Condensed Autobiography

I was born in Oregon to my biological mother, who I was told, gave me up for adoption to her mother, my biological maternal grandmother. I knew my biological mother, saw her from time to time, but I identified her as my older sister even though I knew she was my biological mother. I viewed her as “the cereal box that the prize came in” for me, as the prize. I was always treated as older, smarter and on-par with adults as a child. My mother would take me to fancy restaurants, to plays, to museums and other places that are typically not for young children. I feel it helped me behave better and learn social skills.

As a child we lived in Provo, Utah and I had a very charmed existence. My mom he let me have my way basically all the time, I was taken out of school just to spend the day with my mom. We had several foreign exchange students and one invited us to come visit her in Germany. We took a trip to Germany and while there we traveled all over Europe and were spoiled by our hosts. I was maybe 5 or 6 at the time, and I only remember fragments of it now. My mother spoiled me, I remember specifically my 5th birthday party I had a pony for my invitees to ride. I remember at 12 I got $100 to spend at Toys’R’Us.  During my childhood I wanted a sister badly and prayed often for one, and when I was 7 my biological mom had another daughter, who my biological grandmother adopted at birth.

The kids I went to school with were all from perfect nuclear families, not one was from a divorced family.  It was a surreal experience looking back, that no one but me was from a single parent household in my elementary class. I suppose a great part of the reason I was in that situation was because we lived in “Mormonville, USA”, and family is #1 priority among the Latter-Day Saint population. I was raised in the Mormon church, and it influenced a lot of the guilt and shame I felt as a teenager. I bloomed in Utah, I had many friends, I felt secure. I felt safe there, I would walk alone to my friends’ houses and to and from school. It was a bubble of safety and security there. One oddity was that I was absolutely boy crazy from birth, but in Utah and among Mormon culture, dating is exclusively for 16-year-olds and older. I felt shunned by the boys in my class early on, but looking back, it may have been that the boys and girls did not associate due to our ages in elementary school and typically children choose members of their own sex to associate with. Still, a classmate or two I recall as having friends of both genders, I was just not among that number. I was hopelessly awkward around boys and doomed to have a crush on any boy who gave me the time of day. Towards age 12 and on, boys and girls matured a little and a crush of mine was returned (finally in my eyes). I got a “boyfriend” in 6^th grade, which meant we talked and wrote notes to one another, but more than spending time together, we did not ever even touch.

As I matured and went to Middle School I made even more friends and felt even as if I were “popular”, not as in being part of the in-crowd, that was never my goal, but that I was friends with a very diverse population at school, I accepted everyone as a friend if they wanted or needed a friend I was that friend.

I was in “Drama Camp” the summer before 7^th grade, I took it with a friend from my elementary class. We had a lot of fun and I met several girls that I became friends with. In 7^th Grade I took several “artsy” classes including drama, art, chorale, guitar and I participated in every school play there was and a talent show (where a friend and I sang “Leaving on a Jet Plane” while I played guitar). I submersed myself in cultural and artistic things, just like I was raised to do apparently. My mother instilled in me a great love of the arts, performing and theatrics. 

My entire 7^th Grade experience was a pleasant one, and then we had to choose where to move. My mom gave me the choice, I got to pick where we lived from that point forward. The choices were to stay in Provo but find a new home, move to Illinois where my mother was from, or move to Clovis, NM where my biological uncle and his wife and kids lived. I do not remember how long I took to decide, but my cousins drew me here. I wanted them to grow up knowing me and my family so the summer before 8^th Grade we took a U-Haul truck and moved to Clovis without a backup plan and without a somewhere to live in place.

Upon arrival in Clovis, we stayed with my brother (biological uncle) and his family one night, and then I left to church camp. One nice thing about the LDS church is that it is everywhere. I went to camp, not knowing anyone, and feeling very much like a fish out of water. I had been popular, I could make friends easily before, but I had always had some other friend there too. I had no experience being alone and having to have no common experiences to share in order to make friends. I did not have a good time at camp, I felt different, and out of place to say the least. My church experience with those set of girls went much that same way ever after. I was always the outsider, they were always the close-knit click. My struggle to attend church before Clovis was nonexistent, but once here I did not want to go, even though I did for a long while.

At school I gravitated to the arts again, I took art and choir, but was not allowed to take drama because it was a class only for 9^th graders I was told. In choir I had a church friend, so I became friends by default with all of her friends.  Boys and girls associated even more here in Clovis than I had ever dealt with before this, it was new but I welcomed it. I was so in love with boys that the chance to talk to them was terrific fun! I had attempted to make male friends in Provo, and I chatted with several boys during my classes but I inevitably had feelings for every single one.

I had my second “boyfriend” in 8^th Grade for about a month (my first boyfriend and I broke up over the phone sometime previous, after at least a year of supposedly dating). My new guy was just like me, very academic, was in choir and full of yearning to love and be loved, we were kindred spirits. His family made him break up with me because of religious differences, and it broke my heart. It was the first time I had been judged for my religion in my entire life. He and I wanted at least to remain friends, but he went into homeschool after that year, and we did not stay in contact.

In 9^th Grade I met a new beau, in choir once again. My first boyfriend was also teased and socially inept, I became a sucker for the downtrodden. This boyfriend was the first “real” relationship, which involved holding hands and I even got my first kiss from him. We stayed together for 1 ½ years but my eye wandered when I moved up to high school and he was still in junior high. I broke it off with him even though he was pretty much the perfect standard of what girls dream of having in a suitor. I was young and naïve, I thought all men would treat me this well. Boy was I in for a shock!

I had a good high school experience, it was filled with me hitting my stride once again. I was better at making friends, I accepted everyone once more. I floated between stereotypes and groups within school, I did not fit any category and I had friends from a myriad of groups. I met my future ex-husband during my sophomore year, he was great friends with my best friend (who had stalked me all the summer before until we were inseparable). Of course, a love triangle ensued, as it had to in our situation. Our trio broke when my ex-husband chose me over my best friend. I was self-absorbed and I failed to notice her feelings, I failed to see how much it hurt that I was chosen. I simultaneously spent more and more time with my future ex-husband and drifted away from my best friend. I was blissfully unaware I was doing so, I was so wrapped up in the new relationship. I regret my selfishness immensely.

