Why mediocre just isn’t enough.

A lot has happened since I last wrote. I made it through the 9 months of pregnancy – yahoo! My beautiful, healthy baby girl is 5 weeks old today. The c-section went as planned, and life with two kiddos is starting to become my new “normal”. More about pregnancy and raising two little ones later.

I’ve anxiously awaited the 6 week postpartum mark. The official start of my fitness plan. The day I can get a piece of MY life back and start to build my physical self into the person I want to be. For me, success in fitness is something I can’t say I’ve ever really accomplished. A sad realization for me actually. I’ve struggled for as long as I can remember with body image. Yes, I’ve made changes in my body over the years. I’ve gone from a very overweight girl, to a fairly fit one, and then back again with each pregnancy. I’ve accomplished goals that maybe someone looking from the outside would see as successes. I ran a half marathon, completed several 10k runs, lost all the baby weight after my first baby (and am now working on it after the second!) I do realize how far I’ve come, but sadly it was never enough. There has always been something missing. Especially over the course of the last number of months, I have had a lot of time to think. Time to think about me and who I want to be as a woman, wife and mother. I realized that I’ve been going about things all wrong. It was my mind that really needed the overhaul, not my body. I realized that no matter how much weight I lose, or how fast I can run 10km, it doesn’t mean anything if I don’t change my mindset. Fitness for me has always been such a chore. I’d exercise begrudgingly, complaining and even badgering my trainer, who also happens to be my husband. (Yep – you can imagine how well that goes over!) I made excuses about why I couldn’t exercise that day, or why I ate that snack. I’d secretly (and sometimes not so secretly) be hating the girls whose body bounced back without effort after pregnancy. The girls who were just naturally thin all their lives, and even after a McDonalds feast would never even hit 120lbs on the scale. The ones who just could not ever understand how hard it is for me to get my body back and how unfair it is that my body image issues have (unknowingly until now) impacted every part of my life, for my entire life. If you’ve read my posts or you know me, you’ll know that I really did try. I tried to find my own personal success, and happiness within myself, but I never quite got there no matter how far I ran or what the number on the scale said. Until recently I didn’t realize that it had nothing to do with all of that. It was simply because my heart wasn’t in it. I exercised because I felt I had to. For that person, or that event, or that reason that wasn’t really enough to keep me motivated for the long haul. These reasons would come and go, and my weight and fitness would fluctuate right along with them. My heart just simply wasn’t in it.

Over these months a lot has happened. Outside of everything that went along with pregnancy and a new baby, I also very clearly saw my baby boy turn into a little man. An incredible, talkative one with likes, dislikes, opinions, a strong power of observation and the ability to verbalize his thoughts. Tonight was a little mommy success. (If you have kids, you’ll relate to this). I got the 5 week old baby in bed in her crib by 8pm and the 2 year old in his pjs, teeth brushed, books read and in his bed just waiting for dad to get home from work and say goodnight. SUCCESS! As I curled up in my own bed hoping to get a little nap before the baby was up again in the night, I heard my sweet little boy Deacus having a chat with his dad. He told his dad that when he was bigger he wanted to jog with mommy. He told him that mommy ran in the mud and he wanted to go too. I nearly broke down into tears right there. They continued to talk and his innocent, two year old voice was so excited as he talked about jogging with mom and lifting weights with daddy when he got bigger.

The night before I went for my first jog postpartum. The kids were both in bed but I talked to Deacus the next morning about it when he noticed my muddy running shoes at the front door. He asked where the mud came from. I told him how mommy’s boo boo was finally healed so I was able to start exercising, and that I had gone for a jog in the rain while he was sleeping. The conversation ended there, as he seemed content with my answer, and we went on with our day. For months previous I had told him that I couldn’t do this, or that because I was pregnant. And as I healed from the c-section I again had to tell him it would be a little bit longer that I couldn’t do certain things because of my “boo boo”. He was only 1 ½ when I got pregnant with his sister. He didn’t even remember me any other way than this. He just thought of his momma as a large woman who didn’t exercise and couldn’t play with him the way his dad could. I really didn’t even realize the impact of this, or that he had really taken all of this in until I overheard his conversation. He was so excited when he talked about mommy jogging.

I’ve been working hard to change my mindset related to fitness and failure, and this was another eye opener for me. I never again want to have to tell him “I can’t”. I never want to tarnish his view of the world and his excitement toward fitness and exercise or anything in life. Most of all, I don’t want to have to pretend. Kids are smart. They see through it. Eventually he will know if my heart just isn’t in it. How can I expect him to be a certain way, when I myself am not? I don’t know how it happens but somewhere along the way, we as adults start to see activity as a chore. We no longer run through fields for hours with endless amounts of energy and beg not to go inside. Yes, maybe the types of activities and reasons behind doing them change as we get older, but the joy and passion for it doesn’t have to. I don’t ever want him to lose that. Especially not because of me.

So what does all this mean to me?

My heart is finally in it. Not for the short term, not because I have to. But because I finally get it. I finally see that having legs that move and arms too, and the ability to use them is a privileged. I am done complaining. Being a mediocre version of myself just isn’t good enough. Not for me, or my family. I deserve better.  They deserve better.  Will this make my workouts any less difficult? Will this mean I won’t struggle along the way? Absolutely not. But it does mean that I am taking on these challenges that I have faced so many times before, with a greater purpose and focus. It goes much deeper than looking good in a bikini. My husband told me once when I was complaining about working out so hard: “You will hate your workouts, but you will love your life”. He couldn’t be more right. It’s not about the 60 minutes in the gym. It’s about living life to my potential. It’s about doing more than just the minimum required to get by. It’s about my joy and positivity spilling over onto those in my life, instead of failures and insecurities hindering them. It’s about my outside being a physical representation of my inside.  It’s about treating my body the way I should so I can live a long, happy life. So I can be truly proud of who I am – inside and out. For me and my family. It’s about having my heart in it and for once in my life approaching my goals with my head in the right place. It’s about truly believing in myself, as I hope my children someday will in their own selves.

In this moment

There are many days that pass that are less than blissful.  But then there are days like today.  Days where I am able to live in the moment and feel so much gratitude for the life I have and the great privileged of being a mom.

