PPDA Progress

I'm a little nervous to say this, but I think we might be through the worst of this. It's been a few weeks, and it feels like overall things are better. Things are still hard, and some days and parts of days are really hard, but looking back, I just can't believe how far I've come. 

Before I get into the things I'm doing to support this, and the things that are helping, I have to share something that's making my heart burst. I have loved Declan from the moment I met him, I have been entirely devoted to him and his well being, I have given all I have and more to care for him and lavish love on him, but  the first few months were really hard and exhausting on a practical level, I wasn't even sure if Declan liked me in my state of wrung out-ness for at least 5 weeks. Then, even after things started getting easier, this fog of hormonal darkness has kept me from the loopy, drunken euphoric stuff I felt for Lexi. Until now. Sometime over the past month, I have fallen madly, fully, head over heels in love with a red haired, blue eyed, sugary sweet smiled Little Boy. 

I mean... Look at him!

One day at a time, I'm becoming the Mama I want to be for these two wonderful little people.

I've gotten a lot of systems in place, and am working on making routines truly habitual and routine. School is going great- we just finished week 8! I can't believe we are 20% of the way through the school year already!  I have been working out consistently and with commitment for over five months, and that is something to celebrate. I'm getting more housework done each week. I've been making a menu and sticking to it better all the time- cooking at least 5 nights a week and usually a few lunches too. (More if you count fixing wraps and quesadillas, and making Lexi and my breakfast each day.) all the little things are victories. Because 5-6 months ago I was feeding Declan and making sure Lexi ate and was clean and that was about it. I'm doing soooo much better than that now.

Here are some things that are helping: 

Daily Devotions:

I'm getting more and more consistent at this. I'm starting a study of Galatians on Monday. Starting my day like this makes all the difference. The days I do, I am more patient and loving and enjoy the moments that are beautiful. 

Aromatherapy:

Don't roll your eyes. Essential oils have changed my life. Maybe they don't help everyone, but DoTerra has some amazing blends, and even singles that have pulled me out of panic attacks, helped me sleep, helped start my day well, fixed Lexi's attitude... I could go on, and that's not even going into the health benefits I've found from them. This week I received my brand new Emotional Aromatherapy Kit with six new blends and a guide on usage and it does not disappoint. 

Exercise:

This is my medicine. I MUST do it and I notice a definite surge of negative stuff when I miss a day. I'm having to evaluate whether I want to keep doing Tuesday nights because Shelle had to give the class up, but cycle is definitely worth the work even when I don't wanna.

Eating well, vitamins:

I've really been focusing on making sure 90% of what I eat is super nutritive and clean, and it can't help but be Good, right? I've also been taking my supplements consistently. 

Getting out: 

I've been working on getting more people time. I've gone to church, worship night, we've rejoined our Gel Group, and...

I've joined MOPS! I've only been once so far, but I already love these ladies and how real they are, and I've been having lots of fun with them on Facebook! They have a book club, and mom's nights out, and Lexi is making new friends and will get to sing a song in the Christmas Program at the church where our group is based! 

Massage Therapy: 

I'm having a session with Jamie at least once a month and I wish it was weekly. This probably makes as big a difference as exercise, because it's someone caring for me and physical touch is definitely my top love language. 

General self-care:

I'm making time to wash my face and put on makeup after I work out each day, and even get a shower more often! This does a lot to boost my mood and remind me I'm worth the care and time.

I know my journey with this isn't over, and there will still be hard days, and maybe hard weeks, but I am so thankful for how things are improving. 

If you're struggling with PPD or PPDA, you are not alone. There are so many mamas facing this and so many things that can help.

Nine years ago on Friday. Our first baby.

That's when it happened. I've never told this story on any of my blogs. I've referenced it, but I've never been ready. I've written a little about September Baby, but never my first baby. As I sit here with Declan, my fourth baby, I finally feel ready. I've told his and Lexi's birth stories, and I need to tell these too. When more appropriate than in October, which is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, and the month that I am always aware (along with May) how old my first baby would be right now. Almost eight and a half. 

