When Your Kid is...Different

 Over the past 6 months or so, we questioned whether or not Millie might have some differences that weren't just "normal kid" stuff. It was a slow progression from reading up on different parenting strategies (because nothing was working or even helping) to reading symptoms about other - treatable - issues. Joe would hear something on the radio or a podcast and tell me how it made him wonder the same about Millie. Or I would randomly come across an article and it would make me consider how it might fit Millie. Not that anything is really remarkably different about her....just little things here and there that add up when they're all put together.

One of the things I came across one day was about ADHD. I don't even remember the name of the article or website. All I remember was that Millie fit almost every single thing:

• Makes careless mistakes
• Doesn't seem to listen when spoken to
• Difficulty in sustaining attention during tasks or play
• Difficulty organizing tasks/activities (for Millie, this is cleaning a room)
• Avoids, dislikes, or is reluctant to engage in activities that require sustained mental effort
• Loses things necessary for tasks/activities (Millie has lost both of the lovies she had as a baby, but still "needs" for sleep and comfort)
• Easily distracted by extraneous stimuli
• Often forgetful in daily activities
• Often leaves seat when sitting is expected
• Often runs or climbs where inappropriate 
• Often unable to play or engage in leisure activities quietly (what IS quiet anymore?!)
• Often "on the go"; unable to remain still
• Talks excessively
• Blurts out answers before the question is finished
• Difficulty waiting and/or taking turns 
• Often interrupts or intrudes on others

There are different types of ADHD -- inattentive (formerly called ADD), hyperactive, and combined. After reading these and doing a bit more research, I decided to talk to our pediatrician about it. Both Millie and Abigail were due for well-checks, so I figured it was good timing. The day I took them was actually perfect. As I was talking to the doctor, Millie was moving around, unable to sit still, flopping back and forth, and then jumping off the small chair in the room (despite me asking her to stop about a dozen times). She said even though she'd been in the room just a little while with us, she could see what I was talking about. She gave me some forms to fill out for an evaluation, and we made an appointment with their counselor. Thanks be to God, they had an appointment available for THE NEXT DAY. It was nothing short of a miracle because she's booked up pretty quickly.

At the evaluation, the counselor asked me a million and one questions. I was prepared for some of them, while others had me really thinking and evaluating her behavior. Things that I thought were normal....weren't really. It threw me for a bit of a loop. After the barrage of questions and looking at the forms we'd filled out, our counselor/therapist diagnosed Millie with ADHD Combined and Sensory Processing Disorder. Then we were referred to Occupational Therapy for SPD, and back to the pediatrician to discuss medication (if we wanted).

Since the ADHD was at least partially expected, it was the SPD that threw me for a bit of a loop. Hearing the therapist talk about it made it make sense, and it surprised me that it had never occurred to me before that day. I knew she was sensitive to certain sounds. I knew she jumped on (or off of) all the things constantly. That's the reason she got a trampoline for her birthday from one of the grandparents! I knew she didn't like to be up high or held upside down. I knew she didn't like crowds. I knew she hated fireworks and thunder. I knew she struggled with getting her hair and face washed. I knew all of these things, yet I never put it together. 

When we took her for the OT evaluation, even more things came up. That is what they do, but some things I hadn't realized weren't normal. They were also able to confirm that she has a delay in her fine motor skills. Because she never wanted to sit down with me/us and learn (and couldn't stay focused) I never pushed it. I figured it was one of those things that would happen eventually, when she was ready. Except then she was nearly 5 and still not doing any of the things Charlotte (and most kids) could at this age. Honestly, that was a really hard pill for me to swallow.

It turns out, though, that as difficult as dealing with all of this is it's helped me to give her more grace. It's still hard and I still lose it sometimes when she's quite literally bouncing off the walls, yelling, squealing, or crying because she can't do a certain task. But it's made it easier for me to understand WHY this is happening and that she really isn't doing it on purpose. She's not trying to make things difficult for me, but things are most certainly difficult for her. 

ADHD effects the frontal lobe -- the decision making part of our brains. She quite literally can't think it through sometimes. She does things she knows she's not supposed to because her body is moving faster than her brain (not the other way around). She says everything (and I do mean everything) that pops into her little head because her brain doesn't have that filter. Sure this is common with kids, but when they start talking about something completely unrelated to the conversation or situation...it's obvious. There's so much more to it, too. Many people (including me, before doing research) have serious misconceptions about ADHD. The only problem with those misconceptions is that people believe that ADHD isn't "a thing," and is being overdiagnosed because of lazy parents. THAT is simply false. 

