telling stories

May 17, 2012 By 19 Comments

I’m a story-teller.

I like to tell stories of things that happened to me.

True stories.

I’ve been telling you stories here in this space that I call Sluiter Nation for almost five years.

In fact, this is my 1,000th story.

Some people may see that number as huge.  I can assure you my family is not stunned by that number.

They have been listening to me tell stories for far longer than the five years I have been writing them down here.  Publicly.

In fact, my parents had listened to so many of my stories, that they started tuning them out.

My brothers don’t listen to a word I say anymore (nor do they read this blog) because they have story-overload from all the years as kids that I talked non-stop.

I once dated a guy who said, “Kate, if I listened to everything you ever said, I would do nothing else with my life.”  While everyone in my “real” life agrees this guy was a total douche bag, they also agree that this may be the most accurate statement ever uttered.

Which is probably part of why I started Sluiter Nation so long ago.

It was a place to collect the stuff we did and share with those who wanted to “listen”.

I started taking this blog pretty seriously once Eddie was born.

I’m not from a family of storytellers at all.

Finding out what my mom and dad were like in high school or as newlyweds (they were married for five years before having me, the oldest) is next to impossible.

It’s like pulling teeth to get my grandparents to talk about the past.  I get head nods or “oh, I suppose,” when I ask about their lives.

And I know there are stories to be told.

Both of my grandpas were in the service and served in wars.

My paternal grandmother drove across the country to California to marry my grandpa before he was shipped out.

My maternal grandmother (who has passed) raised four daughters on welfare and taking in other people’s laundry because my grandpa was no where to be found.

My maternal grandfather has battled alcoholism and womanizing and has been fairly absent in my mom’s life, but is now facing his mortality.

No one talks about anything.

No one tells stories.

Once I found a few pages from a steno pad that my mom had scribbled a few funny things I did and said.  It is all I have from what it was like to mother me in my first years of life.

While I was good about putting together Eddie’s baby book (ok, more than “good”; you should see the thing…it’s EPIC), it is really just a collection of pictures and statistics.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ll do the same thing for Charlie, but this blog became something that no baby book could house.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I blog and for whom.

And I’ve noticed a lot of other bloggers have been writing about this question too.

I started this blog for me.

So I could talk without interruption or my family rolling their eyes or turning away and starting their own conversations.

I continued this blog because people started reading…they were listening voluntarily to my stories.

When I realized people were reading, I lost sight a bit of why this blog existed in the first place.  I let myself explore sponsored posts and giveaways and reviews.  None of it felt right though.

Not here in Sluiter Nation anyway.

No, this space was not for profit.

And since announcing that I have thought long and hard about what this blog is for…why is it here…and whom it is written for.

I would be lying if I didn’t say I wrote for readers.

It’s not my primary reason for writing this blog, but since getting regular readers, I do keep you in mind.

I have found over the last two years that I can be an honest voice for things like motherhood, depression, anxiety, miscarriage, and other loss.

I have noticed when I look at my stats (which admittedly is not often), that I get more “hits” on days where I confess something or bleed something difficult out.  Days when I am happy and at peace and sharing the cute and cuddly stuff?  Not so much.

But I don’t adjust my content based on stats.

This won’t turn into a “depression blog” or a “loss blog” or a “miscarriage blog”.

If, for whatever reason, you all start to leave me one by one, I won’t stop writing.

Because ultimately, I started this blog for me.

But I keep going for my boys.

For my family.

For those who will come after me and find my words when I am nothing but a name on a family tree.

I will write about the happy, the sad, the painful, the mundane, the funny, the poignant, the messy, the ugly, and the lovely.

I hope you will keep reading, because I do so love what you have brought to my life.

But know that if you leave, this blog shall go on.

Because it has to.

Someone has to tell the stories.

Someone has to be the story teller.

Someone has to preserve the memories big and oh so small.

I have decided that someone is me.

So here’s to 1,000 posts.

And hopefully there will be thousands more.

