Post-Partying

Right around the time I was due with my second son, I felt like every single person I knew was waiting with bated breath to see if I would be as big of a mess this time around.  This post is a long overdue answer to that question, but I never wanted to write it and jinx myself.  I was fully aware that postpartum depression could creep in anytime within the first year of having my baby, so I was never willing to declare myself PPD-free until I had fully made it out of the danger zone.  Now that Ashy Boy is 17 months old, we can all release the whopping big breath of air we have been collectively holding since the second I found out I was pregnant again.  Thank God.

I know that sounds dramatic, but I promise you, I have never experienced anything so crippling as the paralyzing anxiety that followed the birth of my first son and I never, ever want to feel it again.  The fact that I risked a repeat of that horrible time in my life by working super hard to have a second baby, just proves how badly I want more kids, because I promise you, nothing short of a sweet smelling, fresh from heaven newborn would be worth the risk.  Thankfully, my countless prayers  and pleadings were heard and answered.  I did not have postpartum depression and anxiety this time around.

Don't get me wrong... it has not been easy.  Anyone following the Ash Sleep Saga on this blog knows I am a sleep deprived shell of my former self, but that's okay, because I GET TO FEEL LIKE ME!!!  I don't know if that will make sense to anyone that has not experienced the completely physical, emotional and spiritual effects of a mental disorder, but there is a difference between being tired, sad, sick, emotional, frustrated, worried and anything else under the sun, but still feeling like yourself, a child of God who is strong and can overcome hard things, who is rational and knows that this time will pass, who is connected to her baby and family and understands not everything is in her control, but that is okay and God is ever mindful of her.... rather than being in a black void that takes many shapes, but none of them are recognizable as you, the person you have always been and all you feel is fear.

Yes, I was tired the first time around, but tired was never what I prayed to be released from.  I couldn't find myself.  I thought I had been replaced by a girl who could only feel fear and pain and my biggest fear of all was not knowing if that feeling would ever go away.  I was never suicidal.  I didn't want to hurt anyone, myself included, but I also didn't want to live very long if I had to feel that way for the rest of my life.  Attempts of thinking positively and counting my blessings only hurt me worse, as they served as reminders that I had no earthly reason to feel so terrible.  I had just had a baby.  One I had fought for for over two years.  This was my dream come true.  He was perfect and healthy and quite possibly the most beautiful creature to ever grace the planet and I had been in misery almost everyday since his birth.  What was wrong with me?  How could I not find happiness?

I still can't answer that question.  I still don't know why it hurt so bad, where the fear came from, why it was such a physical feeling, or how I got to the point where I was on my couch literally trying to live minute to minute.  I couldn't even take it day by day, I had to look at the clock, remind myself to breathe and tell myself I could make it to the next minute.  Weird, I know.  I sometimes think back and wonder was I just being a wimp?  Could it have really been that bad?  But after a second of reflection, I can tune in with that unexplained anxiety and I rush as fast as I can to get out of those memories.  Yes, it was that bad and the only solitude I find in the experience is a greater connection to the human experience.  Before my personal brush with PPD, in true Tom Cruise fashion, I thought that everything could be fixed with diet, exercise, nutritional supplements and a connection to a higher power, but here I was, an actively religious girl, who worked at a vitamin and herb shop, that lived a healthy lifestyle and had no history of depression and I got knocked to my knees.

Now I know, when it comes to mental health, there are no quick one size fits all fixes.  I will try not to judge again.  I will try not to assume I could have handled things better, or differently.  I will  give the benefit of the doubt to people.  I will offer compassion instead of criticism and for these reasons and these reasons only, I have found a little something to be thankful for in my experience.  The joy I felt parenting Ash as a newborn was such a revelation to me.  I didn't even know how bad off I was, until I had Ash and realized this is how it should feel.  I was overjoyed and angry at the same time.  I wanted a do-over.  River deserved a mom this happy and this present.  Every new baby does and every mom deserves those love and attachment pheremone highs.  It is our birth/birthing right.

I don't know why I was spared this time around and even though PPD is unexplained, I do think I learned a few things that helped me avoid it again.

