Sometimes we get so focused on work or things that need to get done, we aren't realizing the time needed with our children. It was so evident to me this morning.
Today, I was brainstorming, problem solving, planning and working on website details. Cash William was playing independently and I was in my zone. Some time had passed and I was still nose deep into my work, and well, Cash was wanting some one on one time with me.
At first, I told him not right now, and that I was busy.
It didn't register to me what I was really doing. Essentially, I told my nearly 2 year old that I was too busy to give him the attention he was needing. He doesn't understand what I'm doing. He just sees me glued to a computer, and that mommy is ignoring him. He came up to me, sate beside me and rested his head on my shoulder. I told him mommy needed to finish her work, like he is really going to understand that.
He got down and played some more. He brought me a toy and I turned him away. I was busy.
The cycle continued for a little longer. I found myself consumed in my work, and I guess he saw the same. This was the moment he decided he was all done with my work.
He came up, cuddled up to me, gave me a big hug and said, "All Done!". I said, "Baby, Mommy is working.". He didn't like that answer.
Cash grabbed the laptop screen and shut it. He then said, "Allll Done!"
Sometimes we need to be, "All Done" and shift focus to our little ones. Working from home is definitely a juggle I'm still learning, but the main reason my husband and I decided for me to be a stay at home/ Work at home mom is this blue-eyed little boy. So, I might be up late tonight to finish my work on my planner tonight, but watching him learn and grow is the ultimate goal/ priority for me as a SAHM.
Put down the computer. Turn off your tablet. Log off Facebook and direct your eyes away from your phone. Be "all done" and change your focus.
Friday, April 28, 2017
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
May Your Coffee Be Stronger Than Your PCS
Sometimes I think, "Why did we have to buy a house?". Then I remembered it was the best for our family at the time- my husband, 2 cats, our American Pit Bull Terrier and myself; a.) you can't have 3 pets in base housing. b.) you can't have "vicious breeds" in base housing (nor do most rentals allow for them). That was nearly 3 years ago. Fast forward, we got pregnant, had a baby and our beloved Roo-Roo crossed the rainbow bridge. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being a homeowner. I do not, however, love being a homeowner with a military spouse who has orders and it's time to sell the home.
We have about 5 months to get this home on the market and sold. We have a few projects that need completing. Trying to wrangle a toddler and complete the projects has been a huge challenge. My poor husband has done most of the work, and he was out of commission for about 4 days due to some pretty severe tooth pain. We pulled many late nights, and of course early mornings with the kiddo. I'm feeling jetlagged.. and we're not done. We still have 4-5 projects we're trying to finish up, most of which require my husband here to help.. so, we result to working on them only on weekends. Good news is, if we do ever finish, our house should sell somewhat quickly if the homes for sale around us are any indicator.
One thing making for a challenge is the kiddo's seizures. He still hasn't been officially diagnosed, but we have yet more tests coming up in early May. We have to get him diagnosed, or something figured out before the move, or we're starting over with a new place, new pediatrician, new neurologists.. and more headache. The good news is, he's been seizure free for about 2 weeks (possibly one small episode, but we couldn't tell). We just want answers, and less worry about him stopping breathing with some of the bigger episodes. I need some solid sleep, and I need to know everything is going to be ok... and I just can't without him getting the help he needs.
I made a mistake and tried to cut out coffee. Bad. Bad. Bad. Coffee is essential to functioning during the extreme chaos going on around here. No coffee= No filter (more than usual!). I've been rather reserved since living is this smelly, military spouse drama-filled town... but I can think of 2 times I've removed my filter. It's that time, we're nearing the end of our time here and my give-a-poop-o'meter is gone. I've momentarily reverted back to the days when I would just spout out what's on my mind, I'm pretty opinionated, and call people out on their crap. But hey, I own it. If I'm wrong, call me out. I'm not afraid to apologize if I'm incorrect.
Anyway.. I've got to find some stronger coffee.