SPD often co-occurs with ADHD. SPD is another issue in the brain with the processing of all of the sensory input we get throughout the day.




We've seen some improvement since she started OT about a month ago. After a couple of weeks, she was already writing better (read: writing at all)! After a lot of deliberation, we also decided to try out some medication for her ADHD. It can kind of fill in the gaps where her neurotransmitters aren't working as they should. I've seen a HUGE improvement in her focus, listening ability, and memory recall. Even her OT mentioned it during therapy about 2 weeks ago! That was enough for me to feel better about giving it to her, even though it feels a little scary at times. 

It's been a wild ride the last couple of months. I'm grateful we have answers, and that all that we're learning is going to help her in the long run. It's definitely a marathon, though, and I'm already tired. Ha! 

I think the hardest part has really been talking to people about it. Medical professionals...fine. But people I know (other than Joe and my best friend, Melissa...:)) is really hard. Honestly, it's because of those stigmas and misconceptions people have about ADHD, and because SPD isn't really well-known unless you or someone in your family has it. It makes me feel like people are going to look at her a different way, or treat her differently because they see "something wrong" with her. There really isn't anything wrong. She was just built differently. Truth be told, I can look back at her infancy and see signs of SPD (if nothing else). She's always been different. She probably always will be different. And that's okay, because there's nothing wrong with being different.  

Still Learning....

When you grow up being told over and over again by other people who - and what - you are, it never really gives you the chance to discover it for yourself. If you didn't grow up in a home full of verbal and emotional abuse, this idea might seem strange to you. If, on the other hand, you did, you know exactly what I mean. 

I'm nearly 32 years old (yeesh) and there are some things that I'm still discovering about myself. Not only that - but I'm also discovering things about my life (and my family) that I just never knew or saw before. All of it - things about me, my family, even friends I had - was clouded by the perception given to me by the people who raised me. If I dared to have an independent thought or question their ideals or rules, I was demeaned or belittled. They quickly "corrected" me by telling me the "truth" and telling me I was horrible for thinking otherwise. So much of who I was or what I experienced was filtered through them. That's fairly normal for kids -- parents are the measuring stick for what children consider right and/or normal. You trust your parents because they're older (or most kids do, anyway) and you know they love you. At least that's what they tell you, right? Even when they tell you you're a horrible person....?

When you grow up like that, you have to retrain yourself how to think. That is quite a feat in and of itself. I didn't realize any of the things I experienced growing up were wrong or abnormal until I was an adult. Think about that! I thought every parent called their child names, told them they were horrible, and yelled at them for the tiniest of things. I just didn't know... Slowly I began to see things here and there; the older I got the more I saw. 

And then I had children of my own.

That was the real game-changer. I realized that I didn't want my children to grow up the way I did. Yes, some things were good. I was taken to church, I was fed, clothed, schooled, given birthday parties, Christmas gifts... By and large, my childhood looked the same as anyone else's. Except when it didn't. I realized I didn't want them to see me and my husband fight. I realized I could never say certain things to them, even when I was truly angry. I realized that I don't want to scream at them (though I'd be lying if I said it never happened; a fact I really hate and desire to change). I realized that I never wanted them to think I didn't love them. I realized that they deserve an apology when I do something wrong. 

I realized I wanted to be drastically different than the people who raised me. But I have no idea what that even looks like.

So now I'm learning. Gleaning things from Scripture, from other godly mothers and fathers. I'm reading all kinds of books (including the Bible -- which is really the only handbook I need) to learn....everything. 

I've learned that I am not who they said I was. I'm not defined by being "shy." In fact, I can be very outgoing in different situations. I was never given the opportunity to shine as a child....because they didn't want me to. However, I am a bit introverted, which only means I need a lot of alone time.... Not that I don't talk to people. I'm not difficult, horrible, disrespectful, or stupid. Yes, I enjoy reading, but that doesn't mean I don't understand things going on in the world. (I was always told how "book smart" I was....but I didn't have enough sense to care for myself. Yeah.)

Most importantly, I've learned that the god they taught me about....isn't the God of the Bible. They used His words to get me to believe the way they did, or behave the way they wanted me to behave. They used it to demand forgiveness and reconciliation though they never once apologized to me for treating me so badly. 

As I'm learning to be a parent who is kind, gentle, loving, patient, self-controlled, and peaceful, I'm learning that so many things I experienced growing up were so much the opposite. It makes me sad. It makes me all the more determined to be a good example for my girls. It makes me aware of how little I still know about God and myself. Though I suppose that's the silver lining to it all -- being so aware of the bad I experienced has only made me chase what's really good and true. 

