Week 4 Weight Results

Thanksgiving week. Thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving leftovers. 

All of these things are wonderful....and terrible at the same time. Especially for someone wanting to lost weight. My absolute favorite part of the traditional Thanksgiving dinner?

Stuffing.......

and

Pumpkin Pie (with REAL whipped cream)

and

Rolls

and 

Green Bean Casserole

and

Mashed Potatoes......

Sadly enough, turkey is not my favorite meat, but even it tastes amazing alongside all the other yumminess. This is the official beginning of the "Holiday Season" which alarmingly refers mostly to the baked goods and savory meals that accompany the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. And let me tell you, every year I look forward to the influx of PUMPKIN everything. It's like a pumpkin mated with every tasty, comforting, and favorite food I love. And it is A-MAZ-ING!!!! It's the time for pumpkin pie Blizzards from Dairy Queen. It's the time for pumpkin spice hot chocolate from Starbucks. It's the time for pumpkin muffins, donuts, scones, cookies, etc. from the grocery stores. And it also coincides with my birthday, so.... I'm pretty sure that God intended me to partake. Am I right? I think so.

 It is also the time when my baking and cooking whims come out to play. With a vengeance. I would bake maybe five times throughout the rest of the year, but after Halloween, I'm pretty sure I am inhabited by some dearly departed Rachael Ray-ish baking ghost. There's just something about this time of year. Makes me want to fill the house with soft, chewy, sweet delights. Mmmmm.....

I tell you all this to make a point.

My point is: Holiday food is good.

And I like to eat it.

And my body is the unwilling victim of my pumpkin addiction.

Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful. And there are so many things for me to be thankful for this year. My wonderful, loving family. My Heavenly Father and Jesus. My friends. My home, clothes, indoor plumbing, hot water, warm blankets, and all the other luxurious in life.

So I should be thankful for my body too, right??
Even if I may have gained a few pounds, right??

Well, all I have to say about that question is:

IN YOUR FACE HOLIDAY WEIGHT GAIN (so far)!!!!

Because, friends, here are my results for the last week.

Current weight: 256.8 lbs.

Weight lost this week: 2.7 lbs.

Total weight lost: 8.6 lbs.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was as surprised as many of you may be at this point! But I'm not going to argue. Truth be told, I was very conscious of what I made and ate. My favorite thing is stuffing. I make it from scratch, using my mom's recipe and it is DE-LIGHT-FUL!! But you know, not the best for my butt. And my boys aren't the biggest fans of stuffing in general, so I just didn't make it. Was I a little sad? Heck, yes! But with it just being the three of us, it was so much easier to just not make it. I did, however, make green bean casserole (Shon's favorite) and partook of that. And rolls. SOOO many rolls!!! Haha! And yes, I did have pumpkin pie with whipped cream. And I ain't even sorry! But I watched my portions and did my best to abstain from my trigger foods.

And I must have done something right. I'm happy. :)

This next week, my main focus will be on drinking LOTS of water. I've noticed that I haven't been doing that as much as I should. And when I have in the past, it really makes all the difference. So I will make sure the toilet paper in our bathroom is well stocked and try to drink a whole gallon a day. I'm looking for clear urine, people!!! ;)

Now, I cannot guarantee that every week this winter will have these results. And I'm ok with that. I am just happy with last week's results because I tried hard to be good. But you know, cookies are good and I'm bound to cheat and not lose as much as I would like. Right now, in fact, there are pumpkin (see? In everything!) cheesecake bars sitting in my fridge that are calling my name. And I'm sure a few of those will meet their tragic end in my tummy at some point today. It's all about moderation. Just like the Word of Wisdom tells us. Moderation in all things.

My problems from before stem from the fact that I did not moderate. If I wanted something I ate it. Not really caring about what I might have eaten earlier in the day or week. I gave in to my urges. Had no self control. And that is what made me hate myself, which perpetuates the cycle. It is horrible! :( Worst feeling ever. But there is a way to break the cycle. It starts with recognizing the problem and then doing everything in your power to fight that urge. Believe me, it is SOOO much easier to give in. It feels so much better. At first. But then the guilt sets in and it just drives you further into the self loathing feelings that I'm just now starting to work through.

So if you're struggling, please know that you're not alone and there is a way out. I remember before I started on this journey, how hearing that from people would irritate me to the point of wanting to lash out at something. I wanted to shout that they had no idea what I was going through and it's not that easy and there is no way I can ever do what they are doing. I know how it feels to lose all hope. I know how it feels to fight the inner war of whether to slowly destroy yourself or valiantly trying to heave yourself onto the harder route of trying to saving yourself. Let me tell you. It is worth the fight. It is worth it to choose the harder path. Nothing that is good for you will come easily. That has been the most difficult thing for me to wrap my mind around. I am a notoriously lazy person and I did not want to try that hard. Which is why I was so close to destruction before I ripped myself away from that lifestyle. Granted, I have my own set of mental issues which haven't helped, but I am bound and determined to make a change. I have to. It will not be easy. But it will be worth it. Another familiar phrase, huh? ;)

Anyway, I'll get off my soapbox and let you nice people get on with your day. Thank you all for your support and love. Thank you for those who have posted comments, or chatted with me, or texted me. Your messages help me more than you could ever know! I'm sorry if I haven't responded to them all, but know that every word has been read and taken to heart and appreciated. You all give me the strength to continue. I am loving this blog, not only because it discusses important issues, but it also helps me in my healing process. It keeps me accountable. I know I have to report my results to all of you and that helps me stay on track as well. So each one of you have, in some way, helped save me. And I will never be able to thank you enough for that precious gift.