In this moment I am so grateful.

I am grateful to you my little boy, to have been here with you as you’ve grown up over the past two years, though now it feels that time has moved a bit too quickly.

I am grateful for the unforgettable memories we have made, just us, and the bond we have developed that could not ever be broken.

I am grateful that through you I have been able to experience true, unconditional, pure, endless love.

I feel blessed that at this moment in time, though brief as it may be, that your dad and I are your everything.

I am grateful for your tiny, little hands, especially when they reach up and hold onto mine.

I am grateful for the challenge that comes with a daily life that is no longer driven solely by my needs.  My life would truly be boring without you.

I am grateful that it is us that you call out for in the night to comfort and snuggle you.

In this moment I am grateful for the scars and stretch marks that tell the story of us.

I am grateful for the boy that you have already become.  You are funny and loving and determined.  I am so proud of you.

I am grateful for all you have taught me about life already.  You have helped me remember the importance and power of laughter.

I am grateful every time I hear your high pitched little voice tell me you love me.

I am grateful to get to see the tremendous bond between you and your dad and the special love you have for each other that is indescribable.

I am grateful for those beautiful brown eyes, that look up at me filled with such joy and innocence.

I am grateful to be on this journey with you, and for your patience as I continue to learn how to be the best mom to you that I can be.

I am grateful to get to hear your sweet voice call out “Mommy”, knowing one day too soon I will just be “Mom”.

I am grateful for the love you’ve shown me, in your own little two year old way.  A love that has touched my heart beyond words and forever changed me for the better.

I am grateful to have been the one to watch your first steps, hear your first words and help you get up when you fall.

I am grateful for the renewed excitement you bring to every day, as we experience life for the first time, all over again.

I am grateful for your smile, that instantly lights up even the darkest of days.

I am eternally grateful that you fought so hard to be here with us during your first moments.  Though you struggled for life those first days, you came through it all unscathed and we are blessed that you are here with us today.  You are strong.  You are resilient. My happy, healthy boy.

And to my babygirl who I haven’t yet met, I am grateful every time I feel you move in my belly.  There is nothing like it and I hope I never forget how amazing it felt.

I am grateful to get to be the one who carries you, though the journey isn’t always easy, in this moment I am able to see the true beauty in it.

I am grateful for the excitement and joy you bring to us as we think about our future together as a family.

I don’t ever want to forget how I feel in this moment.  I don’t ever want to stop being able to appreciate the little things.  In this moment I am clearly able to see and feel how blessed I am to be a mom.  And not just a mom…YOUR mom.

 

 

Stay at home mom vs. Career mom – the great debate!

Let me start by clearly stating my opinion on this one.  The fact that we even have controversy surrounding this subject is completely ridiculous to me.  I have read many articles lately, posing ridiculous questions like “Which is harder?”, “Is staying home REALLY a job?”, “Are career women really able to be good moms?”  Seriously??  I hope those questions made you cringe as much as I did.  Thanks society for taking an already emotional, challenging decision for many women, and making it into a public competition.

When I became a mom, I was lucky to be welcomed with open arms by other moms.  They helped me find my way as I learned to navigate my new life.  They gave me advice and support, and laughed and cried with me.  Some moms who were strangers became some of my closest friends as we bonded over our greatest life challenge yet.  Maybe this isn’t everyone’s experience with other moms, but it was mine and I am forever grateful.  Without these women who were there to listen when I needed it, and tell me it was “normal” when I felt something I thought for sure made me a bad mom (and that quite possibly I should be medicated for feeling), I wouldn’t have made it through those early days.  Isn’t that how it should be?

We are all moms.  Who else can understand what exactly that means besides another parent?  It doesn’t matter if your baby is adopted, born naturally without meds, or via c-section like me.  It doesn’t matter if you are well off, or struggling financially, single or married, 20 or 40 years young.  Career woman, bread winner, daycare provider, work from home.  Yes – These factors definitely influence who we are, and challenge us in differing ways we can’t all claim to understand about each other’s lives.  But the bottom line is, we are all mothers.  We all proudly bare the title of “mom”, and whether we hear it called out to us all day long over and over and over, or after 5:00pm, it doesn’t make any of us, or our role as a mother any less incredible and important.

So I ask this question to the stay at home moms who feel it is their place to judge moms who return to work: Have YOU walked in her shoes?

Have you juggled being a career woman, and a mother at the same time?  Have you toiled with the heart wrenching decision of returning to work outside of the home, and leaving your child with a stranger who soon will spend more time with your baby than you?  Have you weighed the financial benefits vs. the time you will miss out on with your child, and the possibility that you will regret your decision for the rest of your life?  Have you struggled to make yourself presentable for the corporate world, all the while changing diapers and packing pint sized knapsacks, only to have your perfectly pressed white shirt stained within 5 minutes from a child’s breakfast meltdown?  Have you struggled to be on time for a job that you used to arrive early to, having to actually use the dreaded excuse that it was because of the kids?  Have you taken a job you didn’t love in order to be home on time to pick up your child from school or daycare?  Did you leave the corporate world a successful career woman, only to return scared and confused, missing your child while trying to reintegrate yourself into a world you no longer understand, with no intelligent conversation to share over the lunch meeting besides how many diapers you changed the past weekend?  Have you felt the desire to rebuild your career while fighting with guilt and sadness from feeling you are missing out on your children’s lives?  Have you rushed home after a long stressful day only to be greeted by a child who isn’t excited to see you?

Not every decision is clear cut once you become a mother.  Decisions you never thought you would make, are made.  Feelings you didn’t think you would have, are felt.  Not every woman gladly returns to work without a painful process to get there.  On the other hand, some women do.  And guess what – that’s ok too!

Now, to those of you who returned to work and feel your career outside of the home is of greater difficulty or importance than being a stay at home mom, I ask you: Have YOU walked in her shoes?

