it either. That meant, to participate, I would have to be creative. Ugh! I love being crafty...when I have time. But, last night, was a busy night. I had a board meeting, and Lucy and I had practice. I still needed to complete a few items for the courses that I am teaching, and write a letter for another Board. It was a chaotic Monday, whether typical or not.

So, when Lucy asked about the "Superhero outfits" at approximately 9 PM, I didn't know what to say really. I wanted to say, "Nah, we aren't going to do it." It wasn't even that I had these spectacular ideas and didn't have the energy to execute them. I really didn't have a clue how I could "create" superheros from literally nothing. Cut t-shirts into capes? Glue an emblem on the front of an old shirt? No idea.

I did what any mom would do; I dismissed Lucy, told her to get to bed, and finished my to-do list with multiple huffs and swigs of caffeine. It wasn't until I poured myself into bed at midnight that I thought, "What am I going to do about super-hero day tomorrow?" I was kind of irritated with my younger self, for setting the bar so high, dammit. But, the kids loved it and I knew that I simply couldn't tell them to forget about it. Lucy would undoubtedly tell me that she was "the only one who wasn't dressed up." I know that it wouldn't be true, but the guilt would feel like it was.

I quickly searched Pinterest for a few ideas, came up with some possibilities and prayed (not literally) that I could find everything I needed in the morning. Zzzzz.....

When my alarm went off this morning, I wanted to hit snooze. I am a big fan of the snooze button. I start my alarm almost an hour before I need to get up, just so I can hit snooze multiple times (about six times, actually). The only thing that got me out of bed was Red Ribbon Week, Superhero Day...

Thankfully I found a Batman shirt that my mom bought Henry, and a mask that my sister bought him. Typical boy - he was set. Easy peasy. Then, the girls...By some miracle from God, they each had black pants, black shirts, and black shoes that FIT and were CLEAN. Hallelujah! I quickly threw on some cat ears for Olive, a random blue cape for Lucy, and we were well on our way to Cat Woman and a female Batman. Olive had no clue who Cat Woman was, but went along with it, as I knew she would.

After searching for face paint, I came up with just one little black pen. It had to work. I drew masks on the girls and held my breath, while they stood in front of the mirror.

"I love it," they said. And, I knew my status as "Awesome Momma" was safe.

I somehow managed to be successful today, with Red Ribbon Week - theme day number 1. But, it was not without shortness, and complaining, and irritation, and telling Olive the same thing five times. Or, saying, "Hold still!" to Lucy enough times to make me blue in the face. It was accompanied by "hurry up"s and "we are gonna be late!"s. It was a very grumpy, rushed, stressful morning.

I sit back now and wonder. Will they remember the "awesome" costumes and face paint that Momma helped them with for school? Or, will they remember that Momma was a freakin' psycho this morning, who wouldn't stop rolling her eyes, huffing, and asking, "Why aren't you doing what I said?!"

Of course, in those moments, we think the important thing is the day. The task at hand. If we can just get to school on time, dressed up, I will be successful. But, is that true? If I am a complete asshole in the process, is it really being successful? And, successful at what exactly? I'm praying that the joy of what today brings will erase the memories of their stressed out, jerk-of-a-Momma.

It's funny, right? You think you are doing something great for your kids, but in the process are not being a great example... I believe we do that a lot as parents. We stress out trying to create these amazing memories for our kids; but, we often run the risk of their memories being about our stress instead. Aren't several of your own memories about your parents, just them being completely fed up with you and your siblings on trips and vacations? Yeah. They were just trying to do something nice for us and it was incredibly stressful.

Tomorrow's theme is "orange day."

Friday is "red day."

I think I can handle those...

The Mother & the Teacher

The mother and the teacher. No, not the daughter. You see, Lucy is teaching me sometimes much, much more than I am teaching her. When you see yourself or hear yourself through your child's eyes, well...it is humbling, amazing, heart-warming, a bit terrifying, and sometimes seriously upsetting.