I'm still learning.... But maybe that isn't such a bad thing after all. 

A Rainbow Pumpkin Birthday Story

Since I've neglected to write about Abigail's birth thus far, it seems fitting to do so on the eve of her first birthday. It still seems so strange to think not only that she's here but that she's been here with us for one whole year.

Prior to active labor starting, I had been in prodromal labor for about 4 weeks. The contractions would come and go nearly on a daily basis, none strong enough to really get things going, though. The weekend before she was born I was particularly frustrated. I had contractions for hours at a time only for them to completely vanish as quickly as they began. As much as I really wanted to be in labor that weekend, I was also concerned about going into labor. That weekend was Joe's first weekend of drill with his national guard unit. I was worried about contacting him should something happen. (Even though his unit is 30 minutes away... The hormones...) Unbeknownst to me, a friend of mine had actually been praying that Abigail wouldn't make her appearance until after his weekend of drill.

Joe came home from drill Sunday evening, and we went to his grandparent's house for a big family pizza dinner. When we left, the sun had set and the supermoon was brightly shining. Secretly I hoped that all those old wives' tales about full moons and birth were true. We went home, had a normal evening, and I probably went to bed later than I should have.

At 4:45am I woke out of a sound sleep (which is rare) to a very strong contraction. You know how "they" always say you'll know when you're in labor? I'll be darned if "they" weren't right... Again. ;-) They came pretty regularly, though I didn't keep an eye on the timing. I knew they would get rough soon so I tried to rest, and breathe through them without waking anyone. A little before 6am, I decided to wake Joe. His alarm was going to go off in a few minutes anyway. I gave him a nudge and said, "So if you want to get a shower, you better get one now. We're going to the hospital." He ran to get in the shower, and I attempted to throw some clothes on. He had asked me if I wanted one, and I almost laughed. (Thanks, contractions.) I knew we didn't have time for all that. In between contractions, I called my MIL to let her know it was "baby day." 

After Joe was dressed, I sat on the exercise ball and attempted to eat (ha) while we waited on his parents to arrive and take care of the big girls. In reality it was probably only 10 minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. Eating made me feel sick (hello, active labor) so I tried to move and breathe. We left as soon as his parents arrived, at about 7am. I had forgotten it was Monday, but was quickly reminded as we pulled into traffic on the highway. Fortunately it wasn't too bad, and we made pretty good time. Extra fortunate because I was beginning to realize that I was having back labor and sitting actually made things hurt worse. 

We finally get into the hospital and checked in around 7:30. I was at 7cm (what I was with Millie, too!) so we got moved to an actual room. I had to decline a wheelchair because sitting made the contractions worse...and every single nurse looked at me with crazy eyes. *sigh* I basically labored standing up, with the exception of being forced to sit while they assaulted me with needles in an attempt to set up an IV. (5 tries. FIVE. TRIES.) One of my favorite doctors happened to be on call, which was such a relief to me. He came in once or twice to check on me. There were nurses in and out, too, but I don't remember too much of it. 

I go to "labor land" after a certain point, so all I remember was laboring with Joe's help. We stood and swayed for the most part. I do remember that he tried to do counter pressure on my back once (this helped a lot in labor with Millie) and I all but yelled at him. Unfortunately, not much helped the back labor. Around 9am a nurse came in and I begged her to ask my doctor to break my water to speed things along. There was a bit of a concern since I was GBS+ and had only been there 2 hours with antibiotics in. Thankfully, my doctor trusted me when I told him breaking my waters usually speeds labor along. And he was confident that I'd gotten enough antibiotics to be safe. So we prepped for that. 

He broke my water and then began to explain how the contractions would be much more intense, etc. I knew this, and he knew I knew this, but I was actually still appreciative of that. He left and about a minute later I had the worst contraction ever. It was crazy painful and I thought I was going to break Joe's hand (poor guy). After that, I realized.... I could feel her head in the birth canal. So I'm in pain, but I mention this to my nurse because....um....WOW. She says, in disbelief, "okay, well let me just check to see if I can feel what you're feeling." She checks. She runs out of the room. Meanwhile I'm thinking, this is not my first baby. I know what I'm talking about here. 

She comes back, followed by I don't know how many people, and my doctor. He assumes the position and 2 instinctive pushes later... She's here. She's pink, and screaming, and beautiful....and I see her cord flop out onto her belly as he holds her up for me to see. Shock. Disbelief. Relief. JOY. Welcome to the world, Abigail Siobhan-Maebh; our BIG little miracle.

