Why The Shame Of Postpartum Depression?

Why is there a dark cloud of shame hanging over admitting we have postpartum depression? It's not bad enough that new moms are sleep deprived, we have sore nipples and overfilled breasts or a sink full of dirty bottles we need to wash and we're down to the last scoop of formula and the store is already closed - and sore breasts, or breasts that are refusing to produce milk at all. It's not bad enough we're still bleeding heavily from the traumatized vagina that just pushed a watermelon out of a pea hole (I'm being generous ladies!) or got it yanked out from some device the doctor used or that our bellies got ripped open, insides tossed aside like clothes on the floor to birth a perfect angel. Or maybe our angel wasn't so perfect yet and needed to spend time in the "chicken warmer" as my husband calls it. Referring to his own time spent as a jaundiced newborn still "needing to bake." Or maybe the baby we carried inside us for all those months was handed over to someone else the minute it left our body because it's meant to be with a different mother. Or handed over to God because that life wasn't meant to be.

It's not bad enough we have a mother or mother-in-law (or husband) who doesn't approve of our birthing methods and OB's and nurses who disregard our birth plan or a judgmental sister or co-worker who doesn't approve of our wanting an elective c-section or a husband who does not support our wanting to breastfeed, or a husband who insists on us breastfeeding when we can't or don't want to, or an entire community or culture who doesn't support our decision to breastfeed, or family members or mom's group friends who disapprove of our wanting to formula feed.

And a baby who's crying because they are hungry.

It's not bad enough when we have our own self doubt, or our own fear of pain and fear of childbirth,  and fear of, "are we going to be good enough?" Or our own stubbornness of wanting to give birth at home but it leads to a hospital transfer after hours and hours and hours of not progressing where you then face the judgment of the L&D nurses who have that, "I told ya so" look on their faces when you breakdown in desperation to say, "yes, I will take the epidural after 27 hours of hard labor" - already crafting our birth story to tell others to justify, to defend, to protect ourselves from more judgment and shame.

It's not bad enough that we finally get the strength to go out of the house with our newborn, a million baby items in tow and the baby cries that hunger desperation cry they do regardless of just eating an hour before, so you start to breastfeed on a park bench not wanting to disturb the peace of your toddler finally entertaining themselves after weeks of being cooped up in baby village only wanting you, and you get harassed for breastfeeding in public, or a picture gets taken of you and it's blasted on social media about you being a slut wanting to show off your breasts to everyone. Little do they know the extreme pain you are in because breastfeeding can hurt in the beginning, the tears burning your eyes, dripping down your nose onto your baby's tiny face, your toes curling, baby not wanting to latch properly, can't get the cover to stay on right, because it keeps covering the baby's face, can't unhook your nursing bra properly, fiddling with the breast pad, then comes the menstrual-like cramping of your uterus contracting back to normal size once your milk lets down and the extreme pain that is causing you as you sit on this uncomfortable park bench wishing you were at home in your rocker with your breast pillow and your cup of tea watching Wild Krats with your toddler - and trying to look sexy to score another woman's man at the playground is about as close to being on the top of your list right now as sky rocketing to the moon in a cardboard spaceship - yet that is what you get accused of doing. Did I mention the still-bleeding-for-weeks vagina and a huge freaking pad or two inside huge freaking postpartum granny panties?

All I'm thinking about is trying to score a nap and a shower.  A man?  Not so much.

Don't even get me started on the extreme stress and war zone-esq conditions of having an extremely colicky baby. I'm still not quite over my PTSD to start talking about that, but all I can say is survival mode. Having a colicky baby will put a person into survival mode as quick as a car crash. Add in a disgruntled toddler who is seriously pissed at you for bringing this little yelling machine into their perfect little mommy snuggle fest and you have a recipe for tear stained pillows for months.

Your toddler watching you as you play with the baby thinking: How dare you? The look of disgust towards the bassinet while they sit and eat cheerios one by one. How dare you smile at that little noise maker?  How dare you coo?  How dare you pick the baby up in the middle of reading me Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site? 

It's not bad enough ladies... all of these outside pressures we have and don't get me started on the feelings of isolation!