Have you spent an entire day with a screaming baby who cannot be comforted, after only sleeping 3 hours that night?  Have you chased a toddler for hours on end while battling a cold, just praying for naptime to come so you can rest for a moment?  Have you tried with all of your efforts to entertain a child without success, only to be told over and over “I no like you anymore mommy”?  Have you given up a career you loved and financial stability and independence, for the sake of a new little boss whose thanks come in the form of tantrums and throwing food at you?  Have you gone days without speaking to anyone over the age of 3?  Have you ever not been able to shower because your “boss” won’t let you have a 10 minute break?  Have you ever worn the same pants 3 days in a row because you can barely think straight from the exhaustion and sleep deprivation, not to mention do laundry or locate clean pants?  Have you ever gone days without eating a full meal, only finding the time to eat scraps from your boss’s plate?  Have you struggled with guilt as you wonder if there is something more out there for you besides the menial tasks of laundry, dishes and cooking?  Have you wondered if you will ever get a break, and how you will possibly get through the day tomorrow without help?  Have you ever felt the guilt for even questioning whether or not staying at home is the right choice for you?

In or out of the home, each mother and their role has its challenges.  I have experienced a bit of both.  I stayed home with my son for 15 months, then returned on a part time basis.  And in 11 more weeks will be off with baby #2.  I can see both sides.  No, laundry is not a difficult task.  I don’t think any say at home mom would claim that it is.  But being home with children is a challenge that goes way deeper than the tasks others see on the surface.  It is a mental challenge that cannot be explained until you’ve done it.  On the other hand, leaving home brings the many challenges that go along with managing both home and work life every day.  Career woman by day, chef/child entertainer/housecleaner by night.  Both roles are difficult and amazing in their own right and I have a lot of respect for mothers who make these tough decisions for their families and work so hard to be the best moms they can be.

How is success as a mother measured by these “experts” posting these articles after all?  Number of hours in a day with a child?  And how exactly do you measure the degree of difficulty in one’s day?  Don’t we all want the same thing after all?  To raise happy, healthy children who go on to love and be loved, and do good in the world.  Yes, I realize we don’t live in a fantasy world where everyone gets along and has the ability to empathize with one another.  We can’t all imagine what it must be like to live a day in her shoes.  But is it really too much to ask that we don’t judge fellow moms for the choices they make for their families?  Let’s not allow the media and society or ANYONE to pit us moms other against one another in a battle with no positive outcomes.

And a side note here to those of you without children who choose to chime in on this topic – seriously?  (And I say this with much love).  Keep your opinions to yourselves – please and thank you!  You have NO idea what you’re talking about.  I certainly didn’t have a clue what being a mom was until I was one.  I secretly judged other parents as their kids had a meltdown at the grocery store, or ate dirt at the park.  I was the perfect parent – until I became one.  I don’t judge you for not having kids.  Trust me, I could give you 100 reasons why not to have them.  But please don’t judge me for making children the greatest priority in my life!

The truth about Pregnancy…why didn’t anyone tell me?

Today feels like a good day to go on a bit of a rant about the “joys” of pregnancy.  I was feeling good (as good as can be expected at 25 weeks), until 3 days ago.  I got attacked by a cough and cold from hell that has taken me down hard.  After 3 nights of little sleep, here I am to tell you all about it.

DISCLAIMER: If you are a male, proceed with caution!  You may not ever want to know what’s REALLY going on with our pregnant selves.  If you are a female without children, and plan to have them, beware!  What you are about to read may terrify you.  I can assure you though, it’s not as bad as it sounds (well, it kinda is, but you can do it!).  If you are a mom, no disclaimer necessary.  Surely you’ve already experienced some or all of these magnificent pregnancy perks for yourself.

When I was pregnant with my son, on a particularly uncomfortable day, I remember asking a friend why no one warned me about this?  Why didn’t anyone tell me what pregnancy was really like?  This was nothing like what I had read about, and way worse than I could have prepared myself for.  Is it possible that I was the only one who felt this way, and the rest of the moms really were living in pregnancy bliss?  Women have been doing this for centuries, and giving birth without drugs in the middle of the woods!  Maybe my body just wasn’t built for this.  I found myself on a bit of a quest to discover if I was alone in this.  I’d ask other moms I know if they SERIOUSLY enjoyed pregnancy?  I was happy to find that I was not alone (yay!).  The majority of the women I spoke with were in the same boat as me.  They weren’t “glowing”.  They had bad skin, and swollen ankles.  They were huge and uncomfortable and not “all belly”, just like me!

Here is my second disclaimer: I fully recognize the absolute privilege of being able to carry a child, and the huge gift that arrives once it’s all over.  YES – it is all worth it!  It is a true blessing to have a healthy baby at the end of it all.  But let’s just put that aside for a moment, because seriously, it’s not all bliss in the process!  Sometimes a bit of brutally honest, comic relief is necessary.  I personally wouldn’t be able to get through this if I wasn’t able to temporarily throw away all my dignity and privacy, and laugh at what my body has temporarily become. Now, you may be wondering what I’m talking about.  Maybe you ARE one of those women who truly did have a blissful pregnancy, with no noticeable symptoms at all.  Actually I didn’t believe those women existed, until my best friend got pregnant.  3 weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy, she has yet to experience the wonderful side effects that so many of us experience.  To her, and others like her, I am truly happy for you.  And PS, I kinda hate you right now. (You know I love you T!)

So, I will start with the good news.  In my experience these symptoms, side effects, “joys”, whatever you want to call them, all go away once baby makes his/her debut.  So you can breathe a sigh of relief that it is hopefully all temporary!  So, here we go.  The joys of pregnancy through my eyes…

1.Weight gain:

Might as well start with one of my favorites.  If you are fortunate enough to gain only in your belly, count your lucky stars.  That is NOT me.  And thanks to a pregnancy condition, (that is not serious if handled appropriately) my exercise is to be limited.  Since I am awesome at gaining weight even when not pregnant, there is basically no hope for me right now.  My face is plump, as are my arms, thighs and ankles, and my ribs are nowhere to be found.  I’m sure they are under there somewhere!  Did I miss any body parts?  As the belly grows, common tasks like bending over and putting on your shoes become a chore.  And if you do manage squish that belly into a place where you can get those shoes on, you will likely stand back up huffing and puffing like you just ran a marathon.  Personal grooming?  Good luck.  There will be body parts you may not be able to see for months!  Enjoy hubby!