Happy first birthday, Pumpkin. (We call her that because she was born in October. :)) I can't believe you've been with us this long! And yet I can't imagine our home without you in it. 

Seeing the Light & Unraveling the Lies

When you go through hard times, the people who love you and the people who don't become clearly marked. They show themselves whether they mean to or not. 

If you've been a follower for a while, you know that my life has been forever marked by the loss of our daughter, Eleanor. She was born sleeping on September 22, 2015. Her name, Eleanor, means light. I feel that it is only because of her that I now see the people who raised me for who they truly are. 

Without going into too much detail as to what happened after Eleanor passed away, suffice it to say that my mother and stepfather showed themselves. My mother, especially, behaved irrationally and erratically. For someone in deep, deep grief this was extremely difficult to handle. Several months after losing Eleanor, she would be the person to ask me, "are you sure you want more kids?" Not only did this feel like a knife in the heart after our loss, but I had also just found out that I was pregnant again. I didn't tell her about my pregnancy for 2 more months. When I did tell her - or rather, Charlotte told her - I was met with a cold, blank stare. She never said "congratulations." She never said she was excited. There was nothing. It was chilling and disturbing.

Not too much time passed by before I stumbled upon an article about Narcissistic Rage, and how damaging it can be to children. This article very accurately described my mother and stepfather. I was intrigued, so I did more research. I spent most of the next few weeks digging up articles on Narcissistic mothers and fathers. In doing so, I discovered the truth of my past.

I was verbally and emotionally abused 

throughout my childhood, adolescence, 

and adulthood. 

My parents are Narcissistic. 

While digging through boxes after our most recent move, I discovered journals I'd kept in middle school, high school, and college. In them there is a theme of, "what did I do wrong," "why are they treating me this way," "I shouldn't have said anything," "why can't they understand," "I wish I could make things better." Reading these entries have made it all the more obvious. 

I blamed myself for their bad attitudes, cruel speech, and erratic behavior. They grounded me for "bad grades" (in reality they were never under C), tossed me out on the side of the road for saying something I shouldn't, yelled at me for any and everything I did, and threatened physical violence. They taught me to blame myself. They told me how bad I was -- I had a bad attitude, I was ungrateful, lazy, forgetful, and "too book smart" to care for myself. "Oh, you're smart, but you don't have enough common sense to save your life." I was stupid, ungrateful, and "just like [my] father." If only I could be better, they wouldn't treat me that way. 

The TRUTH is that I was a child. Full stop. Children make mistakes. Children having difficulty learning sometimes. Children need someone to guide and help them. 

As a teenager and adult, they have been unable to understand me and/or my decisions. Instead of questioning, they ridiculed. They alienated me from friends that they didn't like. They twisted my friends' words and actions so I'd believe that they either didn't like me, or that they were a bad influence. Instead of teaching me conflict resolution, they told me I was "better off without them." 

They interfered in my romantic relationships in college, convincing me somehow that one of them didn't love me. (When I spoke to him about this much later, he told me the exact opposite.) They told me that I would never find someone to put up with me. I had such a bad attitude that only they could possibly love me. But if I didn't behave the way they wanted, they would kick me out.

While Joe and I were dating, a situation arose that they literally could not understand. I had told them I was leaving it up to God. Being that we went to church for as long as I could remember, I had thought that they would understand this. The opposite was true. They could not even fathom that I was not doing a single thing to resolve this issue. Oh, I was praying, but I wasn't doing anything. For weeks (no exaggeration) they ridiculed me. "Oh, it's a 'God thing', huh? What does that even mean? What are you doing? Have you done this? Have you done that? WHY NOT?!" 

When Joe and I decided we were going to move to North Carolina after we were married, it only got worse. They threatened to kick me out. They told me they would PAY ME to leave now (2 months prior to our wedding). My mother got mad about something (I don't remember what) and told me she didn't want to shop for wedding dresses with me. I didn't take her that weekend and went with my maid of honor instead. Afterward, my mother was extremely furious....that I didn't take her. If you're confused reading this, imagine how it felt to live it. 

I've come to believe now that all of this abuse 

took place for two reasons: 

1) they have a serious mental issue. 

2) they do not believe in God, 

are not saved....and I am.

