Plastic Surgery

I really meant to blog about this more often and do short little updates on my healing. But I just never took the time to do it. This past year has been amazing, but challenging. There were days that I did not want to deal with. There were emotions that at times felt too big to sort through. Despite all that, I survived! And I feel amazing on most days.

A year ago I had just started on my weight loss journey. And gaaah that sounds so cheesy, weight loss journey, give me a break! But really it honestly has been a journey, not just about losing weight, but about self acceptance and growth. It literally took me making the decision every day to keep going. And a lot of days the hard decision wasn't to get up and exercise, or stick to my food journal, it was the decision to face the hard things I had to sort through. The feelings of self worthlessness that I battled. My insecurities that threatened to tear down my entire world. It sounds a tad dramatic, doesn't it? In reality it isn't. I just saw an article today on my facebook feed about a new mom who took her life, as a result of Post Partum Depression. Your mental health is just as important, if not more important, as your physical health. And it took a complete overhaul of my mental state to get to where I am now. There are days that I still struggle with feeling like I am good enough, like I deserve to be loved. But I know that I am enough on most days.

I say all that to say I did feel better once I lost my weight. But I hated, no loathed, the body I was left with. The number on the scale looked better, I however, did not. My stomach was so stretched out and hung so low. The aftermath of carrying 3 babies and having 3 c-sections was very evident. My abdominal muscles were so far apart. I was left with severe diastasis recti, and a tummy that laid in my lap. It was depressing. I hated to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror when I got in and out of the shower. Every time that I had to lift my stomach to dry under it after a shower it felt like a chisel chipping away at my self worth. I tried so hard to love my new smaller sized body, but I hated it. My clothes fit better, I could wear a smaller size, but I wanted to cry when I was forced to look at my stomach. I would pick it up and squeeze it in my hands. I would shove it all in and imagine how my body would look if it was tight and firm. I would trace the stretch marks with my fingers, and tell myself how I earned them. But I hated them. I hated how deep they were and how my entire finger could fit the width of them. I read article after article about loving the body you have and being proud of the marks of child bearing. I was blessed to carry my babies, no matter what it did to my body, I am supposed to be happy and grateful. And I am grateful. I love what my body accomplished.

So, after much thought, I made an appointment with a plastic surgeon. I went back and forth on whether I would actually go to the appointment. I didn't know if I would ever go through with plastic surgery. But then I got the news that I needed a hysterectomy. It was like I was given an extra shove in making my decision. If I already had to have surgery, why not just do it. I discussed having it all done together with my doctor. I even asked the plastic surgeon about it. One plastic surgeon agreed, and the other did not. I ended up going with the surgeon who suggested I wait 6 weeks in between the hysterectomy and tummy tuck. And I am grateful that I waited. The hysterectomy was terrible. The tummy tuck was uncomfortable for about a week. I healed pretty well and I was back on the treadmill 2 weeks out. Not once have I regretted my decision to fix my stomach. I don't break down and cry when I see my stomach anymore. The first real shower after my surgery, I almost cried because I didn't have to lift anything to dry under it. My stomach was flat, there was no overhang. I cannot even put into words how that moment felt.

I am now 5 months out from my tummy tuck, and I feel like I have gotten my life back. I slowly built back up to lifting weights and doing cardio, and now I am trying yoga. If you would have told me a year ago that I would have a tummy tuck, I would have thought you were nuts. But here I am :)

A For Real Blog Post

It has been quite a while since I have sat down in front of a laptop and typed a blog. Phones and tablets have pretty much replaced my old laptop these days. It is a bit odd to feel keys under my fingers, instead of a slick smooth screen. I guess this is how people used to feel sitting down to a type writer once upon a time. You know I don't blog just for the thrill of hitting keys. Most of the time my blogs are an outlet for me. A type of therapy, a way to process the unprocessable. I'm pretty sure that isn't a word. But let's just go with it.

 It's been one of those weird days where I have had so many emotions cycle through my brain that I cannot decide which one to grasp onto and which one to let fly loose. They are all just lingering in my mind and in my chest. My chest has felt tight and constricted on and off. There have been tears stinging my eyes, and my breath catches every little bit as I fight back the reaction I need to feel. Sometimes a girl just needs to cry, ya know? Men don't really understand this, it seems to baffle them. All they seem to want to do is try and fix whatever is making your eyes leak. It's sweet, but sometimes we just need a good cry. When life seems messy and unpredictable a good cry can make your entire perspective change.

