The scariest post ever

I wrote this post November 2011. I have had it just sitting in draft form for a year and a half. I shared it with very few people. Now that we are getting ready to have our second little one, I have come back to reread. I have been thinking about what doing this all over again entails and sometimes it is just interesting to read those thoughts from when they were so fresh.

 

“Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they're supposed to help you discover who you are.” ~ Bernice Johnson Reagon

I recently read an article on postpartumprogress.com relating the 5 stages of grief to Postpartum Depression (PPD). I came across this website through a blog I stumbled across about 4 months ago. The author, Robin, is a survivor of PPD. She writes openly and honestly about her experiences, past and present. It's both comforting and heart wrenching to know that someone else feels this way and is brave enough to share it with others. Although our experiences are not identical (no two seem to be) I related so strongly to both Robin and the other women who follow her and comment that initially I couldn't read it all. It was just hitting too close to home. I read and read and stayed quietly in the shadows. I do not prefer for my personal life to be laid out for all to see. I've thought long and hard about whether I really want to write about this on my blog. I feel like I am announcing one big character flaw to the world. A flaw so big that it will affect how my family and friends look at me. I'm afraid that people will think I am over reacting, that I'm making it up but I will tell you that I couldn't make this up if I tried and I'm not sure I even mind what people think anymore. That isn't what matters.  I'm not even sure that Patrick knows how strongly this has affected me and who I am.

This was a comment I posted on another blog written by a mom who has overcome PPD. "I come to this blog and over and over and over I am relieved to hear stories that sound like my own. Women who sound like me. I have a one year old (today is his birthday). I have to admit I am also celebrating that I made it one year. That he and I are still alive and kicking. There are still days and hours that are almost unbearable but it is so much better. (Seems like there may be a blog post for my blog in this somewhere.) I was too ashamed to tell anyone how miserable I was. Everyone except my husband told me that it's supposed to be hard, that this was normal, but it wasn't. I know that now. I never sought help. I was afraid it was too expensive or that I was crazy or that really, this was how it was supposed to be.  My husband was and still is utterly supportive and loving. He KNEW without a doubt that this was not right. I haven't blogged about this. I haven't talked about this. I have even tried not to think about it but maybe it is time. Maybe I can support others."

And this is where I start from. I wrote this comment in the middle of September. It is now almost exactly 2 months later and already I feel better, changed. There are many reasons for that but that is another post entirely.


Here are the  The Six Stages of Postpartum Depression as quoted in italics, with my personal changes and thoughts in normal font, from the article I linked to above.

1. Denial: This must be what new motherhood is like. I’ll be alright. It can’t be postpartum depression, because I’m not mentally ill. I’m sure it will wear off soon. I just need more sleep. I didn't even think of PPD at this point. I mean, it didn't even cross my mind. The doctor told me it was "baby blues" at my 6 week appointment and wrote off my feelings with a literal wave of his hand. No offense, but what a dude. How the you-know-what would he even know. ...but, he was the doctor and I figured he knew what he was talking about. The word depression would have been enough to deter me if I had thought of it. I have always been upbeat, positive, happy and organized. I wasn't "someone" who would have depression.  Everyone kept telling me that this was normal and that it would get better but I couldn't see it. The only person who sort of knew what I was feeling was my husband but I wasn't very good at describing it to him and we were both too tired to have that discussion. Thankfully, he could take one look at me and know that this wasn't right.
2. Anger: Nobody understands what I’m going through.  Why me?! This is supposed to be a time of joy. I don’t deserve this. I don’t want to have to take medication. I don’t want to go to therapy. I shouldn’t have to call a doctor. This is not fair.  In some ways, I guess I was mad about some things but these are things I am just not ready to talk about. For me, there was less anger and more grief and guilt.  I was grieving for what I considered my freedom and my old life. A life that I was really happy with and that I felt like had vanished only to be replaced with incessant crying, sleepless nights, pain, heartache, fear, and not a moment to be alone. I felt guilty for wishing for my life back, for wishing that I could go back in time and make some different decisions. I felt guilty that I was easily producing adequate milk but that the baby couldn't tolerate it. I felt like the worst mother on the planet for giving him formula and I felt like the worst wife for having to spend money on food for a baby that I should have been and was producing for free.  When I finally realized that there was an issue that may or may not have been PPD, I was angry that our insurance didn't cover prescription drugs. Between the really expensive formula and his reflux medicine, I felt like it wasn't even an option. That not only could we not afford the doctor's appointment but that we really couldn't afford any possible medications he would prescribe. I also felt guilty for feeling this way. I had a healthy (if not very fussy) baby who was gaining weight and growing and had come right home from the hospital. Weren't my husband and I the lucky ones, to have given birth to a full term baby and brought him home with no complications? I kept telling myself to snap out of it, that I was lucky, but there was only a teeny tiny part of me that believed that.
3. Bargaining: If I just exercise more and eat better I’ll be fine. I kept telling myself, when I can run again I will feel like me. When I can put in the miles I will feel so much better. It will help. I know it will. It HAS to. When I can eat a normal diet with dairy and soy protein I will feel like myself. When I get my body back I will be happier. When I don't have to nurse anymore, or pump anymore I will feel like me.  If I could just get to the point where the baby sleeps through the night, I’ll be okay. A-freaking-MEN.  If I get closer to God and pray more, this will surely go away. Some of that was true. I would have gone off the deep end without my jogging stroller. I walked and walked and walked and walked and then I would run just one or two minutes. Next time a few blocks and I worked back up to my normal mileage and I did begin to feel better. My incision healed and being outside was a relief. It seemed like the only time that little boy wasn't crying was when we were outside. At least there was a place he was happy.
4. Depression: I should just leave my family. I’m bringing everyone down. They all would be better off without me. My poor baby doesn’t deserve a mother like this. I’ll never get better so there’s no point in going on. I remember one run that I went on where it was just me. I couldn't take the dogs yet because I was afraid if they bolted while I was holding the leash it would cause problems with the c section incision which was starting to heal but still very tender. My husband had E at home and I had been looking forward to getting out all afternoon. I cried during the entire 4 miles. I kept thinking about how my boys would be better off without me. I was snapping at the dogs and I couldn't get a meal made to save my soul. I was unhappy, and I was sure that I was making everyone else unhappy. Hell, I couldn't even feed the kid "like a mother should".  Patrick is such a natural parent and has been from the beginning. I kept thinking that he would do so much better without me "getting in the way". I got home and told him so. He hugged me and told me that, of course, that wasn't true. And so the days continued to pass.
5. Acceptance: What’s happening to me isn’t normal and I can’t ignore it anymore. It’s not my fault. It is okay for me to talk to a doctor. It’s okay for me to ask for help. I can take medication or go to therapy or do whatever is necessary for my health and that of my family. I am not sure I am here yet, however, I will agree that it was not my fault, it just happens. Apparently, it happens a lot more than I realized. Hmmmm, well, good to know.