So my new guy was a wreck, the biggest project I have undertaken to date. He had a bad family situation where everyone blamed him for everything bad. He was very reactive as well, and I see that he brought on a lot of the criticism himself due to his lazy habits and his selfish behavior as well as being combative. I was blind, as one inevitably is when falling in love, and I ignored all his bad behavior and was staunchly on his side about everything. We were together a little over a year and a half when we more or less eloped. Well, we married in my mom’s living room with my family and our mutual best friend there, but none of his family was told nor invited. That was a mess, for sure. I made so many mistakes in regards to everything about him. I should have been solely friends with this poor broken soul, I should have supported from a distance, and not entangled myself in his wreck of a life. I should have not married him at 18 in the middle of our senior year of high school, let alone at all. I should have learned to be single, but I was not single more than a month at any point from age 12-20, and even after my divorce I did not stay single long, I jumped into a new relationship not 6 months after it imploded.

I married him as much because I loved him as because I held a great deal of guilt over having pre-marital sex with him. I cannot even begin to tell how much I cried, how I kept it a tainted secret from everyone I knew. I felt horrible and filthy. My religious background made me have incredible remorse and shame over this fact. I had the silly thought that marrying him would make me feel okay about the decision to sleep with him. I practically forced him into it just to alleviate my guilt. He was not good for me and tried to deter me from going to church and school (college). We were not happily married for long before I discovered his pornography addiction. I was young and naïve, I had had no idea that he harbored such a secret. I did not have experience handling conflict let alone something he saw as fine for the most part, and something I saw as 500% wrong and disgusting. I could not abide that he would have it in our home, and numerous times he or I would throw out his smut, but it did nothing. He always brought back more.

Perhaps my hatred of it drove a wedge between us, he may see it that way, but to me, it will be his disrespect for me and my feelings. I do believe he had a genuine addiction from the reactions we both experienced through our troubled marriage. He could not stop himself, and I had no way to help him. It was a sad situation but I would have died for him, and I dug my heels in and would not have let him go for anything in the world. He spent more and more time outside of the house, he did not have a cell phone and there were many days a week I had no idea where he was and he was unable to be located. He did no respect me or how I felt, he did not want to spend much time with me. I was torn up by how he played with my feelings, but he did not seem to care how I felt because it only served to make him feel guilty.

My ex-husband and I stayed married a year and nine months before he cheated and left me for her. Long story short his cheating was a deal-breaker, but I did toy with the notion of forgiving him because I loved him so immensely. I was firm about getting a divorce within 2-4 weeks and I filled for divorce on his birthday, and it was final in under a week. I threw myself deeply into church, and it filled the void. It made me feel whole and happy, but I was there, at least partially, for the wrong reasons. I wanted a new man, that has been my never-ceasing goal all my life. I do not feel it has anything to do with not having a father because I have never really felt I was missing one. I have always felt this void that could only be filled with a companion. I longed for a twin sister all of my life as well, I have ached for a consort always (starting with my deep hope for a sister), regardless of gender, though it seems I usually sought a male.

So I went to church fervently and found not one date, and I still enjoyed going nonetheless, but my hope was “someday” I would find a mate again. My current husband came along fairly quickly, and as much as I was definitively only looking for a friend a long last, he wanted a relationship. I acquiesced quickly, I am not great with willpower.

My husband and I had a blissful relationship for a year, and after that it had our share of super high highs and very dramatic lows. We had a surprise pregnancy after over a year and a half together. She brought us back together when we surely would have been at an end of our relationship. It was not planned, but she made the world of difference in our relationship. I definitely would not recommend having a baby to try to salvage a relationship, it only worked in our case because it was a good relationship that only failed because we gave up. We got engaged when she was 8 months old and married when she was 20 months old. It all happened backwards, it was at times a complete whirlwind and others it was dreadfully slow going. We are happy together, we laugh often, have two little daughters and it ended up working out, but it was a complete learning experience. If I had not been hurt like I had, I would not have appreciated what I have now. Not only that, but my clinginess in my past relationships would have worn out my present husband if I had not learned to rein them in.

I have learned to rein in the suffocating need to be needed to a great degree, but under it all, it is there still. I can also see that in my family we need to be accepted, we bend over backward for others to be liked. It strikes a hard blow to be rejected and we take it harshly.

My mom instilled in my sister and me that the world is a scary place full of dangerous and untruthful people. I feel that impact strongly, I do feel afraid of ever being on my own in public, that I am in constant danger, but at the same time I think it is the only truly rational way to think. To believe that you are safe, or feel like nothing bad can happen to you is naïve and irresponsible. My poor daughters have to deal with me telling them we cannot go to the park, the store, or any place that is not behind a locked door unless I have my mother and sister or my husband with us. I would always rather be prudent than reckless so we all suffer for it.

Battling Food Addiction

I think about food, at minimum, 4 times an hour. If there is a lull in my work, my conversations, or my mind wanders for a second I obsess about food. It is constantly on my mind, and it has only been since I began counting calories, and paying attention to what I eat and how much, that I realized it was a problem. 

I'm in a constant state of desiring food, even if I just ate and should be full. It took me about a month to know what actual hunger felt like. I was so used to just using the excuse that "life is too short to count calories", that I didn't know what feeling full was. I still don't ever feel satisfied, I always desire more because I love the taste. It takes so much effort to limit my intake and stick to it. I fail most days to stay under 1700 calories, but my new way of life diet still is drastically less than I was putting into my body. If I go over 200 calories, I'm still at least under 1000 less than I was eating daily before I started. 

So there it is, I was eating 3000 plus calories on average EACH DAY. I miss being allowed to eat all I wanted of whatever I wanted, but I know it is psychologically unhealthy, beyond being physically unhealthy. It has been 4-5 months and it was easier at first, of course, but I know it'll probably always be a constant battle, but I hope it someday isn't. 

Being addicted to food is terribly hard. It isn't like I can just quit eating cold turkey. I wish i could! I'm going to be brutally honest, I envy the thought of being able to have enough self control to just not eat, like anorexic. I lack that drive and determination and I have to struggle everyday to balance not feeling deprived (which is the biggest reason people fail on diets) and staying under 1700. I love food too much! 

I wish I could just stop eating when I'm full. It is so hard for me to recognize the feeling in the first place, let alone have the will power to stop if there is food left on my plate. I have a hatred for wasting food, and how wasteful America is, so I try to eat everything on my plate.   