You know those typical stories of the parent who pushes their child to be like them or follow the path that they want? You know, Varsity Blues, Ice Princess, She's All That - that kind of stuff.

"I don't want your life." - Dawson Leary, or whatever his name was on Varsity Blues

or

"You can't quit. This is your dream!" - Mother
"No, mom. It's your dream." - Daughter

I watch those and think, "Pssshhhh...silly parents. Who is so blind that they push their kids like that?"

Well, I may not be that extreme. But, I do see myself pushing Lucy to do things a certain way, say things a certain way, and so on. Then, I am somehow brought back to reality....usually with a metaphorical punch to the gut that leaves me reeling.

What do you see when you look at this photo?

I imagine that most of you will note the pure pride and joy that is plastered across that beautiful face of Lucy's. She is so happy. I bet she really was! She loves crafts and especially painting. I even chuckle a bit when I think about that goofy grin of hers. But, when I see it, I am struck with guilt. My stomach does one of those flips and my heart sinks a bit. I feel a small failure pumping through my veins.

You see, Lucy brought this particular piece of art-work home with her. She was proud. I told her that I loved it; but, truly, I was a bit concerned. It was a blob of black on construction paper. It had bits of green and purple too. But, together, the three colors created a dark, border-line creepy picture. When I looked at it, I saw sadness. I acted happy for Lucy, and well, I really was proud that she painted it herself. I couldn't help myself though; I told her that next time she could use happy colors, like yellow or red - bright and cheery. She completely shrugged me off...like the complete jerk that I was. Good for her.

Then, about a week later, this picture was posted on her preschool's Facebook page. I am a jerk. Look at the colors she had to work with...green, black, purple, and orange. No yellow. No red. I sunk into the awful lesson that I had just learned. I had judged. I had judged my own child. Here I am, thinking that she has some type of deep-seated sadness that came out through 10 minutes of painting time. But, does that child look sad to you? She had no other color options. I bet she didn't even mind. She did what she could, with what she had. Shame on me for assuming anything else...

Today I looked at Lucy and realized that she is growing so fast. There are so many things that I was not and am not prepared for as a parent - things I didn't even think about! But, I am learning and trying my best. I guess that is all we can do...

I forgave myself. The guilt remains; but, I'm okay with that. It's a good reminder...

Lesson learned.
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Whomp, whomp. I know. Sorry to be a downer. I think it is a nice reminder to take things lightly. But, most importantly, I want the girls to know that I recognize that I am making mistakes. I get it. They will also make parenting mistakes. It's inevitable to fail in life in multiple ways. The most important thing is to recognize it, learn from it, and move forward. :)

I will try to continue with the blog posts as much as possible. Occasional posts are better than none, right? My thoughts exactly. We are doing better. I still have my sad days. I have a lot of stressful days (grad school). Overall, though, we are doing well. We are happy and healthy and I couldn't ask for anything more. Welcome 2014! I hope you all have a wonderful year, filled with love and happiness!

Loss

I debated a few times whether to title this post "Loss" or "Lost."

I guess I should first tell you that this is not a fun story. It is in no way exciting or upbeat. Please do not expect it to be so.

A few weeks ago I was late. And, by late, you know what I mean. I haven't been keeping track of my cycle, so I wasn't exactly sure how late I was. But, Heath and I were fairly certain that there was no need to consider the alternative to having a period; because, we had been careful. As days passed, Heath finally woke me up in the middle of the night one early morning. He insisted that I take a pregnancy test the next morning. I agreed.

I woke up early the next morning and thought about what Heath had said. It got into my head and I couldn't get back to sleep. So, I hopped out of bed and took one. I was shocked. I have taken these many times before. I usually pee, wait, try to decide if a line is showing or not...not this time. As soon as the wetness hit that line, it immediately read positive. I was, well, shocked. I guess Heath and I hadn't been as careful as we thought.