2. Skin Changes:

Out of nowhere my otherwise “normal” skin was overtaken by bright red spider veins and broken blood vessels.  No part of my body was spared!  Not to mention that my face hasn’t seen the sunlight in a few years.  The pregnancy months are spent lubed up with sunscreen and hiding from the rays.  Then the  first 6 months or so of babies life is spent sheltering them in the shade.  Then all of a sudden it’s winter and soon you’re pregnant again!  So needless to say, my skin is a really nice shade of pasty white combined with bright red blood vessels.  Cute.

3. Heartburn:

You have not experienced heartburn until you’ve had pregnancy heartburn.  It is hard to even explain how painful and uncomfortable it can be.  I thought this was a symptom that if I got it, wouldn’t be a big deal.  I was wrong!  Mine was an intense burning, throbbing pain right in my throat that just wouldn’t go away.  It felt like I was being punched in the throat every time I tried to eat or drink.

4. Back Pain:

This often goes hand in hand with weight gain, and is worsened depending on babies position.  I spent the last 3 months of my first pregnancy sleeping upright on the couch, trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable.  Towards to end of the pregnancy, daily life became a chore.  It hurt to push my huge self up off the couch.  It hurt to walk.  It hurt to sit.  I tried to get comfortable with pillows over here, and over there, behind my back, pillows for hugging.  Then flip over, and try this position and that.  Nothing helped.  Sleeping was pretty much out of the question at this point.

5. Nausea:

The range of symptoms in this category are broad.  I’ve heard of everything from women throwing up non-stop through the entire pregnancy, even while medicated.  Or the sickness that comes only in the morning for the first 12 weeks or so.  Or like me, who just felt nauseous and “off” all day and night for weeks on end.  With my son this ended by 13 weeks (Thank God!).  This time around it lasted until around 20 weeks.  Just in time to enjoy a few weeks of the much anticipated “second trimester bliss”, before all hope of feeling good again is lost for the duration of the third trimester.

6. Bloody noses:

Apparently this is TOTALLY normal.  RIGHT!  Randomly, without warning my nose would bleed.  On the way to work, the store, or just sitting at home on the couch.  Many a time I had to turn around and go home after my shirt being stained with blood.  If this happens to you in public, like it did with me once, it creates quite a frenzy.  Well meaning people(much appreciated by the way!) will rush to your aid because they assume the poor pregnant woman is dying.  Blood has that effect on people.  It’s OK, you probably aren’t.

7.  Food Cravings/Aversions:

I wish my problem was cravings!  This is commonly spoken about as a pregnancy symptom, but I didn’t experience it.  My issue was strong food aversions.  Meat for example.  Ewww!  Just the thought of it sometimes could turn my stomach.  And God forbid I smell or see (especially raw) chicken.  The aversions lessened for me as the pregnancy progressed, but the thought of it now still makes me feel a bit ill!  This sounds like no big deal.  Eat something else, right?  But it’s a vicious cycle.  Not enough protein = feel even more sick than you already do = tired = headache = grumpy, and repeat the next day.  There are many creative ways to try and overcome this issue, like having protein shakes and options other than meat.  But it is challenging when the body is so picky, and the desire (or lack there of) for certain foods changes from day to day and even minute to minute.  One week I ate pork for every meal.  The next week the thought of it make me want to hurl.  Thank you pregnancy for turning me into a crazy person!

8. Vision changes:

Another common symptom – who knew!  I felt unsafe driving at night during my first pregnancy because I had such a hard time seeing.  This time around I had my eyes tested before, and during pregnancy (just for kicks!).  My check up during pregnancy resulted in me being told I needed glasses, where a month prior had perfect vision.

9. Bladder control:

Another one of my favorites!  So as if you don’t feel quite yet that you’ve lost all control of your body and dignity, take away your bladder control too!  Now just for fun, add a common cold to the mix.  Now I spend my days enjoying a series of underwear changes every time I cough and wasn’t able to cross my legs quick enough.  Yep – this is for real!  Jumping jacks – no chance!  Oh, and God forbid I sneeze!  And don’t forget the constant feeling of having to pee, even when you literally JUST left the bathroom.

10. Hemorrhoids:

Gross, yucky, painful.  If you really need more of an explanation, google it.

11. Swollen ankles:

Sounds like no big deal, right?  It’s just cosmetic.  WRONG!  My legs and ankles were so swollen after my son was born that it was painful to walk.  And yes, it is also not attractive.  It’s just one more thing to make you feel super sexy during this time where your own body seems to be laughing as it betrays you over and over again.

12. Stretch marks & loose skin:

Maybe the pregnancy God’s felt bad for giving me every other symptom that is known to man.  I was fortunate to come out relatively unscathed in this category, besides a few light stretchmarks below belly button level.  (Who is ever going to see that anyways?!?) But again, a very common occurrence ranging from light marks to red and blue stretch marks all across the tummy, back, hips and thighs.  The body goes from “normal” to huge in such a short period of time, and is stretched in every direction.  Sometimes the skin goes back, sometimes it doesn’t.  I will let you know what happens after baby #2!

13. Carpal tunnel I would wake up in extreme pain every morning, my hands in a clenched position, my wrists burning.  I couldn’t move my fingers for several minutes.  I would slowly ease them open, wincing at every movement.  As the day progressed I would feel the pain building up, and by the next morning my claws were back in fist position.

14.  Low Blood Pressure

You may pass out if you get up to fast.  Yep – I did…a few times! (totally normal!)

 

Holy crap, did I miss anything???

There you have it.  My take on what pregnancy really looks like in my world.  So, do I still wish I would’ve been told about all the possible “joys” of pregnancy before getting into it?  For me, the answer is yes!  Would it have influenced my decision to have children?  Absolutely not.  Also keep in mind that I am the girl who likes to know as much as possible, as soon as possible.  I am the girl who has the baby room furnished and painted at 20 weeks.  I am the girl who finds out the gender of the baby as soon as I’m able, and has the name picked soon after.  I am the girl who has enough clothing and diapers to cover the first 6 months of the babies life.  That is who I am.