Filed Under: Blogging, writing Tagged With: , , ,

Being Recruited

May 16, 2012 By 33 Comments

Guess what.  It’s Recruit day.

Guess what else.  It’s my 999th post.

And I’m giving it to Erin.

I have absolutely no idea how mine and Erin’s paths crossed.

I am pretty sure it had to do with The Red Dress Club since she was a fantastic participant around the time that I was over there. She wrote my absolute favorite fiction piece ever Pink Doughnut Perfection…it is heart breaking and just wonderful writing.

She is awesome.

She is the beautiful Jewish mom to three (twins plus one) and is working on writing a book.

I feel pretty confident that she is the perfect person to give my 999th blog post to.

Read on…

*************

recruit
re-cruit [ri-kroot]
noun
1. a new member of a group, organization, or the like.
2. a fresh supply of something.
3. a newly enlisted or drafted member of the armed forces.

When Katie asked me to be a Sluiter Nation Recruit, I was elated and surprised. I checked my calendar twice to make sure it wasn’t April Fool’s Day. It wasn’t. So then I moved on to the next phase, FEAR.

Because when I think of being recruited for something, I remember the trauma of junior high and high school, when my lack of athletic ability reared its ugly head. Just like the giant zit that took up permanent residence on my chin. Every day was scary.

I self-consciously changed into my PE uniform, surrounded by girls who already had real bras with real breasts to go in them. The locker room was always stuffy from sweaty bodies, and the spray deodorant made it humid and hazy to boot. I choked on the fumes and took comfort crouching in the same small corner. I turned my back, avoiding everyone, hiding my concave chest and trying to squash the dread about the impending “draft.”

A gaggle of girls standing on the football field looking at the team captains. Said captains oozing confidence, ability and superiority. Name after name was shouted out, followed by shrieks and squeals and long legs running to join one of the teams. Someone tossing a softball around. The clatter of bats as they hit the ground. The PE coach dropping the rubber bases at their worn out spots in the grass. And me, digging the toe of one of my Keds into the dirt, begging to disappear. Me. Always, ALWAYS one of the last two or three to be reluctantly recruited. These types of memories are typical when I think back to high school. Shame on those teachers and coaches. They should’ve just counted us off to form teams so that we could’ve maintained some dignity.

Thank goodness this isn’t 1994 anymore.

And fortunately in BlogLand, no one is ever last or alone. There are so many of us, an infinite number of blogs and writers; it’s not just Dooce anymore. It’s an honor and a privilege to be a Sluiter Nation Recruit today, and guess what? Katie is going to be posting at MY place this Friday! But if you feel lost/last in BlogLand, remember these things:

Put yourself out there. Facebook, Twitter, Google+, etc.

Reciprocate when possible.

Reach out to someone in some way.

Spread the (bloggy) love.

Pay it forward.

Write a guest post. Be a guest poster. Offer yourself up. Beg. Bribe. Be funny.

But most of all?

Be you. Be authentic. Tell your story.

Don’t strive to be someone you’re not just to be recruited. It’s okay to admire other bloggers and aspire to be like them in some ways; but it’s not okay to lose yourself, pretend or put on a false facade.

After all this, I’ve realized I’m not last anymore. I’m not standing there all alone feeling like crap.

I’ve been “recruited.” I’m surrounded by all of you lovely bloggers, writers, and people I’ve come to call my friends–even if we haven’t met in person yet.

Thanks to you, I’m getting a second chance. I’m making more memories. Better memories. For the first time, I’m a part of something big. Something real and true and fun. And I love it.

Thank you, Katie, for letting me share my heart here today. And for “recruiting” me.

*************

Aw, Erin.  I love having you here.

And YOU should go find more of Erin!

Read her blog (especially on Friday…ahem): The Road to My Writer Roots

Follow her on Twitter.

Like her on Facebook.

Filed Under: Sluiter Nation Recruits Tagged With: ,

I was a senior hottie…again!

May 15, 2012 By 32 Comments

Ok, so.

There is this thing that my bloggy friend Liz did last year.

It involved showing you what I looked like in high school.