Today we took our nearly 2 year old to a neurologist. We waited a while for this appointment. It was the appointment to rule out some things. You know, you go in and they look at your toddler and pat you on the back and say 'you are doing a great job! He is perfect.'  That's what I always want to hear. That's the response all of us parents who are in the trenches of special needs want to hear. I don't know how this will come out. Probably in the form of word vomit. So brace yourself...or close this article if need be. I get it. These things get quite lengthy at times.

My crazy pants toddler is into everything. He is talking and he loves interaction. He loves trucks and the color yellow. He loves to throw a ball. He repeats stuff back to us amazingly. He just mastered the word "YES", and this pleases him immensely. He can climb all over the place. I mean you cannot take your eyes off this child. His hugs are my favorite. They can melt this mama's heart in an instant. He is my baby. But....there is always that damn but....he walks on his tip toes. He falls a lot. His little chubby legs have scrapes all over them. His shoes are so worn out from his tumbles and from his constant toe walking. It doesn't sound like a huge deal. I have heard so many people tell me about their cousin's kid who walked on their tip toes until they were 5 and golly gee they are completely normal. No big deal.

Except to this mama, it is. To a mom who has already navigated through the evaluations and checked the box next to 'Toe Walking', it is a very big deal. It is a red flag. When he started walking at 15 months I immediately noticed it. And in my head it was blaring lights and loud horns in my mind. That word. The word that no parent wants attached to their child, because it is so misconceived by others. It is a scratchy word, it doesn't come smooth when you say it. It squeaks out like a loose wheel on a bike. Autism. That word. The one that has already been such a huge part of our lives. It came with schedules and routine, medications, meltdowns, weighted blankets, appointments, therapies, counseling, battles with insurance. It isn't just a word. It is a monsoon of information and a spectrum so broad you can get lost just by a single google search. I have already been there. I have sat in a white room with a doctor we waited months to see and heard his voice squeak out Asperger's Syndrome. I have sat across from the pediatrician as she conducted the ADHD evaluation and discussed the medications available. I have been here before. I have felt this itchy scratchy word against my skin before.

Today was different. He is so young. The doctor just told us there was a high chance his toe walking is related to Autism, given our family history. Given that he has an older brother on the spectrum and that his other brother didn't speak until he was 4. He said it was very likely we would end up with a diagnosis for him in the future. I was prepared for this I thought. In the back of my mind I have known this was a possibility. I have watched him since birth for signs. I have said so many times that he reminds me so much of his biggest brother. They are so similar. His emotions are so passionate at times. But this hit me hard. I instantly felt my chest tighten and I felt the pressure under my eyelids. I could feel my reaction building up. Immediately I blinked my tears back, I repressed it all. I smiled and nodded and made a remark about how amazing his brother is doing now. How smart he is. It gave me a second to bring my emotions back into check.  The doctor seemed to be finished with his spill. Get my toe walking toddler into physical therapy, and watch him closely for signs of ASD. Follow up with his pediatrician. High functioning autism isn't a grave prognosis. In fact, in this office it's probably one of the best ones to get. I gathered our stuff and folded up the report the doctor scratched up and crammed it in my goldfish littered bag. My husband, my rock through all of this, scooped up our toddler and we followed the nurse to check out. And that was that. We saw the doctor we had waited for. We came out without a diagnosis. We don't even need to come back unless we notice any regressions or signs of Autism. So why was I still holding my breath?

I texted my close friends who knew we were going to the doctor. My tribe of people know what we have dealt with in the past. They know how I have been called out of church because my child was freaking out because everyone else got a green crayon and he got a yellow one. A few have heard me try to calm him in the wake of a meltdown triggered by the busyness of a crowded room. Instantly, my phone started dinging with words of encouragement. It was encouraging to feel the support from my fellow moms. The ones who said they would pray for our family as we continue down this path. They tell me how well I have handled our other boys, this will be no different. But it feels different. It feels suffocating and unfair. When Eli was diagnosed I was a fresh new mom. I was ready to face whatever was thrown my way. Although, I was lost and had no idea which way to turn first. I had my adrenaline and enthusiasm to propel me through the muddy waters. Eventually, I found my way. And along that journey we fought for our other son. We had therapy appointments nearly every day of the week. They were filled with meltdowns, tears, power battles, arguments, and bargaining. It was exhausting. But I made it through them. We are down to almost no appointments now. The school takes care of a lot of things for my big boys. I just came up for air. I can finally feel the bottom of the ocean floor. For a while I had lost my footing and I was floating along, grabbing whatever floated by me to get me closer to shallow water.