Here are some cute updated images of Cash, he's huge now (Almost 2 years old!):
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Battle Scars
Life has definitely thrown challenges my way the last 18 months. I've struggled. I have struggled a lot. I'm extremely hard on myself, and fault myself for the silliest things that are not in my control. I try so hard to be this, "perfect" mom. I've set plans, made goals that are virtually unachievable within the timeframes I set. Depression is real. PTSD comes in many different forms. And... sometimes, you don't realize the hold they can keep on you.
When I was hospitalized due to severe Preeclampsia and severe HELLP syndrome at 31 weeks pregnant, I didn't know what to expect. "They only cure is delivery", said every doctor. I wanted to get to at least 34 weeks. Every week in pregnancy means so much for that unborn perfect baby. I wasn't in control. I'm a control freak, I admit it. I made it to 32 weeks when my body, literally, started shutting down. My kidneys were stressed, my liver wasn't functioning 100%, I was having chest pain and palpitations, my blood pressure couldn't be controlled and I couldn't breathe easy. I was that moment when my oxygen levels dropped, and the alarms for my monitors started going crazy, that I knew I couldn't control this situation and if I waited any longer HELLP would kill me.. but not just me, likely my son too. The surgeon wouldn't allow me to wait any longer.
I can't remember much of anything from my cesarean. I remember struggling to breathe and feeling like I was going to pass out. I remember the feeling the pinching feeling as my stomach was being cut open. I remember the OR nurse constantly touching my shoulder and telling me I needed to stay awake. I remember being so scared my son wasn't going to come out breathing. Lastly, I remember his cries. He was breathing. I saw him for just seconds before he was taken to NICU to be put on oxygen. I was no longer pregnant, but My baby was ripped away without me being able to touch him. I couldn't touch my baby boy.
Two days. I didn't get to see my son for 2 days. I didn't get to hold him for another day after that. I stared at him through an incubator, I held his tiny little hand with one hand, and held my belly with the other because I was so swollen due to still battling HELLP and surgery that my stitches were pulling. I cried every single time I had to walk away from him, every time I had to wait to see him, every time there was a set back and I cried when I was discharged. I cried myself to sleep for 5 weeks. My body failed him. I felt like I had failed him. Everything I envisioned for myself as a mother.. everything I had planned was ripped from me.
Five weeks, it's longer than some NICU stays, and shorter than others. But, a day in NICU can do so much to a mother. I don't do well in hospitals anymore. The beeps of monitors, the smells, babies crying in hospital rooms.. It gives me really bad anxiety. I get heart palpitations. I still have nightmares. I still panic and check on my son in the middle of the night. I'm terrified he's going to stop breathing. I constantly worry something terrible is going to happen to him. It feels like I let my guard down some and something happens.. this kid has been through so much in his short 18 months.
From a minor heart defect that healed itself by a year (Thank God!), to a uterine anomaly and surgery, rehospitalization, random wheezing, seizures, etc.. This boy is so strong.. So much stronger than his mother who isn't dealing very well with the constant curve balls being thrown.
Fresh out of NICU, he wasn't even home for a week, and we had to dial 911. My 6 week old, not even adjusted, 5lb baby was having what appeared to be a seizure. If I hadn't of taken a, "my journey home" class before we left NICU, I might not even had known what to do. I cried. I cried during the entire ambulance ride to the Children's hospital. I cried and begged him to eat when he wouldn't at 12 hours since he last ate. I cried when they said they were admitting him. I cried as I held him. I couldn't sleep. I sat by his crib and stared at him, and stared at his monitors until I passed out from exhaustion for 2 nights. Ruled as reflux, I just felt like it wasn't a correct diagnosis. I didn't fight it.. and I should have. I didn't know I could. He didn't have any more episodes like he did that night, but he would still, "Shiver" and have weird episodes. I assumed it was reflux. I failed him, again.