It was pretty rad.

So she is doing it again this year.

And I’m playing along again.

Get ready…because…

I WAS A SENIOR HOTTIE!

Last year I purposefully chose pictures that flattered my grunge-inspired over-sized sweater look.

This year?

I am letting it all out.

This was the end of Senior Year. I am not sure how those legs supported my body.

 

this was actually junior year. I had bang envy. Can you tell? (also? hello, mom jeans)

senior year again. Me and the besties dressed for a '70's dance. yeah. we had no idea what the 70's were about. clearly.

and of course the classic senior picture. through a fake barn window. Class of '96, baby.

and because we are comparing this year…

taken on Sunday. This is as recent as it gets, and yes, Ed has the super smile going. (also? shut up about the weeds)

I just realized that by looking at these pictures, you would never know I had a YEARS long blond phase.

Huh.

Anyway, I have no idea what category my pics fall under.

You tell me.

The categories are:
Hasn’t Changed Since High School (pfft)
Should Have Been Prom Queen (we didn’t have prom queen, but if we did?  BAM!)
Are You Really The Same Person (other than the more weight/bewbs and less unibrow? clearly)
Most Likely to Date Jake Ryan (I love the movie, but have no idea what this category means. I mean, I’m not Molly Ringwald)
Senior Hottie Sweetheart (the catchall category when none of the others fit. Um, probably)

So…what do you think?

Be honest (Mark, I know YOU will be the most honest), I can handle it.

Filed Under: Katie Tagged With: , ,

two quick

May 14, 2012 By 12 Comments

Dear Charlie…

I don’t remember any two months of my life going by this quickly.

Not even Eddie’s first two months.

In fact, you still seem so little to me, Charlie.  I have to keep looking back at pictures of Eddie at this age to see if he was wearing what I think you will fit into, or doing the things you’re doing, or using the stuff you’re using.

Because it just doesn’t seem possible that you are anything but that tiny little floppy newborn that came home with us two months ago.

But your definitely NOT floppy anymore.  More like bobbley.

You can hold your head up between a 45 and 90 degree angle when you do tummy time on your boppy.

But truth be told, you prefer that I “stand you up” because you recently found your feet, and you have a better view that way.

And when I do this?  You lock those little legs, straighten that back up, and hold your head completely still for a few seconds before it wobbles a bit.

You are so strong!

Your 2-month appointment is not until Friday, but you still have that annoying plugged tear duct.  We might have to take you to an optometrist to have it unclogged…I’m crossing my fingers that the doc thinks it will do it on it’s own.

Your mystery “butt bump” is pretty much gone.  Sometimes we will see it inflame a little, but it’s mostly not even noticeable.  I hope to have this confirmed with the doc too, so everyone can stop worrying about it.

Your personality is sprouting and growing like crazy.

Although you sleep so much!

I mean, I know babies sleep a lot, but I have to ask the internet daily if babies really sleep this much.  (I am assured, yes, yes they do).

But when you are awake, you crack me right up.

You are starting to coo and “talk” all the time.  I like to think you’re going to be a story-teller like your mom (and brother), but we’ll see.  You are pretty chill like your dad, so maybe you’ll keep your stories until someone asks about them, like he does.

You’ve started actually interacting when you are awake too.

You like like to look into our faces (while we look back at you.  You get mad if you feel we may be ignoring you for whatever is on TV or our computer screens) and react to our facial expressions.

Your smile slays me.  Usually it’s in response to me smiling at you, but every now and then you smile out of nowhere like you just thought of something hilarious that you’re probably not going to share…or your laughing at me.  It’s one of those things.

Oh and you have found your hands!

Just this week you have started concentrating on those things at the ends of your arms and how you can move them at will. Which usually means putting them together in front of you and then bringing them right up to your mouth to lick and suck on.

You are a very scheduled little guy.  We didn’t have to try very hard either. You came home as an “eat every three hours and sleep the rest of the time” kind of guy and we are following your lead with changes you need.

