Past Post: Rocken the sTrEtCh MaRkS

There is an excited buzz in the air as one of my dearest friends awaits the arrival of her first born son who is expected to debut in the next month, however, as the time draws closer and closer she is becoming more anxious for the whole process and everything to follow.

I am reminded daily of the day I welcomed my baby into the world, not only because of her precious presence but also, from the physical reminders that came with her. I decided to post something that I wrote for Becoming Lovely last November. Some of you may have read it.

(These are not my stretch marks, image via Google)

I was recently saddened by a status update from a pseudo friend of mine who is 25 weeks pregnant. She said “_____ told me today that cocoa butter doesn’t work on stretch marks... sad face.” I can’t fully blame her for her dismay. I admit that I, too, had qualms about my post-baby body while I was pregnant, as my body was distorting to epic proportions. But I also recognize that I’ve never felt more beautiful than when I was pregnant. If pregnancy is wonderful and beautiful, then post-pregnancy is a mess.

Before I had Hannah, I had a pretty average body. I weighed in at about 130 pounds; my boobs were small, but firm; and my skin was all around smooth and stretch free. Naturally as my body changed I became a little self conscious. While I’ve never had to really watch what I eat, I confess it took a while for me to eat fast food in public because I didn’t want to be the girl with the pudgy tummy eating a Big Mac. I didn’t even enter the building to buy any food until I had an obvious baby bump that was obviously not just an extra flab of fat.

My friends told me that it was the coolest thing to give birth and watch your stomach go flat (in reality it is the coolest thing to actually give birth and watch a human come out of you… a human you already love so completely). I was intrigued by this, as I could no longer remember what it was like to NOT have a pregnant body. About thirty minutes after I gave birth (I was a little too occupied with my new daughter to care about my body) I finally looked down to notice my stomach. To my amazement it WAS flat. Hallelujah! Unfortunately, to touch it felt like kneading dough but who could have time to care about that (TOES! HOW I MISSED YOU!) when my body was so small. Well... not quite. I stood up for the first time and my flat stomach became a replica of 4 month pregnant me. Did I miss something? Twins perhaps? Alas, I still looked pregnant when I stood up and let it all hang loose--literally. Not only that, but my body continued to change drastically over the next few weeks. My small but firm boobs had become large and voluptuous during pregnancy. I couldn’t wait to try those babies out after the stomach was gone. Unfortunately, they were still NOT sexy. They were leaking all the time and when they were not large and in charge, they were shriveled and resembled old man breasts.

I have to admit for about a month I didn’t want my husband to see me naked EVER. I didn’t even want to see me naked. The boob situation got worse as I’d lie down and they would flop to their respective sides of my ribcage (lovely), and I had long circular marks stretching across my once taunt stomach. I was not an attractive sight. Then something happened that changed my whole perspective…

I went to church two months after Hannah was born and a woman stood up to the pulpit. She introduced herself and her husband. She talked about how they had been married for five years and had been very blessed in the beginning. They managed to buy a house in a time when the sellers had the upper hand, and decided to start a family in their new home. While they were blessed in almost every aspect in life, they were not conceiving a child--and after over a year of trying they were told that the woman would never carry a baby conceived naturally. They started on fertility treatments. Nothing worked. They went into debt to try costly alternatives and still nothing worked. Finally, they gave up their house in order to do invitro fertilization, and happily, she is expecting a baby girl in February.

I sat there and listened to her story, sobbing as I held my baby close to my imperfect body. That imperfect body had created, carried, and delivered the perfect little angel who now lights up my life. My unattractive breasts now sustain that life through the milk my imperfect body creates. I went home, bound and determined to be grateful for a body that was so perfectly able to conceive with hardly a thought and have a successful, comparatively easy pregnancy. A month after that life changing moment, I still am in awe at my beautiful stretch marks swirling around a body that obviously has accomplished something miraculous. I roll out of bed, pick up my boobs off the floor, and face each day feeling more beautiful than ever, and grateful for the opportunity to be a woman. Grateful to carry the scars of childbirth, the dark circles from a lack of sleep, the lines on my eyes from smiling too much; and grateful for the perspective that I may now share with my daughter when she is feeling less than perfect.

Mommy Profile: Jane Clayson Johnson

I mentioned earlier in my blogging that I had a difficult time making the transition of working mom to stay at home mom. This is the woman who inspired me to take the leap and every time I question my decision I listen to her talk called "I am a Mother." She is incredible and I love her story.