Portions are so hard too! The food I want most typically has the most calories, and I'm not full (or don't feel satisfied) eating the correct portion. I try to use smaller plates and try to limit going back for seconds (and if I do, getting less than the fist go). 

I do know a lot, if not most, is psychological. I think while I'm eating, "is this enough to feel full? Am I full but only WANT more? If I stop eating now will I feel full enough to last with no snacking until dinner?" Etcetera. I don't have a healthy relationship with food, I am utterly obsessed. I wish I knew someone who had defeated their addiction to food! Also I wish to know someone who is predisposed to obesity but eats well and stays slim so I could learn healthy eating habits. A major problem is my picky eating (and, no, I can't simply just try new things. Not can I "snap out of it" if I wanted to). I have a very limited set of select items I can eat without involuntarily throwing up. Yes, it is that dramatic. I cannot eat certain foods without the reaction of gagging so hard I vomit. I've tried, and once again, it is psychological, but so be it. Apparently I'm in need if heavy duty therapy! Ha ha! 

The one positive is I don't emotionally eat, at least not to an unhealthy level. I like to celebrate with food, and occasionally cheer myself up with food, but I don't eat worse things than I normally would. It becomes a spending issue because in both those cases I want to go out to dinner, but I'm still careful about what I eat. 

I have, however, lost a total of 19 pounds now. It seems ludicrously slow going, but it is coming off. Only 70 more lbs to go! 

My First Tattoo

On December 29th 2014 my best friend and I got our first tattoos together. We were both extremely nervous but excited.  I got a beautifully stylized Deathly Hallows tattoo in cobalt blue (the Hallows symbol) and turquoise (the stylized swirls). 

I was nervous, the pain to a lesser extent, but primarily the tattoo itself. Would it be well done? Like to my high standards well done? Would I regret having a tattoo, regardless of the image? I know I love Harry Potter, always have, so I doubted the symbolism would ever be a mistake, but a tattoo is permanent. It is a huge commitment, probably the biggest (children don't stay with you forever even, and sometimes things happen even with your spouse, but a tattoo is in your skin forever). 

I mean, I had thought about it, and I did want it, but part of me thought about how I was partially getting it just to be a rebel, to have a talking point in my skin, and maybe that is the purpose of a tattoo. Maybe the meaning doesn't need to be weightier. And I wanted to commemorate my dear friendship with Rose. I haven't felt so happy with a friend or a friendship in years. I only have maybe 3 others who are on par with what she and I share, and even those 3 are very different friendships, of which only 1 still lives in my town! 

I've had past friends I was immensely close to as well, and also ones who I love dearly now but it isn't the same, you know? Soul mates kind of, versus someone you love but it isn't "easy". I hope that makes sense. Becky was a very close friend, I loved her like no other friend, but it wasn't easy, and we lost it. I really loved Emily too, but she and I apparently were not politically like minded enough for her, because it didn't bother me that we had differences of opinions. Kari was entirely my mistake, jealousy and hurt ruined it due to me feeling immensely close to her, and hurt that I wasn't invited to her wedding and a tiny but jealous she got her happy ending way before mine (she'd been dating him less than a year, and I'd been dating Mike 2-3 years and wasn't even engaged yet).

I honestly think of those three ladies often, but I don't think I'm brave enough to fix anything :'(

I have many many great friends, but to click with someone on the level I'm talking about is rare. To agree with so many of the same things, to look forward to seeing one another no matter how frequently you see each other and to be able to pick up where you left off after years is a rare and wondrous gift. 

So here we (Rose and I) are at Clovis Ink, at 5:00 on a Monday evening. We chatted about tattoos, how much we'd heard it hurt, and how cool tiny teacup tattoos on our pinkies would be (maybe later we'll get them together) so that as you are actually drinking out of a teacup and your pinkie is extended you show it off). 

We filled out our paperwork (liability releases), and got to talking about handwriting. I can't do cursive, whereas Rose likes her cursive best. 

I decided to go first, (which I guess was Rose's idea too. She is a self described "pull off the bandaid" type too) and I just hoped that I'd be brave! I tried to breathe (that was hard initially) and I kinda failed at first! I got dizzy and lightheaded like I do when I get my blood drawn and IVs put in. I think I lasted maybe 2-5 minutes until I needed a break. I put my head in my hands and asked for water. It didn't take too long to feel better once I drank some water, and I went for it again. At some point I ended up holding Rose's hand for moral support. I said colorful things like, "oh this is bothersome" and "this isn't the most pleasant thing ever", ha ha! I don't think I swore once somehow! 

I discovered my ability to distract myself and Rose by keeping the conversation flowing. I asked her about her siblings, her family, her first pet, her favorite book series, her first fandom (Anime, Yu-Gi-Oh and Naruto), etc. I also gave my answers as well, and it took up enough time to breeze through the remainder if my tattoo. It was annoying, but easily forgotten while we were talking. 

Once mine was finished we swapped seats and Rose got her crescent moon with swirling interior, and three tiny stars. 

 

Her placement was her left wrist on the interior side. It hurt quite a but judging by her reaction. I held her hand for support and she worried she was hurting me (she didn't at all). I tried to keep the conversation rolling. We talked to our tattooist Brian, asked him about how long he'd been tattooing (5 years), what got him into that profession, his art hanging on the walls, etc.

Anyway we also talked about Lost Girl, Lord of the Rings (plus how Mike and I had "remet"), movie marathons, actors, Guardians of the Galaxy, how we'd found fandoms, and all things geeky. It was a very fun conversation and it was enlightening, I think even with all the time we've spent talking (and talking and talking) in the past few months we still have barely scratched the surface of topics! We've spent at least a full 24+ hours talking about the world and we still haven't had a lull in conversation! 

After our tattoos were finished, we paid Brian and thanked him. Now we'll both have a permanent reminder of one another. This is one friendship that is destined to last. I think I chose the right friend to make such a permanent decision with <3

I feel so incredibly blessed to have found a great friend like Rose, and it is so bittersweet that she is leaving soon. I'm the "Good Luck Chuck" of my friends. If you want to move at some point, all you need to to get remotely close to me and within a year you'll be deployed, find a job offer you or your spouse can't refuse, or somehow you'll end up across the country (or in this case, across the world!). 

I intend to still keep in as much contact as possible with my busy schedule, and I know things work out how they are meant to. 