Right now you like to eat 4 or 5oz, poop, play/chat, and then promptly fall asleep for anywhere from 2-4 hours at a stretch.

There are rarely times when you are just mad with no reason.

You love being moved around the house to look at “new” surroundings, so I put you in your bounce seat and take you with me while I do laundry or other tasks.

Speaking of your bounce seat, you love it.

In fact, you will even nap in it.

Another sure fire way to get you to sleep is put you in the Moby.

I love how close you and I are.

You love to be on me or near me at all times.

If I have been gone, the minute I get back, you turn to my voice.

If you are having a hard time calming down, I can always help by putting my face close to yours and quietly “shh shh shh-ing” near your ear.  You’ll immediately turn into me, so our faces touch, and quiet down and doze off.

If you had a choice to sleep on/near me or anywhere else in the whole world? You would pick me 11 of 10 times.

All this is so new to me.

And it’s going by way too fast for my liking.

It is SO fun being your mom because I get to watch you do this every day!

Can’t see the video?  Click here.

I love you, my Charlie Bird…
Mommy

************

Oh, and I have a WINNER for the Self-care package…it’s….

YAY KIM!!!  I emailed you and you have 48 hours to get back to me before I choose a new winner.

Filed Under: Charlie Tagged With: , , ,

Project 365 {week 19}

May 13, 2012 By 2 Comments

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!

(also my baby is 2 months old today…WHAT?)

This week has been AWESOME!

*all photos taken with my DSLR except at the parade on May 9 (that was my point and shoot)

May 6: Eddie went out and got the paper. Eddie: 0, Paper: 1

May 7: tummy time is teaching him to suck his fists. This is not the point of tummy time, Charlie.

May 8: Junk Food Tuesday for the win. We hit up the Tulip Time food booths for dinner.

May 9: Tulip Time Dutch Dancing and Parade. (Jack and Eddie)

May 10: Bath night...guess who got new bath letters?

May 11: someone has been learning that he has hands

May 12: Momma gets a new ride, yo.

 See what I mean by AWESOME!

And today is Mother’s Day.

Please, oh PLEASE head over the Postpartum Progress and support the Mother’s Day Rally.

Each year Katherine asks survivors of postpartum mental illnesses to write letters to new moms.

My letter goes “live” at 4pm est.

But you should read them all because they are beautiful and inspiring.

And just for you.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Filed Under: Project 365 Tagged With: ,

fighter

May 12, 2012 By 5 Comments

Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
It makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter*

The beast crept in while we were still in the hospital.

It saw it’s opening when every other person in the world held my baby rather than me.

It sneaked in as I encouraged Cort to hold him and snuggle each night in our hospital room, and it stuck to me as the nurse came and wheeled him out to the nursery as Cort left for the night.

It disguised itself as normal as I spent more than the allotted “normal” time crying about everything.

Then the baby started crying…screaming, rather.

And didn’t stop for three long months.

The beast wrapped itself around my brain and whispered in my ear that I was not enough.

That I couldn’t be what this baby needed.

The beast robbed me of my memories of the good times when the baby did not wail.

It put blinders on me so that I could not see myself learning to mother.

Rather, I began to believe that the baby would be better without me.

The beast moved into my chest and preyed on my heart.

It tried to tell me to leave this baby and my husband.

All I did was cry.

I was so mean to everyone.

I couldn’t even mother the baby right.

Why did I even try anymore.

As the beast had it’s way with my heart and mind, something kept me going…

kept me rocking in that chair with that tiny anger ball of an infant…

made me get up in the night and provide nourishment and love…

wouldn’t let me leave him to feel alone while he wailed…

something made me keep trying to be a mom…

something put a sheila over my soul…

or someone.

Until I could get help.

And even now, in the days when the beast sits crouching in the corners of my mind,

and in the crannies of my heart…

someone shines a light on it so it scurries away.

Or at least reminds me that I am not helpless.

I can claw and scrap and kick at that beast.

I do not need to be passive.

When I think that I cannot,

his smile tells me I can, and I will.

He didn’t let me give up.