This is not a pretty story, and it started us down a very hard road for the next few years, so I need to make very clear that Scott and I have worked through this story, we have healed what was hurt, and nothing I'm going to share is indicative of who he is today, or is a point of pain between us, but I have to fully tell this, and not sugarcoat it. I am not trashing him in any way. He was twenty three and everything was new and scary and he didn't know what to do. 

We started *actively* trying to get pregnant in January 2006. Because of my pcos we had no idea what to expect, and it was very confusing because I had no cycle to track. I had a period in June, but from then on, I was constantly wondering if I was pregnant, and never sure if I could trust a negative test. I took so many tests that year. 

  I'd thought "maybe" a few times, but I remember our second day doing hurricane Katrina relief in Mississippi in late September  I said to Scott, "I really think I'm pregnant."his immediate response was "I hope you're not. I don't make enough money yet." I was so hurt. We had been trying for 10 months, and he didn't feel ready? The week went on, and I grew more sure, and Scott did start to get excited. 

The moment we got home from our trip, (Sunday)we went to patient first and I got a blood test. The nurse wasn't supposed to tell me, but she gave me a thumbs up. The doctor came in and told me that based on my last period they'd guess I was about 17 weeks. We were elated. I Called my sister Melissa, and then my mom, then we went to my in-laws house and told them. My MIL said "oh, so is Jill." (My sister in law.) I was excited to be pregnant together, even though she was in CA. 

I went to my best friend's house the next day and made my doctor's appointment over the phone, and went home with her pregnancy books and maternity clothes. I told everyone who would listen how excited I was. 

On Wednesday I was on the phone with Melissa (who was 14) and had to go to the bathroom. Because we are sisters, I just went while we chatted. Then my heart stopped. There was a pink spot on the toilet paper. No. This was not happening. I will never forget that moment, (or the similar moment in each of my subsequent pregnancies that gave me the same feeling). The spotting stayed light until Sunday and I just prayed. 

Sunday I had cramping too. We were over at my in-laws and I told MIL. She said "well, you'll probably lose the baby," in a tone that implied it was no big deal and just a thing that happens. I know she was probably trying to lessen my pain by that, and totally meant well, but it made me feel so afraid and alone. When I got home I called the doctor's office and they made an appointment for me the next morning for an ultrasound. 

As we got ready in the morning (Monday) Scott was so excited! He was like, "we are going to hear the baby's heartbeat!!!" I was dying inside, because I was pretty sure we weren't. I was heartbroken and close to numb as we waited in the office. The cramps had gotten worse and the bleeding heavier overnight. The ultrasound tech was warm and friendly, and I will always remember her saying a minute into the scan, "okay. I'm going to call your Doctor to come look at this with me." Doctor Reutinger came in very soon, and gently told me that I had either already miscarried, or I was about to. The good (?) news was that I was only about six weeks along, and I had the option to let it happen naturally at home.he wanted me to get blood work just in case though, to check my hormone levels. He would see me again in Wednesday. 6 weeks meant my due date would have been 5/19/07 the day after our 5th anniversary. We always said we would have our first baby when we'd been married five years. Our niece was born that day. 

When I got dressed again, it was like my body finally felt free to let go. Everything picked up. The cramping became contractions, the worst pain I'd ever felt, and the spotting was spotting no more. I remember the waiting for the bloodwork, knowing I was essentially in labor, and not even feeling the needle. I called my mom on the way home, and saying "mama, I'm losing the baby." And her voice gentle and calm, asking "ok sweetie, what are you going to do now?" And the small comfort I took from knowing that she had been through this more than once, and she not only survived, but she still had four healthy babies. 

We got home, I put on pajamas and a maxi pad, took 2 Tylenol PM, and got in bed, hoping to sleep through it. Scott went to work. I was alone.

Here's where it gets ugly. 

I woke two hours later. blood was everywhere. I got up, made my way to the bathroom, trailing red behind me. I sat down on the toilet, and felt something slide out of me and heard a splat on the floor. It was the baby and the placenta. I carefully wrapped them in toilet paper and set it in the trash gently. And I cried. I sat on the floor and sobbed. 