Disposable Friendships

In our society if it isn't easy, pleasing, perfect, and what you imagined it would be like, we at "taught" to remove it as soon as possible. This ideology is prevalent throughout every facet I can think of. Your car runs fine but doesn't have GPS built in? Ditch it. Your boyfriend made you mad? He must be a horrible person so get rid of him! Did your friend dare to have a differing opinion? What a total *witch*! 

This is the mentality of most people I come across, and what is worse is I still never see it coming. 

I have to admit, I am absolutely not like this. I believe in making the best of what I have, working through trouble spots in my relationships and agreeing to disagree without holding it against someone. 

I find myself constantly wishing for a like-minded friend, someone who will be there for me if I need someone. I would be there for any one of my friends in a heartbeat if they needed to talk, or to just have a good cry. I have had very, very few friends who have ever been there fire me in any capacity and it seems that they leave me shortly after my needs are met. I have so much to offer as a friend, I am loyal, I'll stick around, I will listen and I feel I have the life experience to help many people if they are going through the difficulties I have been through. Quite honestly I want to help people, I want to be a friend, I want to bend over backward for your benefit. 

I keep making friends who throw me aside when we have differences of opinions, or a miscommunication. In a marriage those aren't reasons to bail (for a rational adult) so how do "friends" rationalize this act of betrayal? Why not tell me what I do that upsets you so I can have the opportunities to fix it? Why is it so hard to agree to disagree and continue to support each other?

Lastly, a single mother will try to protect her children from heartache by not introducing a man until things are relatively stable so that her children don't get attached then break their hearts when they leave. So how come a mother will make friends with another mother, let their children bond and become friends and then tear their children away from these friends when they no longer are willing to put effort in the relationship with the other mom? Am I the only mother who thinks of this? I care about my kids having friends, and I'd at least try very hard to work at a relationship with another mom who my kinds were involved with her children.

Where did the notion of "it takes a village to raise a child" go? Why is there a marked sense of "everyone for him/herself"? Why can't there be a real support system of women who take care of one another and help with what they can? I haven't found this anywhere, and it is a real shame since I would love to have this comrodery with friends. 

I have great difficulty in finding friend, not even taking into account compatibility. I feel that I can be compatible with nearly any type of person, you merely need to overlook differences and work at meeting one another's needs. That isn't to say innately toxic relationships should be endured, but think before you rashly cast someone aside. Think of you children (if you have any), theirs (if they have any), and the friend in question. And before cutting ties, grow up and confront the issues before throwing in the towel or cutting off someone without even attempting to fix the problem. 

Minimum Wages are Poverty Wages

A family can't live on minimum wage at 40 hours a week. How do I know? Because I make more than minimum wage and we struggle. With only one adult working in the home it isn't possible to survive. And there are many single moms and dads out there. My family only makes $25,000, but someone making minimum wage makes $14,500 a year. We are currently on Food Stamps and WIC besides living in income-based public housing. If me making $12.37 isn't enough to make it working 40 hours per week, how is $7.55 going to do it?

Yes, if we had no car  (we pay less than $300 per month on a 2007 vehicle) or phones (we have data plans I am sure we *could* live without that cost $100 a month) we'd be able to afford food without government assistance. But still, we make more than those on minimum wage, and we still qualify for "assistance" which indicates we don't make enough money to support our family without help (by the way, they take into account your gross income before taxes to determine if you are eligible for government aid). 

We've never had to support ourselves and our children on $7.55 an hour, so I can't say for certain it is or isn't possible, but if we didn't have assistance we wouldn't have a car, a roof over our heads, food, or the money to buy toiletries. We don't have high speed internet, cable/Satelite (although we do have lowest-speed internet and Netflix), our girls have 90% free hand-me-downs, and we live In income-based public housing, etc. I think we live pretty simply but I can't fathom living on even a dollar less per hour and surviving, let alone thriving. We are incredibly blessed to have insurance through my job but that takes $500+ out of my monthly paycheck. 

I'm personally not complaining about how little we have, we definitely have just enough (but I'd like to not have to depend on Food Stamps and WIC), but I can't imagine how it is okay for a single parent to make so little and depend on government agencies. 

Poor people aren't necessarily poor because they are "lazy" or don't work hard enough. Wages need to be increased for the benefit of those who really need it. And you know what? Who cares if some people don't "deserve" it, it isn't my business to judge them and it isn't my problem how they choose to spend the wages they EARNED. 

My Breastfeeding Experience

Breastfeeding has been an incredible experience, both extraordinarily difficult and beautifully rewarding. To begin with, it was the hardest combination of things I have ever had to push through. I have had more difficult times with emotional struggles or physical strain but never both so much as breastfeeding was in the beginning. I cried so much, I fought for the “good latch” (even if her latch was perfect it still hurt a LOT in the beginning). Pain, emotions, tears and lack of sleep. 

Pretty much what you sign up for when you are a new parent, but this was overwhelming. It was why I quit breastfeeding Mairead early on. I couldn’t handle the pain, I didn’t know at the time why it hurt, and wasn’t patient enough to wait it out in hopes it would go away. I gave up pumping too with her because it took such a long time to get anything (I had a manual hand-pump that was for one side at a time). I couldn’t keep up with her needs with that dinky pump, and it took up literally all of my time.

With Eili I didn’t expect it to be easy, but I was determined. That was all it took. It was just as hard (but for some different reasons, as well as the pain and time-consumingness). Eili fed all the time (and my reaction to her was simply “if she cries, whip out a boob”. It worked. It hurt for a few weeks, and I persevered through it. Supply and demand is correct. You just have to really commit to it, actually basically sitting around for a few weeks (or months) feeding your baby non stop. At first I hated this. I hated having to never be able to set her down, to have to be truly constantly on call for her. I hated how no one else could feed her, how I was her basic resource for everything. Eventually I began to look at it like this: she will only be small for a little while, she will only need me like this temporarily, and every time she needs me gives me a break from life. Who doens’t need a break now of days? It is a blessing to breastfeed, even though you could also look at it as a burden. Now that we are almost 6 months into it, it is amazingly easier than bottle feeding ever was. I carry her food with me, I don’t have to make her a bottle in the middle of the night, and she is getting the very best nutrition. If you can breastfeed why wouldn’t you? I do not judge a woman who actually cannot breastfeed, but it honestly confuses me why you wouldn’t if you were able.

