Instagram Addiction APRIL/MAY 2012

So, I actually kind of blame instagram for my lack of blog posts because, let's face it, a lot of my life gets recorded in that way... even what I eat.  But some of my readers don't have IG (*cough, cough* MOM *cough*), so I'm going to post them here.

 APRIL 2012

 

MAY 2012

Just To Be Clear...

... I'm not always miserable.

I have this thing I do where I don't think to do any purging until I'm in a dark place.  I used to do it with my journals.  I mean, the journal I kept in 7th and 8th grade has, maybe, 1/2 a dozen entries... maybe. If that.  And junior high was obviously more than 6 or 7 days (let's be honest - junior high felt like it was eternal damnation).  But I digress....

If you were to read any of my journals from my adolescence, you'd think I'd had the most depressing life there ever was.  But anyone who knew me, at least in high school anyway, thought of me as a really happy, energetic person.  There's just something about me where I only really feel the need to release when things just feel crappy.

So, in an effort to make sure, for the sake of my future, that this last year is not just a memory of PPD-fueled rants and freak outs, I need to do a little 2012 recapping.  I mean, I literally have HALF as many posts from last year as the year before, and a third compared to the two years before that. 

YIKES.

So be prepared.  I have some catching up to do in regards to the joy we have felt in our home... and there has actually been some, believe it or not.  David and I celebrated 10 years of marriage together, I moved the girls back into their own rooms after working my tail off to make them look as they desired, Malia had her 1st multi-dance recital, CC started taking dance classes, we went through the stress, success, and graduation of Daphne's cranial band, Malia started 1st grade and CC started pre-school, we got to go to Disneyland for Halloween with Dave's family, Malia has started losing teeth every other month or so, I had CC's hair chopped into a bob (that's a big deal in this house!),  BOTH girls got to dance in the holiday recital, CC turned 4 and Malia turned 7 and Daphne is only a month shy of turning 1, we got to celebrate our 1st Christmas at home by CHOICE and not because I'd just had a baby, we had a reunion in my hometown with my family, Dave and I are both.... getting older.

So be prepared.  There are going to be a lot of flashback posts filled with pictures.  I'm reminding myself that I am blessed and that life is good.  And I'm letting you all know as well. 

Thanks for sticking around... if you did.

Hey Guys. I'm Still Here... Somewhere.

A friend of mine expressed interest in the letter I wrote to myself when Daphne was only 2 weeks old.  It sits on my computer Desktop, and bears the title: "To Tiffany - OPEN IF BABY HUNGRY" (and yes, it is in all caps).

I read that letter today.  Daphne has been teething, and then sick, and then... well... Daphne.  She is an incredibly beautiful  and loving child... with the worst case of separation anxiety I have ever witnessed.  That, coupled with her high maintenance sleep nature (which I diagnosed her with when she was only a month old and has proven to be accurate) is bringing me to a low point these days.

I watched some baby videos of Malia & CC when they were Daphne's age.  I did this yesterday, after it took Daphne an HOUR to fall asleep for her nap.  I could hear, in my voice on those videos, a much happier Mommy.   Daphne is only two months shy of being 1 year old.  That was the expiration date I had given myself after her birth for my depression & anxiety.  And now I'm terrified my hopes will not come to fruition.

My reason for posting today (which I rarely do anymore... the above complaints being one of the main reasons), is to share that letter.  I hope it might give some insight to some young moms.  If anyone out there is feeling like I am - self-abhorrence, anxiety, exhaustion - then maybe they can find a small sense of self-appeasing camaraderie when they read these words.

March 21, 2012

Dear Self:

You need to remember this time.  Daphne, your 3rd daughter, will be 2 weeks old tomorrow.  And while this can be a difficult time for MOST moms, it seems to be exponentially difficult for you.  The baby blues didn't help; sure.  Acknowledge that.  But the real problem is the anxious knot you feel in the pit of your stomach that nearly governs your every thought and action.  You feel trapped right now.  Again - that's part of the whole "newborn thing."  And because you made the choice to do some sleep-training so early on, it is a self-imposed trial, admittedly.  Nonetheless, it is not a feeling you like feeling.  You feel the need to call people 24-7, even though your husband is still home, just because you are so desperate for someone to tell you you're not screwing this up... even though you've done it TWICE.  You are constantly reading and re-reading sleep aide books, thinking it will have some magical answer that will solve all your problems and make this phase instantly easy.  It's unrealistic, and you know that.  Yet, you can't seem to stop yourself from fantasizing about it.

Your abilities as a mother, a wife - AS A PERSON - have become seriously impaired as you deal with the emotional struggle that the combination of sleep-deprivation, hormone irregularity, and your OCD provides.  You have regrets that you are ashamed to vocalize.  You get incredibly riled up and tense at the slightest little cry from your newborn if it happens when she's "supposed" to be sleeping.  The panic you are currently experiencing as you try to figure out how you're going to orchestrate taking her to the pediatrician without throwing too much of a wrench into her "schedule" is ridiculous, unnecessary, and far more debilitating to your spirit than it should be.   The word "overtired" when referring to your baby girl is used more often than "precious" or "blessing" or "wonderful."  That's not how it's supposed to be.  And yet, that's how you choose to function.

In 4 weeks, the peak of potential PPD will hit.  There's no guarantee it's coming, but the likelihood and statistics put it in your "favor."  Things will get ugly, then.  You may find yourself biting your hand again - or worse.  The fear this potential occurrence has put into your spirit is only exacerbating the problem because it is causing unnecessary anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

You are reputably fun-loving, outgoing, silly, and happy.  Any semblance of that person vanishes from you in this period of your children's lives.  And it debilitates your spirit.

In a year or so, life will be easier.  You will have more of the freedom you recently enjoyed before the addition.  You will see your 3rd baby girl gradually turning from infant to baby to toddler - it will make your heart sad.  You will start to long for another baby.  You swear off additional children after each and every one of your children.  But this time, you need to remember the state you are currently in because, each time it takes a definite toll on you AND your family.  And while you all bounce back, it seems it takes a little longer each time, and even though your children are resilient, don't be sure that you and your poor spouse are just as.

You feel the pressure from your religious culture to have more children.  Ignore that.  That is not God dictating it.  It's a culture.  You feel the need to produce a son for your husband. Ignore that.  He's fulfilled.  And odds are, you'll end up with a baseball team of girls.  You begin to miss the newborn smell, the tiny toes, the cute little dresses... IGNORE THAT!  You now have 3 existing children who may not smell as sweet, but who love you and need you and deserve the best you have to offer.

You.  Are.  Done. 

And that's ok.  There's so much you have to give and offer to the children you've already had.  There's so much you want to be able to offer your community both religiously and publicly.  There are things you need and want to achieve that won't happen if you are constantly in this dark place just because you wanted "... just one more."

When that baby hunger arises, remind yourself of the cherubic faces you've already brought into this world and how you owe it more to THEM to be the best Mommy you are capable of than to be able to fill some sort of ridiculous quota.  Remind yourself that your husband married a funny, sassy, intelligent woman who loses all sense of those traits when she enters this season of life and how a little bit of that vibrant woman gets chipped away, never to return.  Remind yourself that YOU miss you when you go through these struggles.

3 IS multiplying and replenishing.  3 IS a cup that runneth over.  3 IS where you will stay. 

Because, if not, you may find that in the finding of more children, you will lose yourself forever....

Sincerely -

YOU