He made me fight.

If Charlie healed me, it’s because Eddie made me a fighter.

Already my sons are protecting their momma…

and they don’t even know it.

our mad-we're-not-gonna-take-it-anymore faces. otherwise known as "Llama Faces" 'round here

*lyrics from Fighter by Christina Aguilera

*************

Where else I’ve been this week…

Thursday I guest posted at Naked Girl in a Dress…I Ain’t Afraid of No Teenagers.

Today I have TWO posts up on BNV:  Placenta: It’s What’s For Dinner and the next in my school series: Getting Schooled Part II: Private Schools

Filed Under: anxiety, depression, Eddie, Katie, mental health Tagged With: , ,

in this moment…i am healed

May 11, 2012 By 26 Comments

This moment…

I am unshowered at almost 2pm on a Thursday.

I have barely eaten anything, and only peed once since getting up this morning.

I have no make up on.  In fact, I didn’t wash my face last night either, so maybe I have some smudged leftover eyeliner on.

I’m still in my jammies.

I could fall asleep if I wasn’t typing these words.

and I feel healed.

Because also in this moment there is a small gift snoozing on me.  smiling in his sleep.  frowning in his sleep.  sighing. stretching.

we are draped with a blanket a knitting club from church made for him.

The TV is off and instead a mix I made for my ipod is playing softly from the kitchen while we take up resident in my chair in the livingroom.

and I feel healed.

It’s been 2 years since I wrote about my depression.

It’s been almost 3 years since I had a wee bundle in my arms.

Despite all that I have accomplished in the past three years, I still carry guilt and hurt in my heart that my experience with Eddie during his first year fell short of wonderful.

Had I been unshowered and idle under a sleeping baby on a beautiful sunny day three years ago?  I would have cried the whole time.  I would have felt incapacitated.  I would have stored up anger and resentment in my heart and taken it out on Cort as soon as he walked through the door.

But today?

Today I could totally put the baby down.

I could do laundry and change sheets and scrub floors.

I could shower.

I could pack us up and run errands.

But I am choosing not to.  I am choosing not to.

Colic is not choosing for me.

Depression is not choosing for me.

Anxiety is not choosing for me.

I am choosing for me.

In this moment, I am sniffing a baby head every few seconds.

I am closing my eyes and letting myself rest.

I am not feeling needed anywhere but right here.

I am managing my commitments.

I am staring at my baby…his tiny nose and fingers and toes and lashes.

In this moment…I am healed.

it's not glamorous, but there is no where else I would rather be.

 

Don’t forget…one of the reasons I am thriving this time is because I am taking care of myself.  I want to help YOU take care of yourself too, so enter my giveaway!

Filed Under: anxiety, Charlie, depression, Katie, mental health Tagged With: , ,

I Ain’t Afraid of No Teenagers

May 10, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Today I am the Guest Writer at Naked Girl in a Dress.  I am so honored to be chosen since her Guest Writers are always people I admire.

*************

I am not good with little kids.

I mean, I have two little kids: an almost 3-year old and an 8-week old–both boys–and I LOVE them.  I think they are cute and funny and smart and awesome to hang out with.

But I don’t get them sometimes.

And they don’t get me.  They for sure don’t get my jokes.

Although I have trained them to laugh with me.

(WITH me, people.  Not AT. WITH.)

Many of my fellow moms with smalls talk about how terrified they are of the TEEN  YEARS.

I am so not nervous.

Not even a little bit.

continue reading my words at Naked Girl in a Dress

Filed Under: my writing elsewhere, writing Tagged With: , , ,

you belong with us

May 9, 2012 By 17 Comments

I just realized that I have been doing Recruits for over a year.  It all started last April with Nichole.  Can you believe that?

Anyway, I have been giddy with excitement to bring you today’s Sluiter Nation Recruit.  I asked her awhile ago not knowing what she would say.  I am not sure she considers herself a blogger even though she blogs.  But she has it.  That thing…you know what I’m talking about…that makes for an amazing blogger.

And she’s related to me.

