The House That Built Me

We were taking a walk after dinner the other night and talking about our move and new house. We told Sabrina how we'd be saying goodbye to our house now and moving to our new house to make memories there. Without hesitation she responded "but I'm gonna miss our house" and it literally knocked the wind out of me. Such simple words from my sweet, innocent girl. And I knew with all my heart that I too would miss our house, which is truly the house that built me. 

It's been four and a half years since I moved into this house. Chris proposed to me in this house. Sabrina came home to this house. Our family grew and formed and changed and thrived in this house. We painted walls and bought furniture and planted flowers. We had parties and cook outs. We lived and we loved here. 

There were tough times too. Learning to be a stepparent, learning to be a new mother. Struggling with postpartum depression, struggling with breastfeeding, struggling with a difficult infant who didn't sleep.  Struggling to find my new identity as a mother, as a wife, as an individual. Struggling to "do it all". 

This new chapter we are embarking on is exciting, but it is also very sad in many ways. I haven't fully come to terms with saying goodbye to our life here. I can't deal with the thought of Sabrina leaving her school for the last time. The thought of Sabrina saying goodbye to her grandparents and cousins and aunt and uncles is almost traumatic for me to think about.  I am comforted to know that we will still see family.  They will come to visit us in our new house and we will come back to visit too. We can stop and say hello to Sabrina's friends at school from time to time when we are in town. But this house, the house that built me. The adult me, the me that is a wife and a mother. When the moving truck pulls away, that will be goodbye forever.  And just like Sabrina, I too will miss "our house". 

Pills and Needles

Photo from today.com

This pregnancy announcement from a set of parents struggling with infertility has been making the rounds on social media over the last few days, and it has totally struck a nerve.  The last time I wrote, I shared the news of my non pregnancy, my positive pregnancy test that would never progress beyond that.  The outpouring of love I received from that post was incredible.  Texts, cards in the mail, messages on Facebook, from people who I speak to everyday and who I haven't seen since high school or college.  I can't begin to voice my gratitude for that love, at a time when I desperately needed it.

Since then, people will periodically ask me for an update on how I am doing.  Perhaps between the lines they are asking if we are still trying or even if I am pregnant and just not telling anyone yet.  Oh how I wish that were the case.

It's been 4 long months since that positive pregnancy test.  4 long months of nothing to report.  3 cycles of clomid, with the recent addition of an injection of HCG to trigger ovulation, all with the end result of dozens of negative pregnancy tests.

Just last night, I was walking the dog after work, and a family down the street from us, with a little girl Sabrina's age, walked by.  It was the first time I'd really seen them up close since the cold weather passed, and I realized for the first time that the little girl's mother was very visibly pregnant.  And it felt like somebody punched me in the gut; that should have been me.  I recently went to Muffins with Moms at Sabrina's daycare, and at least half the other mothers in the room had their young babies with them.  We went to a birthday party for Sabrina's friend from school recently, and most of the families with toddlers also had their little babies in tow.  Everyday there is some reminder of my pregnancy that wasn't and isn't.  

I was completely unprepared to deal with this infertility struggle.  I got pregnant with Sabrina the third month I was off the pill, with absolutely no intervention necessary.  Even my non-pregnancy happened immediately, the first month of trying.  But since then it's like my body has shut down.  I now know terms such a follicle size and trigger shot and overstimulation, none of which I was remotely familiar with a few months ago.  I now know what it feels like when your ovaries are so full that they feel like they might burst.  I now know the emotional ups and downs of clomid.  

I am so thankful for my husband throughout this struggle.  He is my rock and my best friend, always there to help out if I am not feeling well or to make me smile when I can't find a reason. It is ironic that he is in his 40s, much later than many men have children, and yet I am the issue here, at the ripe old age of 32.  I am broken, or that's how I feel most days.  Our bodies are designed to do this, yet mine just doesn't seem capable right now.

I know the next steps ahead of me in this fertility struggle, and I am not willing to take them. IUI, IVF, daily injections, sometimes multiple in a day, I am just not willing to go there.  I have been blessed with a daughter, and a stepdaughter, and I am not willing to invest the time, money, and pain of those fertility treatments that will detract from the joyful life I already have.  I just can't do it.  This is where the road ends for me.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone who has supported me, and us, throughout this painful journey.  It is truly in God's hands at this point, and I trust that whatever happens will happen for a reason.  I'm sharing this in the hopes that there can be less of a stigma around infertility.  It's a very private matter, but then again it affects so many around us.  I am someone who heals by sharing, who takes comfort in talking about the good things as well as the bad.  I desperately want to give Sabrina a sibling her own age, so I will stay the course and keep trying, but not forever.  A person can only take so much.

The Pregnancy That Never Was

It was there.  That faint second line.  I was pregnant.  I called my husband in, showed it to him.  We hugged, whispered our excitement.  Blood test confirmed that I was VERY newly pregnant with a repeat test ordered in a week to confirm.  We kept the news to ourselves and quietly and happily counted ahead to a September due date (Chris's birthday month!), Sabrina being a big sister, plans for a gender reveal party, and all the other things that came along with finding out you're expecting.  I of course worked myself up into my usual ball of anxiety over anything resembling change, especially a change this big.  But I was happy.

Then the repeat test came.  I had figured out what my numbers should have been (HCG is supposed to double every 2 days, as all mommies to be quickly learn in their pregnancy journey) and it should have been roughly 150.  It was 40.  Hardly doubled in a week, let alone every 2 days.  My progesterone was almost 0 (3), down from almost 12 the week before.  Something was wrong.  I got my results in a message on my patient portal with the attached note of "We need to see you for an appointment".  Not exactly the way I wanted to find out that there was obviously something very wrong with my pregnancy.

So my husband and I trudged into the office a few LONG hours later.  They asked for any symptoms I'd been having, spotting, one sided pain.  Talked about risks of ectopic pregnancy.  The doctor told me that with the numbers as low as they were, it likely was an egg that was fertilized but never implanted.  This pregnancy of mine never really was.

But to me, it was.  The pink line was there.  The subsequent tests all said pregnant.  I FELT pregnant.  My chest immediately grew twice its size (kinda like the Grinch's heart) and began to really hurt.  I remembered those early signs.  Peeing more.  Being more tired.  Just feeling off, like something was different.  I may not have been pregnant, but my body begged to differ.  