First and foremost, protect your sleep like it is the most important thing in the whole world, because at this point in time, it is.  If you are a night owl like me and your friends are used to coming over and staying late, don't think, like I did, that you'll just push through and sleep when the visits are over.  Ahhh Helll Noooo! If you get in a sleep deficit, you often can't recover from it and once that triggers the anxiety, the sleeplessness cycle will continue to perpetuate.  Love yourself enough to set boundaries and stick with them.  Do not waste the initial sleepy first days of your baby.  Suck every sleepy second you can out of them.

Don't worry about your body.  That picture of me at the top is the picture of my belly AFTER I had the baby.  I liked my body before my baby and I felt beautiful during my pregnancy, but after my first baby, I couldn't wrap my head around the big pile of mushy bread dough I had become.  I was leaking from every orifice; milk, blood, tears... you name it... it was pouring out of me.  How did I never realize I was still going to look pregnant after I had my baby?  Did all my friends hide until they had shrunk back down?  Well this time I embraced the changes and it helped.  I wasn't surprised to still look pregnant.  I took a final belly shot and it might not be my best look, but it is all part journey.

Let people help.  Don't try to entertain your visitors.  If there is ever a time in your life where you don't need to pretend your dishes are always clean.... this is it!  No really, sit down and let someone else do them.  Everyone wants to help, but they don't know what to do.  Ask for meals.  Ask for someone to listen to you cry and vent and while they listen, ask them if they can vacuum your floors, because the floors are grossing you out, but you just can't get to them, because your vahjayjay is sore and you are so, so tired.  They will get it and then they won't feel weird asking you to do the same, when they need help.

Don't think it is all on you.  Remember you have a husband who wants to help.  Let me reiterate... he WANTS to help.  Let him.  I would feel so guilty leaving the house for an hour and when I came home, if my husband vented to me about the baby crying, or a really bad diaper, I took it as him being mad I left, as him saying I was a bad mom that I couldn't stay and do it all by myself, that I wasn't keeping up my end of the deal.  Irrational I know, but it took a long time before I stopped apologizing for everything the baby did, like it was somehow my fault and I promise you.. My husband is really nice and yours probably is too, they might be dramatic about how long the baby cried, but it is because they are male and not because they think it is your fault, or that you should never leave the house.  (Husbands... if you are reading, just say everything was great.  It went smooth and that you are glad she got a break, even if it is a big fat lie.)

Plan a trip.  One of the most overwhelming feelings attached with my PPD was claustrophobia.  I had my baby in winter.  It was cold, gray and the inversion was thick with pollution.  I felt trapped.  I wanted to crawl out of my skin.  My freedom was gone.  My life was ruled by someone else's needs and I couldn't even take a walk.  My husband realized I needed a change of scenery and it helped so much, so this time we just planned for it.  I knew week three seemed to get extra bad the first time around, so this time we planned a trip to Grandma's house during that time.  It was still too cold to get outside, but her house is bigger, I had company, my older kid was entertained and most importantly... it was a CHANGE!

I know not everyone can and this might be a source of pain for some, but if you can breastfeed... do it.  It isn't always easy, but every time I wanted to run away, because I thought my family would be better off without me, the tiny bit of rationality I still had would say, "But who would feed the baby?  He needs you.  Hold on for a little longer."

Service... Many church related things caused me more anxiety, because I couldn't understand why I didn't feel the connection to God that I normally felt, but serving someone else got me outside of my problems, even for a minute and that helped.  This time around I really wanted to not look at the papercut, if you will.  When I started feeling blue, I tried to figure out how I could help someone else.  This is not easy, when you are in the full swing of PPD, so try to do this before you fall in the depths and maybe it will help keep you afloat.  If you are already underwater, it might seem impossible to focus on anything else but solving the problem of how bad you feel, but anything you can do to not dwell on how you feel, will help you more at this time.  It seems counter-intuitive, but helping someone else, really helps you more than trying to fix yourself.