Why are we so hard on ourselves about postpartum depression?

I'm determined to do my part to break the cycle. To do what I can to erase the stigma of postpartum depression and admitting it to myself and others.

I am saying it loud and proud, "I have postpartum depression." 

It does not mean I don't love my kids. It does not mean I regret getting pregnant or regret having this baby. It does not mean I regret being a stay-at-home-mom. It does not mean I regret making the decision to homeschool after a difficult kindergarten year in public school. It does not mean I regret breastfeeding my baby, all of my babies. I have postpartum depression. It's not something I choose to have. It's not who I am as a mother. It does not define me as a person but it is a part of my life - right now. It is a part of my motherhood journey - right now. It is a part of the path I am taking as a mother to tiny babies and young children. I can't imagine it will be a part of my journey when I have teenagers. Unless we have an oops baby when my kids are teens! Which we won't. Oh my God how we won't!

I have postpartum depression. It does not mean I don't love my husband or that I want to kill myself, or kill my children, or harm my children or abandon my children, or leave my husband.

However, I have wanted to kill myself.

I have thought about dying and I have postpartum depression, but that does not mean I don't love my kids. It does not mean I don't love my kids. It DOES NOT MEAN I DON'T LOVE MY KIDS.

It does not mean I don't love my kids.

Why do people insist in linking the two together?!

It simply means I have postpartum depression and I need help getting to the point where I no longer have postpartum depression. That may take medication, it may take therapy, it may take drastic changes to my diet and environment, it may take a ton of work on my part, but my life is worth fighting for. I'm worth fighting for.

I have good days and lonely days and critically unproductive days and every-minute-packed-to-the-gills-days and fun days and horrible days and yelling-like-a-tyrannical-bitch days and sitting on the floor playing cars days and watching Disney Junior from breakfast til dinner in our PJ's days, and feeling like a zombie days and spending all day at the aquarium days and fighting days and sleeping days and laughing days and crying days and sobbing days and days where I'm too broken to cry. All of these days have comprised my journey of postpartum depression.  My baby is 10 months old and yes, I still have postpartum depression. It's not as raw as it once was where it burned my eyes and was sticky in my mouth. The grit in my teeth and the cracking of my neck and stiffness in my back. But it does creep in like a bitter wind under the doorway from time to time when the house is a mess, when the kids are fighting me to get out the door because we need to be somewhere at a certain time - another person's time frame or schedule. When the clean laundry is piled high on the couch waiting to be folded yet I don't have a clean pair of damn underwear anywhere. When there's nothing in the fridge to eat because taking 3 kids to the store wasn't in my vocabulary that day so it's cereal for dinner - again. And then comes the look of disappointment in my 7 & a 1/2 year old daughter's eyes because I did not cook a gourmet, organic, home cooked meal from scratch. Because she's used to that, and she loves my cooking and prefers it to any restaurant you could ever take her to, and she even tells random people about my cooking from time to time and tells me how I should enter whatever meal I just made into a contest. (Melts my heart!)

"Cereal again?" and I avoid her gaze as I go into the bathroom to cry into my hands - again - as I pretend to poop.

Postpartum depression, my friend, does not mean I am a bad mom. It does not mean I am a bad person. It does not mean I don't deserve to have my kids or have my amazing husband.

It does not mean I am a bad mom who doesn't love her kids. I love them with everything I have in my body. I love them more than I love myself most of the time. Especially since I have postpartum depression.

I need to be kinder to myself - because I am worth it.
I need to love myself more - because I deserve it.
I need to take care of myself more - because I'm worth saving.

I need to treat myself as if I were one of my children because they are protected, cherished and loved dearly. 

to be continued...

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Mom, Party Of One!

This is a pic from a pre-baby #3 night away, but it fits perfectly for this post! 

Tonight I'm having a rare moment that needs to happen more often. I'm having the night off while my husband is at home wearing our 8 month old baby in the Moby wrap trying to wrangle a 4.5 year old and a 7 year old to bed while I sit here writing, reading, munching on munchies and basically effing off.  Exhale.....