Jesus told them, “If God were your Father, you would love me, because I have come to you from God. I am not here on my own, but he sent me. Why can’t you understand what I am saying? It’s because you can’t even hear me! For you are the children of your father the devil, and you love to do the evil things he does. He was a murderer from the beginning. He has always hated the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, it is consistent with his character; for he is a liar and the father of lies. So when I tell the truth, you just naturally don’t believe me! John 8:42-45 {NLT}

 ...they [the unbelievers] are resentful and surprised that you do not [think like them, value their values and] run [hand in hand] with them into the same excesses of dissipation and immoral freedom, and they criticize and abuse and ridicule you and make fun of your values. 1 Peter 4:4 [AMP]

They couldn't understand my decisions to leave things to God, so they abused and ridiculed me. They couldn't understand my decision to follow my future husband, so they abused me. When I was a child, I was trusting and loving. They could easily feed me lies and they would become my truth. 

I am of God, so they abused me. They couldn't understand me so they abused me. They are children of the father of lies, so they created lies and taught me to believe them. BUT. GOD. He saved me. He loves me. He protected me because I AM HIS.

All of this has always been true. It was only after losing Eleanor that I was finally able to see it. Loss changes you in ways I could never have imagined. While I would much rather have my baby girl with me, I am grateful that God used her death to free me from the abuse I'd experienced throughout my life. I may have come to it eventually without losing her, but we'll never know. Since her loss was the catalyst for all of this....I can only be grateful for that part of it. 

You may be wondering why I'm sharing this. Honestly, I've debated sharing all of this, too. I finally came to the conclusion that it needs to be shared not just for people like me to know that they aren't alone, but so the world can see what God has done FOR me. So they can see that He can change their lives, their circumstances, and their hearts. I was in danger of becoming just like the people who raised me. But God. He changed me; He saved me. It is because of Him that I am where I am today. Despite all the hardships, I am grateful for the change in my life and heart.

Living in the "After"

It's been a year since the last time I blogged. Honestly it doesn't even seem like it was that long ago, yet here we are. So much has changed since then.... Where do we even begin?

There is now a moment in my life - a day that separates the before and the after. Once you're in the after you can't go back to the before. And really...you don't want to. No matter how much the after hurts and you wish it would change, there IS no going back. 

That day was September 22, 2015. The day our third daughter, Eleanor Rosalie, was born still. 

I have relived the events of the day in my mind so often that there is no need for me to recount them here. It was a busy, horrible, shocking, terrifying, and fast day. There was no preparation, no time to process. It just happened. Suddenly. 

One moment I was a normal pregnant mama excited about her new baby (while also being thoroughly exhausted). And the next.....I simply was not.

Nothing was normal.

Nothing will ever be "normal" again.

Life in the "after," quite frankly, sucks. 

Nearly 7 months later, the pain isn't quite as raw. It's still there...lurking, hiding, waiting to be awoken by any number of triggers, but it's not as fresh. Dare I say it's manageable some days?

Many have commented "I don't know how you do it" or "How do you get out of bed?" Honestly? I don't even know. You just do. When you have two other healthy, living, breathing children vying for your attention, you just do. You do the next thing. You make and/or have breakfast. You wash clothes, because you still have to wear something. You eat, because people have brought you dinner. Inexplicably, against all your feelings, you continue to live. Without your baby.

You look at pictures from before and wonder who you were. How were you that happy? Will you ever be that happy again?

You live moment to moment. You panic over normal things. You hover over your living children, terrified something will take them from you, too. You even do irrational things like buy new a carseat, because you're convinced the one you have isn't good enough. You dread even getting in the car. You have a panic attack at your next doctor's appointment. You were there before.

Yet somehow....you laugh again. You play with your kids again. Little by little you do things you did in the before. But it's different. It will always be different. 

Life in the after is hard. It's full of anxiety and spur of the moment grief. It's full of happy moments, too, because now you appreciate them even more. You look for ways to make a difference, to give back, while struggling through the pain...just to give some sort of meaning - some sort of legacy - to your child's short life. 

In some ways, I'm still the same as I was before. I still enjoy many of the things I once did. But in many, many other ways, the after has changed me. My heart is different; it needs protection and care. My thoughts are different. My actions are different. 

I can't be the same. 

That was before.

This is after.

I am forever changed by the short life of a little girl I never really got to meet, Eleanor Rosalie. 

Don't Hate, Advocate

I suppose this is sort of a follow up to my last post, though I never really intended to follow up on it. Yet again, I am unpleasantly surprised by people. 