Finally.... and this is where I might lose some of you... I encapsulated my placenta and then took it like a supplement.  It rocked!  I was hesitant at first, but like I said before, desperate not to revisit PPD.  Most mammals consume their placenta after giving birth and it made sense to me that we could benefit from the nutrient rich organ that had been keeping our baby alive for nine months too.  I am not hard core enough to freeze it and mix it in a smoothie, but a capsule... no problem.  I called them my happy pills.  My placenta made 153 capsules (the midwife said that was a lot) and I initially started off taking three capsules, three times a day and decreased the amount gradually, so when I ran out, I would pretty much be weaned off them anyway.  I totally recommend it.  It cost about $100 and you just bring a cooler to the hospital with you.  The nurses didn't even think I was crazy.  You call your midwife to pick it up and she delivers a bottle of pills to your house.  If you are the untrusting sort, you can have the person prepare them at your house, but I met with her and got references and referrals and I was fine with her just bringing the capsules to me.  They helped so much.  I am a believer and now you know someone that has tried it, so if you feel like you need to do it too, it won't seem so crazy.  Or you might just think I'm a freak now and that is okay too.

It's my post-party and I can eat my placenta if I want to.  Ha ha...  Do you have any postpartum tips that helped you?  I would love to hear them.  It is a much bigger problem than anyone talks about and I am passionate about helping the world become a friendlier, more understanding place to new moms.  Thanks for reading and feel free to share, if you think any of this advice could help someone you know.

Baby Stalking

I have absolutely wasted the day.  I have done nothing but check emails, facebook posts and text messages for any mention of this little guy.  I definitely qualify as his first facebook stalker.  Who knew that having one of your siblings have a baby was almost as emotional as having your own baby.  Though I doubt Luke was glued to the computer the day I had River.  Oh well... I guess that makes me Crazy Aunt Lil.  I'm cool with it!

Meet Liam Quinn Fields.  He is short, dark and handsome with some Irish fire behind those cries.

I can't wait to hold him.  Newborns can't do much, but sleepy babies with heavy heads on those wobbly necks are manna to my soul.  They are chocolate covered kittens purring on a crisp fall day that smells like Christmas... aka.... All the best things rolled into one.

I am blessed.

#28

28. Read a Jane Austen Novel

I've seen some of the movies and they're not really my thing, you know... The 
rules, the prissiness, all the fuss over tea and crumpets... So why would I add 
reading a Jane Austen novel to my 35 Things List?  Well, I was starting to feel 
like I couldn't call myself a woman, especially a Mormon woman living in Utah, 
if I hadn't read at least one of her books.  It might be a greater transgression than not 
having a homemade wreath you found on Pinterest hanging from your front door. 
(Oh, don't get offended.  You know you have one.)

I chose Pride and Prejudice, because I hadn't seen it on film or television and 
I didn't want my preconceived notions interfering with my reaction to the book.  
Plus, if I didn't read it soon, my friend Marianne wasn't going to let me come 
visit her in Montana anymore.  She's not Mormon, which piqued my curiousity even 
more, since apparently a love of Jane Austen is more than just a Utah stereotype.  

I got off to a slow start.  The book is a quick 292 pages and I started the darn 
thing back in November.  I re-read the first 30 pages three times and I never 
could get to that precipice of interest that causes you to keep turning pages 
even though you have a million things to do, a house that needs to be cleaned 
and kids that show no mercy in the morning.  I never gave up though... It was on 
the list, after all... And I'm glad I stuck with it.  Jane Austen's descriptions 
transport you right into the uncomfortable moments and with the subtle sarcasm, 
I could tell she thought that era was as silly as I do.  If I had lived back 
then, we could have been witty old maids together.  (Are you really being
judgmental if you are funny?)

I didn't fall in love with Mr. Darcy like I had been warned I would.  Don't get 
me wrong, I appreciate a man who can swallow his pride, admit when he's wrong, 
not give up on a girl and swoop in to save the day.... But I am far too American 
to fall in love with such a reserved character.  I had ancestors fleeing from 
Great Britain on the Mayflower.  I am not really a stuffed shirt kind of 
girl.... In fact, why wear a shirt at all.  Can we talk about Four from 
Divergent for a second... Hubba...  Hubba!  Sorry about that.  I promise I'm 
back on track.  You get the idea though.  Ever since I saw a shirtless Brad Pitt 
in Thelma and Louise, I've had exactly one type of fantasy man and a rule 
following Brit ain't it.  I still get a little irked about Mr. Darcy's initial proposal.  
Are you kidding me!  

Over all, I liked it and even though an I Heart Mr. Darcy shirt isn't on my 
Christmas list, I loved her characters, story and sense of humor.  The book was 
worth reading for Elizabeth's father's comments alone.  He had me laughing out 
loud and that's not easy in a book that takes place in a time period that has me 
shouting Votes For Women in my head.