Here is my final disclaimer for today:  Take everything I’ve just written with a grain of salt.  Being in the trenches of pregnancy can make you feel crazy at times!  Some days it’s hard, and some days it’s hilarious.  Some days it just feels like it will never end.  But I can assure you those feelings and negative memories quickly go away once that little bundle arrives, and your body becomes your own again (for the most part).  And for me, being able to laugh at the madness helps me get through.  I talk to my friends about my vagina.  We bond over stories about boobs and stretch marks.  No one can better understand and appreciate what you are going through than a fellow mom who has been there, even if the experiences aren’t quite the same.

Try not to take pregnancy so seriously, and even harder still, try to enjoy the ride.  There is nothing else in life quite like this.

 

Really, THIS is the easy part?

A fellow mom told me about a year and a half ago that having a little baby was “the easy part”. I wanted to punch her in the face. (If you’re reading this right now, I’m sorry. I actually really like you, but I kinda hated you that day). For me, I thought I’d never make it through the first week of being a mom, not to mention the first month or first year. I felt I was in the trenches. NOTHING could be harder than this. My “life” had been taken over by this tiny (adorable), creature who was holding me hostage in my home and would decide when I would sleep, eat, and if I’d ever leave the house again. Not to mention the fact that my body was destroyed by my former tenant, and it’s primary use for the next year would be feeding my child and tending to his every need.

It sure was a lot harder to find the time and energy to do anything for myself, not to mention motivating myself to workout. A pastime that I didn’t enjoy prior to having a baby, not to mention managing it with my new post-baby body and new sleep insane habits. Looking back now, I have no idea what I thought was so hard and tiring in my life that caused me to not live my life to its fullest. Why I wasn’t a fitness model/marathon runner/CEO I have no idea! I had all the time in the world, and no one to be accountable to but myself. I was “tired” after work, when I would get home at 5pm and get to watch TV and nap the night away if I felt like it (and often I did). Not to mention uninterrupted sleep for the entire evening after that. Looking back on my pre-baby self, I am a bit disgusted. How did I not make more of my life? How was I so lazy? This may sound harsh, but it’s true. I could’ve done more. I should’ve done more. Now I was faced with all the same challenges I had pre-baby, but now throw into the mix the emotional craziness I was feeling, the loss of my identity and my recovering body. And now my life’s focus could no longer be myself first. And let’s clarify again – THIS is the easy part?!?

So on that day (way back when my baby boy was truly still a baby), instead of punching that mom in the face, I smiled and was completely terrified on the inside and dreading what would come next. How could life be any harder than THIS?

So here I am, with an almost 2 year old. And I’ll just go ahead and say it – she was right. OK, so let me be clear. There isn’t much more challenging in my opinion than sleep deprivation and long, sometimes lonely nights. However, that fog eventually clears and you find your own normal again. Life becomes good. The joy I thought I lost for good came back. But, the interesting thing about being a mom is that it truly never gets easier. It’s easy when you have a 2 year old to look back at your life with a 4 month, 6 month old or even a 1 year old and feel how she did. Life was SO easy then. How quickly we forget how it feels when we are the ones in those moments. When he was smaller he stayed in one place. He wasn’t swinging himself off the railing like Tarzan or eating dirt at the end of the driveway or throwing dinner at you and saying “Mommy, no like it!”. But having a baby was NOT easier at the time. I really believe that every stage you are in is the hardest. I keep waiting for the next stage. The stage where it will become easier. Once he can sit up, it will be easier. Once he can feed himself, it will be easier. Once he sleeps through the night, it will be easier. Once he can talk, it will be easier. Well, I’m sorry to say it, but easier never comes. Each part of my sons life is incredible and challenging. With every milestone comes a proud mommy moment, and a difficult but exciting new challenge. Some days I feel like my life is out of control. A “perfect” day can be ruined by a 2 year olds 10 minute tantrum that makes me feel like the biggest failure of a mother, who just wants to break down and cry myself. It isn’t easy. It doesn’t get easier.

But in my life, I have never found more accomplishment in anything than I do in being a mom. Maybe “accomplishment” seems like an odd word to use for motherhood. But I think it’s an accurate one. It’s not always about being a supermom and having a picture perfect day full of laughs and snuggles (though that sounds pretty wonderful). Sometimes (a lot of the time) I don’t do anything noteworthy during my day and often it ends with a few toddler meltdowns. But none the less, just getting through the day with a child sometimes IS the accomplishment. On good days and bad, I try to remember this. I may not win any awards for the things I do in the day. But good for me for making it through another one, and working every day to be the best mother I can to my sweet almost-2 year old little boy.

And let me be clear – THIS is definitely not the easy part.

A Thanksgiving to remember

After 4 months of planning, several wardrobe changes, some high heels, black liner (that I had to search very hard for), some lipgloss and I was on my way.  This would be mommy’s official night out on the town since having a baby!  Why was I so nervous?  This used to be no big deal, and something I actually looked forward to.  Now all I could think of was how my baby boy would be without me, and whether or not I’d make it through the night in those heels.

My afternoon started at the liquor store.  I felt their judgement on me as soon as I walked in the door.  Yes, I was carrying a baby.  Yes, I was buying alcohol.  First of all “judgers”, relax, the liquor may not be for me.  Second of all, fine, it was for me, but I wasn’t going to drink it while with my child!  Newsflash people, mom’s are allowed to have a life outside of baby from time to time.  I hadn’t touched a drink in about a year and a half, and tonight was the big night.

Of course the afternoon liquor run began hours after my real day began.  Before baby my biggest concern on a night out would be how I’d wear my hair and what I’d be drinking that evening.  Now, the planning was much more in depth.  After planning for 4 months (literally) I had come up with a plan of attack.  We figured out the feeding and sleeping schedule.  I’d do my hair in the morning while Deacus played in his saucer.  What would’ve taken me hours before, I’d complete in about half hour.  I’d leave the make up until my husband was home from work and could be with Deacus.  I had already learned my lesson about getting ready in advance, and ending up with zuccini all over my face.  Yes, my little one loves to blow bubbles in his lunch from time to time.  The food shoots right off the spoon and hits everything in a 2 foot radius.  Hilarious on a normal day, but would be a bit more inconvenient for me on this day.  I did my best to dodge the zucchini and sweet potato, and managed to easily remove the tiny pureed bits that did end up in my hair.  Success!  By now my husband had arrived home and I was able to put on some makeup and clean clothes.  I decided I’d leave the hair extensions and fake eye lashes off this time!  (Yes, true story).  I put on the makeup I hadn’t seen in months (more like a year) and wiggled into my oh-so-tight jeans.  I felt like I was in a costume.  Oh well.  I figured the lighting would be dim once I arrived at the venue, so my makeup would hopefully look less like it was meant for Halloween.