MacKenzie, author of Stepping Stones, is my sister-in-law.  Cortney’s sister.

Both of us are the only girl in our families.  Neither of us had a sister until I married her brother.

Over the past seven years of being her sister (and specifically since we both became mothers), I have felt a bond that is so very different than I have with my brothers.

The day she told us they were starting the adoption process, I cried with joy.  Not only was she going to make us an aunt and uncle, but she was opening her heart and home to save a child.

Little did we know it would be TWO children.

Since their arrival in December, MacKenzie has made me so very proud.

Grab a tissue and read her letter to her boys, Kingston and Kyrie.

*************

My Sweet Babies,

I can’t even begin to tell you how much my life has changed since you entered it.  Everything I’ve known for the past 30 years has been turned upside down.

You made me a mommy.

You taught me how to live on 2 hours of sleep or less a night.

And still function.

You showed me that I can love in a way I never knew about.

You helped me learn 100 tricks to getting food in your belly without it being spit right back out at me, followed by your giggles.

You have changed my life so very much.  And I know this is only the beginning.

But then I think about your sweet little lives.  In the seven months of your lives before you knew me and daddy, you have experienced so much.

You had to lose your birth family in order to join ours.  Which is something that even though you were infants, I know you felt.  I know you grieve.

You then lived in an orphanage.  And were cared for by a new set of people.

Only to be moved to another place.  Where you met your special mothers.  Woman who became special to you.  That you grew to trust.  Maybe even love and bonded with.  You spent the majority of your life there before meeting us.  And I think you probably thought you were finally home.

But you weren’t.

And then what had to be the hardest transition of your life happened.

You met your mommy and daddy.

And we swept you away from everything you knew and loved.  We took you from your beautiful country.  From the sweet brown faces you were familiar with.  From your friends.  From all the smells, sights and sounds you were used to.

And into Michigan.

I know it was hard, my darlings.

I know you were unsure of us.  Of our unsteady hands.  Of mommy’s tears for no reason.  There were lots of times I cried right along with you.  Sometimes out of happiness.  Other times because I didn’t know what to do for you.

You were unsure of the changing formula, and the doctors visits.  The antibiotics.  The tummy aches. The sleepless nights.

Slowly and surely, we found our rhythm.  You found comfort in my arms.  And slowly (OH SO SLOWLY) you started to sleep better.  You beat out your tummy troubles, and we finally got rid of that nasty parasite.

And every day you learn more.  You laugh and play.  You are both crawling EVERYWHERE.  And fast.  And Kingston, you’re walking more every day! You get into everything you shouldn’t get into.  And you look me straight in the eye before you do it, you silly boy.   You capture a room with your adorable expressions.  Kyrie, you laugh at everything.  Especially when I tell you no.  You shoot your hands straight up in the air to show me how big you are, and with SUCH confidence.  And the stories you tell me.  I cannot WAIT until I understand your babbles.  Because I already know you are hilarious.

But my loves, I often wonder about your hearts.  Do you know I will love you forever and ever?  Do you know that no stranger will ever come and take you away again?  I worry that you do not know.

Because you still have not lived with us for longer than you’ve lived without us.

And at one point, we were the strangers that took you away from what you knew.

And sometimes at night, you cannot be soothed unless you are in my arms.  And if I even think about putting you down once you are asleep, you wake up immediately and cling to me.

Oh, how on these nights I never want to let you go.

I promise I’ll never let you go.

I want you to know we are your forever family.  You are home.  We love you with every ounce of our hearts, and a little bit more.

I will always kiss your tears away.  I will always cuddle you.  I will always let you snuggle up next to me at night when you cannot sleep without me.  I will protect you, no matter what.

I’m your mommy.  Now, and always, darlings.  I’m your forever mommy.

*************

I might be partial, but not only are those boys some of the cutest ever (not counting my boys of course), but MacKenzie is one of the most kick ass moms ever.

And she’s a pretty flippin’ awesome sister too.