So now I'm in this state of limbo.  My body still thinks it's pregnant.  The tests I take all say pregnant.  But I guess I have to come to terms with the fact that I'm not.  I never really was to begin with, other than a slightly elevated blood result.  The ICD-10 code on my patient plan read "Missed Abortion".  Really?  Is that really the term we want to use when a mother to be has been told that her pregnancy isn't viable?  Upon further googling, I saw the words "early fetal death" and stopped reading there.  I just couldn't read any more.

I've read many heartbreaking stories of pregnancy loss.  But the question I can't really seem to answer is, have I had a pregnancy loss?  I've lost the idea behind being pregnant, that's unquestionable.  But I don't feel like I can really place myself in the same category as those women who've lost pregnancies much later. I only had the idea for really a week, and even then I knew it was early and I knew that ultimately something like this could happen.  

Many women choose to keep their miscarriages and nonviable pregnancies to themselves. After some soul searching, I decided that I needed to do just the opposite.  I needed to share my sadness, my disappointment, in an attempt to not feel alone or ashamed.  I know so many others have been through similar struggles and I take comfort in sharing my pain so that maybe someone else like me can know they aren't alone either.  

I don't know what to feel.  I am sad, but not shattered.  I am disappointed, but not defeated.  My heart is sad for what would have been, but is also hopeful for what hopefully will be in the future.  I hope that we are lucky enough to get pregnant again soon, and hopefully that this time it will stick.  But for now, I'll quietly mourn my baby that never was, hug my fiesty, sweetheart of a toddler that I am lucky enough to have by my side, and feel secure in the fact that I have my best friend, my rock, my husband by my side through all of it.

The Chinese Gender Predictor predicted that it would have been a boy.  So in my mind, I will always think of the son that never really was for me, and hope that he is somewhere out there smiling down on us.

A Mother's Day Letter to My Baby Girl

The Sunshine of My Life

Sabrina,

This will be my second Mother's Day as your mommy.  What a wild ride the past 18 months has been.  As I look back over your short yet universe-altering life, I can't help but think of how much I feel like I'm screwing it up.

Every single day, I see others mothers getting it right.  Just this week I saw Duchess Kate dressed in a beautiful spring dress and high heels walk down steps holding her newborn Princess Charlotte, basically the same day she gave birth.  24 hours after I had given birth to you, I hadn't showered, could barely stand, and hadn't washed my hair for 3 days.  A royal I was not!  I was just happy the catheter was gone and that the walk to the bathroom was a short one.

We had a tough start, you and me.  I see mothers post pictures and blog posts about their first days with their baby, full of awe and wonder at the new life that they have created.  You and I, we had a tougher time. Your first days were filled with tears, yours and mine. They were filled with frustration and pain and feeling like I couldn't get a thing right.  Some mothers, they just take to motherhood naturally, but I unfortunately had a different path. We got there, you and I, but it didn't come easy.  

I am one of those mommies who has to go to work everyday.  Well, except Saturday and Sunday of course.  But those days are spent cramming a week's worth of errands in, grocery shopping and cleaning and laundry, which your saint of a daddy takes care of, and trying to squeeze us time in there somewhere.  The guilt I feel as a full time working mommy will never go away. I spent every day of your first 3 months with you, at home, but then our time together was over and I had to go back to work.  I am sorry that I am not home with you everyday.  I am sorry we don't go to the library for story time or to the park for a play date.  I am sorry we can't go to Target on a Tuesday morning just for fun.  I know there are things that we won't get to do because I have to go to work everyday.  And I am eternally sorry for that, with every fiber of my being.

Sometimes I lose my temper and get frustrated with you, my love.  Another way mommy just doesn't get it right.  I am so full of love for you, but in some ways you are so much like me, headstrong and determined to do it on your own.  Those are the best qualities I could give to you, but some days, after a long hard day at work, or when I'm not feeling well, or when I just want a break, those qualities can push me to, and even past, my limit.  Some days, hearing "NO!" for the hundredth time or having you throw your dinner on the ground pushes me to my breaking point.  I am sorry my love.  I know you don't do it to make mommy mad and I know you are still trying to figure things out in this big world of yours. Just like you are trying to figure it out, I am too.  

But I hope someday, that you will look back at all my imperfections, all the ways that I haven't gotten it right, and realize that somewhere in there was an imperfect woman who loved you with every ounce of her soul.  Who knew she wasn't getting it right, and tried to do better.  I hope you see a woman who loved you but also loved her job, and gave both everything she had.  I hope you see your mommy as someone who wanted it all, and did her best to get it all.  I know I will continue to not get it right.  There will be more bad days when I lose my temper and get frustrated.  But I will never give up on you, on us.  I always wanted a daughter, and God blessed me with the best one there ever was.  I am so lucky to have you, my Sabrina.  You are the best Mother's Day present of all.

Love always,
Mommy

Time to Lose Some Weight! AKA Crush My Soul

That's me on the end- the chubby one in the flowered dress.

Okay everyone, it's time for me to get real.  I mean really real.  I blog about lots of things (infrequently these days due to a high stress job and a crazy life to boot), and I've blogged about my insecurity about my body and my weight before.  But now starts my journey to getting back on track.

First things first.  I don't do diets.  Don't talk to me about Atkins or Paleo or Mediterranean or South Beach or even Weight Watchers.  I just don't do them.  I don't follow them and I fall off the wagon and I get mad and frustrated and give up.  In the past, when I have wanted to lose weight, the only things that have worked are exercise and portion control.  I will not put butter in my coffee, I will not consume coconut oil or whatever other latest fad is going on.  I'm not knocking it for others if it works, and I do have a great respect for the Weight Watchers program because I know it works well for many, some of my family and friends included.  But for me, I have to eat reasonably, while still eating what I want, and to do this I must control my portions.  Easier said than done, judging from past experience.

This isn't my first time wanting to lose weight, but it is certainly the most uphill battle I've faced with my weight.  I had my daughter Sabrina in November of 2013, just a few months after turning 30.  I swear, between the two of those life (and body) changing events, my metabolism, my body, everything changed.  I lost the weight quickly after having Sabrina, but I put quite a bit back on once I went back to work (mostly because I actually could sit down and eat a meal without a crying baby in one arm).  By last fall, I weighed just under 140 pounds.  Come wintertime, stress, depression, and lack of exercise, I went up to 144 pounds at my highest, using my home scale.  Doctors office scales are far meaner and I hate them and refuse to acknowledge their existence.  I'm sticking with my home scale to gauge my measurements.  