And now here we have been thrown back into this deep sea of unknowns.

Birthday Parties Suck.

Seriously. There is not one thing I hate more than planning a birthday party. Let me explain...I have 3 boys. Yep 3...go ahead apologize or make that 'awww you poor thing' face. I get it all the time. I actually enjoy my boys. They are loud, crazy and make me laugh constantly. I am pretty sure my middle son is going to be a professional fart noise maker one day. (super proud of his ambitions so far) So, I suck at planning. I'm so not Type A. Which reflects in the birthdays of my kids. I have July 14, August 24 and September 18. Yes...I really did not plan that out well. And do you know what is just a mere 3 months after all these birthday party paloozas are over....CHRISTMAS. Yep. I.am.awesome.

So my fun began in July. My middle turned 6 and asked for...wait for it...LOONEY TUNES. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find Looney Tunes in 2015? I think they stopped making that crap back in 1996. I did manage to find some discounted plates and napkins on a no name party website. I was able to coordinate the balloons and cups around that. The cake was the real challenge. No one...I mean NO ONE makes a Looney Tunes themed cake. And by 'NO ONE' I'm talking Walmart, Sam's, Ingles, Food City. I am too cheap to pay for those fancy fondant cakes. $35 is my cake budget...if your wondering why please re read the previous paragraph. So I explain to the poor girl, who was lucky enough to be working in the bakery 2 days before the party, that I needed a cake that they do not actually make but that I needed them to make. She looked terrified. I ended up saying just make a teal and orange cake. She still seemed a tad confused but I left 85% sure I would have a cake ready on the day of his party. So I still had to find cake toppers. Once again...I stress LOONEY TUNES is the hardest freaking theme. I paid $25 for 5 plastic Looney Tunes characters on Amazon. Yeah that so put me out of my 'cake budget'. GO ME. *sigh* Anyways, this party ended up being super cute. It looked like I totally knew what I was doing. Party #1 was done.





Moving onto Party #2. After begging my almost 8 year old to NOT have a pool party...we had a pool party. I offered everything. Chuck E. Cheese, Wallabies, Hands On!, anything so that I did not have to wear a bathing suit in front of people and expose my pale skin to the sun. I failed. The child who really doesn't even LIKE to swim wanted a pool party. And his requested theme, Pokemon. I admit this party was an easier one to find things for. Which is ironic seeing as it didn't really match AT ALL. I really dropped the ball on this one. I had way more options for plates, cups, napkins, cakes. But I ended up buying 2 packs of small pokemon plates and small cups and 1 pack of napkins. I thought I could just coordinate the colors of red and yellow for the large plates and cups. Can anyone tell me what 2 colors should do for Pokemon? I bought Red and Yellow. WRONG. SO COMPLETELY WRONG. My 8 going on 18 year old informed me that I was supposed to get RED AND WHITE.  But this was the day of the party, so red and yellow it is. I did find pokemon candles that looked much much larger on Amazon than they did when they arrived. I also for some unkown reason ordered an ORANGE AND GREEN cake. Not even close to the colors of anything I bought. I don't even know why. I must have been really stressed out that day I called. I'm pretty sure it was sitting in car line with the baby singing me the song of his people at glass shattering pitches. All that mattered to the kids was that there was water to swim in and cake to eat. BOOM...Party #2 was a mismatched success!