When it comes to PPD, I’d have to add another stage. The stage that comes after acceptance, after the treatment, after the time when you start feeling better but aren’t 100%. I call it the post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD stage because even after a year of getting treated and getting better it took me another year just to get over the trauma of what I went through and become comfortable with motherhood.

6. PTSD: I still worry that PPD will return. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. Every time I feel bad I’m convinced that I’ve gone back there. I feel like I’ve lost a lot of confidence in myself and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back. I worry I hurt my child in the long-term because of how I was when he was a baby.

This was the last part of the article. The thought of being comfortable with motherhood is interesting to me. For me, it is more a fear of having a second child and going through it all again. Would it be better? Worse? The same? I'm not sure I could do this all again and I surely wouldn't want my husband to have to go through it again.

LOL! And here we are. About to start the journey all over again .With some very specific and unusual strategies in place. ;)

Weekend baked donuts!

A little slow on the recipe but here it is. I took a little from here and a little from there and made my own. They turned out pretty good for baked donuts. They were a little more "muffiny" than I would have liked but they served their sweet purpose.

Baked Mini Donuts

1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1 large egg
2 tbsp butter, melted and cooled
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup buttermilk (I used milk with white vinegar to make buttermilk since I didn't have any on hand)

Lightly grease a mini donut pan.
In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda and salt.
In a large mixing bowl, beat together brown sugar, egg and melted butter until mixture is smooth. Beat in vanilla extract, then half of the flour mixture. Mix in the buttermilk, followed by the remaining flour. Stir only until all ingredients are combined and no streaks of dry ingredients remain visible. Scoop batter into a quart or gallon-sized plastic bag and chill for 1-2 hours, or overnight.
Preheat oven to 325F and remove the bag from the refrigerator after batter has chilled.
Snip the corner off of the plastic bag and pipe batter into mini donut cavities, filling each about 2/3 full.
Bake for 9 minutes, until cake springs back when lightly pressed. (For regular-sized donuts in a larger donut pan, bake 12-15 minutes)
Turn donuts out to cool on a wire rack. Dip tops of donuts in glaze when donuts are completely cooled and decorate.
Allow glaze to set for at least 1 hour before storing.

I made three kinds of topping.

Chocolate Glaze
1/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 teaspoon corn syrup
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon water

Microwave for 10 second bursts, stirring in-between, until melted.

Dip the donuts into the glaze and set on a rack to dry.