Filed Under: Sluiter Nation Recruits Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

self-care is not self-ish

May 8, 2012 By 27 Comments

The last time I was eight weeks postpartum I was crying.

Constantly.

Because Eddie was crying constantly.

My first day home alone with him after Cort went back to work he cried from the moment he woke up until about 15 minutes before Cort walked in the door that afternoon.

I remember sitting in my bed with him trying everything that people had suggested to me to try and soothe my precious newborn.

By the time Cort came home, I had not showered, eaten, or peed all day.

I was in my chair with an infant who had exhausted himself and passed out.  And I was afraid to move for fear he would wake up and it would happen all over again.

Turns out this fear was legit because for the first 3ish months of his life, Eddie screamed.

He had colic.

Something FIERCE.

As a new mom who everyone predicted would rock the mom thing because “you are SO organized!” and “you are so good with tackling issues!” and “it comes so naturally!  DON’T WORRY!”, I was flailing about like a cat in water.

In order to keep the facade of the mom who does it all, I put every single one of my own needs not just on the back burner, but out of the dang kitchen.

Doing anything for myself seemed selfish when I had a husband who was working a full-time job and a baby who couldn’t be soothed.

Shouldn’t it be me who is up every night, all night?

Shouldn’t it be me who gives up showering and leaving the house?

Shouldn’t it be me who gives up time with her friends?

Shouldn’t it be me who gives up cute clothes for frumpy “mom” sweaters?

I was his mother, damnit, I was supposed to make sacrifices.

This was my life now…an endless sacrifice.

And then I got sick.

Giving up who and what I am completely to ONLY be “Eddie’s Mom” contributed to invasive thoughts, anger bursts, and sob fests.

I became mean to everyone other than Eddie.

The Baby Blues turned into the Baby Rages FAST.

After nine months of this I was finally diagnosed with postpartum depression and anxiety.  And now, almost three years later, it has been suggested that I may have even had a bit of post-traumatic stress syndrome from the emergency c-section and the lack of bonding I had with Eddie in the hospital.

You can imagine I was nervous that all of this would come back when I had Charlie.

But here I am at eight weeks postpartum, and aside from a bad four days of Baby Blues when my milk was coming in (and drying up), I have been amazingly great.

This time I decided to call bullshit on all that “selfless” crap of turning myself into a raving lunatic for the sake of appearing to be a perfect mom.

Right from Charlie’s birth I demanded more self care.

I needed quiet time in the hospital.

I announced I didn’t want at home visits until at LEAST three weeks postpartum.

I allowed my friends to help me even if I felt like I didn’t need them.  They made me laugh and feel like myself.

I asked for help and requested time out of the house alone.

I allowed myself to just take naps and stare at the baby during the day…instead of thinking I had to clean and do a million things while he slept.

If there were days when he needed a buddy, I was that buddy, with no guilty feelings of what didn’t get done.

And I took a long weekend away from “being connected” just so I could get through the Baby Blues and rest my post-op body.

Eight weeks after Charlie’s arrival, I haven’t given up on the self-care.

In fact, the photography class I am taking is a form of self-care.  It gets me out of the house to do my own thing.

May is mental health awareness month, and Sunday is Mother’s Day.

The greatest gift you can give yourself this month is the gift of taking care of yourself.

Every mother deserves daily nourishment and nurturing.

YOU are worth it!

I am happy to share two opportunities you won’t want to miss.

All you have to do to enter is tell me your favorite self-care activity (make sure you click “enter” in the rafflecopter widget to be entered!) and you will be entered for a chance to win a Yummy Mummy Self-Care Package from me and Renee Trudeau.

I’ll draw a name randomly on Mother’s Day and the winner will receive:

That is so not even all…you ALSO have a chance to win the Yummy Mummy Year-of-Self-Care Package (winner also will be announced on Mother’s Day) by following the details here.  (Um, you KNOW I entered this!)

 a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Legal Beagle Stuff: I received no compensation for this giveaway.  I was contacted by Renee Trudeau & Associates to do this, and because I believe so much in making time for yourself, I agreed.
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