In 1990, Jane earned a Journalism degree from BYU and began her career working for KSL where she earned an Emmy for her work while reporting on American doctors who travel to China to assist disabled Chinese children. From there she went on to work at ABC on Good Morning America, World News Tonight, covering the OJ Simpson trial and the Presidential campaigns. She then went to CBS working with Bryant Gumbel, covering stories such as the Millennium, President Bush's inauguration, and the September 11th attacks. Her life was incredible, and she was about to be promoted to CBS evening news. Then, she made a decision: She left the world of journalism to become a mother.

“My life before was exciting and intellectually stimulating and stressful and overwhelming and sometimes all of those things all at once. I loved what I did,” she said: “I left one wonderful thing for another incredibly wonderful thing.”

“Sometimes,” she said, “The challenges of mothering, the daily physical and emotional exhaustion and occasional self-doubts causes us to devalue what we do and to devalue it in the eyes of our children.”

She admits that once in awhile while she is on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor and looks up to the television to see one of her old friends doing a high-profile interview, she has a pang, but it is far overshadowed by the sense of satisfaction she has.

My favorite quote from Jane is: “The day-in-and-day-out of daily mothering is invisible, because so much of what we do doesn’t last, and we do it within the walls of our own home where it is not noticed. I traded in fancy lunches and fancy restaurants for something better. Still, there is no one to tap me or any mother on the back and say, ‘terrific diaper change.’ There’s no praise or recognition for the day in and day out of mothering. It is the little things that make the difference in our children long term. Because you can’t measure those things, mothers are sort of relegated to be considered as high-end babysitters. That’s not true. Mothering is the work of the ages. It is the most important thing that we could be doing."

You can read all about Jane's experience, and read quotes and antidotes from others in her book I am a Mother.

Challenge:

In the next three days I challenge each of you to call, text, or send a note to at least one fellow mom and tell them something you admire about them.

If you want to kick it up a notch, call a mom who is maybe having a hard time, or struggling with something.

Don't forget to leave a comment about your experience!

Quote of the Week: Ruling the World

"Blessings on the hand of women!

Angels guard its strength and grace, In the palace, cottage, hovel, Oh, no matter where the place; Would that never storms assailed it, Rainbows ever gently curled; For the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world"
- William Ross Wallace

Last year I attended a devotional for mothers. The speaker had just given up a high paying CEO position in a major company to become a full time stay at home mom. It was not an easy decision but she felt it was the right one for the family. When asked by a co-worker why she did it she replied. “It is said that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world—so I’m just going to have to be satisfied ruling the world for a while.” Ever since then, this has been one of my favorite poems.

When have you felt your influence impact your children?

What things do you do to impact the lives of your kids?

Mommy Profile: Bree

"I think with all the chaos that happens in life, especially as a mom of multiples, it's easy to lose sight of the tiny things that make you happy. Life doesn’t make you content with huge moments but rather the little ones that make up your everyday life. I try to be the best mom I can, but I also take time figure out who I am as a person. Having my own company and my Etsy shop helps me feel passion and vigor. All these elements combined with the little things are what make me happy.”

Meet Bree: Wife, Mother, Student, Entrepreneur

I first met Bree back in the good old days of Jr. High. She is one of the most sincere, kind people I’ve ever known. She is also an amazing, talented woman. I asked her to introduce herself and give a little idea of what life is like for a mom of MULTIPLES!

Hi my name is Bree! I live in Calgary Alberta Canada. I am currently finishing my business degree online at Brigham Young University-Idaho. I am married to Brandon-one of the funniest, smartest, kindest man alive. I own an event planning company called MOD Events and Co. I love to create for my Etsy shop CoCoRoseCouture. I am also a mom to three beautiful kids- fraternal twin boys Greyson and Harrison and three month old Chloe. At one point I had three under two.

Bree has her hands full with these kids! To give an idea of what a given day is like as a mom to twin toddlers and a newborn she sent me her schedule. It includes four and a half hours of feeding/preparing food (and about five minutes of eating). An average of 10 diaper changes, 24 hours of praying, laundry, cleaning, refereeing, and running intervention. It takes one hour to leave the house from the time she puts CoCo in her car seat, pumps some milk, searches the house for four pairs of shoes, packs six diapers, snacks, bottles, and snaps in two (sometimes unwilling) toddlers in their seat, get a DVD going for them, and getting Chloe strapped in and then it takes another ten minutes at each stop to get the kids in and out of the car, into strollers. While she is out she struggles to find her debit cards (shuffled and lost by the boys), keep the kids entertained, and fed. She is grateful to make it out alive.

Luckily there is naptime. Bree takes about a five minute rest and then starts making necklaces for her Etsy shop, checking orders, answering emails, ordering flowers for events. There is time for possibly studying and doing homework. Moms have to work very quickly to get everything in that they need to do. Another load of laundry is started.