I judge myself very critically now that I look back at my giving up with Mairead. I was weak, but she was my first and I feel like you crumble much easier with the first child than subsequent children. My backbone is now iron compared to when I first had Mairead. Now you couldn’t hope to change my mind unless your research was bulletproof. It was damn hard to breastfeed Eili, but I am a dang Super Mom for doing it all. I work full-time, I am a mom all the time, I clean my house, I cook meals, and I breastfeed and/or pump while juggling all of this! If I can do it you sure as heck can!

The closeness and love I share with Eili is unlike anything I have ever had with anyone, and sadly that includes Mairead. I love them both, but the bond was instant with Eili and has grown exponentially deeper quicker than my love for Mairead grew. I am so disappointed in myself for ruining that potential with Mairead. It breaks my heart for mommas who choose to not breastfeed at all when they could. The bond is unexplainable and it is richer and more rewarding than anything I’ve found so far in life. It makes me personally a better mother and wife as well as citizen because my empathy has skyrocketed. 

I now don't know when I'll ever want to stop! I was so tempted to "get my body back" as in, not be needed constantly, at first. But now, I love it. I figure, if it is great for my baby then it would be selfish to stop (ever?) so.... when will I? I guess who knows, but eventually probably ;)

Eilí's Birth Versus Mairéad's

Mairéad was a totally different pregnancy and birth than Eilí was. With Mairéad the whole pregnancy I was researching fetal progress and was totally consumed with her. I loved her the minute I knew I was pregnant, I thought about here several times a day and I loved every second (even the painful third trimester). I even knew without a doubt she had to be a girl, even before we were far enough along to get the ultrasound to confirm. I fell in love with who I thought she’d be and I was heartbroken that she had to be born and be separated from me. I cried often thinking about not being pregnant when she was born, I was very desolate. Then when she was born I felt like I didn’t know her, it was a total disconnect from the little girl I loved in the womb. I didn’t love her instantly like everyone says you will, I felt empty. It took me weeks to adjust and to fall in love with her completely. I’m being honest here, and I am sure I’m not the only mom in history to have to fall in love with their child after they were born and not have it come naturally.

With Eilí I didn’t have time to fantasize about her. We didn’t know her gender, and that actually made me have a horrible time bonding with this gender-less fetus I was carrying. I didn’t want to know (and more precisely, I liked keeping everyone else in the dark. It had been my experience that not knowing my friends’ babies’ genders pre-birth was much more exciting. I loved the surprise and suspense!) but how can you bond if you can’t picture how they’ll be with their big sister? I felt in my gut that she *had* to be another girl, but I couldn’t be certain because I felt it was my fervent desire to have a second girl that was making me feel that way. Honestly, all my dreams involved sisters who were close as best friends, and if it had been a boy I know I would have taken it much harder than is rational. It caused a great conflict in my heart, I couldn’t bond with a baby who I wasn’t sure was a girl… I know I am a horrible person, but that was how it was.

Both times I had a Cesarean Section. I elected to with Mairéad, and was super adamant about it. I had no real legitimate reason to have one with her, but I talked the doctor into it and he let me schedule one. It turns out she was 9 lbs 1 oz, 21 inches long with a round head that was in the 100^th percentile! The medical professionals said that those factors would have more than likely made me have to have a C-Section if I’d labored before hand, and the recovery would have been harder! With Eilí, I was pretty terrified about the C-Section. I was stupid enough to look into all the things that could go wrong the weeks preceding the scheduled C-Section. I cried all afternoon the day before she was born because I was so scared (even though I’d done it before!).

On Mairéad’s birthday everything was a blur, we spent a few days in the hospital and I felt “rushed” out. I was scared to go home, especially with the pain I was having (which was not as bad as I anticipated from the incision, since I had nerve damage and couldn’t feel much of it. It was 90% back pain from the spinal block. I had a huge grapefruit sized bruise on my back from it!). With Eilí my pain was easier to deal with, and I didn’t get the horrible back bruise and pain (but I did mention how bad my first back pain had been to the anesthesiologist. I didn’t know it could have been better, but man, it can be sooooo much better!). I couldn’t tell you all the things I felt and thought with Mairéad after birth and in the hospital. I was tired and I put off making a journal entry about it until it was too late and all the details had faded away. Now I am two weeks post-partum with Eilí and already I’m forgetting things about her birth!

On Eilí’s birthday we had to be at the hospital at 5:00 AM. I woke up at 3:30 AM to get ready (yes I insisted on wearing makeup and doing my hair). Mike and I arrived at 5:05 AM at the ER and were told to go on to labor & delivery where quote “They have been waiting for you”… as if 5 minutes is a huge deal (and they didn’t even take me back into surgery until an hour later than scheduled, at 8:00 AM versus 7:00 AM)! We had 3 hours to wait and to worry. We watched “That 70’s Show” and “Golden Girls” while we waited. The IV was the most horrible experience of the entire procedure (for Mairéad’s birth and Eilí’s as well). I asked an anesthesiologist to do my IV since I have a bad track record with IVs. Apparently I should have had an understanding nurse do it because he still blew one of my veins and ended up using a bigger needle (which I felt for the 2.5 days I had to have it). I am hyper aware of IVs, I feel them even when I don’t move, and they freak me out and make me dizzy/nauseous. I have a preferred insertion point, but the anesthesiologist wouldn’t listen and put it in a vein on the inside of my wrist, so moving my wrist at all made it move (which made me ill). 

So then more waiting, and then I was lead back to the OR with two nurses. I had a new anesthesiologist there (maybe I ticked off the first one with my crying over the IV?), and he did great. The spinal block wasn’t horrible, (in fact, nearly no bruising or back pain since!) and it was fairly fast. I could still “sense” my legs, but no feeling (which was so weird!). Mike was let into the OR shortly after I was on the table and he didn’t sit like he did with Mairéad… which worried me, since he could accidentally glance over the curtain in front of me and see the operation (he says he saw Eilí come out, but nothing more graphic). I’m so glad they didn’t tell me what was going on, I was trying desperately not to think about the incision, etc. In no time Eilí was out, we heard her cry (which was so different than Mairéad’s, which was loud and ear-splitting whereas Eilí’s was normal and kind of cute). Mike’s eyes were glued to Eilí the minute she was out. I kept asking him questions, but he barely noticed, ha ha! He was enamored with our second little girl. They brought her to us and we asked her weight. They said they wouldn’t know until they took her to the nursery (that was different than Mairéad, we knew her birth time and weight all in the OR). I had to wait another hour (or two?) in recovery to find out her weight! It was 8 lbs 9 ounces by the way  (Mairéad’s was 9 lbs 1 ounce). She was 21 ¼ inches long (a quarter inch taller than Mairéad, but half a pound lighter!)