Yesterday, I had a sobering experience.  My daughter was napping, so I went to the basement and pulled out my spring and summer clothes to hang up in my closet, in the hopes that the weather will finally take a springlike turn.  I was so disheartened to see that all of my capri pants from last year (post-baby me, mind you) are a size 6.  The pants I am wearing now are a size 10.  2 sizes!!  And I can't even blame baby weight, because last summer I was 6-9 months postpartum, so that ship had sailed.  How is this even possible?  How did I let myself gain this much weight?  I don't even know when or how it happened.  It wasn't sudden, it must have crept up on me, a pound or two there, with no exercise done to prevent it.  

Living in the Northeast is brutal for exercise unless the treadmill or elliptical are your thing. For me, they just aren't.  The elliptical confuses me to no end- it's like patting your head and rubbing your belly at the same time, something I am not very good at if I'm being honest.  I can't force the upper half of my body to do something different than the lower half.  Bad things will happen.  The treadmill is okay but it is SO BORING and I do not have room for one in my home, not that I'd probably use it much anyway.  That leaves me with walking outdoors for exercise, which just honestly didn't happen this winter.  This winter was either the coldest on record (recent record anyway) or the second coldest.  Most days had below zero wind chills.  Sorry, but I'm not signing up for a 3 mile jaunt through sub-zero temperatures.  Not gonna happen.

Like every other mother out there, time is another huge factor in my weight gain.  Life is so hectic, working full time with a toddler, a teenager (my stepdaughter), and just a normal life to live.  I do a pretty good job of meal planning, so I'm not left scrambling at the last minute for what to have for dinner, because that is when you give in to take-out of the unhealthy persuasion.  But Chinese take-out and pizzas from Sam's Club are certainly part of my reality, because sometimes in the interest of time and sanity, those are the easiest way to get everyone fed reasonably cost effectively and in a timely fashion.  That's just life.  

But it's time to start changing my mentality.  Not to one of obsession with calories, because nothing annoys me more than someone who flaunts their healthy lifestyle in your face, but to one of making smart choices most of the time, allowing for the occasional indulgence in bread and ice cream (my favorites!!!).  To a mindset where exercise, some way, somehow, isn't something that can easily be disregarded.  Knowing that there will surely be days where getting my walks in just won't happen, due to working late or weather or illness or whatever, but not letting that derail me in the long term.  Making my health, my weight, my family's health a bigger priority.

I wanted to share this journey with those around me, because no matter if you are a mother (or father) of little ones or if you find yourself in a totally different place and time in your life, we all have struggles when it comes to diet and exercise.  It is so helpful to be able to share your struggles and your successes with others.  So today, I am officially kicking off my weight loss and fitness challenge.  I challenge myself to walk my goal of 10,000 steps 5 out of 7 days a week and to get to my goal weight of 135 pounds (or less!) in the next 3 months.  

I will check in periodically during the coming weeks to update my progress.  I know I will have setbacks, and I know I will struggle.  But hopefully at the end of this challenge, my own personal challenge to myself, I will come out at the healthy weight I want.  If you have had your own successes and want to share something that worked for you, or share your story, I would love to hear from you.  Just like when it comes to raising a child, fitness and weight loss takes a village too!

What's the Rush? My Fears on Baby #2

My daughter Sabrina, at 16 months, is so stinking much fun right now.  I am loving this age. Yes, she has terrible two tendencies already, stamping her feet and shaking her head no to assert her opinions, but she is growing and changing with every second that passes by. Every day is a new adventure and I love sitting back and letting her grow into whoever it is that she is going to turn into as she grows older and more independent.  

Her independence is as endearing as it is frustrating.  Though I get irritated when she arches her back and grunts her displeasure with different situations, I also remember that this is the daughter I wanted.  One who thinks for herself, one who isn't afraid to speak (grunt, shriek, scream, etc) her mind.  One who would rather do something for herself than have it done for her.  And while some things that she'd like to do just aren't feasible at her age, I am insanely proud of her for wanting to do them.  

My parenting journey hasn't always brought me this much joy, to be honest.  It has been a long, hard battle to this point of comfort and enjoyment.  I was ill prepared for the changes that motherhood brought.  I thought I was mentally (and physically) prepared, but that was far from the truth.  While many women have traumatic birth stories, Sabrina's birth was mostly comfortable, about 1 hour of excruciating hip pain, and a begged for c-section which ended a long 17 hour labor.  That part I'd do over again in a minute.  I had a couple rough days after my c-section, but once I was up and walking around and gaining my strength back, my recovery really was smooth sailing.  Getting my staples out was scary and stressful, but the truth is I didn't feel a thing.  They were out before I even had time to squirm.  Easy peasy, right?  

Sabrina is heading towards that 18 month point at which most couples start discussing planning for baby #2.  Or baby #2, child # 3 in our case, as I have an almost 16 year old stepdaughter, my husband's daughter from his first marriage.  The thought of having another baby crosses my mind each and every day, for one reason or another.  But the truth of the matter is, I don't know if I want to.

I'm sure there is a collective gasp coming from society at large right now.  How dare you not be chomping at the bit to have another baby?  That's what you do in today's society!  You have a baby, then 2-3 years later you have another one.  It's just what you do.  Well, guess what.  I'm not feeling it at this moment in my life.  So why do I feel a huge, overwhelming sense of guilt about that?  Why do I feel like I am less of a mother because I am not charging headfirst into baby #2?

I've blogged before about most of the reasons that I am not rushing to have another baby. This isn't new territory. But what I haven't blogged about is the crushing guilt that goes along with it.  

First off, I was not someone who loved being pregnant.  While my pregnancy was pretty low-key, I slept horribly almost the entire time (you'd think that would have prepared me for the sleep deprivation to follow!), had terrible issues with heartburn, and just generally was uncomfortable.  I had no pregnancy glow about me.  I was simply just a woman who wanted to have a baby, and pregnancy was a means to an end.  People would ask me "Don't you just love being pregnant?!" to which I would snort and reply with some sarcastic comment to signify that NO I did not LOVE being pregnant.  I couldn't wait to NOT be pregnant, as a matter of fact, and I can't say that I have ever really missed that feeling since Sabrina was born.  I am happy to see my feet, to be able to paint my own toenails, and to down caffeine by the gallon if I so desire without feeling guilty or being judged.  