Luckily, Bree has a great husband who comes home from work and immediately kicks into daddy mode. While Brandon is home, Bree is able to continue to work on her studies, create beautiful necklaces and accessories for her shop, and work on her business. They also spend time together- Brandon is essential for Bree’s sanity.

Bree the Referee:

At Home: “At 8:20 I broke up my first fight over their little shopping cart that they both desperately want to have- even thought there is another one right next to it- same exact one- they always want what the other brother has.”

While out shopping: “Greyson sees the toy cars in the aisle (not good) and starts to cry. I switch him with Harrison who cries because I made him sit in the stroller. Now have 2 screaming toddlers in the store they are so loud they wake up CoCo. Luckily I'm prepared with the bottle. I hold the bottle and Greyson’s hand in the checkout line as I push the stroller up and down.”

Running Interference: “I have to double check all the door handles in the house to make sure the baby locks are on tight. The boys figured out if one stands on top of the other, they can get the child locks off if they are loose. I make sure my computer is locked and put away and the Chloe is under her mobile in her room so they can’t get to her. Then I take a shower.”

The point is, she has crazy days. Happily, there are amazing moments that find their place amid the chaos. Some of these include watching her boys hug each other, giggling as they jump on the bed. Harrison wanting to comb his hair like Mommy. The boys loving CoCo with a kiss, knowing that Greyson knows what a candy bar looks like, Harrison getting excited when he sees cars, holding sweet Chloe and watching her watch Mommy, affection from Brandon, feeling sunshine after a cold Canadian winter, a husband who will let her escape with friends while he watches the kids and of course-- donning 80’s clothes and rollerblading to blasting music at a friend’s birthday party.

So the next time you see a mom with her hands full with kiddos--think of Bree enjoying the journey!

When did you have "The Moment?"

In passing you always here those stories of moms in grocery stores, on airplanes, or at functions when their kids act up and the mom is put in the spotlight. How is she going to react to this disorderly child?

I had my moment...today.

For the most part my darling daughter is a great baby--exceptional really. She doesn't cry if she is hungry or hurting but she has no tolerance for being tired and will act like any baby in a seemingly desperate situation.

Last night she was so tired and worked herself up so bad that she couldn't fall to sleep until 1am. For a girl who is used to getting 11 hours a night--5 just didn't cut it. She was really sick in the morning, still in good spirits but threw up five times throughout the day.

One of these moments of glory happened at the beautiful baby shower of one of my dearest friends. I was trying to wrangle her and eat when all of a sudden she threw up on the carpet. I went through so many emotions in a matter of a second, worry, shock, embarrassment, confusion--I didn't know what to do. I jumped up and first of all took care of Hannah. I wiped up her little outfit and her face and gave her a drink and a hug making sure she was ok. Then, I sprang in to action armed only with water, napkins, and wipes. I cleaned it up really good and then went back to Hannah.

Remarkably, we were in the corner so not many people witnessed it. I caught my friend's eye and half mouthed, half whispered "she threw up." Suddenly one of the girls at the table sprung up and said "This is my moms house, you need something to clean that up for real." Initially I was a little shocked at the way she snapped at me, but it was so quick I didn't know if I imagined the accusatory tone in her voice. I said "yes that would be great," and waited.

A second later, she is standing in the kitchen with a friend pointing to me, gesturing as if Hannah threw up all over, and getting out cleaning supplies. The friend she was talking to looked to me and rolled her eyes. Then she marched over and as I thanked her she said "In my house we don't allow shoes or food in carpeted area so that we can avoid things like this." As if I schemed the whole thing. As if I wasn't humiliated enough.

So when have you had the humiliating moment, when everything out of your control was your fault?

Guest Post: A Thief that Steals Motherhood

Our first guest post is brought to you by a fantastic mom Melinda. Melinda graduated in April 2004 in Music Education. She teaches Beginning Band in middle school. She married her husband in 2003 and in 2005 they welcomed little Samantha into their family.

“Don’t you just love being a mom?!” “I adore being a mom, I just love to sit and watch my baby sleep, don’t you?” “Having a baby is just the best thing in the world, isn’t it?” “I sure hope you’re enjoying this time, it goes fast!” Smile and nod. Smile and nod. The right answer to those questions is yes. I know the right answer to both those questions is yes. Why don’t I feel like the answer is yes? Maybe it’s like those books said; it takes time to “fall in love” with your child and it’s perfectly normal for a bond to take time; it’s not instantaneous for everyone, after all. But I couldn’t help but feel unsettled about it. The feelings would ebb and flow, the “baby blues” had long since passed as well as the usual “danger zone” for the onset of post partum depression (PPD) so mostly I was confused. Because the only thing I was sure of was that I did not enjoy being a mom. Not one bit. Let it be known, I have always loved my daughter, fiercely so. I fully understand the meaning of “mama bear” in every sense of the word because of this love. But that love for her could not make me love what who I had become when she entered my womb.