I deserve it! 

I work very, very, very hard.


I'm a stay at home mom of 3 small kids and my days and nights never ever, ever end. I'm not being overly dramatic either. My 8 month old is attached to my breast all hours of the day and night, waking about every 45 minutes to breastfeed during the night due to teething and growth spurts - so at this point in my motherhood career I'm permanently on call - at the mercy of a tiny human who can eat for days and loves to snuggle his mama. I know this too shall pass and someday I'll tell a new mom holding a newborn in a grocery store how I really miss nursing my babies -- but for now I'm just fricken exhausted. I'm always at the brink of these huge blow-out, break-down tears and I'm always trying to work out how I can get my next fix;

A.K.A. a nap.

I'm suffering from postpartum depression (PPD) and even though I have several recent posts sitting in my drafts folder that talks about it, I haven't been able to finish any of them to post them on my blog. I think because maybe it's too heavy...?  I'm living it so it doesn't feel like something "fun" to write about. It feels too raw, even though I know I need to write about it so I can get the ball rolling on my healing.  But I do mean to post these blogs because I need to do this for myself and because I think it might help someone somewhere to know they are not alone in their dealing with PPD. I'm determined to bring some normalcy to it to help release the stigma. I didn't ask for PPD. I'm not feeling this way because I needed another project on top of having small children, trying to keep house, cook healthy meals for my family, breastfeed a baby and homeschool for the second year and oh yea, try to get my body back after having 3 kids too. Let's not even get to my freelance writing or my blog writing or children's book writing because right now those are pretty non-existant. So if you are reading this and can relate to any of these words regarding the PPD then please let me know in the comments below. You're not alone, My Friend!  In fact, you can join me in bailing water out of the sometimes sinking ship. I'd love the conversation! Let's start a PPD hashtag on Twitter to get more support.

#PPDsupport  (Click for more articles on my blog relating to PPD)

So, I have my pretty good, so so days and my horrible days and not many in between. In fact most have been the latter. I have a lot of horrible days lately. Then the kids go to bed way past their bedtime and I sit in my rocker feeling guilty from my horrible mood during the day or how much I yelled at the kids or how tired I was and how many times I dozed off in my rocker while nursing Baby Brother while the kids were playing Lego's, Magna-Tiles or Calico Critters or watching Wild Krats or something. Usually TV though. So I sit there nursing a tiny Baby Man who has also fallen asleep (but might wake if you move him) and my husband and I contemplate having a bowl of ice cream and what we should watch on Hulu and all seems to be OK for a bit because I start to recognize myself again and I recognize my husband again and laughter comes out of our mouths reminding me of the two young lovers who sat at the dinner table for hours drinking wine and talking about everything under the sun as opposed to the frustrated words of two over-tired, overworked, exasperated parents who can't get one word in to each other all evening, that isn't about the kids or work or regarding the mess and the stress. Our stressful mess. Then, regretfully, I stay up way too late because I'm trying to have some time alone in the quiet and peaceful stillness of my soul...

Exhale...

I'm not a morning person. At. All. I never have been - since birth, probably. I am always too tired. Too depleted and never feel rested. For as long as I can remember I have tried to see just how many more minutes of sleep I can eek out in the morning before I have to get my fat, tired ass into the bathroom to pee then off to fight with wake up two grumpy kids who are way too much like their mother...

This week I have been trying to change some things to heal my PPD naturally:

• I have decided to get back on my supplements and vitamin routine so my energy doesn't "bottom out" like it does without them.
• I have been trying to juice everyday and incorporate more fresh, raw, organic veggies into my diet overall.
• I have been trying to avoid the "quick-fix" yet damaging snacks (bowls of cereal, mostly) because I don't think the processed wheat is doing me any favors. In fact, it's just time to admit already that we're simply not friends anymore. It makes me too angry. 
• I have been trying to think more positively and eliminate any extra drama. 
• I'm trying to get out in nature daily or do something fun (like take the kids swimming at the water park) as many days of the week as possible.
• I have been trying to not yell as much in the mornings to get the kids ready and out of the house. This one is hard!  My family is really bad at getting going and I need to be better about my prep the night before to ensure smoother morning transactions. Dilly Dallier/Time Waster/Procrastinator Extraordinaire 

(I need to change that!)