Already mentioned how birth was no big thing for me, and honestly wouldn't be moving forward.  My doctor mentioned a VBAC to me, but if I ever do decide to hop on the mommy train again, it would be on a one way track to the operating room for a scheduled repeat c-section.  Why mess with what already has worked?  I don't know that I would elect for major surgery, but since I already had to with not much of a choice, and I know what to expect, I'll pass on the sitz baths and the fear of using the bathroom in favor of a sore abdomen and temporary lifting restrictions.  Judge me if you like, but I have NO guilt about that part of this conundrum I find myself in.  C section or bust.

But seriously, this is the point in this story where things get dicey.  Pregnancy, eh. Birth, whatever, I'll deal.  The aftermath of birth, life with a newborn, AGAIN?  That's where I have my biggest dilemma.  Newborn phase.  Up every 2-3 hours.  While recovering from a c section.  Only this time, WITH A TODDLER!  Oh my.  It gives me palpitations.  

My Sabrina wasn't and isn't a good sleeper.  Still, at 16 months old, she gets up at least once at night.  A vast improvement from the innumerable sleep issues we've overcome in her life, which my sanity and I are immeasurably grateful for.  But still.  I've had a tough track record with her thus far, generally only getting 2 hours of sleep at a time between feedings in the early months, and with her getting up twice at night until not that long ago.  Forgive me if I'm a little gun shy about going down that path again.  I never again will question why sleep deprivation is used as a torture tactic.  I would have given any military secrets I had, along with my left and my right arm, for a good night's sleep.  With Sabrina, I didn't know what I didn't know.  But now, I KNOW.  I know what I'd be in for.  Yes I survived it once, but at some points barely.  

My biggest and most real fear in having a second baby is opening myself up to the possibility of having postpartum depression. Again.  For the first 3 months of my daughter's life, maybe more, I lived in some sort of drug-like fog.  I felt everything and nothing all at the same time. I felt more like a bystander in my life than a participant.  I had a physical, visceral fear of nighttime.  Because nighttime brought the hardest hours of the day for me, the hours from 12-6 when my saint of a husband went to bed and I was left on my own with a baby that they told me was mine but I had very little attachment to.  This baby that ate and cried (a lot) and slept (a little).  This baby that I knew I loved somewhere deep inside of me but that I more often than not felt annoyed with. What the hell kind of a mother was I?  One that was just going through the motions, I can safely say now on the outside of my fog.  One that knew what she was supposed to do and did it, but not because of some deep seeded motherly instinct.  My husband, my parents, they tried to pull me from my fog, but the truth was I just had to heal, whatever that meant. Time, I think, was the healer.  It healed my body, healed my hormones, and eventually, after a long while, started to heal my mind.  But there were days that were so dark, so unhappy, so scary, that I wasn't sure how I was going to make it.  

There's no guarantee it would happen to me again.  But there's also no guarantee that it wouldn't.  Only this time, it wouldn't affect just me and the new baby, but also my Sabrina. My Sabrina that has already been negatively impacted by her mother's battle with postpartum depression once in her short life.  Could I really do that do her again? 

I keep telling myself that everyone seems to have a second baby.  It can't be that hard, can it?  Every day I see stories in my Facebook feed about friends of mine with one baby adding to their family with baby # 2 on the way.  I am honestly overjoyed for them.  I know that having a sibling adds something to a child's life.  Teaches them to share, teaches them that sometimes others come first, gives them their first friend. But right now, I am not in a place where I am ready to make that decision for our family.  

There are many practical implications to the decision to have a second baby.  We technically do have a fourth bedroom that we could turn into a nursery, but it has significant drawbacks. It is a tiny little room that has no heating or cooling vent in it.  In the winter, it wouldn't be hard to run a little space heater in there; in fact, we still use a space heater in Sabrina's room and it works just fine.  But cooling the room is a more difficult feat.  It has one mini-window that cannot hold a window air conditioner.   So in the heat of the summer, I honestly do not know how that room would be temperature controlled.  Another downside is that room happens to share a wall with my teenage stepdaughter's room.  Our house is old, has little insulation, and certainly isn't sound dampening.  A teenager and a newborn aren't really meant to share close quarters like that, as teenagers are up til all hours in their rooms and newborns are doing the same...  in far different ways.  I just don't see that dynamic playing out well.  Finally, turning that room into a nursery takes away our guest room, which is used when my parents come to visit but mostly is used as my dog's room.  Yes, Baby has her own room and sleeps on the bed in there every night.  Previously she slept in the bed in Sabrina's room.  She obviously made the move to the guest bedroom when that room turned into a nursery.  If our guest room were a nursery, she'd be out of luck, and so would I, as my dog does not do well with change.  She'd be forced to sleep downstairs, which I don't really see going over too well.

We often go to Pittsburgh to spend time with my parents there, visit extended family, and watch our beloved Steelers and Pirates play.  Traveling 6 hours in a vehicle with one child is painful enough, but throw in a newborn and a toddler?  Those palpitations I mentioned earlier are back.  I do everything but stand on my head to amuse Sabrina on those never-ending rides, but throw in a baby to boot?  Mama might opt to stay home instead.  

I know there are always difficulties in life if you look for them.  And yes, I admit that I am not a glass half full kind of girl most of the time.  But the decision to have another baby is one that is life-changing, and I am not willing to make that decision based on societal pressure, real or imagined, or just because "it's what you do".  I may never be fully ready, but the fear and the guilt that I feel is enough to know that I have to trust my "gut" (as Leroy Jethro Gibbs would say) and just wait.  And if, in the end, our family doesn't add Baby #2, I hope that people won't judge me or think less of me.  It isn't a decision that I am taking lightly, that's for sure.

MIA: What Have I Been Up To?

My husband asked me the other night why I haven't written anything on my blog lately. And it hadn't really occurred to me how long it had been.  Hard to believe my last blog post was 11/18, Sabrina's first birthday.  My response was that I didn't really have much to say.. and that is partially true.  This time of year hits me hard, and this year is seeming a little worse than normal.  I have never been diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder but I am completely confident that I do in fact suffer from it.  The days seem so long this time of year, despite a decided lack of daylight and sunshine.  I find myself feeling in a Groundhog Day-like loop of going to work, coming home, spending time with Sabrina (which these days involves her being tired and cranky from her decision to only nap 1 hour per day now), making dinner, cleaning up dinner, collapsing in my recliner, and falling asleep there usually by 8 or 8:30.  I am just a barrel of fun!  