I am currently planning party #3. It is in 4 days. Guess how much prep work I have done...not much. I did purchase a printable download pack on etsy that goes with the theme I wanted for the baby's 1st birthday. I am currently wondering why I do this time after time. This is a party that this child will not remember. I know what your thinking...PICTURES! Yes we all want pictures of these parties. I have exactly 8 combined of the 2 parties I just described. #1 Mom! But seriously I have cut out decorations for about 2 hours. It cost $8.88 for the download, that seems reasonable right? It took me 3 DAYS to figure out how to get the download to actually download. I thought I could do it on my phone or tablet. Nope...has to be a computer. And my laptop had to update when I opened it. Hear that? That's me banging my head on the table and asking why I do this to myself! So downloaded the pack and go to print. The printer is upstairs, and is jammed. I won't go into detail about the things I muttered on that long journey up the stairs. I think I shaved 2 years off my life trying to find the jam inside this printer. I finally gave up and closed all the openings, and as soon as I shut the bottom drawer it started printing. I literally did not DO ANYTHING except open all the possible port things. I didn't unjam anything. But I had my decorations and I headed down to hunt scissors. I found LEFT hand scissors. Why in a house of all Right handed people do we even have these? I don't even have the energy to try and figure that one out. So I get to looking through all these printed pages and I see there are treat bag tags with cute little sayings. And I debate back and forth for a good 10 minutes on whether or not I even want to cut them out and do treat bags. I am pretty opposed to 'goody bags' in general. But since I had already decided not to serve a meal I thought I could throw together some snack bags. I mean I have an entire pantry full of food that my kids tell me the LOOOOVE and HAVE TO HAVE, and then decide 90 seconds later that they don't like it anymore. So after some digging I have enough random snacks for 20 bags. So far....that has been the prep for this party. I haven't decided if I am going to make the cupcakes myself or outsource that. I'm about 99% sure that Walmart will be doing them.

Seriously though, as stressful and unnecessary as this is, I would regret not doing it. Even when my kids pick the most difficult themes, their day only comes around once a year. And it isn't their fault that their mom sucks at planning or that I am not the best at decorating. All the color coordinating and stuff is irrelevant. All that matters is that they are surrounded by their family and friends, and that we get to eat cake! I can't believe that my boys are now 8, 6 and almost 1! I hope they look back and have fond memories of mismatched balloons and cakes and smile a little!

Summer is Upon Us!

I took a hiatus from blogging it seems. Completely unintentional. Life has just kept me busy. It is rare that I am at home sitting at my laptop. I have been living out of my car doing drop offs, pickups, dentist appointments, etc. It is that magical time of year when all the kids are getting out of school and I start to panic. My kids are going to be home every day. All of them. And this is my first summer with 3. 2 bored kids at home was rough last summer. So this should be interesting.

With that said, I am ready for them to get a break from school. They both have worked hard this year. Zack has made some great strides in his writing skills. I am so proud of that boy. If I could just rewind 2 years ago and post a short clip here you would be as amazed as I am at how far he has came. Zack graduated Preschool a couple of days ago, and was such a cutie in his little cap and gown. It was really awesome to have the experience of watching him up on stage with his friends. Eli always had a hard time with things like that, so this was brand new for me. I loved every minute. I tried to soak it in as much as I could. Warren was wiggly and fussy during the program, but we managed like we always do.

Eli has had such a great year in 1st grade. He is such a bright kiddo. He loves to learn and spends his down time at home researching things. He has such a love of knowledge. I hope that continues and I hope the stresses at school do not take away his love of learning. But I can tell that he is agitated and ready for some days spent in his comfort home. He is really getting into sports, not playing them so much, but just liking to talk about them.  He came home from school the other day and was so excited telling me about playing soccer with some friends at school. He got really into it and was passionate giving me details of what happened! He ended it with saying 'It was AWESOME.'  I felt my heart jump a little. I was happy to hear that he was playing with other kids. That other kids let him play with them without the taunting and bullying. But before that feeling could sink in he said 'It would have been REALLY awesome if they would let me kick the ball...just once.'  And there it was...the kick in the stomach. The same one I felt when I enrolled him in art last summer only to have the teacher call me after 1 class and tell me that he couldn't attend unless I stayed in there with him because he was too energetic and wanted to touch everything. These kicks absolutely shatter my heart for my baby. I wish the world could see him the way I see him. Yes, he is challenging and rigid. But he is also one of the sweetest kids on the planet.