However much later, I looked around the bathroom and it looked like a crime scene. I stripped off my pajamas and threw them in the trash can, same with the sheets from the bed. I turned the matter was over. I scrubbed the floors and walls of the bathtub. I took the trash bag that held our baby, and all the remnants of their birth to the dumpster. I did this alone. 

I went back to bed alone. 

I woke up alone again. 

Scott came home at the usual time, and I don't remember that night except that his dad stopped by with my favorite ice cream, and that touched me deeply. 

Scott went to work the next day. I was alone. He apparently told his boss what had happened, and suddenly he was home. His boss told him to stay home the rest of the week. 

Having that experience alone affected me more deeply than I realized and the next three years were a product of that, but out of working through the fallout, God made our marriage so much stronger. Maybe we needed all that, and that's why He allowed it in the first place-to knot us closer in Him. 

And, I hadn't planned on this, but I feel like I'm some ways it completes this story, and, to me, illustrates what God has done. I'm going to briefly tell you about September Baby, and what a different experience that loss/birth was. 

We'd been trying 4 months this time. If you've read my posts from fall 2014 you know it sucked. I suspected at Christmas that I was pregnant but tests were negative. At the new year we were told that Scott's brother's new wife was pregnant. I did not take it well. Hurt was passed around, it was ugly, then I found out I was pregnant. Yay! Then I took another test the next day. It was more faint, and I'm paranoid so we went to get bloodwork. The bloodwork came back  4 days later and basically says that for some reason my hormone levels weren't doing what they were supposed to so there was very little chance we were gonna meet this baby. The next 5 days I felt like I was holding my breath. Then on the afternoon of Friday 1/24, the day Lexi turned 18 mos, I went to the bathroom and there was blood. I took a deep breath, called Scott, and said "I'm bleeding." When he answered. He said "I'm coming." We put Lexi down for her nap, and he held me on the couch all afternoon. We prayed, we cried, we watched TV. I was not alone. I didn't have a mess to clean up, because I made frequent bathroom trips, but I wouldn't have had to clean it up alone anyway. I was not alone. Scott stayed home with me until Tuesday, when I told him I was ready for him to go. 

I was not alone. 

Starting BodyShred and new program resolutions

Well, here is where I'm starting from:

Waist: 31.5

Hips: 41.5

Thigh: 22.5

I have no idea what I weigh, because the scale is broken and it really doesn't matter, because it's not a great measure of progress for me anyway. I know what I weighed 2 weeks after D was born, and when I've made some serious non-scale progress, I'll check back in there. 

I'm not starting this program in my size 8 jeans like I hoped. Heck, for whatever reason, my 10's are tighter than I'd like right now. But I am where I am, and what I do know is I am far healthier and fitter than I was five months ago when I started working out again. I'm not where I hoped to be, but I'm miles ahead of where I was when Lexi was this age, and that's a victory. 

I'm sure what it will take to get this fat to start shedding, and I know I'm not in control of it, but only of giving my best each day and treating my body well. I'll probably experiment more with calorie intake, and see if I can make it happen that way, but I'm also going to try to enjoy where I am and know that this time is temporary, and it won't be forever before Declan isn't relying on me for all his nutrition and I will have more rest and resources to be more myself again. 

I'm asking a lot of my body. My sleep is nowhere near what it should be (and yes, Cindy, I agree that's likely a huge tremendous factor), I'm exclusively breastfeeding, which is requiring somewhere between 300-800 extra calories, (making it hard to know what I should be eating), I have postpartum depression, so those hormones are outta whack, and I have two littles, one of whom I'm homeschooling. None of these are excuses, but they are facts and factors. My dear wonderful friend Cindy (who has been my most constant and faithful friend for almost 8 years despite the fact we have never met in person) reminds me often that it's not fair to compare where I am now to where I was two years ago, because everything is different. I have not gotten much smaller since Declan has been born, but I know I've traded in for a ton of rebuilt muscle. (I'll blog later about where I am with the PPDA and what I'm doing there.)

I've decided to set resolutions ahead of starting this program, as rules for this next phase of my journey:

-I will NOT try on my jeans every day for a test of progress. I'll do this only on the Monday morning of a Level Up. 

-I WILL do *my* best each day, not comparing or feeling defeated by what I can't do. 