Mike and Eilí left shortly after and then I was readied to go to “recovery”. This time I was hot, like sweating like a pig, super uncomfortably hot. With Mairéad I was fine, but I shivered convulsively as if I was freezing. It is so weird how two C-Sections can be so entirely different, and done by the same doctor! Even the recovery was so different! With Mairéad my back pain post-partum was horrendous, and it never entirely went away (it would flare up when I did too much). Two weeks out, and my back feels no worse than before Eilí (and somewhat better than in my pregnancy with Eilí). My incision barely was noticeable after 2 weeks with Mairéad (which I attribute to nerve damage) and my back was tolerable too. This time my incision feels pretty good right now, but I’m still careful. I had issues with the staples this time (I had to have 2 staples removed before we left the hospital on day 4, and when I had all the others removed a week after the surgery one nurse was so concerned with the crookedness of the staples that she called in backup… who then called in Dr. Moore to make sure I could have them all removed!). 

We stayed maybe 3 days with Mairéad, and 4 days with Eilí (who had jaundice, and they kept her under the lights for a day and a half). I had a horrible time breastfeeding Mairéad, (looking back, she must have had a bad latch, but I didn’t know the importance of latching then) but with Eilí it was pretty natural. She has a huge little mouth, and a fantastic latch 80% of the time. I feel disappointed and like I should have done more research or tried harder with Mairéad since it was no one’s fault but mine that I succumbed to the pressures of the nurses (they said things like “She isn’t getting enough since she is so big” and “If it hurts so much why not supplement?”). It was the easy way out, and it sucks. Mairéad is perfect and super smart, but still. I’m much more determined this time (and I was adamant in the hospital about breastfeeding, even when they made it sound like that was what was causing the jaundice) even with only 2 weeks off work to figure it out, and me having to pump at work. I’m hoping for 6 months at least. 

Now that I’m done being pregnant, I can tell you that Eilí was a harder pregnancy (I had mild morning sickness the first trimester, my lower back ache started in the second trimester instead of the third, but my swelling began later and was maintainable instead of out of control), even though from what I’ve heard from other moms it was still a relative breeze. I loved being pregnant both times (but took the end harder with Mairéad, where I was borderline depressed). With Eilí I was more excited to meet her (especially considering the lack-of-bonding I felt while in utero) and so thrilled for Mairéad to meet her new sibling. We’d been trying to get pregnant for 22 months, so she was a blessing I’d prayed for every day. I never intended Mairéad to be an only child, and in all my dreams she had a little sister (who ws much closer in age, but we couldn’t arrange that no matter how hard we tried). I only feel a little sad that she has to adjust to having a sister, because I’ve envisioned the benefits all of my own life. My own sister and I are 7 years apart, and it is much too big of a gap. We could have been so much closer if our gap wasn’t nearly a generation. I always wanted a twin sister growing up, and then as an adult I wanted to have twin girls. I feel it is making a built in best friend (and with me having such a hard time making friends, this is can prevent that with my children I hope). 

One thing that is completely awesome is that so far Mairéad adores her. She calls Eilí "her" baby. She talks about how cute/adorable/sweet, etc Eilí is at least once an hour. She is totally enamored with her and doesn't seem to mind that we have to feed her constantly and change her diaper often. She seems to understand that we still love her totally, but we also have to take care of her sister too. She hasn't shown any jealousy, and she loves to hold Eilí when we let her. I look forward to seeing how they interact as they grow up together. They are 3 years and 2 months apart, but they'll be 4 school years apart. I definitely hope Mairéad and Eilí are able to have things in common and understand one another with such a gap. 

Eilí

Daddy and Eilí

Eilí held by her aunt Samantha

My first time to hold Eilí

Mairéad and aunt Samantha holding Eilí

Spring Update

We moved into our new apartment the first of April (and therefore, have lived there approximately 1 month now). It is really great to have our own space, with our own things, together as a family at last! Mike and I were married an entire year (and 2 weeks) when we finally got the news we could move in. Mairéad has her own room, which she loves, and says she won’t mind sharing with the new baby (which, funnily enough, she has not gender preference on, unlike her mother J , she simply wants a “baby”, with whom to read to and teach things to, isn’t that too cute?!)

I, on the other hand, am so conflicted about finding out the baby’s gender at the end of the month (May 31^st,  when I’ll be 24 weeks along), because I know one way I’ll be very disappointed and all my dreams and hopes will be dashed. On the other hand, if we found out then maybe that would give me time to adjust to the news? Maybe, maybe not. My feeling is that I’ll love the baby when I meet them and the gender will matter less (at least I hope it would) after they are born. I’ve been trying to get Mike to agree with me to not find out the gender (since for one thing, we’ll get better, more useful gifts if clothing is off the table. And because by 24 weeks, we’ll only have 15 weeks left (at the most) before the baby arrives).

I am sure some people think I’m being silly about the gender thing, but it may break my heart if Mairéad doesn’t have a sister close to her age. If not this time, she’ll never have a sister to be friends with, they will be far too far apart in age to be friends***. This is the only chance to have two little girls who are close enough in age to perhaps be friends and have things in common. I speak from experience, it was hard praying for years and years as a child myself for a sister. I anticipated someone to play with, someone who would talk to me and have games, etc. Well by the time I got a sister I was almost 7.5 years old, and by the time Samantha was the age to play with, I was the age that didn’t play like she did anymore. Now at 25 and 18 we are starting to get along an have more interests in common, but we could have been so much closer so much sooner if we’d been born closer in age. A son would be fine next time, as long as this one is a girl. I don’t know how to parent a boy, but after two kids I’m sure I could handle all the boy energy, ha ha! I know sisters and brothers can have a bond, but it wouldn’t be like having a sister. I guess I’m projecting all my childhood hopes of having a twin sister on Mairéad, and she’ll probably be happy either way, but this irrational desire for another daughter will not cease. I’ve dreamed of two daughters (close in age as I could manage), for my whole  life. I hope you can sympathize and understand where my hopes and fears in this respect come from at least.