#22

Despite all the evidence to the contrary, neglecting my blog was not one of my New Year's Resolutions.  I seem to get less motivated at the beginning of each new year.  With all the holidays and the four birthdays in a row, I need some recovery time in January.

Now about things that were on a list, I have not forgotten about the 35 Things To Do In My 35th Year.  Yes, I am technically in my 36th year now, but if I wanted exactness in my life, I'd have become an accountant and made a lot more money.

I've been spending so much time and effort trying to figure out how to accomplish the bigger things on my list, like getting a backyard for my boys, that not much was getting accomplished.  I decided to shift gears for a bit and cross off some of the smaller ones, starting with...

22. Dye my hair purple

I was 15 the first time I wanted to dye my hair purple.  I remember sitting in the commons at Central High School eating lunch and talking about it.  A guy named Ben at the table started cheering me on.  You should for sure do it!!!  It would be awesome!  But even with the enthusiastic encouragement, I always found practical reasons to talk myself out of it.  Practical reasons at 15... Come on NOW!!!  If you can't do it then, when can you do it?  Here is a list of some reasons that kept me from doing it throughout the last 20 (OMG... Has it really been that long!) years...

1. I was a diver and I worried that the combination of dye and chlorine would be too much for my hair.
2. I was broke. (Not all in your head, you're just bad with your money broke, but real, all I've eaten for two weeks is saltine crackers broke.)
3. My boss might not like it.
4. Can I have purple hair and a church calling?
5. My hair needs to match my head shot just in case I get an audition.
6. Is it going to fade too fast.
7. It will be expensive getting it back to a color I like afterwards.
8. There are more important things to spend money on.

You get the picture.  There will always be reasons not to do the things on your bucket list, but after 20 years I finally decided to hell with it.  Purple hair proved to definitely not be a passing whim and the things that bring you joy are worth it, even if they aren't practical.  Please note I said joy, not temporary delusional highs that are damaging to yourself and family.  There is a difference.

Now that I've done it, I can see how it might be addictive.  I go back and forth between feeling like a rock star and a whimsical fairy.  It is soooo fun!  My practical side will probably win out.  The color fades so fast.  I would have to touch it up every two weeks to keep a vibrant color and ain't nobody got time for that, but I am so glad I did it.  It was either now, or when I turned 50 and I figured it was just going to get more awkward at church the longer I waited.

Church wasn't bad.  The people in my ward are pretty laid back and everyone liked it, or was too polite to say anything.  I wasn't expecting it to be such a hit with the little girls.  Every one of River's friends came up to me separately to tell me they LOVED my purple hair.  If there is a bunch of purple-haired Mia Maids in 10 years, you can hate me later!

Twelve Big Ones

You know you're up too late doing a post when you stare at the world twelve for ten minutes wondering if it is a real word.  I am determined to do this post tonight, since I am leaving to KC tomorrow and I don't want to have unfinished business hanging over my head while I'm on vacay.  Twelve... almost like elve... but not quite.  Focus!

I'm in denial.  Baby Ash, my Ashy Pants, my sweet little Ashy Boy is one year old.  Twelve months have sped by.  It went by in a flash people.  I blinked and this happened...

NEVER BLINK!!!

So Ashy's 12 month photo is kind of funny, mostly because I didn't have a lot to choose from.  By the twelth photo shoot he was so over it and I got about five pictures taken, before this happened...

He ripped off the number and the photo shoot was no more.  It's okay, because I love the double chin and to be honest, I was over this photo shooting business too.  I need a class, a mentor, or a magician and then I'll be back in business.  Lest you should think it's only me he doesn't cooperate for, I offer you this gem for proof I am not alone...

He kills me.  Now without further adieu, I present Ash Phoenix Bear at 12 months...

We didn't have any walking, furniture cruising, or even pulling himself up to standing in his crib, but by golly, after a year of fussiness that I attributed to teething, we were not going to hit 12 months without some darn teeth.  His two bottoms cut through a week before he turned the big ONE!

We gave up figuring out his eye color and just call it Hazel.  It changes all the time, but Hazel is kind of a catch-all.