-I WILL celebrate small victories like mastering a challenging move. 

-I will NOT overtrain to try to get faster results

-I will NOT beat myself up for struggling. 

-I WILL hydrate constantly! 

Goals: during this first round of BodyShred I hope to:

- stay consistent. 4 days a week of BS, 2 cycle classes, and as many walks as able. 

-complete the first level of the push up training app in addition to 2 sets of 25 extra push ups

-finish the plank challenge I started last month during the month of October

-I'd still like to wear my size 6 jeans at Christmas, but the eights would be ok too. (I don't know what to expect, but I need to have some sort of size goal) 

Finding improvement where I've had it

So, I'm on my last rest day of this round of JMBR. I'm resting, drinking water, various teas, and good clean foods. I'm still feeling very frustrated because pants are not getting any looser yet, and I'm not looking likely at all to reach the milestone goal I had set for 12 days from now (size 8 skinnies). I'm trying to accept that, but I still feel like there has to be a key to this that I'm missing. 

I'm getting more sleep overall in the past few weeks than I have since before we met our boy, so if it's sleep I need, that's as resolved as its gonna be for awhile. Declan wakes up usually only once (around 4am) to nurse, and then I offer again when I get up at 6. I can't eat any better than I am, and I can't imagine I'm eating too little, because I'm being very intentional about getting 2000 calories (net) each day. 

Side note: when Lexi was 13/14 mos and I started back on my fitness journey, I lost weight at 1600 calories net to start. She was on solids, and therefore not needing as much milk, I assume. But 400 calories is almost a pound a week difference worth of calories. Is it possible 2000 is too many calories? I don't always hit that 2000 on heavy workout days...I just don't know what to do. If I knew what to do, (eat more, less, drink more water...) I know I'd have the discipline to do it. I hate to think the answer is that nothing is gonna happen till Declan is fully on solids...who knows when that'll be? 

There's been major improvement in some areas, unrelated to my size though. I need to celebrate that, while I just keep trucking and nursing. 

-I have met every one of my planned  goals for what I'd be doing for exercise postpartum. I made this plan when I was first pregnant with Declan. I started JMBR when D was 12 weeks old, and added Cycle 2 weeks later! 

-I have, in the last 8 weeks or so, gone from being able to do 2 military style push ups at a time to 25. Tomorrow I'll be doing 3 sets of 25 on top of the 80 or so various push ups in my JMBR workout. 

-I've improved in cycle class. This is hard to quantify, because every class is different and every bike I'm on affects the ride. But I've definitely built up endurance and strength. 

-I have stuck through some hard times and missed no workouts except due to injury or surgery. That takes grit when you are getting nowhere on your external goals. 

-my mental toughness is incredible. I catch myself coaching myself to push through stuff the old me would just give out on. 

-I can do a 60 second plank like its nothin. Working toward a 5 min plank. 

6 more

That's how many workouts I have left in this round of JMBR. I'm not sure how I feel about that. On one hand, I feel proud, because I've stuck with it, and other than injury, vacation, and surgery, I've kept progressing every 2 weeks as prescribed. I am, and should be, really proud of that. On the other hand, these workouts are still really tough, and even by the end of next week, I will be far from having mastered them. So it feels like less of an accomplishment than the finish I had thanksgiving 2013. I have to remind myself though, that I was 16 months pp then, not 6. Those ten months make a huge difference! Heck, by that point this time around, I can't imagine the level of fitness I'll have. 

I'm really wrestling with two things right now. One is the lack of measurable external results that I've been ranting about. I'm hoping that by 10/5 when I take my post BR measurements and pictures (which will also serve as my BodyShred before pics and stats) I'll see some difference. I have 1.5 weeks of BR and an active recovery week before then, so, I'm trying to have some hope. I'm not feeling like it's super likely that those size 8 skinnies will fit, but I'm hoping that they will button and zip without too much....spillage. If I have gotten that far, I might be able to still hit my next goal of getting comfy in my 6's by Christmas. The other thing that's bugging me is something g I've written about before but feels extra real to me now, 2.5 weeks away-how am I going to be able to do BodyShred? All I've read and heard is that it's brutal and way harder than BR. I'm on the last level of BR and it's taking me close to an hour to get thru a 35 min workout. I am determined to do this, but how do I get in the headspace of not feeling a failure for struggling through it, especially this first round? I am starting it again in February, and hopefully that round will be full of badassery, but man, I'm scared of this first round. 

