Comparison-to myself

I think we all struggle with comparing ourselves to others. It's natural, something in our DNA, to compete, probably a survival thing. But it sucks. It's not fair, and it's not productive outside a survival or competition (like for a sport or game show type thing) context. It saps our enjoyment of who we are and where we are, and who needs that? 

I used to compare myself appearance-wise to my little sister. I won't get into all the reasons that was dumb, but thankfully I've (mostly) slayed that dragon. I still compare myself to others and find myself wanting sometimes, but right now, the hurdle I'm finding in my way is comparing my current body to my own, at this point post Lexi, meaning when Lexi was 17, 18, 19, 20 months old. It's just not fair, because obviously everything is different now than it was then.

-I had one child, not two, and she was the easiest baby ever. She slept till ten am regularly and if she did wake before I was ready for her, she played happily in her crib until I came. Declan hates being in his crib, and on average wakes at 7:30. This is a HUGE difference, because it means that now, if I want to get my workout done before the kids are up I'll have to be up and moving by 545. I'm working toward that goal, but right now, instead of: get up at 5:45-eat/Jesus time-work out, my morning routine looks like: wake at 6:30, have Scott hold me till my anxiety lets me breathe or have calm rational thoughts (this varies, and some mornings isn't an issue), coffee/eat/Jesus time, Declan is up, nurse him, give him breakfast, Lexi is up, wrangle her to the table, do school while she eats, convince them both to go upstairs and play, do my workout with one ear inclined to make sure everything is ok upstairs and probably a few trips upstairs to referee. By the time I'm done it's somewhere around 11, and I'm physically and emotionally spent for the day already, because of the next HUGE difference between 19 month old Lexi's mama and 4 year old Lexi and 19 month old Declan's mama. 

-I did not have PPDA when Lexi was 19 mos. I didn't have it at all. I had a miscarriage on the day lexi was 18 mos old and it broke my heart, but I was in better mental health even after that than I am today. Even on good days (I think I'm on day 6 or 7 in a row now) I have to battle constantly to keep the triggers at arms length because I know I'm one thought away from paralyzing fear. My life is wonderful, I'm so happy with it, but I'm also always petrified of everything falling apart. 

My fitness is, along with protecting sleep and eating nutritive foods, my medicine. I need it, and I really do want to be able to get up early enough to get my main workout done before the kids are up, so we can have more time to play and less awkward safety fears for me. I'm making progress, but man! 

-I also finished weaning Lexi the day she turned 19 mos. Declan will be 20 mos in a week and is still nursing 3x a day. I'm fine with that, but I know it's also a factor in my metabolism.

-another factor is that our bodies and metabolisms change. Mine has always been challenging, and now I'm three years older, I've got chemical stuff going on with the ppda, and PCOS. It's not an excuse to give up or slack off, it's a reason to fight. And that's what I'm doing every single day. I'm fighting. 

You know what else? I'm not actually that far off from where I was then, I'm just hard on myself. I'm just about one size behind where I was then. I got my size four Capri pants when lexi was 20 mos and one week old-5 weeks after she weaned. So, if I'm still nursing 3x a day, that could be the factor. Plus, like I said, life is just different.

I've gotta be ok with that. I've gotta hike this part of the mountain and conquer it. Just because I can't get my size four skinny jeans over my hips today doesn't mean in two months I won't be able to button and zip them. I am mighty and an overcomer. And so are you. 

Ten.

Note: I was told about 7 years ago to stop marking this anniversary and "move on" by a couple people I consider close friends, and I was told the same only a couple months after our second loss by a family member. I realize that not everyone sees pregnancy loss as a big deal, or understands deep mourning for a child one has never met.  If you are one of those folks, this post isn't for you. I don't say that with hostility, I just don't want to waste your time. 

To my first baby: 

It was ten years ago this Sunday (October 9) that I said goodbye to you. Not just to you, but to the dreams I had of who you could be.  That was the day you were born, impossibly early, after a short labor that wrenched my heart as much as my body. I held you in my hand, knowing I'd never hold you in my arms.   I never got to know you, even whether you're a boy or girl, but despite the shortness of our time together- 

Sweet Little Baby, you changed me forever. Until your sister came along, nothing in my life had such an impact. Everything that followed your birth,  (because it was a birth-I labored 97 hours with your sister and brother, and your birth counts too.) whether it seemed good or bad at the time, happened because, for a brief time, you lived in me and I will never be the same. 

Without your birth I would never have instant messaged the author I discovered when I was pregnant with you and recovering from your loss, we never would have become friends, leading me to all sorts of new online pursuits to escape from the pain I couldn't handle. Without you, the friendship wouldn't have led to a job, to many new friendships-many of the people reading this wouldn't be, because podcasting wouldn't have become what it was to me. 

I wouldn't have almost lost your daddy to the mistakes that stemmed from unresolved grief-but you know what? Even that was a gift, because losing you, and all the ways it tore us apart was the catalyst for the ground up rebuilding of our marriage and I wouldn't trade that for anything. Little Baby, it hurt so bad, but it's created a new marriage- and better, more mature and united, understanding, forgiving, and spiritually united parents for your brother and sister. 

Losing you, and the way it broke us apart for awhile ended up preparing your daddy for when we lost September baby too. He knew what to do, and how to love me better, because he learned from you. 

Because of you, my first baby, I had hope. I knew my body could conceive, and so had something to give me courage while we waited. 

Because of you, I am more thankful. For your sister, from the moment I knew she was growing, for your daddy, who is servant leadership personified, for your brother, whose unpredictability is his charm. I don't take a single moment for granted, because I know the sadness of dreams dashed.

Because of you, I am more patient. I waited a long time for your sister, but more than that, I have a greater capacity for patience *with* her and Declan. I never got to love you like I wanted, and knowing that loss and all the years I waited after, keeps in perspective the gift of motherhood. 

Because of you I celebrate every moment of magic in motherhood, because it feels like such a gift, I can't take it for granted the way I may have if it had come easily. I let Lexi climb in bed and hold her a little while in the night when she wakes, partly because I'll never have that with you. I fought with all I had for a nursing relationship with Declan, and I'm letting him keep nursing even now, because it's a powerful and tender thing, and I'll only get to experience that intimacy for a short time, and I never did with you. 

The past ten years have been long and short and up and down, but I wouldn't trade them, or the short time I had with you. Lexi and Declan are my rainbow babies, and there can be no rainbow without the rain. I celebrate you, and the gift that you were, and are, and will always be. 

I miss you, though I never met you, but I know someday I will.