I have been trying to go see a therapist and I intend to make an appointment with a new Naturopathic Doctor my friend told me about, but both of those things take a lot of time and a lot of money. Mostly because they are not covered under insurance at all. Much like most natural healing things, or more natural healthcare. They also add a bunch of added stress because I need to deal with child care and schedule time for that and then there's the whole, trying-to-get-everyone-out-of-the-house-on-a-certain-time-frame, fiasco.

I'm having a hard time at this whole motherhood thing right now. You'd think that after 7 plus years I'd be better at it, but not so much these days. I feel like most days need a do-over.

So for now I'm trying to do as many things as I can naturally or for free. Taking a walk in nature is free and provides more stress relief than medication or therapy combined. I just need to find a way to get the energy to actually do it, then figure out how I can make it last.

Until next time...

Thanks for reading and thanks for being a friend of MyTalesFromTheCrib!  Come say "Hi" on Twitter!  However, I'm no longer on Facebook and here's why: 

Why I Deleted Facebook The Day My Child Started Kindergarten

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Happy 39th Birthday To Me!

It's the last year of my 30's. Wow, that kind of seems crazy because I feel like I was just in my 20's a few years ago. On my 30th birthday my brand new husband and I were getting on a plane to move to the Island of Kauai. It was a very exciting time. We had just gotten married and the world was at our feet. That seems like yesterday yet we're already talking about what we should do for our 10 year Anniversary next year. I will be turning 40 next year as well, so we definitely need to do something fun. Maybe take a weekend cruise with the kids? Maybe renew our vows?  Maybe head back to where we spent our honeymoon or where we spent our first wedding anniversary? Not sure. But we'll have to do something awesome for sure.

But today I'm 39 and at this point in my life I'm just in survival mode. I have an 8 month old breastfed baby who demands the bar to stay open all hours of the night and day. I have a 4 & 1/2 year old who is riding the delicate balance between wanting to be a big kid and still wanting to be mama's baby, and I have a 7 year old who is keeping me on my toes every hour of the day while I try to figure  this parenting thing out. Most days with this bunch I feel like a complete and utter failure. I never feel as though I make the right decisions or the right in-the-moment-choices, and I feel like I'm behind the 8 ball most of the time. That is probably a huge factor in my PPD (Postpartum Depression) right now for sure. It has taken a tight hold around my neck hard this time. But who am I kidding, no one really wants to hear about that. It's a total buzz kill even if it is my truth and my reality.

So today is my birthday and I feel tired, worn out and struggling with what to do and how to keep the daily schedule. When you're a mom of 3 kids every day is the same regardless if it's your birthday, a day running errands or if you're on a family cruise in the Mediterranean Ocean. It's all just survival mode, am I right ladies? If you are shaking your head no, then do me a favor and PLEASE fill us all in with your secrets in the comments section. I'm dying to know!

On this joyous day of 8's (August 8th), my little family and I are heading to the bay to swim the day away. When I was in my 20's my ideal birthday would be a champagne brunch on the beach with all-I-could-drink mimosas and all-I-could-eat super rich brunch fare, but today my hubby went to our favorite breakfast burrito take out place (because the baby was nursing/napping) and brought home some yummy breakfast burritos and fresh squeezed orange juice and we sat at our picnic bench under our covered patio in the back yard with the kids being silly and the baby eating a mum mum in his high chair and Jack Johnson playing on the iTunes. The sun was shining, there was a nice breeze keeping us cool and everyone was laughing and smiling and toasting me for my birthday.

A lot has changed over the years and even after being a mom for the 3rd time, clocking over 7 years I still feel the daily struggle. However, I've got my awesome hubby at my side feeling like I can conquer anything and today I wouldn't have it any other way. Warts and all.

Happy 39th Birthday to me! May this year be filled with new adventures, renewed passions and dreams and more failures because that is where I get my good writing material.