First things first, though. Time for workout 11 and moving on with my day. Rar.

Venting again

I'm So frustrated and discouraged. I've been at this consistently for 4 months (minus the week after my surgery and the week we were on vacation which was a planned recovery week) and I'm barely any smaller.  Yes, I'm far stronger, my muscles are more defined, etc, but is it so wrong to have wanted to lose a pant size or two? Blargh!

We are really working at eating clean and I'm being better about logging my food since we have been home. Hoping less grains (except brown rice and oats) will help me with inflammation. Also eating lots of veggies. 

I hate not having much control over this situation. I have to just work and be consistent and trust that *someday* there will be a payoff. I really hope it doesn't take till Declan is a year old and fully on solids to start seeing results. I have some goals set for that time period, and if like to reach them! 

Recently some folks I considered to be  close friends, folks who have shown me support at other times when needed, and folks we have supported and encouraged, gave me some criticism that hurt deeply. They told me that my fitness goals, and their priority in my life were causing me to miss out on my children. They called me vain and self pitying. They said other things I don't remember because I'm trying to forget. When peoe give me criticism, especially when they are people who supposedly care about me, I take it very seriously and chew it over to find any truth that might be there. This time, though, I'm finding none, and that makes it hurt more. I tried to explain the connection between my feelings about my weight and my PPD, how I'm trying to grasp control of this thing, so at least one thing in my life would be working. That didn't matter-the last word was that I was feeling sorry for myself and I'm not really depressed. It's left me feeling very lonely, defensive and self conscious, if ever I post on fb about my weight or depression, because, while I'm trying to be open so others feel less alone on their journeys, it leaves me vulnerable to judgement, even from folks who are supposed to be my friends. That's really tough. 

The depression and anxiety have been a big struggle the past few days, and this weight frustration is only magnifying that. I don't know what to do about it, except, get as much sleep as I can, push hard in my workouts and eat healthy yummy stuff. 

To My Sweet Duckling at Six Months

Declan, 

You are lying next to me in bed right now, chewing on your toes and smiling. It seems you're always smiling, and in those rare times you aren't, I know the storm won't last but a moment and there's a rainbow just around the corner. 

I can't believe you're six months old already, that half of your first year has flown by so quickly. It's been entirely different than I expected, filled with challenges to my physical, mental, and emotional strength, but God knew what He was doing when he paired us up. Anytime I have felt like I'm just not enough, I have been reminded by your smile and the love in your eyes that I'm more than enough-to you I'm everything. 

This time a year ago I didn't know you were a boy-I desperately wanted another girl-but the second I found out you were, I began dreaming of a blue eyed redhead who I'd snuggle and nurse and learn so much from loving. You've fulfilled and surpassed those dreams in unexpected ways. You teach me every day about the blessing of experiencing mamahood fresh and new without comparison, because you and your sister could not be more different, and that isn't a bad thing. Where she was eager and outgoing, you are relaxed and shy. Where she wanted to explore, you're taking your time. 

You definitely have personality! You have a sweet and ready smile, a laugh we hear more every day, a particular way of letting us know you want attention (enough with the fake wheezing, Kid!), an aversion to hard work (tummy time has been a battle we've fought side by side), and yes, a temper to match that hair. 

You love your sister, like I always knew you would, though sometimes she overwhelms you with the exuberance she bathes you in. It makes me feel so gratified to see you two together, smiling and laughing. 

You love bath time and kicking your legs, and I'm looking forward to you discovering more and more in the world that excites you. 

You are your own man, Declan, and I'm more than okay with that. You've taught me, and are teaching me daily, that life is not a checklist, we are not defined by the rate at which we achieve, and that we can thrive exactly as God made us. You give me courage, and joy to tackle my challenges, and peace to enjoy the moments. 

Like this one, right now, where you reached for my hand, because you like me close by when you drift off. I love you, my beautiful, singular, loving, wonderful six month old.