So, I am ready for him to be home for a bit. I am planning on keeping us pretty busy though. Because Warren seems to do better when we are on the go. He gets pretty bored sitting at home. He is growing up so fast. I just love this baby. He is content and happy. I love his demeanor. He is fascinated by his brothers and love when they talk to him. He loves for people to smile at him. It just makes his whole face break out in a large grin. He is such a blessing in our house. I could not be happier with my little family. We are complete. I love that feeling. The feeling that we are all here and we can watch our kids grow and enjoy this season.

These Days are Numbered

I realize that I am way behind on blogging. These days I feel overwhelmed more times than not.  And surprisingly it is not from the stress of a new baby or the stress from having 3 kids to take care of. It's more from the realization that the days that I have with these little creatures are fleeting.  The days that I thought were never ending quickly slipped through my fingers.  They left without warning and left me wondering how I ended up with a 7 and 5 year old. Weren't they just babies? Wasn't I just asking for advice on potty training or trying to wean one from a pacifier? How did they grow up so fast on me?

While in the thick of sleepless nights, colic, tantrums, doctor appointments, colds, stomach viruses, potty training and first days of preschool somehow my babies grew up on me. And it all happened when I wasn't looking. It happened when I was trying to keep the house organized or trying to get one more thing done for work.  The times I shoo'd them away to go play and let me have 5 more minutes, it all happened so fast.  The times I promised myself that I would be a better mom...tomorrow, but tonight they need to go to bed 30 minutes earlier. The nights I promised I'd read another book...tomorrow night.  Those promises were quickly forgotten the next day and the story was never read or the cookies went unbaked.  Those days seemed endless, stressful and just overwhelming. There were days I would sit and cry with them both, wondering if I would ever get the hang of this Mommy thing.  I would go to bed feeling guilty because I had put them off all day, promising to play in a few minutes.  "Just let Mommy get this last thing finished..." I didn't do it on purpose or because I wanted to hurt their feelings, it's just life happens and things come up and sometimes the important things get pushed to the side.

I'm being so completely raw with this post.  I'm exposing some of my biggest failures as a mother.  I have put meaningless things above spending quality time with the most precious gifts that I have ever been given.  But I think it is something that almost all parents are guilty of.  It is hard to balance life sometimes.  And I didn't even realize I was doing it, until I had Warren. When I held his tiny body and I looked at my big boys it hit me.  They are so big now.  I didn't savor the time I had with them as babies.  I'm not soaking in the time I have with them now like I should.  I am not enjoying them the way I should be.  I need to unplug, hang up and go play legos.  I need to grab another book at bedtime and read it like it's the first time, not the 900th.  I need to not rush the bedtime prayers and let Zack thank God for every single person he has ever laid eyes on. I need to go see that picture he drew, because if I keep saying 'just a minute...' he may stop asking.  If I keep putting off that 2nd book at bedtime he may not ask me to read them tomorrow night.  There is a last time for every single stage of parenting, and many times we don't even realize it was the last time until it's over.  I don't remember the last time I rocked them to sleep because I was too busy trying to get them to fall asleep on their own. I didn't savor and relish that last rock, or smell their hair and drink in the sweet sweet smell of baby before they turned into little boys.

So I am officially making a New Year's Resolution. It isn't to lose this pregnancy weight, or start eating healthier.  Although, I need to do that too. But instead my resolution is to try and appreciate these days, no matter how stressful or overwhelming they may seem.  I want to play battleship with Eli and drag out 900 socks with Zack, because one day they won't want to do these things with me anymore. I will sit and hold Warren if that's what it takes for him to get a nap.  And I won't complain about getting up with him through the night, because these days are numbered. They are fleeting...slipping through my fingers like grains of sand never to be gotten back.

The New Normal

I have been a mom of 3 boys for 8 WHOLE WEEKS! It's been a little crazy at times, but I have to say this has been a smooth transition for us.  I have gotten more sleep that I was anticipating, so that is a nice surprise.  Warren has just fit right into our little house of chaos.  I should have a really long thought out blog post about his birth and first days.  But I don't really. His birth was a C-Section that was planned, and it all went smoothly.  So no crazy water breaking crazy story there.  I wanted to blog about how amazing the first few weeks of his life have been, but to be honest it's been so busy that I don't even know what to type.  I may ramble.