Shame. It overwhelmed me. I shouldn’t feel like this! I must have done something wrong to feel this way. There must be something I can do. I read more scriptures, I pray more frequently, I sing religious songs to my daughter to rock her to sleep (heck, they’re the only ones I can remember! What comes after the looking glass in that nursery rhyme again?). I receive Priesthood blessings of comfort, something my religion believes in. Specific thoughts and scripture verses come to my mind, you know the kind that should help and bring comfort and peace? Like John 14:27. It didn’t bring me any comfort. It didn’t change the fact that I didn’t like being a mom. And I’m afraid to tell anyone. What would they think? That I was crazy and not fit to be a mom-that I didn’t love my child? Would “they” try to take her away? Shame and guilt led to irrational fear.

Isolation. Those irrational fears drove me to pull inward. I had moved to a new neighborhood and did absolutely nothing to reach out to others, and being new, it’s sometimes hard for others to reach out to you. I was too afraid to go out on walks by myself. We have a nice paved trail 2 miles all the way around if you start counting at my doorstep. It led by a river. I was convinced that some wacked out stranger would pull her carseat from the stroller, throw her in the river and restrain me from saving her. I even isolated myself from my husband. I had horrible black white thinking that everything that happened to my daughter was a direct result of something I either did right or wrong, and if anything went wrong, I was automatically to blame. When I got tired of blaming myself, I’d shift the blame to him.

Ironically, at this same time, Tom Cruise made some infamous remark towards Brooke Shields about how depression is all in your head and all you need to do is take the right vitamins and exercise. Wow. I got so hot-headed and defensive about it that the light finally went on in my head. “Melinda, if you are so defensive about that statement, it must mean you have something to be defensive about.” My inner voice told me. So as much as I think he was an idiot for saying what he did, I am grateful he made it because it made me realize the cause of my suffering.

Courage. I got up the courage to tell my Bishop that I thought I needed prefessional help. I was still ashamed and kept the information from family and friends. When I got to LDS Family Services I filled out a survey of how I felt. Those who score above a 50 are considered severely depressed. I scored well over 100. It shocked me, really. After a couple sessions, I learned some cognitive awareness activities, but it did not quell as much as I needed it to. Having learned from my husband through his psychology degree that often counseling and medication paired together have the best results, I contacted my OB for an appointment to get on medication. This was around 2 ½ months post-partum, which is considered late on-set for PPD. Most times, I guess if it’s gonna happen it will rear its ugly head around 6 weeks when you have your post-delivery check up. They warned me that it could take up to a couple weeks for the medication to take affect. I received a miracle and it worked within a couple of days. I was scared to take medication for fear that I would never be “normal” without it, but I knew I needed it. The medication plus counseling worked for me and I began being more open about my condition, in hopes that I could maybe help someone else or at least just relate to someone else in a way that no one else could. But I had another unexpected guest.

Anger. As the title suggests, which is a quote from Cheryl Tatano Beck, a noted nurse-researcher, my PPD stole my motherhood. I was angry! PPD stole the first 3 months of my daughter’s life. It was supposed to be the happiest time of my entire life, and all I wanted to do was block it from my memory. The darkest personal hell I’ve ever been through before or since. I was not expecting the anger, I thought I had dealt with the depression and I could move on with my life, but I had to work through the anger. Following closely behind was jealousy. Even to this day I still cry when a new mother expresses her utmost love and joy of being a mom, because I never felt that way and never got to experience that. I feel cheated and have a hard time not envying mom’s who get that privilege.

To be honest, I only have a few vivid memories of that time, everything else is really like looking through a thick black cloud of pain. Of course there were some good days and good things and smiles and laughter, they just weren’t in the normal amounts. I never want to feel that way ever again. I was able to get off the medication, although I was obviously very sensitive to it, though it was just 10mg a day. If I did not take it at the same time of day every day, it threw me off. So when I weaned myself, I went from full doses to half doses to quarter doses and I chose not to complete the process until my daughter weaned 100% from nursing, since I suspected it to be largely hormonal. The next time I have a child I am opting for medication upon giving birth as a preventative measure. I have to admit that I sometimes feel weak by making that decision, but I am too scared to let PPD sneak in and take any more of my life away with any future children.

My daughter just turned 5 last April. And I can honestly say now that I love being a mom. And I’m not just doing the “smile and nod.”