Everyone has an opinion about something, and these days everyone has an opinion about everyone else. When it comes to parenting? We have extra opinions. I suppose it's because we think that what we're doing is the best thing ever, for everyone. While whatever decision you're passionate about may be the best thing for your family it may be the worst decision for someone else's family. Or heck, it may not even be possible at all. 

Yesterday, a good blogger friend of mine posted about her recent experience with a breastfeeding group. Ya'll, I was blown away. I still am, in fact. (If you want to take a moment and click over, I'll understand.)  

I'm going to admit something that will probably make some people upset: I have a knee-jerk reaction to bottle feeders, too. There is a small part of me that cringes every time I see a baby with a bottle in his/her mouth. Mostly it's because I don't understand why on earth someone wouldn't want to breastfeed their baby. I'll spare you the inner-monologue I have every time, because it's not really worth it. Because in the end I know that there are many factors that go into a mom's - a family's - decision to not breastfeed. Maybe she couldn't nurse and pumps instead, maybe she couldn't produce milk at all, maybe the baby is adopted, maybe she was on necessary medication that would harm the baby if she were to breastfeed, or maybe she had DMER and the very thought of nursing again made her ill. There are any number of reasons. Unless we know the person, we'll never know the reasons. And all of this just made me wonder....what's the point?

By somehow taking offense at the fact that some people feed their kids with bottles, what are we hoping to gain? By bashing women - moms - who bottle feed, what exactly is our goal? To make them feel bad? To educate? To make them want to breastfeed? How is this helping?

If you've been following me anytime during the last 3 years you know I'm nothing if not an advocate for breastfeeding. I think breastfeeding is awesome and you'll never convince me otherwise. I think it's the best food for baby (because, hello, it was designed to be!) and I think the health benefits for moms are awesome, too. Is it hard? Heck yeah. It takes a lot of time and effort in the beginning, and sometimes a lot of pain, too. But more often than not, it's totally worth it and for many, many reasons. That's why I think waiting until you're past the newborn stage to call it quits on breastfeeding, but again, that's my personal opinion.

Before I had babies - like way before - I was pretty determined to not breastfeed. I thought it was weird, and why the heck would I want to share my body after I'd just grown a person for 9 months?! I'd also never been exposed to breastfeeding...ever. My brother and I were bottle-fed, the babies I watched were bottle-fed, my mom's friends bottle-fed their babies, and the list continues. Of course I thought it was weird!

Thankfully, some friends and my SIL were there later on to share the benefits of breastfeeding with me and my whole view changed. Now, I find it important to try and bring some sort of education to people about breastfeeding -- why it isn't weird or gross, why it's beneficial for moms and babies, etc. But here's the thing: 

If we look down our noses at women/families 

who choose to bottle-feed, we'll never succeed 

in our goal to make breastfeeding normal.

Who will want to breastfeed when they think that all women who do so are just a bunch of snobby, rude know-it-alls? Who will want to breastfeed when they know that if they turn to a bottle for any reason, the nursing mama masses will crucify them? Who will stand beside the nursing moms when someone calls us out for nursing in public without a cover?

We can't make a difference in normalizing breastfeeding, or breastfeeding education with this 'anti-bottle' mentality. We just can't. You can't reach people with that kind of nastiness. When it comes to parenting, we need to just leave each other alone. You don't live in that person's house; you don't know what their life is like. You can't judge their motives from the outside.

So moms, let's just stop. Just say 'NO' to the temptation of bashing, name-calling, hate-mongering, fear-mongering, or whatever. It's not helping you, and it's most certainly not helping anyone else. You think breastfeeding is awesome? That's great. Tell them how awesome you think it is, and why. You think bottle feeding is the best thing since sliced bread? Fantastic! Tell them why it's great for you. Then proceed to trade epic blow-out stories, or share in the woes of sleepless nights. 

We're all just doing the best we can for our babes. 

It's time we recognize that in the faces of others, too.

You're Doing it Wrong

Thus sayeth the so-called Mommy Wars. 

Do something that the attachment parenting know-it-alls think is wrong, and they'll crucify you...online. Hiding behind veils of perceived anonymity and nasty words, they'll tell you that you're - for all intents and purposes - torturing your child. 

Proclaim that breastfeeding is the healthiest option for babies, and bottle-feeders will be ready to decry that you're judging them for making a personal decision. Never mind that you yourself once considered it...and were also bottle-fed as an infant. Those facts don't matter. You're clearly judging them because you disagree with their choice. 

Things like this make me want to throw my computer across the room and never pick it up again. 

Last week, I responded to a mom's post in a group I'm in on FB. She had asked some questions about Babywise and I replied with my experiences. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it certainly did not warrant the responses I received.