Cheers to 39! And Cheers to all my fellow Leo's out there!  Grrrrr!

If you want instant good blogging Karma points then just hit the share button to your favorite site below!  Simple as that!

This pic really has nothing to do with my 39th birthday other than I have this look on my face a lot most days and I love this movie. But other than that I wasn't in a wedding dress looking depressed because I totally married the right guy!
"If you're a bird then I'm a bird too."

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Daily Gratitude Journal: The Calm After The Storm

Sunday...

Beach towels and bathing suits drying on the line after a long day at the water park. 

I realized I needed to sit down and focus on what I'm grateful for before I blow a gasket. I'm seeing a pattern here of me getting incredibly frustrated at some point during the day and then realizing I need to sit down and reconnect with my gratitude. 

One of our dear children was playing around in the bathroom which resulted in an almost clogged toilet, and an entire roll of toilet paper and the plastic spinner (both at different times) go for a swim with a brown trout in the Yellow River. 

Not cool! 

Then Mr. Baby Love himself decided to flood his new high chair with poop. I say "flood" because if you are familiar with the poop of a breastfed baby then you're aware of the gold-ish, brown-ish, liquid baby poop of which I speak. 

Mix that in with a fussy, overtired, hungry baby who just took a post-poop explosion tub, fold in two overtired, and overexposed kids from too much sun and fun from the water park, swirled around with them not wanting to take a tub, sprinkled all over my annoyance of the regular day-to-day drama that happens in a family and you have one very crabby, very yell-y mama. 

There. I said it. I yell at my kids when I've been pushed past my limit. 

Then I feel shitty about it and sit down to write a Daily Gratitude Post. 

I'm human. And some days I'm a really sucky human. 

Time to chill out, close my eyes for a bit while I love up on a tiny little breastfeeder who's all warm and clean and soft and calm and smelling sweet from his tub and think about more positive things from the day and from my life before I change the title of this post from Daily Gratitude Journal to Today's Rant And Grumblings Of A Crabby Mom. 

The kids had fun at the water park and they swam their hearts out. We've been waiting for months for it to open - for it to finally be summertime so we could spend long days swimming like fish once again and it's here! 

Daily Gratitude Journal: Sunday

1. I'm so grateful that my husband and I have taught our children how to "find their own fun" as I always say. They have dealt with the harsh realities of "being bored." They have learned that the world is not going to provide entertainment for them at every turn simply because they are bored. They have discovered that after about 10-15 minutes of being left alone to "find their own fun" after they have loudly proclaimed their boredom! (and quickly realized that they either do something or its time for chores), they are capable of inventing some great fun for themselves. Because of this they make up their own games, they go on adventures in the backyard finding new discoveries, they prefer to picnic outdoors for every meal, they build entire worlds out of dirt, leaves, bits of grass, picked flowers, pinecones, sticks and rocks. My daughter calls them "squirrel nests" or "animal hospitals" or "animal hotels."  They have grown into true nature children who enjoy being outside and I'm so, so, so grateful for that. 

2. I'm incredibly grateful that my mom's eye is feeling better after kind of a freaky scare the last few days. Nobody wants anything to go wrong with their eyeballs or God forbid their sight! I'm also grateful for ER docs and nurses and smart folks who are on call to help in these stressful & unnerving times. 

3. I'm grateful for the calmness of the evening after bedtime. For crickets chirping outside and gentle breezes dancing with the leaves on our orange tree and the house not quite sure what to do with itself now that the kids aren't tormenting it so it just stays still and waits for morning. 

4. I'm grateful for getting a time out and for reset buttons where kids cool off in tubs and mommies cool of in rocking chairs and daddies cool off in garages and babies cool off by filling their bellies full of warm milk and then everyone happily comes back together once the beasties have melted away and the lights are low and kids hair is cool and wet and daddies have gotten their tinkering fix and mommies feel rested and calm - taking deeper breaths, longer breaths and kisses are now replacing yells and hugs are replacing huffs and smiles are replacing snarls and yawns are replacing wild animal cries and, "Goodnight's" and "I love you's" are replacing the, "stop arguing's!" and the, "because I said so's!" 