I shouldn't complain, because my life is fantastic overall, but I can't seem to strap that smile on my face and suffer through the winter blues.  I find myself irritable, depressed, anxious.. ya know, all the good stuff.  Combine that with my 14 month old still waking up 1-2 times per night, a dog that has adopted Sabrina's sleeping habits who wakes me up around 12:30 every night, and you have one grumpy mama who is in need of a vacation!

But stepping back and reminiscing over the last 2 months since my last post, life has been really good.  Thanksgiving came and went quickly and we had a really enjoyable Christmas season. Best of all, we were able to go to Pittsburgh to spend Christmas with my family at my parents' house, which was something really important to me.  Pittsburgh is who I am, it's in my blood, and I want Sabrina to get to experience at least some of that...  until we move back home someday.  :)

So here's some highlights from the last 2 months that I've been absent.  Work is extremely busy and life is extremely exhausting, so I find myself working longer hours which leaves me exhausted at home, hence no blogging. If that groundhog sees his shadow on Monday, I am driving to Punxsutawney and having a word with that rodent!  

My favorite picture from Sabrina's 1st Birthday Party- Cake Smash for mommy :)

This little ham really loved having her pictures taken for her first birthday and Christmas!

My favorite picture of Sabrina, maybe ever...  this shows her true personality!

Mommy and Sabrina

Nestrick Family 2014

Christmas Card 2014

Posing with the tree

Hubby and I got to go to the Steelers/Chiefs game the Sunday before Christmas in Pittsburgh!

Sabrina and Santa- so stinking cute!!!

3 Generations of Love at Christmas Eve Mass

Christmas 2014- What fun we had!

Sabrina's Favorite Present from this Christmas- her kitchen!

Looking back on 2014.

January 6 marked 18 months of wedded bliss with my husband and my best friend, Chris.

So now you're caught up on my life.  It's a wonderful life, even if it is a bit like Groundhog Day these days.  Hoping for sunshine and warmer weather to come quickly, so I can get out of this winter blues funk and get back to feeling like myself again!  Until then, here's hoping for no snow, lots of sleep, and lots of love and happiness to all!  :)

The Best Worst Year of My Life

Dear Sabrina,


Today, my love, you turn one.  Where the last 365 days have gone is a mystery to me.  The seconds started flying by the minute you were born.  From the minute I heard you cry, strapped to the surgical table in the OR, you had my heart.  There have been some bumps along our journey together, but never once did they make me doubt my love for you.  

Someday, you will hopefully become a mommy yourself.  And I will long since have forgotten the struggles and the hardships of those first 365 days of motherhood, so I am writing this to you so that you will not feel alone.  I will be there for you in every way I can, but time heals all wounds, and I will have moved on from these memories to those of you growing up, blossoming into a young woman and beyond.  But I need for you to know, to understand, to have a record of what I felt like being your mommy, and what you will likely feel being a mommy yourself.

You will feel the highest highs and the lowest lows in those first 365 days.  The most joyful moment I think I've ever felt was hearing your cry for the first time.  You were real, you were here, you were all ours.  Those first days, I felt like I was in a dream.  You were perfect.  But then the crash happened.  We went home.  You cried.  A lot.  You hurt me breastfeeding... badly.  And things started to unravel.  I cried, every single day, sometimes for hours at a time.  I felt like a failure, like you deserved a better mother.  Those were some of the hardest, darkest days of my life.  I hope, my love, that you never feel anything even close to what I felt.  But in the event that you do, know that mommy went through it with you, and while it was harder than I ever imagined, I made it, and so will you.

Being a mom is hard at any and every point in a child's life, but that first year is especially difficult.  You used to cry and cry, especially in the evening, and there was no way for daddy and I to know what you wanted.  We would take turns holding you, walking you around the house, praying that the hardwood floors wouldn't creak too much.  Praying that the dog wouldn't suddenly see a cat and bark her head off.  Praying that you would find some way to comfort yourself since we rarely seemed to be able to comfort you.  Some nights daddy and I would have to wake each other up for help because you just wouldn't settle down.  We prayed for some relief, for some kind of magic to calm you down.  Patience and time was all that seemed to work.  Sometimes you will be at your wit's end with your own little one, having no idea what to do.  In those moments, remember that mommy went through it too, and that sometimes taking a deep breath and having a good cry can help release tension.  Singing helps too.  

Remember to have fun in those first 365 days, especially those early ones.  I will always feel like I wished our early days together away, because I felt so utterly depressed, so tired, so alone in so many ways.  I look back on that with such regret in my heart.  You were and are such a gift to me, my sweet baby girl, and I wish I had enjoyed you more in your first days of life.  You spent 9 months growing inside of me, yet when you were born you were a stranger in so many ways.  If your little one's first days are difficult, don't beat yourself up sweetheart.  You didn't come with instructions either.  

Finally, my love, don't be too hard on yourself.  Being a first time mom is a HUGE adjustment, one that cannot be overestimated.  Change is hard, even good change.  Be kind to yourself and allow yourself time to adjust to being a mommy.  Someone else depends on you for EVERYTHING now.  It is a huge, scary, awesome responsibility.  Cut yourself some slack, ask for help, remember to do things for yourself too.  YOU matter too.

Sabrina, the joy that you have brought to our lives this past year is immeasurable.  Your smile, your giggle, your babbling, the way you walk through the room like a bull in a china shop...  You have a way of making everyone around you happy.  You have made me a better person.  You have challenged me to have patience, to let go of my perfectionist ways, and to just go with the flow and enjoy life as it comes.  My world, our world, is so much better because you are in it.  I will spend every moment of the rest of my life trying to give you everything, trying to teach you everything I can, trying to make you as happy as you've made me.  Never ever will you know how much I love you, until the day when you have your own little one.  Maybe then you can understand the deep, overpowering, dizzying love that I feel for you with every breath I take.  

To quote our favorite song, one that I've sung to you probably a hundred times in your short life, "I love you in the morning, and in the afternoon, I love you in the evening, underneath the moon..."

All my love, ALWAYS,
Mommy

Ebola: Okay, Now I'm Worried.