I met up with a good friend and we were on our way.  I had warned her about the “new me” over the 4 months that we discussed this big outing.  The girl she knew before was very confident in 5 inch heels, and wouldn’t waste time with mixed drinks, but go right to the shots.  OK, that likely makes me sound bad, but it is the truth.  I was young.  (Does that make it a little better?!)  I wasn’t a big party girl, but when I did go out, I didn’t hold back.  I liked having a good time, and back then I had no reason not to.  Now, it wasn’t even 9pm and I was already dreading the early wake up the next morning.  Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t wait to see my little guy when I got home, and spend time with him the next day.  But I was nervous that 7am would come too early and my body wouldn’t be able to handle what I had done to it the night before.  Well, I managed to be a responsible person (and mother) and only have a few drinks.  I definitely felt the pressure when drink after drink was offered up by friends (without children), but I stayed strong and continued to decline their generous offers.  I cabbed home (again, the responsible thing to do) and couldn’t wait to see my little family.  Nick was shocked when I walked in the door at 11:30pm.  First, I was still standing after my first night out, and second, 11:30?  I guess arriving home at 3am, completely drunk, no money left in my pocket, throwing up in the nearest toilet, just wasn’t my idea of a good time anymore.  I love my friends, and love that my husband was more than willing to have a boys night in so I could get out and have some fun.  But at this point in my life, there is nothing I’d rather do more, than spend time with my family.  It took me going out to remember and appreciate that.  Maybe as Deacus gets older, and the dependency (for both of us) decreases, my feelings will change and I will want to get out more.  But right now, I couldn’t wait to go look at him while he slept, and to see his smiling face at 7am.

The three of us spent the next day in our PJ’s sitting on the floor, playing silly games that only a 7 month old would enjoy.  We took breaks only to re-fuel on turkey and stuffing (and zucchini of course for the smallest member of the family).  So as I write this on Thanksgiving, I am truly thankful!  It is my first Thanksgiving as a mommy, and I appreciate so much the life that I have.  There is nothing better than the love of a family.  In a few years I might not remember exactly what we did today.  I might not remember if the turkey was over cooked, or if it was cold outside.  But I will remember that we were here with each other, surrounded by love.  We laughed and hugged each other tight, and my husband and I starred into the beautiful eyes of the little life we created.  Life doesn’t get any better than this.

14 things I learned since becoming a mom

1. I am not nearly as patient as I thought I was.  (I’m working on this).

2. Bowel movements are an exciting topic of conversation.

3. There is always someone facing challenges way more difficult than mine.  Appreciate the good.

4. I can fully function on 5 hours of sleep or less. (Though I much prefer the 8+ hours I used to enjoy).

5. It’s true what “they” say – there is no love like the love a parent feels for their child.

6. NEVER judge other moms for their choices.  We are all doing the best we can.

7. I am so blessed.

8. Showering is a luxury.

9. Time is going way too fast.  Appreciate every moment.

10. I am a good mom.

11. Some things wont ever be the same.  (You know what I’m talking about ladies!) And that’s ok.

12. It’s important to be nice.  You never know what others are going through.

13. White shirts are a bad idea.  (He will inevitably barf, poo, pee and sneeze on me – possibly all of the above within a few minutes).

14. Life is definitely better after baby.

My weekly appointment with the dreaded scale

Thursday marked Deacus’ 12th week of life, and my 6th week of working out post c-section.  My progress has been ok, but I am nowhere near where I expected to be.  Somehow I dreamed my body wouldn’t mind the 9+ months of torture it had endured, and would cooperate when I told it to run 10km.  Pre-baby, I didn’t have a running plan.  I was relatively fit from exercising and running 5km or so regularly, and just decided one morning to try 10km – and I did it.  I wasn’t fast, but I did it without much trouble, and continued to run it often and increase my time from there.  Don’t get me wrong, it was hard, but I was able to physically do it.  It was more of a mental challenge.  These days my mental strength cannot mask the pain in my knees and the extra weight I’m carrying prevents my body from doing as it’s told.  I can push it, (and I do!) but only so far.  It is tough to feel so restricted by my own body, and to have lost the freedom to be in charge.  I will get back to where I was (won’t I?), but right now this is the body I have to work with.  This morning I stepped on the scale to see how I was progressing, hoping my track pants might start to fit a little less snug, and that my knees may have a little less to carry on my next run.  Or dare I wish I might even get into a pair of jeans again!  Most days I’m just glad the scale doesn’t just call me a fatso and tell me to get off!  So, how much of those 93 lbs had I shed in 6 weeks?  The scale beeped at me and gave me the good news.  I am officially down 57lbs.  Today was a good day.  With 36lbs to go, I might just get into jeans and even put on heels again at some point in the next few months!  With visions of the tiny stilettos snapping off from under me, I didn’t want to risk heels until I was closer to my goal weight.  Suddenly I found myself thinking of how the average woman gains around 35lbs total during pregnancy.  TOTAL.  I still have enough extra weight to be carrying a small child inside of me.  With 2 weeks until the 10km, and me still being 3km away from that goal, I had to put these thoughts out of my mind and hit the pavement.   Pre-baby I remember thinking I’d gain a lot of weight (I know myself and my body well!) but that I’d get back in shape fast.  What else would I have to do, right?  I could workout every day since I’d have all the time in the world.  WRONG!  Any mommy knows one of the biggest challenges is finding the time to workout.  After sleepless nights, and days that don’t ever really end, if I manage to muster up the motivation to exercise, now I have to figure out what to do with the little guy.  He’s a well behaved baby, but that doesn’t mean he is going to allow me to leave him on his playmat for more than 10 minutes that day.  So I can try interval training at home – 10 min run, 1 min insert soother back in baby’s mouth, and repeat.  My next option is leaving him with the gym’s childcare – a 17 year old girl who’s probably never even held a 3 month old, or has any interest to, (but for $10.50/hr. will do it).  No offence to the staff at the gym, I am sure they are lovely.  I have yet to even be to the gym since having Deacus, but this is how I picture it and it terrifies me to leave him there.  He still seems so little and fragile.  Where has my independance gone?  The days of getting up and going anywhere I wanted to, at any hour, are long gone!  Any outting now requires a jumbo sized duffle bag with all the goodies a 3 month old should need over the course of a few hours.  Including lots of diapers and changes of clothes in case we have any explosions (and we have many!).  I can see how fitness sometimes takes a backseat after children.  Even though it’s a time when fitness should be in the forefront.  I want to set an example for him.  I want to live a long, healthy life, and have the energy to be an active mom to my boy.  But sometimes it feels impossible.  Luckily, today I  have a friend who is kind enough to come all the way to my house and watch the little man while I get in some much needed exercise.  As hard as running is for me, I am beginning to enjoy my time on the road again.  Every part of my body hurts as I work towards getting my body back, and actually being able to complete a run without feeling the dreaded “out of shape pain”.  But while I’m out there I have time to think (and write my next blog in my head), and have some time for Shannon.  I love being a mom to Deacus, and I love being a wife to Nick.  But sometimes I need to just be Shannon.  For me, running helps me find her.  The girl I thought I lost a few short months ago.  The happy, healthy girl, full of energy who can look in the mirror without feeling ashamed of what’s staring back at her.  She’s still in there – somewhere.  And I believe one of these days, maybe on a long run in the middle of nowhere, I’ll find here and bring her back with me.  Until then, I will keep running, give myself some credit for my progress so far, and tell myself what I tell Deacus when we have a rough day of crying fits and no sleep.  It’s ok – tomorrow will be better!