Vanilla Glaze
1 1/4 cups confectioners’ sugar, sifted
1 tsp vanilla extract
3-4 tsp milk

and Cinnamon and Sugar (there were definitely the best and the most donut like)

1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons butter (melted)

Toss the cinnamon and sugar together in a shallow dish.
Dip baked donuts in melted butter and then roll in cinnamon sugar mixture

Pretty yummy!

My January Cooking Challenge

My husband's birthday is in January. This year, it is Friday the 13th. His poor birthday often gets lost in the shuffle since it is so soon after the holidays and everyone is tired off all the food and dessert. He will be 31 this year. (It always takes him about 6 months to catch up with me. ;) Slow poke.)

I have been on a cooking spree as of late. Lots and lots and lots of new recipes thanks to Pinterest. Anywho, I asked him if there was something that I could make for him. His response, "A Wendy's Frosty Cake. Consider it a challenge."

And so it shall be.

I set out to create.

We've been making homemade "Wendy's" frostys around here since we were in grad school. The thing is that they are a little melty, like they should be, in order to use a straw to suck them up. A little kitchen experiment was needed to see if they would freeze up to allow for slicing later on. I was thinking something like the Dairy Queen ice cream cake but without the frosting layer (we are a Cool Whip free home).

I made up a chocolate cookie crust with little chocolate cookies from Trader Joe's.

I made a thick homemade fudge sauce (recipe courtesy of my momma).

I made "frosty" ice cream using fat free vanilla ice cream and coco powder and milk. (I usually make our frostys in the bender but due to the increased amount I used my mixer.)

I layered everything up, stuck it in the freezer, crossed my fingers and did a little tiny please-freeze-and-taste-good-and-don't-fall-completely-apart-and-hold-a-candle-or-two dance and went to bed for the night.

  
Editor's note: I didn't get great photos due to a tiny person hanging on my pant leg while I was cooking and the same tiny person screaming in their highchair while it was being served. It was a whirlwind of a birthday meal but the "Frosty Cake" was DELICIOUS! Really, how can you ever go wrong with homemade chocolate fudge sauce.

  

"Wendy's" Frosty Cake Recipe 

I made mine to fit in a 9x9 pan 

Easily could be doubled for thicker dessert in a 9x13

Crust layer:
3 1/2 c. Crushed chocolate cookies (I used low fat chocolate animal cookies from Trader Joe's)

6 T melted butter

1/8 cup sugar

Ice Cream Layer:

3 1/2 c. vanilla ice cream (I used fat free Breyer's)

8 T Nestle Nesquik Powder

1/2 c. skim milk

Chocolate Sauce Layer:

1/2 c semisweet chocolate chips

3 T butter

1/2 c powdered sugar

6 oz evaporated milk (3/4 c.)

1/2 t. vanilla

Crust: combine ingredients and press into 9x9 pan and set in freezer for 15-20 minutes.

Ice Cream Layer: Combine ingredients and use blender or mixer to mix until soft and combined. Layer on top of cookie crust and return to freezer. 

Chocolate Sauce: Melt chocolate chips and butter. Add powdered sugar and evaporated milk. Cook and stir 15 minutes or until slightly thickened. Stir in vanilla. Cool sauce completely and then pour over ice cream layer. Freeze until firm.

YUM!!

Where I'm From...

I am from popcorn and cranberry juice on the front porch watching a rainbow with my brother, from Crayola and Color Forms and brand new fancy pencils and little tiny erasers in a million shapes from the "teacher store".
I am from 30th Street where we rode our bikes "that one way", ran down the hill to the park and were instructed to stay out of the woods.
I am from the tomato plants, lavender, cucumbers, and snap dragons in our back yard, the crab grass that my grandma taught us to whistle with and the lilac bush that grew as my brother and I did, each year a little taller.
I am from fireworks and birthday cake in Norfolk, cookie day in December,  and a yucky shrimp platter on Christmas Eve. I am from blue eyes, from Goossen and Wolfe and Dickinson and Davenport. 
I am from the long line of strong women who do what they have to one day at a time and from morning after seven o'clock morning in the lap of a warm loving dad in an office chair.
I am from "you can be replaced with a small animal" (with a smile) and "eat your bread crusts, it will make your hair curly".
I am from liberal Christianity that is more about the journey than the destination. From Sunday mornings chasing each other up the bell tower to watch the bells ring with our ears plugged.
I’m from Cheyenne, Lincoln, Tucson, and Omaha with roots much, much deeper and longer. I am from semmels and real whipped cream, handfuls of Brach's candy and warm, summer days of picking strawberries.
From my grandmother standing on the plantar in the their front yard announcing my birth, from a head first fall off a retaining wall at a car dealership that ended in a drive-thru, a Coke-a-cola and an Easter dress that matched my owie.
I am from albums and boxes and computer drives loaded with photos and videos, boxes of dusty gymnastics medals,  and an inspiration book that is exploding at the seams. I am from an old yellow blankie that has gone everywhere I have and a family that continues to love despite one another's short comings. I am from a mom that is loving, forgiving and encouraging and from a gentle, giant-hearted dad who would give the world to me if he could. I am from the family that I hope to continue, from parents that I hope to be, and from a life that I pray I can give my little boy.