Love you all!

Let's make it a great day!!

Let's get real for a moment. Part Three.

**DISCLAIMER**

THIS NEXT POST WILL REVEAL AND DISCUSS SELF HARMING THOUGHTS AND BEHAVIORS. 

Thankfully, the physical harm done to my person was minimal. My thoughts, on the other hand, are quite disturbing, even for me to reminisce on. 

So please, if you think it will be hard or cause undo stress or anxiety, take a moment to ponder whether you want to continue to read this post. The last thing I want to do is dredge up past unhappiness or bring any unwanted, painful memories to surface again. 

I understand that some people will find this post informational and interesting, others may find it cathartic in some way, and yet others may find it difficult to swallow. 

So please proceed with caution. 

This story will be in at least three segments. I will post this disclaimer before each one. 

_________________________________________________________________________________

This will be the final segment in this series of posts. It has been an illuminating ride thus far and I wish I could find words to express how much I appreciate all the love, support, understanding, sympathy, and general acceptance that I have felt from you all. It has made this process much easier and less painful than it could have been. I know that this is just my story and that it might not speak to many of you, but just putting it into words has been extremely cathartic. Not just for my healing process, but for family history purposes as well. I do not write in a journal, but this blog has certainly helped me to get what I'm feeling into print. It is something I can go back and read over and over again as I move forward and hopefully upward with my life. So thank you all for humoring me and again, for your amazing encouragement. I love you all. 

Ok, so this is the post where I get really real. I will talk about self harm in this post. Please, please be aware of this as you read. If it starts to get too uncomfortable or painful, please do not continue. The last thing I want is to unwittingly cause grief to someone when my main mission is to inform and teach and help.

So there I was. Going through the motions of life and motherhood but not really feeling anything. I was a shell of what I used to be. Things that brought me joy before were no more than annoyances now. I was constantly tired. Constantly cranky and withdrawn and liable to verbally attack anyone who made a wrong move around me. I'm sure my husband walked around on eggshells during my rough days. And I could always tell whether it was going to be a rough day from how I felt when I woke up. It wasn't whether or not I would have some "hard times" during the day, it was whether the WHOLE day was ruined for me and everyone in my wake. I had gotten to the point where it was either a bad day or a good day. Nothing in between. That's a hard way to live. And the weirdest thing was that I knew I was being unreasonable, but I just could not find the desire to care anywhere inside of me. It was seriously like I was dead inside. 

Starting in August of this year, Shon and I both decided that the medication I was on was probably not doing it's job anymore. So I started visiting my doctor. And we tried a series of different drugs. The sucky thing about that though, is that it takes a while to wean off the current drug and entirely onto the new one. My visits to the doctor's office were only once a month or so. Which meant that I had a month or more to deal with how the drug made me feel. And for the first little while, it would make a difference. But only for a while. 

The first new one I tried killed my libido. And for a couple who is trying to conceive a child, this caused problems. I didn't want my husband to look at, kiss or even touch me. I did everything I could to make excuses or feign sleepiness or blame my time of the month on it. But the annoying thing about it was that the act of "shunning" my husband would only make me feel worse, because I would start to think about how it is affecting him and how it's obviously not working for conception and whatnot. So even when I was thinking I was protecting myself, I was actually digging myself deeper and deeper. Self fulfilling prophecy, as they say. I couldn't figure out what I wanted more. To be left alone physically, or to get pregnant. 

Anyone who knows me, knows that I want another kid. Some days, the word "want" is a little strong, but I feel like we have another child that is supposed to be in our family. So when I say that it got to the point where I didn't want another child and I didn't think I could keep the child I had, it shows how deep I had fallen. I would cry during the day and just wonder how I could give Donovan back. Like, I would actually think about how many couples ended up giving their child up for adoption just because they couldn't handle it anymore. Now I know that sounds crazy and please believe me when I say that I WOULD NEVER, EVER DO THAT, but in the midst of all the feelings, it had crossed my mind a few times.

It also crossed my mind that Shon would be better off without me too. And there was a time when I seriously thought he might take Donovan and leave me. Looking back, I know I was just being paranoid and projecting my fears openly, but I remember actually having a conversation with Shon about it. Begging him to not take our child and leave. Thinking about how, if they did leave, I would kill myself because there wouldn't be anything else left for me. I was in a very dark place.

At the next doctor's appointment, I started a new drug that was supposed to help with libido again. And it did. For a week. I actually felt pretty good for that week. And then, just like a light switch, it stopped. I had such a crazy cocktail of drugs in my system, that I didn't even know which side effect was from which drug. It was while I was on this drug (Wellbutrin), that I started to experience the all consuming rages and self harming thoughts. 

Laundry day for us is always highly stressful. I wait until we're practically out of everything before I do it. Because we don't have a washer and dryer in our apartment, we have to walk everything over to the laundry room across the complex. It's just always an ordeal and usually an all day chore. I hate it. A lot. But it was on one such laundry day, when I had my first "blind rage". I call it that because I usually don't know where it comes from, but it hits me super hard. And the smallest thing can set in motion a chain of events that leaves the members of my family fleeing for cover. The funny thing is that I don't really remember what that small incident was, but I do remember standing at the bottom of our stairs, holding Donovan's laundry basket and being so consumed with rage that I was grinding my teeth, visibly shaking and getting lightheaded. I felt like I was going to pummel anyone who got in my way. I was able to hold onto control for the most part at that point and I could feel a small amount of personal worry underneath that thick, strong layer of seething redness. 