Babywise is ABUSE and TORTURE. Period.

Babywise is the one book the FDA warns against...

...babies starve in silence...

...a baby who is always content is worrisome.

Sorry, guys, but YOU do not know MY kids. Why are they so content as babies? (With the exception of colic...whew.) Because I make sure they get plenty of rest and nurse enough. That's it, plain and simple. Isn't that what everyone else does? I thought it was.... Apparently I was wrong.

A few days ago I commented on someone's status... I felt like it was baiting a little, but I commented anyway. Rookie mistake. The woman said something like "I'm going to write a post about bottle feeding. I could barely stand to breast feed my babies for 2 months and HAD to switch to formula. It was the best thing for both of us." {I hope it's obvious I'm paraphrasing here.} So I commented. 

I wanted to let her know that the first 2 months of breastfeeding is hard for everyone. Either your nipples hurt so badly you wish they'd just fall off already, or your baby is attached to you 24/7 and you feel like a cow. (At least those were my experiences.) But if you push through those parts, it can really be awesome! It was breastfeeding and having those sweet moments with Millie that kept me sane because that was the only time she wasn't screaming. Since we have the option these days, I get that how you choose to feed your child is super-personal. Even so, no one will be able to convince me that formula is healthier than mama milk. 

Cue the bottle-feeding judgy mamas. 

Great for you, but don't judge me for choosing a safe option.

I can still bond with my child while bottle feeding!

I still love my child.

The "breast is best" thing is great if you can manage it, but don't

bully or shame me for giving up!

My comment eventually got deleted because I didn't 100% agree with the author's point of view. How's THAT for acceptance for everyone's decision?! There were other, far more heated comments, but that's not the point. Obviously I should have known enough to not comment on a post like this, but sometimes I can't help myself. I'm sure that's happened to any number of you.

My point is this: in this day and age where we have options - and many of them - there is no right choice. Make one comment, one post, one observation and the masses who think or choose differently will be right there to make sure you know you're wrong. Because if you don't do it their way, you are clearly wrong and stupid. You're hurting your child, don't you know it!? 

To them...

A crib = baby jail

Letting your child cry in bed for 5-20 mins = child abuse

Bottle-feeding = giving your child poison

Breastfeeding in public = flashing your boobs to the masses

Scheduling your baby's naps and feedings = torture

Here's what I think:

You make choices for you and your baby and I'll make choices for mine. 

You're awesome. 

I'm awesome. 

Our kids are the most perfect human beings ever.

We rock. 

Being a mom is hard enough without having the entire world scrutinize and judge your every decision.

P.S. Don't forget to check out my giveaway for some great kids' books! Ends on Wednesday!

Usborne Books & More: A Giveaway!

Hey, friends!

I'm super excited to share this giveaway with you today! My best friend, Melissa, is a consultant with Usborne so I've been able to see first hand just how awesome their books are. They have books for babies all the way up to Young Adult titles. They have books on learning how to draw, coloring books (even for adults! ;)), wipe-clean books that are perfect for tracing letters and numbers (and many other things), and some of the best quality (and cute!) board books I've ever seen. 

We have probably a handful of Usborne books in the house, mostly because of Melissa. ;-) I've seen my kiddos fight over the That's Not My Fox book and Touchy-Feely book quite a few times. 

Around Christmas I talked my mom into buying the Nutracker book (with music) for the kids...mostly because I love the Nutcracker so much! Charlotte loves the music, too, and I love the fact that the pages are durable enough to withstand these two crazies. I also gave my niece and nephew two of the sticker books for Christmas, because, what kid doesn't love stickers?!

So anyway, today I'm sharing with you a giveaway for a Brain Bag! 

If you would like to create your own bag, you can select one of each of these categories:

• A set of Activity Cards or an Activity Book
• A Coloring or Drawing Book
• A Sticker or Wipe-Clean Book (LOVE these!)
• A Chapter, Non-Fiction, or Phonics Book

Honestly, I kind want one of these for my girls!! They would be great for the never-ending road trips (either to see family or for when we move...again...), plane rides, long doctor appointments, when you need a little bit of quiet time (*wink*), etc. 

So. Go forth and ENTER! Giveaway will be open for 1 week, starting NOW. Winner will be selected randomly by Rafflecopter, will be contacted via email, and then announced here on the blog no later than Friday of next week. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Little Nugget

It's funny how you learn, over time, to trust to your intuition. It's even funnier how accurate it becomes. 

