Is this real life?

I'm sitting at work, currently icing my finger that may or may not be broken.  I probably shouldn't have done an hour of hardcore pilates with it hurting last night. Oops.

Daniel has been waking up screaming at the top of his lungs at least once a night.  He's almost 3. This is wake-up frequency circa 8 weeks old.  He also wet his pants last night, the first time he's ever done that and he's been potty trained since August.

Cam chugs along pretty smoothly, until he decides that 5 is a FABULOUS wake up time. With daycare trying to transition him to one nap...who knows how this night will look.

Hubs took a new position at work.  This means: late nights, early mornings, grumpy hubs.  But it also means job stability, so I'll take it.

I had 3 cups of coffee this morning. THREE. And I still feel like I need more. And least you think 3 cups is not much, my mug is the size of a small bowl, because really, who drinks coffee from a small mug?!

I gave Daniel Cameron's breakfast this morning just to keep him from having a temper tantrum. Sorry, Cam, you got the crappy pancakes.

I wish there were a diet that consisted of chocolate and wine, and that it would somehow help me train for the half marathon in January for which I have lost ALL motivation.

My baby turns ONE in 2 weeks. How is this possible?

#MicroblogMondays 67: Remembrance

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is?Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too

Four years ago, Malachi grew his wings. Four years ago, I was 7 weeks pregnant and then, not pregnant.

In some ways, it feels like a lifetime ago.  But then I can still remember how I felt at each moment during that hellish week.

I can't imagine my life without the boys I have now, but there will always be a spot in my heart for my Malachi.

Sweet Malachi, would you look like Daniel? Would you be rambunctious like him, or would you be happy-go-lucky like Cameron? Would you have your daddy's eyes and your momma's nose like both of your brothers? I'm sad that I never got to meet you, that I never got to squish you in my arms, that I never got to rock you to sleep and smell your sweet baby smell.  Every time I see your Christmas ornament on our tree, I can't help but wonder.

Thank you for making me a momma that first time.

Forever in my heart, MEB.

Reflections, Reunions, and Wrinkles

My ten-year COLLEGE reunion is next weekend.  We all graduated in May 2005.  I went to small, private, Catholic college, and I only graduated with about 190 other students, 80 with whom I spent 5 months on a tiny campus in Rome. We were all very close, and I will admit that by graduation I was ready to spread my wings, but I think that was due to some serious boy/"finding myself" drama.

I've been reflecting a lot going into this crazy reunion.  More than anything, I'm THRILLED to see everyone, pump some keg beer, sit around a campfire, and act 21 again.  Ok maybe not 21, but definitely not 32.  The boys are not coming (hubs either), so it's a me-night, which doesn't happen very often.  But there's also something else I'm feeling, something deeper, more empathetic, more "32" of me.

What I don't know is what so many of my friends have gone through in the last ten years.  I know that many have miscarried one, two, three babies.  I know that my roommate of 3.5 years lost two of her daughters in the most horrific car accident I can imagine, something I think about every single day of my life.  I know that at least one person has fought a major medical battle and won.  Will these things be evident? Will I notice this in their smile, or in the crinkles around their eyes or the wrinkles in their foreheads that weren't there ten years ago?

How do we wear our grief and our past? Some of it we push down so that it's only a spec, only visible if someone truly knows you or if the moment is *just* right.  But I also believe that some of it is always visible, in a smile that's not quite as bright as it used to be, in a conversation just a little less upbeat than it would have been ten years ago.  For some of us, grief and loss have changed us irrevocably.

We can't undo the past or the loss that has left its indelible mark on our hearts, on our faces, just like as hard as we may try, we can't undo the wrinkles with which time has marked us.  And as hard as we may pretend, we can't go back ten years to be the people that we were. I--for one--do NOT want to be that girl again anyway.

Ultimately, I won't know who has suffered.  I will see the old friends before me, and we will catch up. We will talk about babies (and I'm not exaggerating when I say that there are probably 100+ babies that have been born to my class over the past 10 years) and husbands and food and jobs, and all the things you talk about when you're filling in the blanks from F.book posts.  But we won't talk about grief, about loss.  It will be there, in a glance at a brand-new baby.  It will be there, in a turned-down smile.  It will also be there in the unspoken way we have all changed and grown up.  Like it or not, it has shaped us into these 32 and 33 year-olds we are now.