I went and started the laundry, came back home and ran up to my room. I was still SO ANGRY!! I paced the upstairs trying to calm down, but nothing was working. Every time I told myself to take deep breaths and try to relax, it was like a devil was inside of me throwing a tantrum and rebelling against any rational method of calming. 

This was the time that, for the first time in my life, I started to wonder if hurting myself would help. Before this, I had never quite understood how people could cut themselves. It seemed like a silly thing to do. I mean, doesn't that make you hurt even more??? But in this moment, it came to my head and it seemed like..... a relief. Like if I cut myself, I would be able to release some of the misery inside of me. Let it bleed out of me. Because that is what cutting does for people. It makes them feel something. I wanted to feel something. I wanted to have something to focus on and not stride aimlessly around, trying to get rid of the weight on my back. 

But I was upstairs and my boys were downstairs. Knives and scissors were not readily available for use. (Thank goodness!). So instead, I grabbed the first thing I could find that had a somewhat sharp edge. A comb. And this comb had super sharp teeth on it. It was one that we never used because it was too sharp on our heads. And before I knew what had happened, I had taken that comb and in another moment of unendurable anger, I raked it down the inside of my arm. It left red welts and scratch marks, but did not break the skin. Over and over I brought it down my arm. And with every swipe, I could feel my self calming down. What was also weird, was that I don't really remember feeling any pain. It was seriously just cathartic in a way. So now I knew what made people want to do it. I didn't even bleed, but I could almost feel all those feelings being swept away. 

But then I started to worry about what Shon would say when he saw the marks. So I made sure I was wearing long sleeves and then laid on my bed for about an hour, hoping the marks would subside. And they did a little. During this hour, I gave no thought to my son and whether or not I was inconveniencing my husband by disappearing. All I wanted was peace. I wanted to not be there. It's a strange feeling to not feel anything. I just didn't care. 

After that day, I began to try to find other ways to discreetly hurt myself. I would pull my hair until it was unbearable. I would pinch myself until I couldn't stand it. I would bite my tongue. Hold my breath. Dig my fingernails into my skin until dark purple marks would be left. But I never actually used anything sharp enough to break the skin or leave scars. I kinda felt victorious in that. Like I was able to do these things and no one would ever know. 

My desire to do anything was nonexistent. I didn't care about cooking or cleaning or anything. The TV was Donovan's babysitter and I would lay on the couch and get crackers or fruit snacks or whatever out once in a while for him to eat. I would put him down for a nap at 11:00 and he wouldn't fall asleep until 1:00 and then sleep until 3:00. So I usually had about 3-4 hours of "kid free" time and in my mind that wasn't enough. I have the most patient and loving and caring and understanding husband ever, and all I wanted was for him to stay at school, so I could be by myself and engage in these self destructive behaviors. I was also eating everything I could. I didn't care about the consequences and it was like I was fueling my fire and giving myself more things to hate about myself so that I could continue to self destruct. The future was not something I worried about anymore. In my mind I knew I wouldn't be around much longer anyway. But even with that "knowledge", I couldn't even get up the desire to change anything. There were days that I wished I could just die. To not feel anything. To be blissfully unaffected by mental anguish. I literally thought that everyone would be better without me. It was my gift to them. No more Kimberlee to be burdened with. 

I got to the point that I knew I had to do something, or I would start drawing the blood and leaving the scars. But when I was in this apathetic hell, it was so easy to do nothing. To just continue in my own sabotage. It would take an effort to try to change. To try to get better. And I just didn't have it in me. I remember the clarifying moment when I was able to snap out of it for just a second and realize that I was on a VERY destructive path. I was in the kitchen and having one of my episodes. Donovan was being particularly demanding and Shon was in school and I was tired and hurting and just ready to shut down. I remember looking over at the knife block and seeing all the knives just sitting there.

 How easy would it be to just grab one? Give myself a little knick and see how shedding blood would really feel. I stared at it for a long time. Then something inside of me started screaming for me to back up and get out of the kitchen. So I did. To this day, I don't know exactly "who" or "what" was screaming inside of me, but I am forever grateful for listening and getting out of there. I'd like to think it was the Holy Ghost, and maybe screaming was the only way to get my attention at that point. 

And I also found the strength that day to sit down and tell Shon everything. He was so worried about me. I could tell he was worried for my well being and our son's. He said that he would throw every knife away if he ever saw or heard me doing anything like that again. It was at this time that he told me I needed mental help. So at my next doctor's appointment, I set up a consult with a counselor. This would be my first step in emerging from the darkness.

One of the things I started to do was wear a rubber band around my wrist and when I felt like hurting myself, I would just snap that. It still gave me the relief through the sting of pain, but it didn't do what cutting does to a body. I also became very forward with Shon and let him know if I thought I was going to have a bad day. Gave him a head's up, so he could be more observant and be able to intercept anger inducing triggers. He has been such a blessing through this whole thing. And if I didn't know if he truly loved me or not before, I certainly know now. No one would stay with someone like me if he didn't really love me. He cried with me and held me and was there for me. And I will always love him for that and yet never be able to repay him for it too. I love that man..... <3

Since those days, I have finally found a medication that is working for me. I have been visiting a counselor, who has helped me visualize things that have helped me cope with my problems, I have started Weight Watchers, I have started this blog and have gotten a therapy kitty. I'm all in. I want to change. I want to get better. I will always be on some kind of medication. Depression and anxiety are not things that you simply "get over". But I have surrounded myself with coping mechanisms and support and love and victory! I am in a much better place right now. I wake up looking forward to what the day has to bring, rather than wish it would always be night. I am able to enjoy time with my husband and son, rather than wish them away. Writing this blog has been unimaginably helpful. Never in my wildest dreams, would I have thought it would be received this way. I find myself cringing and embarrassed about some of the things I have written, but I know I need to be candidly honest in order to help others. This is something that needs to be talked about. This is something that needs to be shared. It shouldn't be something that one is ashamed of. Just like a diabetic needs insulin to survive, so does someone with a mental disorder need medication to help regulate them. 