One day a few weeks ago, I spent the day on the couch with a massive migraine. Nausea came in waves along with the pain in my head. Thankfully, it barely lasted 18 hours and I was back to normal again. Over the next few days I noticed other things: dips in my blood sugar, trouble with my asthma. It was weird. My metabolism can be wonky while I'm nursing, so I dismissed that. But the asthma flare up? That was one thing I couldn't explain. I wasn't having trouble with allergies. We did just move into a new house, but it had been almost a month. And then it hit me.

I have trouble with my asthma when I'm pregnant. Every. Time. Without fail.

I tried to make the thoughts go away... We'd been trying not to get pregnant; we'd been careful. I was still a few days away from my period. So maybe it was just that? But I couldn't put the thought out of my head. Lying in bed one night, I just knew. 

2 of the most clear pregnancy tests I've ever had later....

Hello, Baby!!!

It's crazy. And it's going to continue to be crazy....for a while! I'm not quite as worried about having babies close together this time, though I know it will not be easy. It's definitely not what we planned, but I'm in no way upset about it either. 

I've felt pretty awful this time around, which is making things more difficult. I'm no stranger to pregnancy nausea, but this takes the cake! Not eating makes me sick, eating makes me sick, I get random heartburn, sometimes have to run to the bathroom... It was not like this with the girls! After sticking it out for 3 weeks (because my nausea always kicks in right at 6 weeks), I called the OB's office and begged for drugs. I tried everything I'd done before with the girls, and it barely even touched it. Even with meds, there are days I can barely stand to look at food. 

On the bright side? I haven't gained anything! ;-) 

I don't know if it's because this is my 4th pregnancy, or I just know what it feels like (maybe both?) but I have already been feeling this little nugget! At first I thought I was crazy. Then it kept happening. When I had an ultrasound, the midwife said "what an acrobat!" and then I knew that I had absolutely been feeling this little one for over a week. The girls were crazy, crazy kickers in the womb so having another one is no surprise! And for now I'm enjoying the itty bitty kicks. I know that I'll blink and have feet in my ribs!

So, there's my little nugget. He or she (probably 'she' given our track record, LOL!) will be here on/around October 18th! Please wish me many nights of amazing sleep until then. Lord knows I'm gonna need it....and may never sleep well again! ;-)

We Made It

So, hey! We moved. We survived. Barely.

The movers came, and no one napped. Which is pretty evident just by looking at their little faces. I'm sure a lot of the not-sleeping was due to the fact that a bunch of guys were in the house (or had been in the house), putting all of their toys, beds, and TVs in boxes. It's slightly traumatic for me, so I can only imagine what it's like for the littles. 

I'm still slightly in disbelief that we no longer live in that house. It's empty. (Because GAH no tennants! But that's a story for another day.) We packed up the kids, the dog, the suitcases, and drove 3 hours to our new 'home'.

It was a ROUGH day. We tried to clean our house with the kids running around and awake, and we also had to leave in time for him to sign in to the new unit.... (Which is incredibly dumb....he signed out that morning, and was expected to sign in and the new post before COB on the same stupid day. I can't even.) Both kids passed out before we even got to a place to have lunch. So we decided to haul a** and get as far as possible before someone started crying and/or got hungry.

After what seemed like the longest day ever, we made it. Joe signed in, we got keys to the new place, (thanked God for an amazing realtor managing this place), went to city hall to get water turned on ($$$$$), came to the house, unloaded the car, and then went back out to dinner. At dinner, I ordered the largest beer possible. Because it had been a day and I never wanted this move to happen in the first place.

As stressful as it was for me, it seemed like the girls handled it pretty well. They stayed close to each other most of the time, which made my mama-heart melt. The movers also really liked Charlotte, haha! She provided comedic relief for most of the move. From all the tales I hear about Joe, I think it's a fair assessment to say she is her father's daughter in more ways than one. ;-)

So, there it is. Part of the new house. That's the view from the couch, looking into the kitchen. As much as I don't want to be here (there are days when all of me just screams "I want to go home!"), I really do like this house. The kitchen is smaller, but everything else is really nice. We seem to fit better in this house, which is nice. ;-) The backyard is nowhere near the size of our other house's, but we'll manage. 

If we have to be somewhere for the next 2 years, this isn't the worst place to be. Now, if we could just get our house at Fort Gordon rented, we'd be all set! (So if you know anyone moving to the area..... ;-))

Happy Friday! I'm off to enjoy what is supposed 

to be a gorgeous weekend here, near good 'ole Savannah.