 He was born on September 18th.  He was a perfect 6lbs 8 oz and 18 inches.  I was pretty shocked at his small size, since my older boys were well over 8lbs.  There were 2 knots in his umbilical cord, which was the talk of the OR for a few minutes. I was too caught up in the moment to pay attention to the chatter going on.  But we were told more than once that we were lucky to be holding him, as knots can cause some serious complications.  I had my tubes tied while they were cleaning him up, which my doctor informed me was a good thing because my uterus was so thin he could see through it.  Having my tubes tied was a decision I wrestled a little bit with.  I worried I would regret it, but I feel very confident in that decision now knowing another pregnancy would be risky.

I had such high hopes of breastfeeding this little guy.  But after attempting to breastfeed my other boys and failing, I knew there was a chance it wouldn't happen.  But none the less, I proclaimed to the doctors and nurses that I was breastfeeding.  So when he was born we did the whole skin to skin thing in the Operating Room.  Which I did not get to do with my other boys, and it was amazing.  I loved being able to touch him and feel him when he was just minutes old.  Once I was moved into recovery we got right down to nursing.  He latched right on and we were doing great.  He wanted to eat pretty often and I was tolerating it well.  I had horrible pain with my others, but not with Warren.  Friday evening I mentioned to the nurses that he was wanting to nurse ALL.THE.TIME.  Like I could not put the boy down.  I also noticed that I was not able to express any colostrum like I had before. The nurse assured me that he was getting all that he needed.  So I let him nurse as much as he wanted.  As the evening went on we noticed that he became very jittery.  After his circumcision the pediatrician came in and told us that his sugar had dipped down into the 40s, which was 'borderline'.  She wanted to keep checking it throughout the night.  It didn't seem like a huge deal, so we nursed on.  After a couple more sugar tests we were informed that his sugar was not coming up at all.  I had told the night nurse my concerns with not getting any colostrum out, and she said he is getting it out even if I wasn't.  But after 3 failed glucose tests the pediatrician said to start supplementing.  So I started feeding him with a syringe first then I would let him nurse.  The supplementing seemed to be working.  So Saturday we were told that we would most likely get to go home.  We were hoping to be discharged around 2pm.  But Warren became very jittery and his sugar dropped to 34.  3 different pediatricians came to talk to me in a span of about 15 minutes.

They all wanted keep an eye on his sugar.  But before they even got a chance to check it again we were visited again and told that they were moving him to NICU so they could figure out what was going on.  Of course, I kind of lost it at that point.  I was a hot mess.  Dustin wasn't even in the room when I fell apart.  I had to call him to come back to the room.  We walked with the nurse as she wheeled our little boy up to the NICU and I sat in a chair while the team worked to try and get an IV in.  I was asked several times if I wanted to come back later once they had it in.  But I was pretty insistent that I was staying with my baby.  Every vein they tried failed. After what seemed like an eternity they finally got an IV going in his head.  By this point every bit of my pain meds had worn off. I was alone up in NICU at this point.  I had stayed as long as I could because of my pain.  I somehow walked back to my room, but I was hunched over by the time I made it to the nurses station and asked for my medicine.  I collapsed into my bed and cried.  I hated being in that empty room.  It was too quiet. After I rested and ate dinner we went back up to NICU to see how Warren was doing.  The nurse told us what all was being done for him.  He was severely dehydrated and his sugar was slowly coming up.  They had put him on a high calorie formula and started him off at 30cc's.  I wasn't able to nurse him because they wanted to keep track of how much he was getting for his glucose tests. So I was told to pump every 2-3 hours.  I stayed and held him for a long time.  I finally went back to my room for the night.  I didn't like it. But I got some much needed sleep. When we went back the next morning we were told that his sugar was staying in the 80s and he was doing much better. We were moved to a transition room later on Sunday evening and we were discharged on Monday around 12.