Depression does not need to be a death sentence. I ache for those who are still trying to find the light and get the help they need. I know that it wasn't until I WANTED to change, that I did. And I am not saying I still don't have hard days. There are still times when I hate myself and wish I could be better or prettier or skinnier. I still sometimes feel the actual physical aches and pains that accompany depression. I still occasionally find myself thinking that everything would be better if I wasn't afflicted with this disease. But I am also able to push through the fog and see the light at the end of the tunnel. That makes all the difference. I am surrounded by family and friends who love me and support me and pray for me. We all need that. 

Here is my wish. If you know anyone, in your family, a friend or even yourself, that has any mental disorder, please be there for them. It's so hard to do it alone. They may push back at you. They may rage at you. Say horrible things to you. But be there for them. The decision to get on the track to medication and therapy and a healthy life has to be made by them. And it is so desperately hard to make that decision when everything around you is fighting it. Be that person who never gives up on someone. You never know what a new day will bring. Today may be that day that they want to take that first step. I am so grateful, every day, that I have a husband who did not give up on me. It would have been soooooooo much easier and less painful for him to walk away. And I was NOT nice to him a lot of the time. But he stood by me. He was gentle. He was understanding. And when I needed him to be, he was strong and firm with me. I never felt attacked by him. But I also knew he wasn't giving up on me. I can't imagine how truly scary it must have been for him to see me this way. So for all those spouses or family members of people suffering, please don't give up! They need you! 

I am so very grateful for a Heavenly Father who loves me. He knows me. He knows what I'm feeling and He knows the limits of my body. But He also knows that I would have these problems in life and has blessed me with those people who have helped me make it through. I admit, my relationship with Him has been tested in these last couple years. But I have never stopped believing that He could hear me and that He was weeping with me. There are times I know for sure that He was carrying me. And I will always love Him for that.

So here's to another, more cheerful, chapter in my life! I am ready, baby!!! I have so much time to make up for. And I am truly so grateful to be here. To have been one of the lucky ones. To teeter on the edge of something truly frightening and be able to find myself backing away from the ledge, rather than falling in. It is a heady feeling. Depression sucks. Anxiety sucks. Mental illness sucks. But through the power of the Atonement, we can make it through. Just think. Jesus Christ felt every single feeling I have had. Every single tear I have shed, He has shed. Every scratch, every poke, every bruise, He has experienced. And for what? For me. And you. And all of us. I know that the pain and anguish I felt was nothing compared to what He felt. Yet while I was in the midst of it, it was unbearable. Never before had I thought so much about what the suffering in the Garden must have been like. Sure, I always thought of the pain He felt as physical. I never really truly thought about how He felt all the mental, spiritual and emotional pain too. By going through this experience, I will never be able to think about the Atonement again without thinking of them all. I love my Savior. I love my Heavenly Father. I love my husband and my son. And I love each one of you. Please know that I am here for any of you who need to talk or have questions or just need someone to listen while you cry. I am here. I am not going anywhere. And I love you. 

Thank you for sticking with me through my story. I tried to be as honest as I could, and once again, I am sorry if I offended anyone. That is not my intention. You are all so great and I am truly blessed to have you in my life.   

 

Lyrics

1. 1. I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
   Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.
   I tremble to know that for me he was crucified,
   That for me, a sinner, he suffered, he bled and died.
2. (Chorus)
   Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
   Enough to die for me!
   Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!
3. 2. I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine
   To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine,
   That he should extend his great love unto such as I,
   Sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify.
4. 3. I think of his hands pierced and bleeding to pay the debt!
   Such mercy, such love and devotion can I forget?
   No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat,
   Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet.
5. 
   
6. Text and music: Charles H. Gabriel, 1856-1932

Week 3 Weight Results

Well another weigh in day has come. I will admit, I was a little worried about the results this week. To be completely candid, my time of month snuck up on me this week and that always makes me crave everything chocolate, baked and sweet. And it was my birthday. So the weekend was a blur of pizza, cheesecake, naps, and sobbing unrestrainedly. Just kidding. About the sobbing part. The rest is very true. But it's not every day that it's my birthday, so I was ok with it. And I am now back on track with the program. 

All this being said, it was with trepidation that I stepped on the scale this morning. And although the results weren't awesome, they were satisfactory and headed in the right direction.

Current weight: 259.5 lbs.

Weight lost this week: .4 lbs.

Total weight lost: 5.9 lbs.

I guess that's still good for three weeks. But this week will have a much better number, I promise myself! Anyway, just wanted to keep everyone up to date. Sorry the results weren't that exciting. Next week will be though!!!!! 

I won't write much else, since I am going to be posting a lengthy entry later on this week. I did have a great weekend and I felt the love from all my friends and family. You all are amazing and I can't imagine life without you and your support. Thanks for everything!