Fast forward to a year old, his little tremors/ "shiver" like activity are becoming more noticeable. Reflux hasn't been an issue in quite some time. I would notice a random little shake. I didn't think much of it because his behavior never changed after. Fast forward to around 18 months, it's becoming even more noticeable. He's having staring spells where he won't respond to his name or being touched. So, we start trying to get video of it so we can show his pediatrician. I thought I was over reacting a little at first. Then, I heard what sounded like a gasp for air over the baby monitor, followed by absolute quiet. I ran to his room and he was staring blankly across the room. He didn't acknowledge that I had walked in. He wouldn't respond to me talking to him, he wouldn't respond to me gently shaking him. I couldn't feel him breathing. At the moment I was starting to panic, he moved and looked up at me confused. He slowly moved, seemed a little dazed and his breathing was shallow. This isn't normal. Something was wrong. He perked up after a couple minutes and was acting completely fine. I called his Pediatrician, and she advised us to take him straight to Children's for observation. No definitive answers, but we're on a path somewhere. I couldn't help him. I felt like I was failing him.
The ER doc said our next step is figuring out what type of seizures he is having. So, we have neurology appointments coming up. I'm hoping for answers. Every second since hearing that gasp over the monitor, my anxiety has been through the roof. I can't sleep. I can't focus on anything but him. I woke him last night just to check on him. I am constantly checking the monitor and listening for him breathing. I almost climbed in the crib with him. I'm so terrified something is going to happen to him. I feel like I'm going to fail him.
During all of this, I have been failing myself. I have let everything eat and eat at me. I have good days and I have bad days. I feel like I'm starting to get to a good place mentally, and then I have a bad day. PTSD is so commonly known for war, military and first responders. But PTSD entails so much and is very real in the civilian world too, just so often overlooked or ignored. By not having control of this, I'm not only failing myself. I am failing my family; my husband and my son.
I don't talk about it with many people at all. Actually, there's only been a couple people that I've even really went in depth with about it. Every day is a struggle. But, I have to stop ignoring it myself and BE better. These battle scars aren't going to fade, but I have to stop being at war with myself. I'm not that perfect mom that I keep telling myself I NEED to be. I don't have to act like it all the time. I face real challenges, too.
It's ok to show your battle scars.
When I was hospitalized due to severe Preeclampsia and severe HELLP syndrome at 31 weeks pregnant, I didn't know what to expect. "They only cure is delivery", said every doctor. I wanted to get to at least 34 weeks. Every week in pregnancy means so much for that unborn perfect baby. I wasn't in control. I'm a control freak, I admit it. I made it to 32 weeks when my body, literally, started shutting down. My kidneys were stressed, my liver wasn't functioning 100%, I was having chest pain and palpitations, my blood pressure couldn't be controlled and I couldn't breathe easy. I was that moment when my oxygen levels dropped, and the alarms for my monitors started going crazy, that I knew I couldn't control this situation and if I waited any longer HELLP would kill me.. but not just me, likely my son too. The surgeon wouldn't allow me to wait any longer.
I can't remember much of anything from my cesarean. I remember struggling to breathe and feeling like I was going to pass out. I remember the feeling the pinching feeling as my stomach was being cut open. I remember the OR nurse constantly touching my shoulder and telling me I needed to stay awake. I remember being so scared my son wasn't going to come out breathing. Lastly, I remember his cries. He was breathing. I saw him for just seconds before he was taken to NICU to be put on oxygen. I was no longer pregnant, but My baby was ripped away without me being able to touch him. I couldn't touch my baby boy.
Two days. I didn't get to see my son for 2 days. I didn't get to hold him for another day after that. I stared at him through an incubator, I held his tiny little hand with one hand, and held my belly with the other because I was so swollen due to still battling HELLP and surgery that my stitches were pulling. I cried every single time I had to walk away from him, every time I had to wait to see him, every time there was a set back and I cried when I was discharged. I cried myself to sleep for 5 weeks. My body failed him. I felt like I had failed him. Everything I envisioned for myself as a mother.. everything I had planned was ripped from me.