So we will sit around that campfire and sing the songs we did when we were 21, probably drink the same beer we did when we were 21, and pretend--just for a night--that we don't have so many wrinkles.

"hello?" she whispers into the cavernous void...

"is anyone still out there?"

....silence....

Maybe not.  Most days I'm not even sure if I'm here.  But maybe you are. And maybe you're reading this.  Or maybe I'm just writing for myself, and that's ok as well.  Or maybe I'm writing because our internet keeps going down at work and I can't really get anything accomplished.

Cameron is 8 and a half months old, y'all.  SERIOUSLY. Where is the time going!?  Something weird happens when babies hit 8 months.  It's like a woman's ovaries go into overdrive and all of a sudden I WANT ALL THE BABIES.  And not in a creepy "A Modest Proposal" sort of way, but in a please-just-let-me-smell-the-baby sort of way. Ok that's kind of creepy too.

Somehow, a smiling, happy, mama-mama saying baby can erase the anxiety and the hurt and the fear of the first three months of his life, almost.  I say *almost* because I can't quite seem to forget the feeling of those first three months.  Even now writing this, I feel my chest tense up.  And if--somehow--I could just manage to forget, just a little bit, I could consider having another baby.

My brother and his wife had a baby girl three weeks ago.  When we went to visit them, they had her in the swing with the music playing, and the memory of that swing and music sent me in to panic attack mode.  It's real, y'all.  So maybe I can't do it now  Maybe all I can do is to focus on the two precious boys I have.

So...here's a round-up of what's going on around here.

Daniel is 2 and a half and started PK2 at the school where I work.  He potty trained like a freakin champ.  I feel like we're going through a purposefully rebellious stage right now, acting out at school, peeing in his brother's trashcan, throwing food in the dog's water bowl, but maybe that's just being 2 years old.  Parenting is an ever-changing thing, and we're just working to figure out what works in terms of discipline.  He's a very auditory learner so we have a lot of discussions and repetition.  But he's the sweetest boy. He never sits still (unless to watch the same Curious George episode again) and he adores his daddy and his little brother. And his teddy.

Cam is close to 9 months.  He smiles at the drop of a hat and rarely cries.  He crawls and is in to EVERYTHING, his favorite things being Daniel's toys.  He sleeps in his crib all night (and yeah, that didn't happen until almost 5 months).  He still seems to hate naps on most days, but we're getting better.  He sleeps through the night most nights and is an early riser like me and his brother.  He wants to stand and walk so badly, but he's not quite there.  I could squish and kiss him all day, and I'm pretty sure his favorite place to be is sitting on my hip.  He refuses most purees in favor of real food, which makes my life easier because I can feed both boys the same thing  We made it to about six months of nursing, and then my supply dropped and I went back to work, so I swallowed my guilt and my pride and started him on formula. He's growing like a weed (maybe more out that up!) and we call him our little linebacker, a stocky, squatty little boy.

As for me...well I'm here.  Trying to survive every day as a full-time working momma of two boys. Some days I feel like I rock it (like when I take the boys for a dinner picnic to the park); other days I want a glass of wine by 9 am. I'm currently training for a Tough Mudder and 3 half marathons. Because that's what I do for ME.  I don't have time to get my nails done, but this I do and I do it for me only.  It keeps me sane.

So in a nutshell, I'm here.

Even if no one else is.

...I'll fill the cavernous void with some words, at least for right now...

Where I've been

Cameron is almost 14 weeks. The first six weeks of his life he screamed unless he was sleeping. Sleep at night consisted of 40 minute stretches, sometimes on me, truly wherever he would lay down. He was always squirming in pain, crazy flailing his arms and legs. We tried reflux meds to no avail, and finally tried one that worked. Weeks 6-10 weren't great, but they weren't as bad, at least for him. Parents of colicky babies get it. There was nothing anyone could do to quiet him. I felt like a failure. I cried daily. I was sleep deprived. Thank goodness for my mother who saved me multiple times. And thank goodness for my husband who made me go see my therapist. 