Let's make it a great day!

Let's get real for a moment. Part Two.

**DISCLAIMER**

THESE NEXT FEW POSTS WILL REVEAL AND DISCUSS SELF HARMING THOUGHTS AND BEHAVIORS. 

Thankfully, the physical harm done to my person was minimal. My thoughts, on the other hand, are quite disturbing, even for me to reminisce on. 

So please, if you think it will be hard or cause undo stress or anxiety, take a moment to ponder whether you want to continue to read these posts. The last thing I want to do is dredge up past unhappiness or bring any unwanted, painful memories to surface again. 

I understand that some people will find these posts informational and interesting, others may find them cathartic in some way, and yet others may find them difficult to swallow. 

So please proceed with caution. 

This story will be in at least three segments. I will post this disclaimer before each one. 
_________________________________________________________________________________

In this second segment, I will talk about my prenatal and postnatal thoughts and actions and bring everyone up to right before the worst of everything started, which was about a year ago. The last segment will cover this last year and the ups and downs I experienced. 

This post will also not be as disturbing, but the next one probably will be. So enjoy this while you can! :)

After getting the results of our pregnancy test, we were both in shock. It took us a few days for it to sink in. I came to grips with it faster than Shon. Poor guy. It took him like three days to smile again. He was that freaked out. Because at this point in our conception journey, we really didn't think we would be able to conceive without medical fertility treatments. In fact, I had made an appointment in January to see a fertility specialist. Turned out, I wouldn't need it. 

This new development helped my mood like drugs never could. The next month was full of setting appointments, planning and deciding how to break the news to our families at Christmas. Needless to say, it was a very exciting time for me. I remember wanting to tell everyone about it, but I had promised Shon I would wait until the end of the first trimester to tell people. Except our families. That was a fun experience and one that I may blog about later on, but I want to keep the focus of this post on my mentality.

I was soooooo lucky that I never had morning sickness. I would feel nauseous one in a while in the mornings when I didn't eat a good enough breakfast, but other than that, there was no sickness. Smells bothered me. Certain perfumes and raw meat. Oh and working at the bank, we experienced all kinds of smells emanating from the customers and I do remember one customer coming in smelling like cat pee. It was so bad that I had to keep backing up from them while they were at my window because I was afraid I was going to lose my lunch. But all in all, pregnancy wasn't that horrifying of a physical experience for me, thank goodness!!

The knowledge that I was going to have a baby carried me through the pregnancy in a happy, fulfilled kind of stupor. For the most part anyway. However, I did start back on an antidepressant (the lowest dosage) towards the middle of my pregnancy. And I'm not sure if it was pregnancy brain or what, but I sincerely cannot remember the details about why I went back on the meds. I do know that my husband and my doctor thought I should. But I totally cannot remember what changed in me that caused that concern. I would stay on the small dosage until I was done nursing Donovan, which was around March of 2014.

Of course, I went through all the feelings that most heavily pregnant women go through towards the end of a pregnancy. I wanted this baby out of me!!! I experienced horrible heartburn, suffered from super swollen feet (I worked as a teller, so I would stand a lot of the day if I was helping customers), I was waking up multiple times in the night to pee and change positions, and was just overall uncomfortable. 

I woke up to regular contractions on Wednesday, July 24, 2013. I called into work and monitored my contractions during the day. I had a doctors appointment scheduled for that afternoon, so the doc told me to come in early and they would monitor me. I was 36 weeks and 4 days pregnant at this point, so they wanted to make sure it wasn't false labor. I was excited and REALLY nervous about the fact that the contractions were so regular. I still had three weeks, right???

I went into the doc and she said the contractions are regular, but only every 7 or so minutes apart. She figured I would need to go home and wait it out. Then she checked my cervix and BAZINGA!!! Her eyes were really wide and in a shocked voice she said, "Well, you are dilated to a 5. You need to get to the hospital right now." And that was it. I was going to have a baby. Seriously???? What about those three extra weeks I was supposed to have? And hello?? Weren't first babies supposed to be overdue most of the time?? Good grief! 

So Shon called the two sets of grandparents and I got myself put together enough to walk across the street to the hospital. This was really happening! I was so nervous and excited and was experiencing so many other emotions. It was almost surreal. Like, I was outside my body watching myself walk into the hospital and up to the maternity ward. How could I really be having a baby?? Gosh! Someone tell me what to do!!!!!! How can I be a mother? I'm going to mess it up, for sure! Can I do this? Can I really do this? I don't think I can do this..... But I have to do this. It's too late to back out now. Well maybe I can just stay pregnant?? I mean, what would happen if I just crossed my legs and refused to push? What if I turn my baby into a serial killer? What if he gets terminally sick? How could I live without him? Why did I want to have a kid again?? Something about wanting to feel fulfilled and a biological clock thingy? Is that what it was? Do I still feel that way? Oh my gosh, I am getting into a hospital gown and they are hooking me up with fluids and what the heck??? There's a baby bassinet and heating lamp and monitors and nurses and what the what?!?!?!? What if I poop during labor? When was the last time I pooped? Did I shave my legs recently? And HOLY COW!!! I'm going to have to breastfeed soon!!!! And what's this they're showing me now? Paperwork?? Seriously?? A name for the baby? Applying for a social security number? Birth announcement? Birth certificate? What is all this crap??!!!!! And why didn't I think about all this before right now??? 

Just a few of the thoughts rushing through my head. And there were countless more.