This was started from a writing exercise I found at the blog Mama's Losin' It.

Some items on my life list

- I will someday learn how to surf. I have been saving up my pennies (literally) in order to do so.

- Learn to ride a motorcycle. Oh wait! I just did that! Yay!

- I really, really want to run the Nike Women's Marathon in California some day!

- Be brave enough to have at least one more little one. I am definitely not there yet.

-  I want to run an ultra. So hard core!

- I would love to do a tandem jump out of an airplane. (My husband thinks this is crazy, he may be right.)

- Sounds crazy but someday I want to go on a date with my husband and not worry about my sweet little boy while I am gone. I don't even know if this is possible. (Wait, how am I going to go surf for a week if I can't even be gone over dinner!? Eeek. I have issues.)

- I would love to pay of my student loans before I die. At this rate, my 14 month old will be out of college before the loans from the medical center are paid off. Sigh. Well, someday...

- I want to make the perfect pan of toffee, like my grandmother used to, with chocolate on top, and no nuts.   :)

- Get back to my photography. I have a studio art minor from the University of Nebraska in photography. Time to dust off the camera.

- On the same note, I would really like to learn and play with some new photo editing software. When I was in college we were still using 35 mm. It's a whole new game.

- Some day I will get a more "extreme" haircut, but right now, I can't live without my ponytail. I have had long, all one length hair that is my natural color for a long long time. I don't do well with change. This will be a hard one.

- I have completed a half Ironman but Ironman is definitely on my list!

- I want to be able to do 50 push ups without stopping. I am at 40! Getting closer. I have no idea why this is a goal or why I picked 50 but by golly I will.

- I want to be a good mom. I want E to grow up strong and healthy and safe and smart. This is a whole separate post but this is definitely on my life list! I'm a work in progress.

This is my entry in the Just Ask Bucket List Getaway Giveaway. Just Ask offers a breast and ovarian cancer screening and is encouraging people to share 15 things that I want to enjoy in my lifetime as a reminder to be aware of my health. Want to enter? Head over to TodaysMama.com to get the details.

Yes, I may be a little crazy...

... but I'm not the only one.

As our family has stopped buying and eating artificial colors I have been reading more and more on the adverse effects.


Healthy Child Healthy World has had numerous articles on this topic. Also here, and this one I found very interesting as it discusses each of the different dyes.

For instance, did you know that Yellow #5 and Red #40 are azo dyes and they are made from coal tar? "A Consumer’s Dictionary of Food Additives describes coal tar as a 'thick liquid or semisolid tar obtained from bituminous coal, it contains many constituents including benzene, xylenes, naphthalene, pyridine, quinonlineoline, phenol, and cresol'(Winter, 2009, P. 166)." Cancer causing agents.

One item that it is very difficult to avoid food dyes in is children's medicine. They almost all include a red dye of some sort. It's a bit ironic that I can avoid food dyes when he feels good but as soon as he's sick he gets them.

Oh, and don't misunderstand, it's fairly easy to avoid them now as he's so little. I know that as he gets older he'll eat them but maybe the solution is that these dyes should be banned from foods here in the US as they are in other countries. Even in Europe, there are warnings on the labels of foods that contain artificial colorings.

I know that my family thinks I am crazy and maybe that is true. Maybe this isn't the battle to be fighting but in the meantime, I'll be at Trader Joe's. :)

Baking Soda and Listening to Your Mother

My mom has been touting the benefits of cleaning for baking soda for several years now. I have always nodded and smiled and then reached for the Lysol or Method or whatever other cleaner was under my cupboard. I have no idea why I didn't pay more attention. You would think by 31 years old I would realize how very rarely she is wrong. Sigh. Anywho, I was scrubbing the kitchen (for her birthday party actually) and I went to get out my cleaning supplies and realized I was, for all intensive purposes, out. I have a small child and an even smaller window of opportunity for which to get anything done and so I reached for the baking soda. I was a bit skeptical but miracle of miracles, everything came clean with so much less work. In fact, I was so amazed, that I kept right on cleaning. I did the appliances and the counters and the sink and the faucets. It cleaned the gunk right off the knobs on the stove and it cleaned the stove top with so much less work than usual. Mr KT had made spaghetti the night before (YAY!) as I was working late (BOO!) and it had boiled over, it even took care of that! As I cleaned I just kept shaking my head and thinking, "self, let this be a lesson to you... Always Listen to Your Mother!"

Happy Birthday Mom!