5. I'm so grateful for evenings. So, so, so incredibly grateful. Evenings, glorious evenings. 

My happy lil 6 month old nursling

My Daily Goal: I will take a picture each day that brings me happiness and I will post it along with my list of 5 things I'm grateful for. I invite you to do the same!  These are not listed in order of importance. That is too much pressure for this writing exercise. I am just free flowing as I write and trying to be genuine in my thoughts and emotions and writing what I feel at the moment. Please join me! @coco_cana #DailyGratitudeJournal

For further reading: My Daily Gratitude Journals

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Daily Gratitude Journal: Friday Day #1

I just read a post by Mummy and Monkeys  where she writes a weekly gratitude list of 5 things and it really inspired me to write my own list. At this point in my life I need to try to do this daily. My littlest guy just turned 6 months old today! 

Happy half a year my sweet little love! 

Why I'm doing this: I also have a 7 year old and a 4 & 1/2 year old. I've been homeschooling this year for 1st grade for the first time on top of having a newborn and so life has been challenging to say the least. I have dealt with postpartum depression (PPD) in the past and I feel like I have been dealing with it again this time around as well. So for these reasons I really need to do a daily gratitude list for myself. 

My Daily Goal: I will take a picture each day that brings me happiness as well and post it along with my list of 5 things I'm grateful for. I invite you to do the same!  These are not listed in order of importance. That is too much pressure for this writing exercise. I am just free flowing as I write and trying to be genuine in my thoughts and emotions and writing what I feel at the moment. 

Daily Gratitude Journal #1

1. I'm so grateful for my extremely helpful husband and loving children. Without them I'm not sure where I would be in my life. I wouldn't have nearly as much love and laughter as I do now, so I thank them for that.

2. I'm so grateful for how helpful my 7 year old is with her baby brother. I have a bad back from a few different car accidents and she has held the baby for me so many times, especially after sitting for a while nursing him I get really tight and it's hard to get out of the chair holding a heavy baby so she will hold him for me while I get up. She's amazing!

3. I'm grateful for our home espresso machine so I can save money and make lattes at home using my raw, organic milk and natural, organic creamer and have a real coffee snob moment at home each day while I tamper my grounds and steam my hipster milk.

4. I'm grateful for learning how to cook years ago and for having the confidence to get creative in the kitchen in order to provide my family with healthy home cooked meals each night where I know exactly what is in each dish we eat. And they love my cooking, so that is a bonus!  Not too many dinner time fights. 

5. I'm grateful for my two little boys who light up my life and melt my heart with their smiles. Here is a pic of my "big" little guy who is growing up so fast and who is so loving and thoughtful and who brought me these flowers today while I was breastfeeding his baby brother. These are his words below. He is such a sweet boy and I'm so proud of the little human being he is growing into and I love him dearly.

"Mom, for your hard work I'm going to send you some flowers. Here you go!" -My 4 & 1/2 year old

For further reading: My Daily Gratitude Journals

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This Is My Motherhood: Mundane Monday Morning

Nursing and nursing and nursing the baby

My life once again as full-time milk lady. 

Turning off lights

Putting out fights

Ballet today. 

Better find shoes and tights.

Reminding kids about making good choices.

Reminding kids to use inside voices.

"Everybody go outside!"

"Careful at the top of the slide!"

"Stop fighting!"

Baby's biting-

    everything in sight. 

Teeth coming in-

"Rub their gums with gin?!"

Ridiculous, crazy, outdated advice!

Found out that our playgroup has lice.

Springtime breakfast picnic outside. 

From the bathroom I'm aware the baby just cried. 

...Another fish died?

Mama doing chore after chore. 

"Be as loud as you guys want as long as you close the door!"

Laundry and dishes piled up to ceilings

Reminding me of those PPD feelings. 

Buying food, 

     prepping food, 

          cooking food,

               serving food,

                    "Eat your food."

                    “I don’t want food.”

               clearing food, 

          storing food, 

     freezing food, 

wiping up food. 

"...Mama, I'm hungry."

“I’m too hot.” 