And so labor progressed. I made it to 7.5 cm dilated before they broke my water and then, WOWZA! The contractions hit full force and I couldn't breathe. I was hyperventilating. We decided an epidural would be the best thing for me. I was a little disappointed that I had made it almost to an 8 without one, but looking back, I am glad I got it. I was at 9 cm by 11:30 pm. And then the contractions stopped. And I got so mad at my body! We waited to see if they would start up again and by 1:00 am, they still hadn't, so they gave me a little pitocin and had me do a few tiny pushes, trying to get me to a 10. Finally, at 2:00 am, it was time to push. And at 2:46 am, Donovan Alexander Reed was born. Lots of emotions, lots of feelings, lots of smiles and tears and oohs and ahhs. Here was my little miracle baby. He was finally here. In my arms. And I was home.

My mom arrived in the early afternoon, having driven from Spokane, WA. Donovan is her first grandchild and she was smitten. It was so nice to have her there to help. She stayed until Labor Day weekend, which was a major help! Because, as much as I was in love with this little bundle of sweetness, I was also dealing with some of the rotten parts of having a newborn. I breastfed, but Donovan had so many issues latching. He was born at 6.5 lbs., and ended up getting down to 5 lbs. 13 oz. because he just wasn't able to get enough from my breast. This was when I started feeling the depression sneak back in. I couldn't even feed my baby!!!! I would sit on the couch in the middle of the night and both Donovan and I would be crying, one of us out of hunger, the other out of frustration. Feeding him was at least a two person job. At these times, my mom was such a help because she helped me stay calm and kept reassuring me that he wouldn't starve. I could do this. 

After many doctor and lactation consultant visits, the decision was made that we needed to supplement his feeding with formula. As soon as the poor baby started getting some formula, he finally started gaining weight again. And he looked less and less like a skeleton baby. I was happy that he was healthy, but I was sad that my body wasn't able to do what it was designed for. I just couldn't produce enough milk for him and the milk I did produce could be considered the "skim" milk of breast milk. But I tried really hard to just be happy that he was able to receive the nutrition he needed. He began to thrive. :)

Once I went back to work, nursing was almost impossible for me. He pretty much weaned himself off the breast by 8 months old. I was blessed to be able to quit work around this time and be a stay at home mom. Something I had wanted for ALL my life. 

I had heard from other stay at home moms that it can also be quite the challenge because you start to crave adult companionship and some kind of social stimulus. I thought that I would be fine. I wouldn't need that. I had always wanted to be a mom and now I was able to live my dream. How could I ever not want to be with my baby? 

And that was true. For about 6 months. Then I really started needing that adult conversation. I started to understand what seemed impossible for me to understand before. Once my baby started becoming mobile, it wasn't as much "fun" anymore. Most of my time was spent running after him and grabbing stuff out of his hands that he was trying to eat off the floor and telling him "no" and "get down" and "not for babies" and "please stop" and "shhhh" and, well, you get the picture. Gone were the days when I could doze on the couch holding him or bundle him up in his car seat and go walk around thrift stores. Now he wanted out and down and everywhere. And it was exciting to see him reach the milestones, but it just meant that my "stay at home life" had changed. And it was then that I fully realized what it meant to be a stay at home mom. It was so much more than napping when the baby napped or reading books or watching Baby First TV and singing all the songs to him. I was responsible for how this little baby would learn and grow and act. It was a pretty heavy realization. 

I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. I remember the moment when I knew I needed some more help in my life. I was feeling insufficient and unqualified to be a mom. I was constantly comparing Donovan to other kids and finding all the places he was "behind" in. Then the guilt would creep in and on top of my feeling of inadequacy, I began to wonder if I had made the right choice in having a child when I was clearly not able to handle it. (This is just what I was thinking. I know that many mothers feel these same things, but in my mind, I was truly failing my child).

When he was 11 months, I went in to the doc and she started me on a new medication that non nursing mothers could take. It helped a little bit. Took the edge off. But my feelings of failure continued. I felt like if I couldn't feel 100% happy all the time, that I was doing something wrong. I began to think that maybe having a baby wasn't the best thing in the world. Had I really wanted a baby for myself, or was I just trying to fulfill the role that society and my peers expected of me? And what was wrong with me, that I didn't want 4 kids like all my friends had? I must be a terrible mother. I had come to grips with the fact that Donovan should have a sibling, but only one other. And if I wanted to be completely honest with myself, I would rather not even have another one. But I know Donovan and I know he would thrive with a sibling. So the decision was made that we would have one more. But we wouldn't start to try until Shon was almost done with his Bachelor's degree. 

With that knowledge in my head, I pressed forward, trying furtively to throw myself into motherhood. That worked for maybe a month. By the time Donovan was about 18 months old, I could tell something needed to change. Not to be melodramatic, but I knew something was wrong when all I could think about was throwing the poor child out the window. Every little cry or whine was enough to get my blood boiling. I wasn't connecting with him the way I sincerely wanted to. Because on the surface, my general mood was apathetic. I just didn't care. The part of me that truly wanted him to succeed was still there, it was just overshadowed by the "selfish" part of me who just wanted him to deal with things on his own and leave me out of it. I started to expect so much more of him than any 20 month old should have to do. I wanted to know what he was saying and trying to communicate, and I would get frustrated with him when I couldn't understand him. It is totally not his fault, and I know that logically, but in the moment, all I felt was impatience and annoyance. 