Photo from http://kadvacorp.com/mind-of-manwoman/ebola-virus-disease-information/ 

I consider myself to be a generally level headed person.  As a new mother, I was concerned but didn't call the doctor daily or weekly when my baby got the sniffles or was miserable.  I am not a hypochondriac and tend to roll my eyes when people freak out over the virus of the moment.

But Ebola.  Seriously.  I am starting to get concerned.  Well, more than starting to actually.  I am concerned.  

I was concerned upon reading about the epidemic in West Africa.  I seek to be educated on current events, so I made sure to read articles from reputable news organizations.  At the time, though slightly concerned, I was able to comfort myself by saying that the virus was limited to West Africa, and I had no plans to travel to that part of the world ever, let alone anytime soon.  I was increasingly concerned when the missionaries infected in Africa were brought back to the US for treatment.  That was bringing the virus onto American soil.  But I tried to think with compassion and reason.  I would want the same opportunity if that were one of my loved ones.  The CDC is trained to handle the worst of epidemics, so surely they wouldn't allow them to enter the US without believing that the virus could be contained while still treating the individual.  The missionaries got well.  Both of them, at least that I am aware of.  My level of concern actually decreased at that point.  It was a noble effort to treat them and I'm sure their families were eternally grateful.  It was a happy ending for all.

Then one afternoon, at home with my family, a tweet from NBC News caused my stomach to churn.  Someone in the US had tested positive for Ebola.  Not a US Citizen, but someone visiting family in the Dallas area.  Right, wrong, or indifferent, my first reaction was "Who the heck let that guy into the US?!"  I desperately try to avoid political discussions.  I am not apathetic, I just believe that everyone is entitled to their opinion and I do not seek to sway others to think the same way I do.  But in the middle of a global epidemic, located in one area of the globe, how were we not taking precautions with individuals traveling from those areas?  I'd read the articles, the ones that said that the US, and the world for that matter, wasn't taking the Ebola threat seriously enough.  I hoped it was just the media sensationalizing a story to get ratings.  Clearly, that wasn't the case.  Clearly they were right, we were not taking it seriously, and now here it was, on our soil, in our hospitals.

I knew the guy was going to die.  I just did.  I can't explain it, I just had a gut feeling, and unfortunately that gut feeling came to pass last week.  Someone died from Ebola.  In our country.  I am sure that there will be steep penalties to pay for the hospital administration that allowed the patient to go back into the public and potentially infect dozens more individuals than if it had been caught earlier.  I am not a nurse or a doctor, but I do not understand how a patient says that they have been Africa, comes in with flu-like symptoms and a temperature of 103, and is told to go home and take Tylenol.  I just do not get it.  I am not judging those workers or that hospital, because I think the US as a whole is inadequately prepared to deal with Ebola.  I think that same situation could have happened at scores of other hospitals across the country.  I do not blame Dallas.

And then yesterday, it happened again.  Another blip of social media told me that another person had tested positive for Ebola, a woman who had cared for Thomas Eric Duncan in Dallas.  My heart sank.  Weren't there precautions taken?  How did this happen?  Was it someone who cared for him in the Emergency Department, before he was diagnosed? It doesn't sound like it.  From what I've read so far, this woman wasn't even one being monitored for potentially being exposed.  The CDC has said that there was a "breach in protocol".  Obviously.  I don't care for that wording at all- it makes it sound like it's the nurse's fault that she got Ebola, when in reality she was just doing her job, a job that entailed a great deal of risk.  The nursing assistant in Spain that contracted Ebola from one of her patient's said she may have brushed her face with her glove.  Probably something that took mere seconds to occur, yet it changed her life and so many others for good.  These are humans that are caring for these patients.  They are not perfect or infallible.  I work in a hospital.  Not directly in patient care, thankfully, but I do interact with patient care staff on a regular basis.  These nurses and nursing assistants have incredibly hard jobs on any given day, but I feel as though caring for patients with Ebola is a task that is asking them to go above and beyond.  Those individuals see the scariest of sights, probably think the scariest of thoughts, and yet have to go to work and do what is asked of them if they want a paycheck. If it was me, and I was in Dallas as a healthcare worker?  I'd be seriously considering quitting my job and working at Target or one of the many other retailers looking to hire seasonal workers.  I'm sure I'm not alone.

There is no simple solution to this crisis, and I certainly am not blogging about this topic because I have any answers.  The honest truth is I am scared.  Scared for those in Dallas, scared that this horrible virus is just a plane ride or car ride away, scared that we won't be able to get this under control before many more lives are lost.  My younger brother is a nurse, thankfully currently in school to be a CRNA.  But before that, guess where he worked? The Emergency Room.  He would have been on the front lines of patient care in the moderately large city of Pittsburgh.  Is it so out of the question that Ebola could end up there, or even where I live now in small town New York State?  I think we all have to face the fact that nothing is really out of the question anymore.  

I am not suggesting we live in fear.  Rather, I am begging the population to educate themselves about the Ebola virus.  I am asking that the government seriously consider alternative options to allowing those traveling from West Africa to enter the US, particularly if they are not a citizen.  I do not say this to seek to punish anyone from that region of the world, not at all in fact.  But we have to take precautions, ones that probably should have been taken in the past.  We have to protect our citizens, especially the elderly and the young, who would not have the strength to fight this deadly virus.  On behalf of my nearly 1 year old daughter, I beg someone to take a stand, to not worry about politics or poll numbers, and do what is right.  Come together and find a way to protect US Citizens.  If that means turning away flights from the affected regions or coming up with an alternative way of having those individuals safely enter the US, then so be it.  It may not be politically correct or convenient, but I think the time has already passed to do something that some may consider drastic.  It doesn't mean it's forever, just long enough that there can be some reasonable sense of safety and security that the bulk of the threat has subsided.

Finally, I sincerely hope that hospitals will wake up to the reality of Ebola on US soil and take the time to train their staff on how to treat these most critical and contagious patients.  How to treat them with dignity and compassion, but also how to treat them so that they do not put themselves or others at risk of contracting Ebola from a "breach of protocol" as the CDC so delicately put it.  If we were in their shoes, could we say with 100% certainty that we would not make a mistake, something as simple as touching our gloved hand to our face?  I don't think so.

Please, speak up.  It is up to us to demand some form of action and prevention.  Our healthcare workers deserve it, our children deserve it, we all deserve it.  God bless those affected and their families, and I hope we can all stop worrying about all of this very, very soon.