I ran to the stairs and yelled at Heath. He said he just knew it; he was so excited. I was still shocked and well, overwhelmed. I am a planner. It was not in sync with my plan. I had just started graduate school. Olive wasn't even one year old yet. We didn't have a vehicle that could fit three car seats. All three of them would be in high school at one time. I was just overwhelmed.

Heath had a golf tournament that day. So, I was home alone. I literally just sat around all day, freaking out. My heart would race. I was so worried about being able to handle it all. I was afraid that people would call us crazy.

As time passed, we told more and more family and friends. I was excited. Babies are miracles and the best blessings! However, I was not at all prepared for the responsibility and was still worried about it. I kept telling myself that by April, we would be ready. Heath was so excited. I'll be honest; he didn't seem this excited with either of the girls. He just knew this one was a boy. Since it wasn't planned, it was so much more exciting to him. Since it wasn't planned, I was having a much harder time wrapping my brain around it.

I went to the doctor to have it confirmed. I had another freak out moment at the doctor's, when she told me congratulations. I just couldn't believe it was all real. Could I do this?

We weren't really sure when exactly I got pregnant. And, my last period was really light. So, Dr. B suggested that I get an ultrasound. Then, we could know how far along I was. I was excited at the chance of this. I had never had one this early. So, around, what I would guess was at 8 weeks or so, I went in with Heath for an ultrasound.

Checking in was normal. We joked around about twins and wondered if I could really be 12 weeks along or so. We guessed a due date of around April 25th.

"What pregnancy is this for you?"

"My third."

"Two live births?"

"Yes."

"Any miscarriages?"

"No."

We started with a normal ultrasound of my stomach. I had no idea what we were looking at. It was all blobs to me. I did see a blob once that I was guessing might be a little baby spec. But, the tech didn't say anything. She measured stuff. She looked at the colors, which if I recall correctly was blood flow. I felt really uneasy about her demeanor. She wasn't talking us through it at all. I was then asked to go to the restroom and wrap up in a sheet for an internal ultrasound. Once in the bathroom, I could hear her ask for someone else to come into the room.

I tried to talk myself through my uneasiness. I was being paranoid. You know me. I was always worried about this stuff. I came back out and another woman had joined us. They just stared at the screen. They didn't turn it toward us. They didn't say, "Here is your baby." Nothing. I tried to read their faces. It was just stone-cold silence.

I looked at Heath and mouthed, "Is everything okay?"

The tech caught me and asked if I was comfortable. I said, "Yes; I am just worried about all of this."

She didn't respond.

The other woman left the room.

I was fairly certain that I knew at that moment. This wasn't good.

The other woman came back into the silent room.

She asked if I was going to see Dr. B after the ultrasound. I was going to. She said that Dr. B wanted to talk to me about today's results.

I asked, "You can't tell me anything?"

The tech looked at me, curled her mouth downward and said, "We aren't picking up a heartbeat. There was a pregnancy. The baby is measuring 6 weeks and 4 days, but that is as far as this baby got."

I started to sob, hard.

Heath rubbed my arm. He was so strong for me. He kept telling me that everything was going to be okay.

They asked if we needed a moment and I just cried on Heath's shoulder. I had done this. I was overcome with guilt. I had worried about it too much. I had treated this baby like an inconvenience in "my planned out life." I had acted like it didn't fit into my story. The guilt came rushing over me. This was my fault.

They had asked if I wanted ultrasound pictures. I did. I got two pictures of our baby - Baby Christiansen #3. I had already started taking pregnancy photos and filling out a belly book. We had already made plans for this baby - the car seat, when to buy his or her crib, and so on. It wasn't something that we could just ignore and pretend didn't happen or exist.

I took my photos and a book they gave us, "Dealing with Miscarriage," and walked out into the hallway. I quickly tucked the purple book into my bag. I didn't want everyone to see the woman with the purple book and know what had happened.