He is a master scoocher and of course the first time he didn't stay where I set him down, he scooched  right on over to the litterbox.

His favorite pass time right now is to try and put lids back on things... baby food jars, medicine, my make-up... If he sees you with a lid in your hand, he demands it and the world must stand stil while he painstakingly puts it back on.  I love the focus!

My favorite thing about Ash at this age is him dive-bombing my chest for snuggles.  He doesn't lean gently in.  He just crashes right in for some lovin'.  It is the best thing.  If you're not holding him, he will scooch over to you on the floor and dive-bomb his head down on your knee for a rester.  That's a pretty close second in cuteness to the snuggles.

He will wave to everyone.  We call it his Lane Frost wave.  If you've ever seen the movie 8 seconds, you know what we're talking about.

He STILL has to nurse to sleep at night, during the night and even for naps.  I had him over it, but sickness threw that out the window and my little love bug is a feisty pitbull when it comes to me trying to break that habit again.

He only takes one nap, but it is usually for 2-3 hours and he is trying to stay up later and later at night, but hopefully I can reel him in after the vacations are over.  A typical day starts at 8:30am, nap from 1-4 and then bed between 8:30-9:30 and then one to two wake-ups during the night.  It's not ideal, but we've come a long way.

Now that he can scooch, he's into everything.  He especially loves pulling clothes out of drawers, books off of shelves and anything he can get his hands on in my purse.  Plus, we've had to pull the ol' baby gate out to block the Christmas Tree and entertainment center.  Fun times.

When daddy is holding him, he can spend an hour pointing too objects on shelves and demanding them, so he can bring them to me.  He thinks he is helping me.  I call it his chores.

Unlike River at this age, he will sit still for a book or two.

The car seat wars have begun.  He is a planker.  He screams goes straight a aboard and holds himself rigid as can be.  Right in time for winter.. Joy to the world!

He likes to point to the picture of the Velveteen Rabbit and then bounce his body in my arms like he's hopping.

He is still the world's messiest eater.  He has to have a fork or a spoon and he will try and feed you.  It takes a Master's in Patience to feed him.  Just sayin'.

Speaking of patience, he has none and if I don't nurse him quickly enough, he just lifts up my shirt and goes for the goods.  Yes, in public.

He really plays with toys right now.  He does the sound affects for cars and he will go after his brother with his two teeth and sharp claws, if his toy gets taken away.

River has always loved Ashy's baby feet.  Touching them soothes and calms him down.  So of course, Fiesty McFussButt screams his head off now if River tries to touch his feet.  It has given me the opportunity to teach River about respecting boundaries.  A common phrase in my house right now is, "If he's screaming his head off, that means no."

He celebrated his first Halloween, first as Clark Kent and then as Timmy from Shaun The Sheep.  Obviously he has a favorite.

He went to the Oquirrh Mountain, Jordan River and Bountiful temples for the first time... in one day might I add.

He came with me to vote.

And had his first chance to play in the snow...

Ashy Boy has always hated being cold, so snow was not his fave.

I could go on all night, but there isn't actually much night left and I do need some sleep before my trip tomorrow.  The number one thing that stands out  about Ash right now is he hates feeling left out.  He wants to do what we're doing, or what the big kids are doing and he wants to do it in the very split second you are doing it, so don't even think about making him wait!  What he lacks in patience, he makes up for in sweet, lovable charm.  I can stare at his beautiful face all day... if he would ever give me a break.  Happy 12 months my Ash.  We love you!

Happy First Birthday to my darling Ash Phoenix. You didn't turn out to be my "easy" baby like I planned on, but you did teach me that every child is different and amazing and what they do, or don't do, at such an early age has very little with what I do, or don't do. As a bonus, I gained an appreciation for all the things I had "easy" with River that I never knew, until you came along. I thank God every night that he trusted me with such a vibrant spirit. Without the post partum depression and anxiety I experienced with your brother, I was able to enjoy "almost" every second of this record fast year and it has helped heal me in so many ways. You pull my hair, are a terrible sleeper most nights, poop at the most inconvenient of times and yet, a simple cuddle from you has the power to take away my breath and bring tears to my eyes. Be my sweet boy forever. Promise.

Here's a quick trip down memory lane because milestones make me nostalgic.



and this...

Good Night.