Why I'm In No Hurry for Baby #2

My daughter is nearly 1 year old now.  She is the light of my life and I could never fully explain the joy that she brings me.  I am happily planning her first birthday party, enjoying this new phase of her being more independent, more toddler like.

But guess what?  I'm exhausted.  Not like "lack of sleep" exhausted (things have been getting better in that regard), but rather exhausted from the busyness of life with a 1 year old.  In addition to my mommy responsibilities, I work full time, which mostly entails me running from one meeting to another, sometimes in a different building altogether, answering endless emails, and just generally running around like a chicken with my head cut off.  

So when people ask me "So when are you guys having another one?" I do my best not to either laugh hysterically or smack them in the back of the head (a la Leroy Jethro Gibbs on NCIS).  Do not get me wrong, I want to have another child.  My husband would do it tomorrow if I were on board.  But quite honestly,  I'm just not there yet.

There are many reasons why I'm in no hurry for Baby # 2.  Baby # 2 for me is child # 3 for our family, since Chris has a 15 year old daughter from his first marriage.  As I've written about before, life with a teenager and a toddler has its challenges.  Chris's daughter is with us full time now, so that means we are responsible for most of the transportation that goes along with having an involved, intelligent, responsible teenage daughter.  Swim practice every day, religious education every Sunday, outings with friends, high school football games, swim meets... The list goes on and on.  Factor into this equation having a toddler, one who gets cranky in the late afternoon and goes to bed by 6:30 every night like clockwork.  Bedtime every night is a three ring circus of my husband and myself giving her a bath, drying her, brushing and combing her hair, putting her PJ's on, and finally putting her in her sleep sack, all the while trying to keep her shrieking to a minimum (bath time is okay, everything else is torture) and praying that she will lay on the changing table long enough to get her diaper on before she starts flipping over, grabbing for us to hold her, etc.  By the time she goes into her crib at 6:30, we are exhausted!

Selfishly on my part, I also want more time with just my Sabrina.  I want to shower her with love and attention and let her continue to be the center of my world.  She is getting to such a fun age, one where we can really start doing things with her more, taking her places and allowing her to begin to explore the world beyond her house and her Nana's.  We plan to take her to Disney World next October, when she will be almost 2, which I am absolutely ecstatic about and cannot wait for.  I want to give her that time, with just us and her grandparents, to feel like she is the center of it all.. because she is!

Recently Buckingham Palace announced that Duchess Kate is expecting again.  Kate and I were pregnant at the same time for our first pregnancies; Prince Georgie was born in July, Sabrina in November.  It was really neat to watch her pregnancy unfold in the press, all the while my own pregnancy was unfolding.  But when I heard that she was pregnant again, my knee jerk reaction was "What was she thinking?!"  Then I remembered that she is a Duchess, has a staff likely at her disposal, although I do think she is a very involved mother to her son.. and then I realized why she would want to do it all again so soon.

Kate, you and I differ on this one.  I am so eternally grateful to have my daughter, to be a mother, and I can't imagine my life without her.  But I am not yet ready to do it all again. I did not love being pregnant the first time, and I anticipate that would not change with pregnancy number 2.  And I didn't even have morning sickness!  But the constant exhaustion, the GI issues, the shortness of breath, the muscle weakness...  While some people glow and love every minute of it, for me it was a means to an end.  (A wonderful, lively, smart, strong-willed end that I love with all my heart.)

But more than any of that, I am terrified of having postpartum depression again.  I haven't yet researched statistics on the re-occurrence of postpartum depression with baby # 2 when the mother had it with baby # 1.  I don't want to know, quite honestly.  I am so scared that I will bring another life into this world, and spend the first months of his or her life falling down the rabbit hole of depression yet again.  Because this time, I wouldn't only be affecting one child, but two.  It was hard enough to get through the first time, but I can't even imagine how hard it would be with two children to care for instead of one.

One thing I know for sure, that I'm sure people will judge me for, is that I will not even attempt breastfeeding with baby # 2, whenever the time comes.  I can't do it again.  I can't face the pain, the exhaustion, the uncertainty, the waiting...  I can't face hooking myself up to a breast pump, I can't face taking on the sole responsibility of providing food for my child.  I just can't do it.  I don't think breastfeeding caused my postpartum depression, but I think it sure as heck didn't help anything.  I was exhausted, beating myself up for my lack of success with breastfeeding, my baby was miserable and hungry... it just was a recipe for disaster.  I can't put myself in a potentially harmful situation again.  While I agree that breastfeeding is absolutely best, for me it's just not worth the risks.

So I'm going to take my time and enjoy life with my darling daughter for awhile longer, before we give her a brother or sister to love.  (And fight with.)  I know that when the time is right, Baby # 2 will come into our world and we won't remember what life was like without them.  I look forward to that day, but for now, I'm happy with life the way it is.

The 10 Baby Products I Could Not Live Without!

As a mommy to be, my husband and I spent hours wandering the aisles of Babies R Us, Target, and Burlington, trying to select only the best items for our registry for our baby girl. Once she arrived, reality set in. So much of that registry I wouldn't use, or not anytime soon at least. Yet so many of the things I really needed I didn't necessarily have.

So I decided to put together my own personal Top 10 list of the baby products that I found I truly couldn't live without. Whether you are expecting, know someone who is, or need ideas for a gift, I hope this list helps you as you wade through the endless baby items that the little one may or may not actually need. So put back that wipe warmer, and read on!



10. Avent BPA Free Freeflow Pacifier

Starting the list off with one of the basics. The bink. Oh how I love the bink, and oh how I stressed over giving Sabrina the stupid thing early in her life. I made it a whopping one night home before shoving the Avent Soothie in her mouth, praying for calm to wash over her. Newsflash- it didn't. Luckily we registered for multiple kinds of binks, and the Freeflow Pacifier did the trick. Sabrina didn't love it from the start, but she sure does love it now, and so does mommy and daddy. (Stay tuned for a future blog post about our woes of Sabrina giving up her bink...)

9. Graco DuoDiner High Chair
We are a Graco family. Sabrina's stroller and infant car seat were Graco, along with our pack and play and many other items. We wanted to have Sabrina sit with us at the dinner table, since we do sit at the table and eat as a family most nights, but we needed a 5 point harness and a reclining high chair initially, since she was still too small to sit up without support. This high chair more than fits the bill. She was comfortable in it from 3 months old when we started using it, and she continues to be comfortable (if inconvenienced by being restrained) at 10 months. It has several heights as well, so it will grow with her. 