We got to the car and cried some more. Heath told me that it wasn't my fault. He was just so incredibly strong for me. He kept it together for me and allowed me to sob on his shoulder uncontrollably. I really couldn't ask for a better husband or father for my children.

We finally met with Dr. B. She echoed Heath's comments to me. "This is not your fault. It is nothing you did."

She said I had a bleed. That is fairly common. But, it was too close to the baby and the baby wasn't able to develop. We didn't really ask questions at that point.

I felt so guilty. I had sat in her office less than a week before, crying because I was so overwhelmed. Now, I was sitting here, babyless. How ungrateful am I?! What a terrible person I was. I did want that baby! I did! I loved that baby. I prayed for it.

We discussed the actual miscarrying. I still haven't miscarried. I am carrying around our baby. I am still carrying it with me. The thought of this, just breaks my heart.

I chose to miscarry naturally if I could. I hear that it can be quite emotional and traumatic. I can't bear to think of it. I just want to get it over with and start to feel closure with this loss.

Right now though, I am lost. I don't really know how to move forward. I can't sit still for too long or I start to think about it. I get upset. As quickly as I knew this baby was here, it was gone.

I am just trying to keep busy in the meantime. Heath and I don't really know how to move forward while something like this is still looming. Please just pray for us. We need all the support we can get. Despite what Heath tells me, I still have moments of incredible guilt. How dare I question God's plan? But, again, this must have been his plan. I am still trying to figure out why we were to experience this. I hope he speaks to us soon.

Thank you for all of your prayers. We will make it through this. We are a strong family. Please, if you see me, do not ask me how I am doing. I may just break down into tears. I prefer not to do this in public. I hope that isn't a selfish request...

I hope I can feel "normal" again soon. Before now, I thought that miscarriages were commonplace. I felt sad for them, but I didn't realize how a loss such as this can make you feel so lost.

I debated sharing our story. I thought that it might help me in some way. I like to know that I have a support system out there, praying for us. I am also so forthcoming with you guys about my pregnancies and our life changes. I felt that I needed to share this too, in a way. I thought too that perhaps writing it down might make it feel a little more real to me...I don't know. I just don't know...

She Works Hard for the Money

Too hard sometimes. :(

I am very often reminded at work, when I look at Lucy's pictures on my desk, that I only spend approximately four hours with Lucy every weekday.

How sad is that? Does it make you want to cry? Well, it does me sometimes...I am missing out on so many things! I could start naming off all of the wonderful things about DayCare (teaches social skills, independence, sharing, etc.). However, I could also name a few, sometimes selfish, reasons for her to be at home (bonding time, individual attention, consistent potty training, day trips, etc.).

Either way, it seems you can never win...(wahhh-wahhhmp).  That was my Debbie Downer sound, by the way.

I don't want to start a debate; because, obviously there are benefits to both. I just want to know if the grass sometimes appears greener on the other side to all of us. Full-time working moms: do you ever wish you could stay home with your child(ren)? Stay-at-home moms: do you ever wish you had a career and extra money?

Broken Hearts

I broke Lucy's heart this last weekend. In the process, she broke mine too.

Since we have three stories to our home, we often times have to "cage" Lucy into one area. This particular evening, Heath had closed our bedroom door to corral her in our bedroom and master bathroom. I was in the bathroom painting my toenails.

Lucy seemed particularly interested in my makeup bag on the counter.

I tried averting her interest by giving her other random things to play with: tampons, a brush, my mascara. Nothing was working. She kept reaching for my makeup bag.

"Lucy. No."

She would look at me with a blank stare, then immediately go back up to her tippy toes, reaching for the bag.

"Lucy. I said, no!"

She dropped back down to her flat foot and flopped her reaching arm back down to her side. She then grabbed my brush and lifted it to her hair, moving it back and forth - as if to act very innocent.