I'm not sure if I was/am suffering from PPD, but definitely PP anxiety. My anxiety level was through the roof. My chest felt heavy, and I wanted to throw up all the time. I felt incapable of taking care of either child. Poor D got snapped at because I was at the end of my rope. I called my mom one night when I thought I couldn't go on. I was outside, C was screaming, and hubs had D upstairs. She came over and stayed with me for two days. That's when I realized how bad I had gotten. 

My therapist was amazing, and now at 14 weeks, C isn't necessarily easy all the time, but with more sleep, I'm doing better. C went off his reflux meds three weeks ago, and he's a pretty happy baby during the day. He only naps 45 minutes at a time and our nights are all over the place, but it's better. D was such a great sleeper--I wasn't prepared for this!! C will sleep all night for a couple of days in a row and then have a crappy night, but I did speak to a sleep consultant and we will start sleep training at four months. 

I know this post isn't eloquently written, but I wanted to get it out there. I'm sad that I didn't love the first ten weeks of C's life. I loved him but not the circumstances. I'm enjoying him now, but the anxiety is still there when he throws a shit fit. We have all survived, and some days, that's all you can ask for. 

Coming up for air

I'm here, we are all alive and baby C is a thriving chunk of a 12 week old. But the last 12 weeks have not been easy. I literally feel like I'm just now able to come to the surface and take a breath. Post-partum anxiety, colic, reflux, and poor sleep have put us through the ringer. I can honestly say it's been the hardest three months of my life, and of my marriage. 

I do plan on writing soon. About PPD and the struggles of having baby #2. Now that C is starting to have some sort of regular sleep, I'm hoping to get back on my computer. If anyone still reads this that is!

better late than never!

Thank you all for the kind words and congratulations on our new little boy!  I'm finally able to sit down and write his birth story.

We were induced on Monday, 12/29, at 40 weeks.  I was not in labor that morning, so I actually put on makeup and curled my hair a little bit. Since I chopped off my curls, I couldn't use my go-to messy bun or pony tail.  Plus, who knew when I'd have any time to curl my hair again!?

Our nurses were wonderful. I was 3 cm when we got to the hospital (that explains the terrible contractions I had intermittently the entire weekend before!).  I really wanted to feel my labor, so I waited for a while to get my epidural.  The epidural was honestly the worst part!  Pitocin started at 6:30 am, I was 3-4 cm until about 11 am when things picked up.  Somewhere in there I got the epidural, and it took 20 minutes to kick in which was pretty painful.  After that, I felt great. Relaxed, chatted with Sparky, and tried to enjoy the experience.  Around 11:30, Sparky got back from eating lunch and my favorite nurse checked my status.

To our utter shock, I was quickly progressing...from 6-8 cm! At 12:45, I was ready to push and just waiting on the dr.  Dr. got there, and 2 pushes later, Cameron Louis was born at 1:15pm.  Lots of laughter because he pretty much shot out as soon as I pushed!  My dr. thinks it's hysterical that I'm such a good pusher.  As soon as they put him on my chest, I just knew he was smaller than his brother. 7 pounds, 8 ounces, 20 inches long, so a long skinny baby with blue eyes and shockingly dark hair!

Here's the craziest part of this whole thing: we did skin to skin immediately this time, before the cord was even cut.  It was amazing. He nursed immediately for about 40 minutes.  (and now the crazy part) I feel that I immediately bonded with C.  It took me at least 2 weeks to bond with D...do you think this could be the skin to skin connection? I don't know, but it's been amazing.

Baby C nurses like a champ and wants to eat all the time! My recovery has been very quick as I only had a slight tear from pushing him out too quickly.  Big brother is slowly adjusting, but the tantrums have picked up and we have a little night waking from him too.  He loves to see the baby and kiss the baby, but he definitely craves his one on one attention from me, which is ok.

We had our first stretch of 4 hour sleep last night which was great! After that, baby C was up every hour or so, but I'll take one good stretch.  He's getting better about sleeping when he's not curled up on someone's chest. As much as I love baby cuddles, I want to make sure baby C can sleep in his bassinet too!

I guess that's it for now. Sparky goes back to work on Monday...and then real life will set in I'm sure.

Thanks again for the support from this community.  I never, ever thought we would be this blessed. The road hasn't always been easy and I know that it won't always be as easy as wearing a newborn on my chest while I type this blog. But today, this is pretty perfect.