8. Angelcare Baby Bath Support Seat

I was and still am horribly terrified of giving Sabrina a bath. All I can hear in my head is "Babies can drown in just a few inches of water!". Geez, nothing like traumatizing us new moms (and dads). Were it not for this bath seat, I probably still would never have given her a bath myself. The Angelcare Baby Bath Support Seat does just that- supports. From the age of 2 weeks, and still today, she has used this seat for every bath she's taken. It has a fill line so you know how full you want the tub to be, and it's design does not retain hardly any of the bath water. But most importantly, Sabrina is safe and comfortable and enjoys her baths, and I am marginally less anxious because of that.



7. The Woombie

We didn't use this product for long, but it was the best money we have ever spent. If you've followed my blog, you know that we had a terrible time getting Sabrina to sleep flat, in a pack and play, crib, or anywhere else. After sleeping in her rock and play for the first 4 or 5 months of her life, she wanted to part of laying flat in her crib. She also hated, I mean HATED, to be swaddled. Thankfully my husband does his research, and found the Woombie online. It gave the feeling of being swaddled while still allowing her limited movement of her arms and legs. (as my mom called it, a strait-jacket) It also has an arms in option as well as an arms out option, for once they begin to start rolling over in their sleep. This product got her sleeping in her crib, after some pain and suffering on everyone's part. When baby #2 comes along for me and my hubby, Woombie's in every size will be on order.





6. Fisher Price Discover 'n Grow Twinkling Lights Mobile


I have a confession to make. The minute Sabrina could stand on her own, I heard others' cries of "Take down the mobile!". Guess what? I haven't yet. It is not the old fashioned mobile with actual string so I don't feel she is at risk for strangling herself. She absolutely loves this thing. The best part is, when she wakes up in the middle of the night or I put her to bed and she isn't ready to sleep yet, she presses that magical red button and the lights start dancing and singing to her. It does a great job of soothing her or distracting her when she needs to calm down. One negative to this product- it has a remote that you as the parent can allegedly use to turn it on from outside the baby's room, but that's a bunch of bologna. We never got it to work via the remote. Still worth it though.



5. Fisher Price Rock and Play (Honorable Mention: Fisher Price Cradle and Swing)

Oh my love/hate relationship with the Fisher Price Rock and Play. Love because it gave us our first real decent nights of sleep after Sabrina's arrival. Love because it kept her head elevated to alleviate her acid reflux symptoms. Hate because she loved it to the point of literally outgrowing it but refusing to sleep elsewhere. So I add this to the list with a word of caution. Use it to help baby learn to sleep, to keep baby nearby, but don't don't don't let baby become too attached to it, or you will find yourself in the same predicament we did, and let me tell you, it ain't pretty!




4. Dr. Brown's Natural Flow Bottles (and Dishwasher Baskets!)

We originally registered for Tommy Tippee bottles because we thought I'd be breastfeeding and we wanted something that closely resembled the breast for when I was at work. Once we moved to formula, we just weren't happy with the TT bottles and opted to try Dr. Brown's, since everyone spoke highly of them. While the many parts were a little annoying, the dishwasher baskets made cleaning the bottles a breeze! Everything fits nicely into the basket and comes up spic and span every time. We had an issue with the smaller size bottles leaking once Sabrina started drinking 4 oz, so the company's customer service department replaced them all with the taller bottles. Tip to mothers to be- just register for the big size. You can fill them at little or as much as you need to and you won't have to buy all new ones when they start drinking more.




3. Britax Marathon Car Seat

Car accidents happen all too often, especially in these times of distracted driving. I did my homework about car seat safety, talked to some friends for recommendations, and decided that while the Britax brand is a little on the pricey side, it's worth every penny for my daughter's safety. She enjoys her seat (except on 6 hour trips to Pittsburgh) and often falls asleep in there, which tells this mommy that she is comfy and safe, a win win combination. Even better, she can stay in this seat until she is 49 inches or 65 pounds, so the investment will pay off in the end.




2. NoseFrida


I know, I know. The idea of sucking snot out of your child's nose is disgusting, appalling, horrific, whatever adjective you'd like to use. In theory, I absolutely agree. But I dare any parent of a stuffy baby to use this product and walk away with the same feelings of disgust as they arrived at. The truth is, while disgusting in principle, this product is actually genius. Bulb syringes are completely worthless. I don't think I ever once got anything substantial out of Sabrina's nose with that thing. I registered for the NoseFrida on a whim, mostly because it was in front of me and the packaging caught my eye. At the time, I don't think I realized what the product actually entailed. Fast forward to a November baby with nasal issues as a result of being in forced hot air all winter long, and you better believe we were sucking snot out of her nose like it was our job. The filter easily stops any nose goo from getting anywhere near your mouth, so you can stifle your gag reflex. At first she HATED it and screamed like we were murdering her, but eventually she got used to it and even would giggle a little. It really, really, really helps, and to my knowledge there is no other product out there that is anywhere near as effective. Combine it with saline spray and a good humidifier and your little one will thank you for it. And yes, I know, it still sounds disgusting.


The moment has come! My #1 Baby Product that I Couldn't Live Without!






1. ErgoBaby Original


I love this thing. I love it like it was a person. After struggling with that dang Moby wrap and it's 20 feet of fabric, on this tiny 5'3" frame, I was ready to scream. I watched videos, diagrams, talked to friends, and I still never got the hang of that Moby. I did some homework online and we splurged and purchased the ErgoBaby. I was intimidated by it at first, but I watched the how-to video on their website and practiced a lot with the hubby nearby to help. The Ergo made everything easier- walks, grocery shopping, trips to the mall, Target, you name it. She loved being snuggled close to mommy and would often fall asleep in it while I went about my business. Now that she's older, we don't get to use it as much, but do still use it grocery shopping. The Original Ergo does have a back position, so someday soon I will try to master that one. The Ergo was so comfortable to wear, never really bothered my back, and took all the weight off of my shoulders and back. I never used the infant insert, as Sabrina was past the weight limit when we got this, so I can't speak to that. If the MobyWrap isn't your thing, I highly suggest the Ergo. It was a life saver for me!

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