I looked down to paint another nail and then wham! My makeup bag came tumbling down. It was unzipped; therefore, random containers and eyeliner pencil shavings went flying through the air, then covered the floor.

"Lucy! What did I say? I said, no, no, no!"

Don't take my exclamation points wrong; I wasn't yelling. Was the voice stern and frustrated? Absolutely.

She watched as I squatted down, trying to find and pick up items and throw them back in the bag. Then, I discovered what I had anticipated - my blush. It was crumbled into a million pieces.

I let out a huff.

I pointed at it, showed it to Lucy, and said, "Look what you did. You broke it."

I threw it in the makeup bag and looked up just in time to see the saddest face I had ever witnessed.  Her brow line dipped, her eyes were scrunched, and her bottom lip was pushed out to the max. Her arms were at her sides and she just stood there in her little pajamas, with her belly protruding her pajama pants.

The tears came slowly and she only let out the tiniest wail. Her heart was broken.

My heart? Well, it didn't take long and it was broken too. I felt awful.

I shoved the makeup bag out of the way and opened my arms to her. Without thinking twice, she fell into them, hugging me tight. I immediately started telling her how sorry I was.

"I'm sorry baby. I know you don't understand."

All I could imagine was that mean uncle on 'Home Alone' saying, "Look what you did, you little jerk!"

I felt horrible. Reflecting on it, I really didn't get hard with her; but, she must have sensed my irritation. She is getting so smart that I sometimes forget that she is still just 17 months. She may know what 'no' means; but, she doesn't understand that if she pulls my makeup off the counter that it could break.

While we hugged on the bathroom floor and I apologized while rubbing her hair out of her eyes, I think our hearts both healed. It took her a few minutes to forgive me and it only took one tear for me to forgive her.

This discipline thing is going to be harder than I thought. I can't wait until she can fully understand.

Oh, the Guilt Look

I get it almost nightly in our house.

The scene in the evenings is often that of me sitting on the couch, while Heath is on the floor with Lucy.

Don't get me wrong, I play with her. But, she isn't that interested in anything for too long and moves on, usually across the room. I simply can't keep up. The window, balloon, baby gate latch, curtain tie, remote, iPod Touch, shoe, or sock is far more interesting.  Believe me too, the list goes on!

Heath, however, will remain on the floor almost every evening, even if he is watching television or Lucy is across the room.  This doesn't stop him from giving me 'the look'. It is very much opposite of this face, which everyone else sees.

Here he is:

Don't let that cute face trick you though. He can give a pretty guilty glare at home...

Alright, alright, so I'm exaggerating a bit. But, he does say all the time, "Come down here; play with us."

Play with us?

With us?

Hmmmmmm........

Where is Lucy at?

Stacking the toys...

and the pride of stacking them, without 'the tower' falling.

I think Heath just wants me to play with him!

Banned from DayCare

Alright, so I'm not officially banned, per se.  But, you can decide for yourself.

When I first signed Lucy up for DayCare I had a hard time.  And, yes, again, I am typing a word in my own preference, DayCare, as opposed to Day Care.  I think of it as a noun, and not an adjective and verb; so, I put the words together...I'm odd; I know.  You and spell check will just have to look on with red squiggles of disagreement.

Anyway, back to my story: I had a hard time leaving Lucy at DayCare. It just plain made me sad.  I've discussed it before, here and here. I hate leaving her for so many hours a day and I feel like I am missing out on so much of her life. :(

However, the one big plus was that I got to drop in and visit her!  I would go down for at least half an hour at lunch. And, sometimes I would swing by on my way back from the restroom (since she is in my building at work). It was wonderful!  I would sit and hold her or watch her play. DayCare didn't mind if I stopped in every once in a while.

I remember the first conversation I had with them about stopping in to see her.  When I asked they said:

"You are welcome to come by. But, when she starts standing at the door crying when you leave, you can't visit anymore."