“I’m too cold.” 

“This tag is scratchy.” 

“My bread has mold.” 

“We need more milk.” 

Always running out of milk. 

Over the years I've produced millions of gallons of milk, but

"Who drank all the milk?!”

"He's laughing too loud!"

"She's breathing my air!"

"He looked out my window!"

"You're not playing fair!"

"Mommy, will daddy be home from work soon?"

I could swear it was 3 but its not even noon. 

Kids are fighting, 

baby's drooling and biting, 

tantrums

crying

Mother's Day flowers dying

"Did you break that?"

"She did it!"

"No I didn't, he's lying!"

Nursing and nursing and nursing once again. 

Thinking of rubbing my own gums with gin. 

-Colleen Duncan Canavan


What does your Motherhood look like?  Please join in and write your own Motherhood inspired poem and include the hashtag(s) below.  We can celebrate Mother's Day all year long.  

#MothersDayInspiredWritingPrompt

#ThisIsMyMotherhood

Please join us in sharing your story. Read about the Mother's Day inspired writing prompt here.

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This Is My Motherhood: Capturing The Moments Of Motherhood With A New Baby

I'm sitting in my rocking chair. The rocking chair that has helped me nourish my 5 month old baby almost every day of his life. This rocking chair has become a part of my body. This is where my kids find me when they wake up in the morning. This is where my husband kisses me as he's leaving for work. This is where he finds me when he comes home for lunch and then again when he comes home for dinner. This is where I try to find ways to heal my PPD. Every sleepless night, during all of the cluster feedings, all of the growth spurts, the colic, the colic and the colic - my little nursling and me. My comfortable rocking chair.



The kids are 7, 4 & a half and 5 months old. I'm exhausted and This Is My Motherhood:

Rocking chair sitting tall
Breast pads in big boxes
Big breasts in worn out nursing bras.
Breastfeeding pillow on the ottoman

          That gets thrown to the floor by kids...

Cooling Hydrogel Breast Pads

          'cause damn, it can hurt!
Humming, bubbling fish tank that used to hold three...sadly, down to one.
          The fighther. He's in good company 'round here.
Pictures of my children smiling back at me. Talking to me. Reminding me of their sweetness that day.
          No comment.
Hand lotion, throat drops & chap stick -
          Breastfeeding sucks you dry!
Water bottle that can't get refilled enough. Never enough.
          More ice please!
Coffee cup. My favorite that holds handmade decaf hazelnut lattes - when I get the time.
          Somedays I never get the time...
Non-perishable snacks in plastic containers that sometimes dub as my breakfast.
          Usually dub as my breakfast...
Baby clippers, baby socks, baby blankets & burpie cloths.
My phone, of course.
A novel that is collecting dust.
A children's book that gets opened daily.
Big box of Kleenex to wipe up tears, spit-up, kid boogers, baby drool, runny noses and mama tears.
          We have those too. Sometimes more than babies.
Every remote to every device in the room, especially the fan.
          Tiny bodies are like tiny heaters. 
Amber teething necklace to ease achey babies.
Camera to capture it all - this beautiful, messy life I have.

...oh and a pile of laundry just whining, begging and throwing tantrums to be folded.
          But let's be honest here - it's more of a "family dresser that sits on the couch" at this point.

This is my motherhood.

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I suppose I should blog about this stuff too...

Forgive me for a rather vague yet blunt post.

The past year has been extremely difficult for me personally despite some rather cool things that have gone on with me "professionally." My body has been in a lot of pain, I have had the most extreme fatigue I have ever experienced in my life, I'm constantly on the verge of tears or on the verge of screaming, and let's face it, I've just kind of been a miserable bitch due to all the stress and depression all of this has caused. I haven't been myself.  At the start of it all I had a back injury that lasted 8 weeks. I was not able to pick up my baby to nurse him, put him in and out of the crib, pick him up to change his diaper, you name it. So my mom drove a half hour (if there wasn't any traffic mind you) every single week day morning for 8 weeks to come and help me out as soon as my husband left for work and stayed until he walked in the door that evening. She literally did everything but nurse the baby!  I still did that, but I needed help lifting him in order to do it. If you've ever breastfed a baby during a back injury you know where I'm coming from. I don't recommend it. (The back injury part... I highly recommend the breastfeeding part.)  THANKS MOM!