Deacus Alexander…his first breaths

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So while I was wheeled off to recovery, my baby boy was struggling to breathe in the NICU, his daddy by his side.  I kept waiting for someone to walk in with that face I was dreading, that told me all I needed to know.  Fortunately that didn’t happen.  I found out later from Nick that Dr’s and nurses were swarming our baby, hooking him up to all kinds of devices to find out what was wrong and to help him breathe.  I don’t think I really grasped the seriousness of the situation at the time.  I was still in shock, and maybe a bit of denial.  I couldn’t even tell you what his face looked like.  One minute I was pregnant, and the next I wasn’t, and my baby was gone.  I just couldn’t, or wouldn’t fathom the thought of him not making it.  I was pretty relaxed about all the things that had happened to me that day, but this was hard to handle.  It was days later when the Dr. taking care of Deacus introduced himself to me as “the Dr. who saved your baby’s life”.  It was then that I understood how close we were to losing him.  I remember still being numb from the waist down and being wheeled into the NICU that day for our first visit.  I couldn’t help but cry when I saw him.  He was this helpless little guy enclosed in plastic, tubes coming out of his nose, an IV in his tiny little hand, and wires connected to his chest and little feet.  I wasn’t allowed to touch him.  Often touch is encouraged, but in this case contact would actually make things worse for him.  It would change his breathing when he would react to it, and this was what they were trying to regulate.  My poor little guy, alone and in pain during his first moments of life.  It was heartbreaking.  I felt helpless.  We found out soon after that he had a pneumothorax.  They described this to us as a “leaky lung”.  He basically had a hole in his lung that needed to heal before he would be able to breathe normally on his own.  He was on oxygen for days, was on an IV and was fed through a tube for the first few days.  He was given x-rays and checked daily to see if it was healing.  If his tiny lung didn’t heal with these methods, the next options were much more invasive.  The first day he didn’t improve, but wasn’t worse.  We tried to think positive – at least he wasn’t getting worse!  He remained in the NICU, and I recovered in my own room in the hospital.  Sitting up was a challenge.  It took me about 10 minutes to try and prop myself up, and another 20 to dangle my legs off the bed and attempt to get myself into an upright position.  My arms shook as I tried to move my body without using my abdomen.  (It’s impossible to sit or stand up without using your abs, by the way.  But I sure tried!)  The first time I stood, I thought for sure my stitches were ripping open.  The nurses assured me they weren’t.  I stood hunched over, and couldn’t move more than an inch or two at a time.  My only motivation to move out of that bed at all was to get to see Deacus!  The nurses said If I could get into a wheelchair, Nick was ok to take me to visit him.  I had told Nick prior to being admitted, that all I wanted was an “It’s a boy balloon”, but now I was thinking I deserved something more.  Maybe a card or something.  I made it into that wheelchair.  Our first visits were tough.  It was surreal, and overwhelming.  He didn’t make a sound.  I asked one of the nurses (who were incredible), why he didn’t ever cry?  She said he was too sick to cry.  Again – heartbreaking.  We were allowed to touch him at this point, through a hole in the incubator.  We watched him and touched his little hand for as long as I could handle each day, before needing to get back to a reclined position.  I remember on the second or third day of him being  in the NICU, the nurse told me if I came at 6am the next morning he would just be getting back from his x-rays and be out of the incubator for a short while, so I might be able to hold him.  I was SO excited!  I set the alarm on my Blackberry and the next morning I started making my way over to the NICU.  It took me quite a while to get myself out of bed and get over there, but I did it, and was on time.  Sadly when I arrived I was told he wouldn’t be up for a visit that day.  The x-ray was all he could handle, and he needed to get back on the oxygen.  He was already back in the incubator.  I sat by him for as long as I could handle then made my way back to my room, feeling a bit defeated.  I remember how positive Nick was through this entire process.  I think he is what kept me from having a breakdown, though I did have my teary moments.  I remember him telling me we had to be strong for our son.  He was right.  And so we stayed strong.  Ironically, when Nick was born he had lung issues and ended up in an incubator.  He was very close to not making it, and ended up having emergency surgery.  We both had looked at the pictures of him in that incubator a hundred times, but it never really meant as much to us as it did now.  It was just a picture, and in front of me stood a strong, healthy Nick.  But now I can appreciate what his parents must have gone through.  Like father, like son!  They both are fighters, and both made it through.  I remember Grandpa V (Nick’s dad) came to visit little Deacus and he said to me that someday we will look back, and this will just be part of his story.  Wise, and comforting words.  And thankfully he was right.  Sunday March 11th, Deacus was 100% and ready to go home.  Luckily the Dr. assured us that this is not a condition that can re-occur, or cause an issues for him later in life.  And at 12 weeks old today, he is a very healthy, happy boy.  Do things like this really happen for a reason?  I’m not sure I believe that anymore, even though I do find I tell myself that during these times.  I do know for sure that we are all stronger having been through it.  And most of all, I am grateful that things turned out how they did.  And that we left that hospital with a beautiful, healthy, chubby cheeked boy (who is no longer too sick to cry), and my balloon.  And to the amazing nurses in recovery and the NICU who made this difficult situation a bit easier for us to handle – Thank you!  These nurses take on a lot every day, we saw that first hand.  Their patience and kindness is incredible, and will not be forgotten!