Five weeks, it's longer than some NICU stays, and shorter than others. But, a day in NICU can do so much to a mother. I don't do well in hospitals anymore. The beeps of monitors, the smells, babies crying in hospital rooms.. It gives me really bad anxiety. I get heart palpitations. I still have nightmares. I still panic and check on my son in the middle of the night. I'm terrified he's going to stop breathing. I constantly worry something terrible is going to happen to him. It feels like I let my guard down some and something happens.. this kid has been through so much in his short 18 months.
From a minor heart defect that healed itself by a year (Thank God!), to a uterine anomaly and surgery, rehospitalization, random wheezing, seizures, etc.. This boy is so strong.. So much stronger than his mother who isn't dealing very well with the constant curve balls being thrown.
Fresh out of NICU, he wasn't even home for a week, and we had to dial 911. My 6 week old, not even adjusted, 5lb baby was having what appeared to be a seizure. If I hadn't of taken a, "my journey home" class before we left NICU, I might not even had known what to do. I cried. I cried during the entire ambulance ride to the Children's hospital. I cried and begged him to eat when he wouldn't at 12 hours since he last ate. I cried when they said they were admitting him. I cried as I held him. I couldn't sleep. I sat by his crib and stared at him, and stared at his monitors until I passed out from exhaustion for 2 nights. Ruled as reflux, I just felt like it wasn't a correct diagnosis. I didn't fight it.. and I should have. I didn't know I could. He didn't have any more episodes like he did that night, but he would still, "Shiver" and have weird episodes. I assumed it was reflux. I failed him, again.
Fast forward to a year old, his little tremors/ "shiver" like activity are becoming more noticeable. Reflux hasn't been an issue in quite some time. I would notice a random little shake. I didn't think much of it because his behavior never changed after. Fast forward to around 18 months, it's becoming even more noticeable. He's having staring spells where he won't respond to his name or being touched. So, we start trying to get video of it so we can show his pediatrician. I thought I was over reacting a little at first. Then, I heard what sounded like a gasp for air over the baby monitor, followed by absolute quiet. I ran to his room and he was staring blankly across the room. He didn't acknowledge that I had walked in. He wouldn't respond to me talking to him, he wouldn't respond to me gently shaking him. I couldn't feel him breathing. At the moment I was starting to panic, he moved and looked up at me confused. He slowly moved, seemed a little dazed and his breathing was shallow. This isn't normal. Something was wrong. He perked up after a couple minutes and was acting completely fine. I called his Pediatrician, and she advised us to take him straight to Children's for observation. No definitive answers, but we're on a path somewhere. I couldn't help him. I felt like I was failing him.
The ER doc said our next step is figuring out what type of seizures he is having. So, we have neurology appointments coming up. I'm hoping for answers. Every second since hearing that gasp over the monitor, my anxiety has been through the roof. I can't sleep. I can't focus on anything but him. I woke him last night just to check on him. I am constantly checking the monitor and listening for him breathing. I almost climbed in the crib with him. I'm so terrified something is going to happen to him. I feel like I'm going to fail him.
During all of this, I have been failing myself. I have let everything eat and eat at me. I have good days and I have bad days. I feel like I'm starting to get to a good place mentally, and then I have a bad day. PTSD is so commonly known for war, military and first responders. But PTSD entails so much and is very real in the civilian world too, just so often overlooked or ignored. By not having control of this, I'm not only failing myself. I am failing my family; my husband and my son.
I don't talk about it with many people at all. Actually, there's only been a couple people that I've even really went in depth with about it. Every day is a struggle. But, I have to stop ignoring it myself and BE better. These battle scars aren't going to fade, but I have to stop being at war with myself. I'm not that perfect mom that I keep telling myself I NEED to be. I don't have to act like it all the time. I face real challenges, too.
It's ok to show your battle scars.
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