***(Considering it took us 21 months to get pregnant this time, and it won’t be easier the next time, plus the 9 months gestation, that means of we tried to have another baby right after this one, and we were blessed to have the same time-line, the next one would be here in 2.5 years, and Mairéad would be at least 5 and a half years old before the next one came along, and even then, it may not be a girl).

Pregnancy So Far.. At 20 weeks 

I love being pregnant, it is so much better now that I can feel the baby move sometimes. (The nerve damage from the Caesarean Section inhibits me from feeling some movement, but I’m sure once the baby is bigger, I’ll feel them all the time!) This pregnancy has been different from the last one with Mairéad in a number of ways; this time I wasn’t certain of feeling movement until 18 weeks, whereas with Mairéad I was certain at 13 weeks.

With Mairéad I was so bonded the instant I knew I was pregnant, and this one seems surreal and disconnected. It may be because I haven’t felt as much movement, I hope I bond with this baby as much as when I was pregnant with Mairéad. It might also be that I don’t have the time this time to think about this baby like I did with Mairéad (I spent hours a day thinking of her).

With Mairéad I knew she was a girl from conception, and somehow Mike knew too. We just knew she was a girl, and in my mind, there was no other option, she *had* to be a girl, ha ha! This baby we do not know, and we couldn’t even guess it! My first pregnancy was easy, and the only drawbacks were in the third trimester, my back hurt and my legs swelled (a lot). This time by the second trimester I’ve been hurting, and it isn’t getting better. So much pressure! But I am happy, I know I prayed fervently for years for this baby, so I have no right to complain at all.

With Mairéad I dreaded her birth, not because of the typical reasons, I wasn’t afraid of the pain I was so sad that she wouldn’t be with me constantly anymore. I knew I’d miss her little kicks and punches, I’d miss her hiccups and I knew she’d never be with me like that ever again. It depressed the heck out of me to have her separate from me and that is why I dreaded her birth. This time I know a little more of what to expect. I will hate that part of the birth, but I’ll probably like meeting this one more than I liked it with Mairéad. With her it was like meeting someone I’d never met and losing the child I’d bonded with for 9 months. It was hard for me to love her at first, it took me a little while to re-bond with her. She wasn’t what I expected (whatever that may have been). This time I sort of am maybe distancing myself from bonding with this baby, maybe subconsciously, because it would be sad to have to fall in love with this one after they were born because they were different than I expected and had learned to love in the womb. I am betting it won’t happen like that twice though, because I know more what to expect this time around. Pluse I look forward so much to Mairéad meeting this sibling and watching them love each other and interact. I look forward to their bonding, and that only will truly come after the baby arrives. So I guess I don’t “dread” this birth (yet, lol), I actually look forward to it in its own due time J. 

Our Second Conception Story

01/16/2013

We had our first child, Mairéad, in 2010. She was conceived at the end of 2009 and was a surprise. We had not been "trying" but we hadn't used any protection for about a year and a half. She was a healthy baby, full term, 9lbs 1oz!

The second time around we started trying to conceive when Mairéad  was around 9 months old (that was April 2011). I got off birth control, and didn't know what else I needed to do. By October I went to the doctor for my annual but also to get advice about our apparent infertility and she suggested that I chart my basal body temperature.

I had done that for a YEAR (I didn't have the money or insurance that would cover our fertility testing) and then went in for my annual and talked more about my still not getting pregnant. She offered to put me on Clomid because my charts were not showing regular ovulation monthly. Now here we are 4 round of Clomid in and voila! Finally, after nearly two years (21 months) of trying we have succeeded!

Trying-to-Conceive Experience

Every month I wasn't pregnant I felt worse. I felt like a failure, and I was very upset. Especially the months where I was a day or two "late", the hopes would build and be crushed. I was about at the point of giving up, it felt hopeless to hope, and depressing to dream about having more children. I felt really alone too, my friends never had problems (at least the vast majority never did). It was agony seeing my friends have children with ease, with barely a year gap. It has been my dream to have children close (less than a year to under 2 years apart) in age and the longer our unexplained infertility stretched the worse and I would be so upset and jealous. It really made me angry when my pregnant friends would complain about being pregnant. I was sitting there thinking how much I wanted to be pregnant, and how much I would love to be experiencing morning sickness if only we could achieve another pregnancy! Mike would just say "It'll happen when it is supposed to happen" which wasn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted him to be sad too, maybe he was, but he hid it if that was so.

Charting Experience
I charted 17 cycles, and it has helped me a lot knowing my average cycle length. I disciplined myself to not take pregnancy tests until after I was certain it was at least 2 days longer than average, which saved me money and heartbreak from negative pregnancy tests. Once I started Clomid I did have to use a pregnancy test every month before I took my pills, and finally after my fourth round of taking Clomid my pregnancy test was positive! It showed up immediately even though I had only been 5 days “late”. I went to the doctor’s office on that Friday (the 18^th of January) for a clinical test and they agreed I was finally pregnant!

Although I charted all that time, I am not sure my charts were always accurate, which is my fault for not taking my temperature at the same time every day, and sometimes forgetting altogether (but no more than once a week did I forget). It made it very hard to find when I ovulated with any accuracy, and when I finally conceived, it showed that I'd ovulated much earlier than I had been thinking it normally was.

Telling the Husband

I took my last pregnancy test on January 18, 2013 in the morning, it was a Wednesday. I took the test then because I was a few days late and my mom wanted to know if I was pregnant before she went into surgery the next morning. It came up positive within 20 seconds, so I didn’t have to even wait the two minutes it says to wait! It was agony to have to wait until Friday to tell Mike, but I didn’t want to tell him between work and class, or at some other point where it wouldn’t have time to really sink in. I wanted to be alone and have hours together to talk about it. So I was waiting until after Mike’s show on Friday night. Let me tell you, those few days were the longest of my life! And the last few hours dragged on to days! I couldn’t wait to tell him, but the closer it got to our alone time, the more nervous and less excited I became. What if he wasn’t happy? What if he reacted in a negative way?

Well we went to get food after his show, and I was too nervous to get anything. My stomach was tied in knots and I felt nauseous. Back at his house (we still don’t have a place together, we live with our respective mothers until we can afford to live together) I waited for him to finish eating. And it seemed to take an unusually long time! After Mike was finished eating, I got a small package out of my purse. I’d used an old jewelry box to put the pregnancy test in and I’d made a “coupon” that was redeemable for one infant at the end of September. Mike opened it, and sat there in silence.  He must have reread that coupon dozens of times, eventually he awakened from his utter disbelief and asked me if I was serious. I told him I was, and that I had gone to the Women’s Medical Center that morning and confirmed it. He sat in silence some more and asked me when we would know for sure. I laughed and told him we already did know!