I was still wanting to breastfeed but at this point I was mostly pumping so we could make sure he was getting enough.  But my milk had not fully came in so he was still just getting formula. I was getting less than half an oz of breast milk from pumping.  I was just excited to see any milk to be honest.  I never had milk with my oldest and with my 2nd I got sick after having him and my milk dried up really quickly.  So once the pediatrician gave me the OK to try breastfeeding again we were back at it. I quickly found out that I was not producing enough for him.  He was not satisfied after nursing for what seemed like forever. I was having to give him a bottle after he nursed.  I read online how to increase my supply.  The next 4 weeks were insane. I tried everything.  Fenugreek, Mothers Milk Tea, Fennel Oil, Reglan, More Milk Plus....Power Pumping. You name it I probably tried it.  At 5 weeks PP I was only able to pump 2 oz at the most and that was only if I didn't nurse him.  If he nursed I wasn't able to get any extra out.  I had started just pumping and giving him formula and breast milk.  Pumping had taken over.  I spent more time with the pump than I did with my family.  When I realized how much time I was spending attached to a pump I decided to just stop. I have been grieving giving up the whole breastfeeding thing for a few weeks. I had really high hopes this time, as I knew it was my last time to try.  But I am finally getting out of this funk and moving forward.

Aside from the failure of breastfeeding, things have gone really really well.  He is a very chill baby.  He does like for me to hold him and just stare at him.  I try to soak every bit of him in as I know that this stage does not last long at all.  His big brothers are crazy about him and he is just such a wonderful little addition to our family.

The Things They Don't Tell You About Parenting.

I'm sitting in bed with my youngest little boy and watching disney jr.  Part of my heart feels like it's been ripped open, while the other part is happy that I get to snuggle with him.  Today was his first day of Kindergarten.  It's not even 2 p.m. and he's home.  His first day didn't go as well as we hoped.  He got so homesick and cried and cried to go home.  Which just rips my heart out.  Knowing that my baby was crying for me and I wasn't there cuts me to the core. Especially when this little boy has not had the easiest time in school anyways.

I'm pretty sure I could be the poster mom for having imperfect kids.  Neither of my boys have been what you would call 'typical'.  With my oldest having Asperger's and ADHD and my youngest being non verbal until he was 4...I have been through all the channels of special education and resource teachers and therapists.  It's been one crazy ride with these little boys.  When your pregnant for the first time no one warns you that you might have a child who is born completely healthy but struggle as they get older.  When people see my family out at a restaurant they see what appears to be a completely typical family.  They have no idea the challenges my babies have faced.  My boys appear to be like any other typical little boys.  They don't know that we have sat in therapy offices for multiple reasons. They aren't aware that for a good chunk of time we communicated with our youngest through sign language, or that my oldest can meltdown if the conditions change too quickly for his brain to process.  We appear to be typical.

And just when I think we may have crossed the hurdles that have challenged us for so long, something else is thrown into our path.  My oldest really has improved and while his days are far from perfect, he is doing pretty well.  He just started 1st grade and we are hoping that he has a great year.  We have an IEP in place for him with things put in place for him if he has a difficult time.  And then here sits my baby, who isn't really ready for Kindergarten, but we decided to try it anyways. He had 2 years of PreK, what else was there to do? I had him enrolled in a full time PreK for this year, it was a typical classroom.  He has never been in a typical classroom.  Because of his speech issues he was in a developmental preschool.  Which was AMAZING for him.  I fell in love with the school he attended and the teachers he had.  But I knew he wasn't really prepared for regular Kindergarten.  And today when I had to go get him early  my fears were confirmed.  I know a lot of people may say 'it was his first day...give it time', but even the teacher agrees that he isn't really ready.  He just turned 5 last month.  He has only been speaking for 1 year.  And in my heart I knew he should have had an extra year to mature a little.

So we had originally planned on him going to a PreK that was in with the City Schools.  I had even paid for his first week and they had him on their list. I met the teacher...toured the school.  I was informed before school let out of the summer that the School Board had changed the rules regarding PreK and kids who meet the cut off for Kindergarten can no longer attend City Preschools.  I was pretty upset at first.  But after a lot of venting and tears, I registered my baby for Kindergarten and told myself that everything would work out.  If he had to repeat Kindergarten then so be it. But now we are faced with deciding what to do with him for the rest of the year. Do we keep him in Kindergarten but opt for 1/2 days and without a doubt he will have to repeat Kindergarten. Or do we pull him out and put him in a private PreK.

These decisions no one tells you about. No one sits you down when your carrying your precious baby in your belly and tells you how unbelievably hard parenting can be.  They don't tell you how you will doubt the decisions you make or how much you'll regret ignoring your gut feeling.  They don't tell you that there will be days when your heart will feel absolutely crushed and nothing that anyone says will make it better.  Today seems to be one of those days.  These crazy pregnancy hormones are not helping at all.