Deacus Alexander…his journey to life

I decided I’d take a little detour, and share a little bit about the little man who changed my life.  He is, afterall, a huge part of my story.  Not only does he occupy much of my time, but he has stolen my heart too.  So where to start?  I guess the beginning is a good place.  I remember the day I found out I was pregnant.  We were having a few friends over for a BBQ, and I thought I might have a drink or two.  We had just gotten married the month prior, so I didn’t think there was any way I was actually pregnant yet.  But to be safe, I took one of the tests I had pre-bought, an to my surprise it was positive!  Then of course I took another test just to be sure.  Still positive!  Nick was working, and was to be home in about a half hour.  It was the longest half hour of my life.  I was shaking and pacing the floor, and couldn’t wait to tell him the news.  I put the positive test on top of the baby Jordan shoes I had ordered months before (expecting that we’d have a baby at some point in the next couple years).  Nick walked in, and was as shocked and excited as I was.  We both recognized at that moment that our lives would be forever changed.  We really had no idea how much though, and wouldn’t until our little man arrived.  I’ll save all the details of my pregnancy for another post, and get right to the big day.  Our little Deacus was born March 8, 2012 at 12:04pm.  I say “little”, but he was 9lbs 8oz, hense my labour ending with a c-section.  After my water breaking at home at 40 weeks, 2 days, we headed to the hospital to meet our midwives.  I cannot say enough about how much I enjoyed being under the care of a midwife.  Many people still think having a midwife means a home birth, or a natural birth or some sort.  And sure, many who go to a midwife likely want that type of birth.  For me, I had no desire to be anywhere but in the hospital pumped full of drugs.  So, we met the midwives and went through all the typical checks to see how things were progressing.  My contractions had started and at this point were bearable.  I had previously been told two things about what to expect with contractions.  First, they feel like strong menstral cramps that get progressively worse.  Second, you will know when you have them.  “They” were right about one thing, I KNEW I was having contractions.  Let me tell you, my contractions felt NOTHING like menstral cramps.  They were strong and horrible and felt like my insides were being stabbed over and over.  There was no slow build up.  Things quickly went from bearable to extreme pain every 3-4 minutes.  It was intense, and not a pain I can even put into words.  By this time it had been 6 hours and I had already requested my epidural a few hours earlier.  The care we received at the hospital was amazing.  I did have to wait a while because it was a busy night, but none the less I can’t complain about the treatment we received from the nurses and Doctors.  In fact, the care we received was exceptional.  Once the anesthesiologist arrived we went through the standard process to get me my drugs!  I was hunched over, my widwife holding me from the front, and the sharp, cold needle going in my back.  The pain of the needle was minimal.  I wouldn’t even describe it as pain.  The challenging part was staying still, in an upright position as the contractions wreaked havok on my insides.  Nick was asked to step outsife for 15 mintues.  I felt like he was gone for 2 hours.  Well, it turns out it wasn’t 2 hours, but it was an hour.  A fact I wasn’t aware of until much later.  We thought after the epidural that we would take a nap, Nickj would eat his chicken dinner, and we’d relax until it was showtime.  Instead, it turned out that I was one of the minority, for whom the epidural does not work.  5 needles in my back, and 16 hours of feeling every painful contraction, I was told by the Dr. that I needed to have a c-section.  Our little guy was not coming out this way.  At this point, having been in pain for 16 hours, I was more than happy to have this baby boy via the sunroof instead.  Things moved quickly from this point.  I was wheeled into the operating room, Nick was suited up in his hospital gear and joined me again moments later.  I was given a spinal to numb my lower half.  Instant relief.  The contractions stopped – or at least the pain did, and I was able to relax for a moment with no pain.  The anesthesiologist warned me that in very rare cases the freezing makes it way up higher than it should and the patient would feel like they were choking and couldn’t breathe.  He told me to let him know immediately if I felt this type of sensation.  Within 5 minutes of him saying this I started gagging.  I threw up into a bowl on my left, and the anesthesiologist immediately took action.  Immediately I felt relief.  It really is amazing the talent these Dr’s and nurses have, and their ability to think and act fast.  I think they have one of the hardest jobs out there, and I have an immense appreciation for them after having Deacus.  A curtain was up so we could only see a bit of what was going on down below – thankfully!  We did manage to see blood spatter on one of the nurses, but somehow this was comical at this point.  I think we were both delusional by now.  After what felt like a short period of time, our little man entered the world.  I heard his little cry and tears came to my eyes.  I couldn’t see him.  He was immediately whisked over to a station behind my head, and I was wrenching my neck to try and see him.  Something was wrong.  My moment of happiness and relief was gone.   Nick was able to stand with Deacus as he was poked and prodded.  I could hear him, trying to breathe.  He was grunting, unable to take a full breath.  Suddenly our worst nightmare was coming true.  I was still being stitched up when they took him away.  Not exactly my ideal birthing scenario, but I was trying to stay strong.  I just wanted to know that my baby was ok.  Nick went with Deacus as they whisked him off the the NICU.  The thought of this little man being alone broke my heart.  I was so grateful Nick was there for him, when I couldn’t be.  The next moments felt like hours, and the next 5 days would be a roller coaster.  The pain I was feeling from the major surgery I just had was suddenly my last concern.  I just kept thinking, would our little boy live?  Please let our little boy live!