He insisted that we wait to tell anyone until I was at least 12 or 13 weeks along, so in the case of a miscarriage we wouldn’t have to tell everyone about it. So as I am writing this now, I’m only 4 weeks and 6 days, so we have 7 or 8 weeks to go before I post this publicly.

Conclusion
I know it is impossibly difficult to see all of your healthy friends get pregnant with one baby after the other when you are struggling so hard to get pregnant. It was hard to see them complain about being pregnant when all I wanted to do was *be* pregnant! They took it for granted when I would have loved to have morning sickness!

If you have tried and tried to get pregnant and have felt the heartbreak I have I want you to know you aren't the only one who has had trouble, and with luck and faith, you will get pregnant too! I have a friend who was 45 when she got pregnant with her son, she and her husband had given up all hope, and she was blessed with her son after years and years of trying and heartbreak. It can happen, just try to relax (and I know I never could) and keep trying!

02/25/2013

One of the major things I was concerned about before I began publicly announcing this baby was my friends who I knew were actively trying to conceive (some their first child and others their second). I felt I had to tell them first, before even some of my family knew, because I knew how I would feel considering how long we had been trying to conceive. (By the way 2 of my friends that I felt needed to know first had both miscarried at least once, and I felt it would be cruel and unthoughtful to announce my pregnancy without them being notified first)  So the opportunity to tell my friend Dana came one day at church, we were just talking and I told her how much I liked her skirt, which she then told me was "roomy" and told me she was 7 weeks along. I told her, "Me too! I am 7 weeks also!" so that was incredibly awesome and perfect! We both were getting the baby we had hoped for, and better yet only days apart!

The next friend I needed to tell I was saved from telling because she announced it on Facebook before I could see her in person. She'd had at least one miscarriage I knew of, and I had felt it was important to tell her so she wouldn't feel blind-sided.

The third friend I told (Candace) we had tried and tried to take to lunch or dinner, but we both were so busy it never worked out! Finally when I was 10 weeks along she called me and told me she was expecting over the phone, and that she wanted to let me know before she went public with it for the same reasons I wanted to tell her too! And it turned out, she too was 10 weeks along and we are due within days of each other! That makes 2 of my friends that will be having mid/later month September babies! How awesome is that?!

God really has awesome timing, and it will be incredibly fun to have friends who are at the same stages (exactly) as I am throughout our entire pregnancies! 

03/01/2013

We had our first ultrasound and it was great! Baby has a heart rate of 165 and was exactly 11 weeks along (which moved my due date three days, but according to my BBT charts, exactly 11 weeks was precisely when I ovulated anyway, I could have told them, lol!) Here is a picture of the ultrasound:


03/13/2013

We had our first family pictures of just me, Mairéad and Mike last Friday morning, courtesy of my friend Heather. I had told here that we were intending to surprise Mairéad the news and try to capture the reaction she had that she was going to be a big sister. She'd been talking about babies, and even had told me how she would take care of one (smelling its diaper, singing to them, teaching them how to run, lol) and she had mentioned a few times how she wanted a baby. So I was hoping for a big reaction (like I'd seen with kids' pictures on Pinterest). Well she kind of just stood there, ha ha! We took a video of it though, so we do have her actual reaction documented. She did eventually ask us what the picture (ultrasound) was of. And where the baby's eyes were ;) And finally we asked her if she wanted a brother or a sister, and she replied, "Just a baby!", which we laughed and assured her she would be getting! And since then I had asked her what she wants for her birthday, and she told me, "A baby!" and I told her the baby would come after her birthday and after the fair.

The Hardest Thing To Do Is Wait

So this is a blog a long time coming, and here it goes. I haven't told more than a handful of my friends, and so basically only family knows. Mike and I have been trying to get pregnant for a year now, and in January I found out why it wasn't happening as easy as I thought is should. My doctor told me that I have problems with ovulation (as seen by me taking my own basal body temperature*), as in I kind of don't ovulate. At least not normally, and in the past 6 months, my charts have made it evident that I perhaps have only ovulated 2 times, once in November and once just last month.

This is really, really hard for me. I have been more than desperate to have another baby since Mairead was 9 months old. It has always been my dream to have two little girls under two years apart, and I have three friends who all have been blessed with *exactly* that. It kills me every time I see them living my dream. I know people say that often siblings hate being so close in age to one another, but I look at the bonds twins have and I must say that it doesn't have to be that way. When I was a child all I wanted was a twin, and I still wish I had one. Someone who was a friend when you had no other. I didn't have my little sister until I was already 7.5, and that sucks. It isn't fun being an 8-year-old and having a little baby around, they are not fun, they can't talk or play or be on your same level at all. I never wanted that for my kids, I wanted them to have siblings under two years younger, to be like having a twin. I don't want them to have to wait until they are adults to get along and have things in common!

People keep telling me ignorant things like "be patient" or "it'll happen when it is supposed to happen" or the worst one "at least you have a baby now", which is precisely the reason I want another one NOW! I don't want words that mean nothing, I want a baby! I hate that I cannot do anything to fix this, save for spend money we don't have on fertility drugs and testing. We are stuck. Mike doesn't feel the extreme need I have to get pregnant, like, yesterday, he has a more "it'll happen when it is supposed to" outlook, which drives me nuts sometimes because it hurts me so much to wait while it seems not to bother him. It isn't like we aren't actively trying, but even with perfect timing the chances of a healthy woman conceiving is only 20% per month. We have so little of a chance, Mairead really was a blessing and a miracle. It still breaks my heart every time month when I am not pregnant, even with the charts telling me that I couldn't have conceived I still have hope in vain that we'll have a miracle again. And then I cry myself to sleep for nights on end until it is time to try again.

If you are the praying sort, I would ask you if you might pray that we get pregnant and soon, before I give up hope, because this is the hardest thing I've ever had to wait for.

*for those of you who don't know, that is taking your temperature every morning first thing, and charting it to see when your temperature rises. When it has risen and stays risen it means you have ovulated. You're supposed to do this for a few months to see your own pattern and then you can sort of plot when to try to get pregnant. If your temperature doesn't rise, or goes up and down, that means that you didn't ovulate that month.