So back when I was pregnant with El Bebe #2 the "fill-in OB" I had for that appointment (before I switched to a midwife - smartest move I ever made as written here) noticed a lump in my throat but he said I had to wait to do testing til after the baby was born.  Honestly, I forgot about it. Besides the fact I now had a brand new baby and a very busy toddler to care for, doing a bunch of medical tests was the last thing I wanted to add to my To-Do List.  I could feel the lump and see it, but I put it aside as far as looking into it. Call it denial, call it avoidance - I call it postpartum depression.

Several months ago I started up with a new family doc and she started me on some tests to look into it. This test result led to wanting to do this test, and that test led to this scan and so on. After several tests were done in several different facilities all over hell's half acres and over several months because kids are "NOT ALOUD" at any of these tests making the process that much more difficult for a stay-at-home-mom, I was told there are a few different lumps in there and not just one like I thought. I ended up having another very detailed and time consuming test that would check out all of the lumps and determine if they were "OK" or not. That test came back but I needed to go to a specialist to hear the results... I was told that some came back "OK."  I'm not sure what happens to them, but they aren't anything. But some of the lumps showed up as "something" on the test where others were found to be "nothing."

So what that means is that tomorrow I go in to get the "something" lumps biopsied to see if they are cancerous. I have a good chance that they are not, but in the "something/nothing test" they are "something" so if not cancer, then what?  This is new territory for me so I have no clue what else it could be. But the specialist basically said, "we're going to do a biopsy to see if they are malignant or benign if they are malignant then you do chemo/radiation and it should take care of it no problem or we surgically remove it...but it's most likely nothing."  So that is where I'm at right now.

I only throw this out there not for sympathy, not for attention but for positive vibes sent my way. Call them prayers, positive energy, positive vibes, whatever makes you feel more comfortable. I'm a firm believer in positive energy. I'm one of those people who thinks that you should tell everyone that you are pregnant right away instead of waiting (and suffering in silence with morning sickness) throughout your entire first trimester.

SIDE NOTE: For those who have never been through a pregnancy, most medical professionals advise you to wait to tell anyone until the second trimester because the first trimester (the first 3 months) is a delicate time in your pregnancy where if you are going to have a miscarriage, typically it will happen during that time. I actually had the first OB I ever saw when I was pregnant with my first tell me, "well, the test came back positive but don't get your hopes up.  A lot of women miscarry during this time."  Talk about  a buzz kill.  She wouldn't even say the words, "pregnant", she just kept referring to it as a "positive test result."

I didn't take her advise (big shocker there - the girl who had a water birth at home not taking the advice of an OB), but I wanted everyone in my life to know we were pregnant because I liked the idea of having all of my family and friends thinking and dreaming about the tiny lil baby growing inside of me, sending it love and light. And if something did happen to the pregnancy then I'd already have that support system in place. Nothing happened though because she's out riding her bike right now. The more the merrier when it comes to positive energy, prayers, positive thoughts, etc., as far as I'm concerned.

So if you could just pass along some love for me tomorrow and float it through the universe over my way that would be great. Oddly enough, I'm not really afraid of the pain of someone sticking a needle in my throat to take a sample since I've given birth to two children and am no stranger to pain, and I'm only mildly worried about the test coming back cancerous because I feel that it's not.  I'm more worried about, "what is going on with me?" because I know that something is wrong and the specialist already told me that if it is cancerous it really has nothing to do with all of my symptoms right now. I'm not feeling like myself and something is off and I'm in pain, my joints hurt like I'm in my 80's and I'm very tired and run down and I have put on a lot of weight over the past year which is stressing me out too.  I'm just not sure what it is yet and that is driving me crazy. So...who knows?  Any medical mystery solvers out there reading my blog?  Give me a heads up!

Anyway...I'll update as soon as I'm able to.

Peace*Love & Light,
coco cana