Even as I write this, I am crying, because why can't I just let him be a toddler? Why can't I turn even the most annoying thing into a learning experience, rather than be convinced that he was trying to make my life miserable? What kind of mom would do that??? :( He was my baby, but all I wanted was for him to learn and grow and leave me out of it. I found it an inconvenience that he wanted me to read books to him. Annoying that he wanted to watch the same show over and over and over. Hated it when he wouldn't eat what I put in front of him. I began to punish him for being a regular, active toddler. I would wish that he would nap all afternoon so I could have a minute to myself. Let him play on his own, so I could read a book or watch a TV show or play a puzzle in my puzzle book. I was more important to myself than he was to me. Who. Thinks. Like. That???? What kind of a mother was I? I didn't even have any right to have a child. I felt like I was doing irreparable harm to him and even as I was thinking that, I didn't care..... I knew I needed help, but just couldn't get myself to try. Gah! Writing this is so hard! It makes me feel ashamed and embarrassed. :(

My son is my world and I was treating him like he was a boil on my backside. And my husband was also feeling the brunt of my indifference. I was creating rifts between myself and the most important people in my life and I DIDN'T CARE. I was a shell. I had no feelings. This was not good. I was headed down a terrible road. 

I would like to say that I "saw the light" at this point and started on my journey back. But it was just beginning. I had only begun my descent into the darkness.

_________________________________________________________________________________

END OF PART TWO

Stay tuned for Part Three

I will try to post it before Thanksgiving

Thanks everyone!

Let's make it a great day!

Let's get real for a moment. Part One.

Friends, I am TERRIBLY nervous posting this. Although I know that it is a necessary step in my healing process, it is an incredibly personal admission and it makes me super vulnerable. I also know that no one who reads this blog will judge me for sharing my story and if I can help just one person with their own struggle, then all this discomfort will be worth it. Some may think that I am divulging too much. Some will be thankful for me telling all the nitty gritty details. And some will probably be shocked by the things I write. I promised I would disclaim any difficult details on this journey of mine. So here it is. 

**DISCLAIMER**

THESE NEXT FEW POSTS WILL REVEAL AND DISCUSS SELF HARMING THOUGHTS AND BEHAVIORS. 

Thankfully, the physical harm done to my person was minimal. My thoughts, on the other hand, are quite disturbing, even for me to reminisce on. 

So please, if you think it will be hard or cause undo stress or anxiety, take a moment to ponder whether you want to continue to read these posts. The last thing I want to do is dredge up past unhappiness or bring any unwanted, painful memories to surface again. 

I understand that some people will find these posts informational and interesting, others may find them cathartic in some way, and yet others may find them difficult to swallow. 

So please proceed with caution. 

This story will be in at least three segments. I will post this disclaimer before each one. 

Does that cover everything? I hope so. 

This post will most likely take me a few days to write and refine. But I think this is important for me to make sure I am thorough and detail oriented, in the hopes that it may help someone else out there maybe struggling with some of the same things I am. 

I can't pinpoint the exact moment that my life became more than I could mentally handle. On the surface, I have a great life! And here is why:

• I have a wonderful, loving, patient, long suffering, and gentle husband who loves me with his whole heart.
• I have an adorable, intelligent, active, sweet and loving miracle baby who loves me with his whole heart.
• I have a temple marriage and am active in my ward at church. And I know I am loved by my Heavenly Father. 
• My amazing husband is on his way to receiving the needed education to take care of us very well in the coming years.
• I have a simply astounding family, both direct and in-law, who love me with their whole hearts.
• I have too many close friends and acquaintances to count, who love me dearly and will willingly do anything I need.
• I have a physical body (although not in the best shape at this point in time) that has treated me very well for the 30 odd years that it's been mine. I am actually very healthy except for my weight, which I am working on currently.
• Although we are FAR from rich, we have enough funds to provide for our family in comfort.
• We live in an apartment for free because we are going to school. This is an incredible blessing at this time in our lives.
• I have a kitten who loves me and brings me comfort and makes me laugh on a daily basis.
• I have food, a bed, clothes to wear, a car for transport, hobbies, a television, a computer, a cell phone, a piano, and other appliances and luxuries that make life so much easier.
• Running water, electricity, plumbing, and heat and cooling mechanisms.
• And much more, I'm sure!

So it is apparent that my life really is amazing and there is absolutely no reason I should be struggling. I need to get over it and give myself a kick in the pants. I need to take a nap and snap out of my stupor. Put my big girl panties on and man up. Right?

No. 

Not right.
I wish it were as easy as all that.

So without further ado, here is my long, complicated and maybe boring life story. :)


I was diagnosed with depression in January of 2009. My first indication that something was wrong was when I was at work (I used to work at a bank, as an assistant manager) and I would find that I would get just so ANGRY over every little thing. To the point where, when a customer came in the door and started heading for my desk, I would have to grit my teeth and clench my jaw and grip my desk tightly in order to just listen to what they were complaining (98% of the time) about. I found myself not really caring about anyone's problems. And not really wanting or desiring to alleviate their concerns. I was never one to swear back then, but while I would go through the motions of understanding and trying to clarify on the outside, inside I was swearing up a storm about how stupid people were.  I would go home for lunch and find I had horrible jaw aches and headaches from all the clenching and grinding I was doing. I started to become apathetic. 

Now those who have known me for many years will probably wonder how this is possible. I have always tried to be very caring and sympathetic in my daily routines. I'd like to think I am a caring person. But this was not the case at work. Looking back, I could tell I was just burning out working in that profession. It was rough. It wasn't me. And I started to get worried. 