Well, that seemed, fair enough. I had watched parents drop off their bawling, kicking, children at DayCare several times. It was understandable that the DayCare women didn't want to deal with that all the time. They were the ones who had to deal with the fit, noise, and nose blowing.

I just never imagined Lucy would be that way. She loved the other children. she loved the DayCare women. She goes there everyday; it's routine. She would surely understand that we stopped by for lunch and that it wasn't yet time to go home.

Nope. I was wrong. I had apparently refused to accept that this developmental stage was unavoidable and completely disregarded everything that I had studied in college (my major was psychology).

Lucy was slowly showing signs that she was moving into this stage. She wanted to be held more. She was getting more weepy and scared of people that she wasn't around all the time.  She had even started whining 'Momma' or 'Dada' when she was upset. Why didn't I see this coming?

Heath and I were walking on eggshells. We knew that she was in a "delicate" state. So, we started skipping Mondays.  We thought that we'd let her get back into routine a little and then go visit her later in the week. That seemed to work for about a month and a half.

Then, I went to see her the other day. (This is where you can add the dramatic 'Bomp, Bomp, Booooomp' of the timpani.)

Lucy did alright at first. She wanted me to pick her up, and I did. Then we played on the floor. When it was time to leave and as soon as I took one step toward the door,…she flipped! I mean head down, grimace, silent gasp, huge tears, and then the ‘growly’ wail. I immediately snatched her back up and begged her to stop. I knew what it meant.

Sometimes when she was upset, I could give her to the Director and Lucy would stop crying. The Director was one of Lucy’s favorite people. This time, when I handed her off, Lucy had accepted the fact that I was, in fact, leaving; but, she didn't have to be happy about it. Before I even said “Bye”, Lucy was blowing me teary kisses and waving, all while whimpering. I continued to beg her to stop. “It’s okay. Please don’t cry, hunny.”

That is when the Director said it. “You know what we have always said; when they start crying when you leave, you can’t come visit any more.”

I just shook my head up and down and then closed the door. I got about halfway up the first flight of stairs when I heard a very familiar outburst. It was Lucy. :{ I then called Heath to tell him about it.

“Do you think that means that I’m banned?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you really think that they would ever just come out and say that I can’t come back?”

“Probably not. But, it probably means that we shouldn’t visit any more.”

That was not what I wanted to hear. However, I knew he was right. And, I totally understand what DayCare is getting at. And, as Heath pointed out, we don’t want to do that to Lucy either. It’s sad.

So, I am being my dramatic self and saying that I’m banned. My glory days of visiting are over…What will I do with myself at lunch now?! :(


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Mommy Confessions and Possible Ramblings

I’ve decided that I’m my own worst critic. I judge my ‘mothering’ skills way more than anyone else does – or so I think. Although, I did offer to change Lucy’s diaper at Daycare the other day (since she went while I was holding her) and the one woman stood next to me the whole time I changed it. I completely felt like I was in some type of diaper changing contest. I think I only scored a 5 on speed and maybe a 6 on technique. It was crazy how it had me all sorts of rattled. I know it seems stupid, but I am a first-time mother. I can’t help but question myself around ‘older’ moms.

On with my story……

I often visit BabyCenter.com and enjoy the different facets of their site; it was a great lunchtime visit when I was pregnant. They have this one area of polls where moms confess their ‘bad’ techniques and other moms ‘vote’ to admit whether they too had done it. Basically, it makes you feel less guilty when you see that 86% of other moms do it too!

Last night, was a Lucy and mommy night. Heath has been hanging out with his sister’s boyfriend lately. They are on a men’s, slow-pitch softball team. I don’t ask a lot of questions; I just allow the man time he needs. So, it leaves Lucy and me alone for nights of bonding. She wasn’t awake for very long after he left though. Once I laid her down, I quickly grabbed her video monitor, my bottle of water, and a snack. I made my own little ‘veg station’ in our living room, with the Chihuahuas curled up next to me. I had hooked the computer up to the TV and I was officially ready to watch numerous episodes of ‘Greek’ on hulu.com.

I think I watched three episodes before I thought I should peel myself off the couch. That darn show is so addictive (I recommend it to anyone though! :)). I, then, thought I would hurry and clean up before Heath got home and he saw that I was a slug all evening. I cleaned up the living room, got rid of the lazy evidence, and took several items to their rightful homes. The dishes went to the sink, my kicked off sandals went to the bedroom, and my snack wrappers went to the bottom of the trashcan. Alright, I’m lying; I couldn’t hide the finished off box of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch!

It seemed everything was in place – time to nab the laptop and settle into my new lazy spot in the bedroom. Oops, one more stop; the dogs have to go to the bathroom. Hurry up, Chico! Jeez, doesn’t he know that I have some valuable Greek to be watching. We finally made our way to the bedroom; “elevator!” I call to them while standing next to the bed. They know that this means I will pick them up and put them on the bed. They “‘take the elevator”, haha – our family is just corny like that! ;)

I was ready for another episode! I had all my essentials….wait…Lucy. I glanced around the room. Are you kidding me? No monitor. I remembered my water bottle, hair ties, sandals, a magazine, the laptop, the Chihuahuas, and I forgot about Lucy. I left her video monitor in the living room. Wow. I immediately felt guilty. How could I get so wrapped up in television and cleaning that I forgot about Lucy? I felt and still feel so guilty about it. How could I let her leave my mind, even if it was for a second?

I keep telling myself that it is alright. It means that I am finally comfortable and feel like she is safe in her crib, alone. Lots of people don’t even have monitors. I could have heard her if she would have started crying, so it isn’t like she was necessarily ‘unsupervised.’ Are these just excuses to justify bad behavior? I can’t help but doubt myself. Once again – first time mother here people!

At least I didn’t got to Paris for the holidays with the rest of my family and leave her at home, alone. ;) Okay, okay, I better end this post before the corniness gets too out of control!

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

I am not quite sure what double-blogging is, but this may very well be an example of it. Oh well, I am not really a typical blogger and who sets up these rules anyway?

Alright, I’m not going to ‘hem-haw’ around anymore. I am just going to lay it out there. Lucy rolled over for the first time and I missed it. Did you read that? Lucy rolled over for the first time and I missed it!

I think that I would have handled it a little better, if, say, Heath would have been the first witness. But, Daycare? I’m so sad. I feel like…yeah I’ll say it, the last kid picked in dodge ball. Even worse – when they finally got around to picking me they flat out said, “You can’t play with us.” I feel so left out. Yes, yes, I can hear the teeny tiny violin playing a song just for me. But, I felt like this was her first real big milestone.

I walk into daycare today and they say to me, “I set Lucy on her tummy for just a second and she rolled right over.” I was excited and overwhelmingly proud…but, but,…Heath did you hear that? He, too, shared in the excitement and proud pats on her tummy (which was protruding over her lacey, melon-colored shorts). I wondered if he felt like I did. The only word I can think of is: sad. I am just sad about it. Disappointed? Not really, not in Lucy anyway. Depressed? Kind of, but I’m not going to go cry in a corner or anything. Regretful? Maybe.

Once Heath left, our Daycare provider and I tried to recreate the moment that I had missed out on. Lucy hated it though. She kept looking at me like, “What is this? You hold me, remember?” When I saw one little tear roll down her nose, I had to pick her up.

Guilty? Yep, I also feel that. I already leave her for eight hours every day. I miss out on eight hours of her life every day. Now I have to feel bad about this too. Someone once told me, "It isn’t the quantity of time you spend with your children, but rather, the quality." That’s some pretty good advice. Hopefully my feelings about it will carry through the next 6 years, until Lucy goes to school – then, with the next child and the next. Until then, I will have to repeat my newly created mantra, “I will see her roll over eventually. I will see her roll over eventually. Rolling, rolling, rolling.”