At that point in my life, I couldn't quit my job and find another one. I had just gotten a big raise and I was trying to buy my own home. So quitting and finding a less stressful job was just not going to happen. So at my annual exam, I talked to my doctor about it. She said that depression sometimes manifests itself that way. Through anger and impatience. Especially if one was not prone to it in the first place. Which I was not. I was always described as caring and thoughtful. But I had turned into Attila the Hun, and my desire to start swinging my club at people had become almost unbearable. I started on my first depression meds at that time in my life.

And it got better.

For a while.

And it just so happens that that was the year that everything changed in my life, for the better. I did buy a house, I found a dear friend of mine as a roommate, and I started working out and losing some weight. I also met Shon (through his cousin, who also happened to be my roommate! Best year ever!), and we became fast friends. We started dating in November of 2009 and I had never been happier! 

The depression and anger I was feeling had taken a back seat to the love and elation that comes with finding your eternal companion. I still had moments (especially at work) but for the most part, all my dreams were coming true and that is what occupied my thoughts.

We got engaged in December of 2009 and married in May of 2010. 

I was still on the medication and it was working for the most part. The first few months of marriage flew by in a blur of happiness and discovery and sweetness. 

We had decided to start trying for a baby in December of 2010. I visited my doctor and she told me that the meds I was on were not ones I should be on if I was trying to get pregnant. So I weaned completely off of the medication. 

It went fine for the first few months. In my mind, I would be pregnant within 6 months. I mean, anyone who knows my family history, knows that getting pregnant is pretty darn easy. I figured I would be like my mom and have it only take like one to two months for my fertile body to do it's thing. And as the months passed with no double pink line, I started falling deeper and deeper into sadness. To tell you the honest truth, those two years that we had tried to get pregnant are somewhat of a foggy blur. I'm not sure if it was because I was so focused on what my body was doing or because I felt like my happiness was directly related to whether I got those two pink lines. 

But I do remember that Shon started getting worried about me. Poor guy. When he met and married me, he had no idea what he was in store for. Of course, he knew that I had been taking medication, but I feel like those first few years of marriage were just the tip of the iceberg in relation to the crap he takes from me now. Seriously, I'm so surprised some days that he has even chosen to stay with me. Because, let me tell you, I am NOT a fun person to be around when I am having one of my depression lags.

So we drifted along for two years. But I do remember people telling me:

"It will happen when it's supposed to happen" 

"Oh, don't worry about it. You're still young!"

"Are you sure you're doing it right?"

"Sounds like you guys just need to be practicing more (wink, wink)" 

You know.... all the things that help soooooo much when you're trying to conceive.

Side note: 

Please, for the love of everything that is holy, do NOT say these things to anyone who has been trying to get pregnant. I know they may seem comforting or an attempt to lighten a serious situation with a little humor, but coming from someone who heard these things over and over and over and over again, they DO NOT comfort and the humor I felt about the situation was nonexistent. 

I would smile and say something like: 

"Yeah, you're right"

"I know, I still have a lot of child bearing years ahead of me"

"Um, yeah, I'm pretty sure it's not rocket science and seriously, how many different ways are there to do that particular thing?" 

"Haha, yeah.... (you suck)."

Believe me, we can tell who is being sincere and who is not. The best thing to do, in my opinion, is to just not ask. It's really no one else's business. And the pain that comes with not being able to conceive runs so deep that there really isn't anything anyone can say to make it feel better. 

Sorry about the soapbox, but I feel like I need to share that. Now that we have been trying for almost nine months to conceive number two, I am starting to feel the fear again. But it's certainly not the same this time around. No one is really asking about anything and I am thankful. If people want to share with friends or family about their struggles, they will. 

Thank you for bearing with me and I hope I didn't offend anyone with my words. I just know that pain way too well and it makes it all the worse to know that EVERYONE around you is watching and waiting too. 

Love to all! :)

End of soapbox rant.

Where was I?

Oh yes.

So I remember starting to feel so sad all the time. Not wanting to do anything. Always focused on my cycle. 

On the evening of December 8, 2012, when I was talking to my mom on the phone about the fact that my period was supposed to have started the day before, and that I was cramping, so I knew it was going to start in a day or so, that I had quite the breakdown. I was so sad that we were rounding on two years of trying. Twenty-three months in November. Two whole years in December. 

Nothing anyone could say could make me feel better. I remember looking up depressing songs on YouTube that night because I just wanted to wallow. I also remember thinking that I should start the medication again just to take the edge off of my misery. The next day, Sunday, when Aunt Flow still hadn't started, but the cramping was continual, I started to wonder if the cramps indicated something else. I looked up early pregnancy symptoms and wham! One of the first ones was cramping. I thought, "Gosh that stinks! A lot of the early pregnancy symptoms can also be the symptoms you get with your period. What kind of sick twisted joke is that??" But the more I read about it, the more I thought about it. I talked to Shon and told him what I had read. He said to take a pregnancy test in the morning. I remember being super nervous and trying so hard not to get my hopes up. I didn't sleep well that night. I woke up at 6:00 the next morning and woke Shon up to be there when I took it. He was really groggy. Shon is NOT a morning person. I sat on the toilet, did my business, took the test and waited. 

TWO LINES!!!!

                                                                                                                                                                            

END OF PART ONE
Stay tuned for Part Two
Hopefully I will get it posted by Sunday.
Thanks everyone!

Let's make it a great day!