Transparent Moment--I am not perfect

Parenting is something I thought that with my decade plus of nannying would come naturally to me. Yet I'm continually learning that, like marriage, it takes work. Some Most days are exhausting. But there are days in particular that wear me to the ground. I am not proud of those days; the days that I tend to lose sight of the mom I want to be, the one I always pictured myself as...always smiling, saintly patience, relishing the little things knowing they won't be little forever... Instead, I find myself succumbing to yelling, sighing, and speaking in negative tones all of which unintentionally suggest belittlement. I find myself frustrated with things like spilled milk and potty accidents, my patience having flown out the door by 8am...only hours, sometimes minutes, after having gotten up. On those days I am the mom I never dreamed I would be. And I feel like right now those days are happening too often.

You see I have weaknesses. I have buttons and as my boys are getting older I feel like not only have my buttons gotten larger therefore making them an easier target, but my son's jobs have also become that of Button Pusher. Lately, I have found myself continuously in a battle with one of my sons. I say jump, he walks. I say walk, he jumps. I say jump hoping he'll actually walk and it's like he reads my mind and gosh darn it he jumps and he'll comment quite literally "what? you said to jump." He knows how to push any and all of my buttons and push them he does. And his screams? This child knows how to have a meltdown. He's been adept at screaming since 14 months old. Oh my goodness does he have it down. It's days spent dealing with this that I'm ready to throw in the towel before the day even begins. And by 7 pm when my husband gets home I have regretted so many words/actions/sighs/etc that have come out of my mouth that I swear I don't deserve to parent these little people. And heaven help me if I have to take all 3 to the grocery store at the end of said day. It's easy for me to feel like I'm a bad parent.

There is a difference though between a bad parent and a good, though imperfect one. A bad parent does all those things and does nothing to change. A bad parent shouts and belittles without apology. An imperfect parent however recognizes the problem and seeks change. An imperfect parent apologizes for wrongdoings and asks for forgiveness. I am a good though imperfect parent.

I am not perfect nor should I expect my children to be. After all, for the most part my kids are just being kids. It's my own stuff that I need to address first. I need to ask myself...Why are my reactions so quick? What is distracting me from my kids? Oftentimes I've found that it's in my perceived need to look like I have it all together that I flounder the most...clean house, nutritious meals, compliant children, fun parties, clean/ironed clothes, I could go on and on. I try to have control of everything and of course my kids are going to push against that control. Feeling that need to have it all together is not only going to make my kids feel like they're failing me, but I will also always feel like I'm failing myself. And that's not fair to anyone. So I've been challenging myself to let go and let them live. Mud fights in the backyard are a must (though I may need gentle reminders from my husband). Fort building, Legos, and/or puzzles need to be daily occurrences. Basically, I've been carving out time to just be with them, all distractions aside, each day. Additionally, as much as I can I try to get my own agenda stuff done when they are preoccupied with other things.

And my son's screams/screeching? Sure, there are some discipline issues that can be worked on but for the most part he is saying Love Me. Love me for who I am, not who you want me to be. Love me for all that I am, not frustrated for all that I'm lacking. Notice that I have feelings and they are different from my brother. Hear me. Put down your phone, turn off the computer, stop doing chores and.be.with.me. And you know what? When I take the time to do just that, I do hear him. I may get very little else done during the day, but I am with him. And you know what else? The meltdowns stop.


**Parents--What do you find distracts you the most from your kids? Am I the only one that feels that as my boys are getting older my buttons seem to be an easier target for them?

Transparent Moment; Watching your child die

In the middle of my Preschool Series: Choosing a Preschool, Nut Allergy in Tow, I was presented with this article (thank you Christina!). Please read it and some of the comments that spawned from it (at the bottom of the article) and then continue on...

Have you ever witnessed your child dying?

He clung to my husband's neck, desperately, pleading with his eyes...Daddy, please help me breathe.

The very first time it happened we got the call the day we brought our younger son home from the hospital, 3 weeks shy of our oldest turning 2.  "Kadyn is struggling to breathe. We think he might have put something up his nose that is now obstructing his airway. We're going to take him to Urgent Care (closer than the ER)."

My husband raced to the Urgent Care to meet them while I stayed home with our newborn son. After a series of tests determining there wasn't an object obstructing his breathing, yet having an O2 level of 61% and the inability to get a reading on my son's lungs, the Dr determined it must be pneumonia.

My husband called me with the news.

I was screaming in to the phone. NO! He isn't sick. He wasn't sick. It is NOT pneumonia. Despite my plea, they were prepping him for x-rays to determine the type and severety of pneumonia all the while wasting precious seconds of my son's life.

My little boy clung to my husband's neck, desperately, pleading with his eyes as if to say Daddy, please help me breathe. His breathing quick, shallow, and gasping all at the same time. His nose had ceased to function...there was no air coming or going. When he tried to talk, his voice was inrecognizable as his own. He limply lay in my husband's lap, his face ghost-like in whiteness, the normal exuberance g.o.n.e.

Fortunately (praise God!) he had a button up shirt on...the only reason x-ray tech asked my husband to take my son's shirt off. And what possibly could be what saved his life.

As soon as my son's shirt came off, my husband was clearly able to diagnose him himself. IT'S AN ALLERGIC REACTION! He screamed. The blistering hives covered his little body. In some parts it was so severe the lumps were purple, the size of raised quarters. How the Doctor missed this during intake is beyond me.

What happened next is all a blur of quick reaction and life-saving efforts.

Until that point we had no idea our son had a life threatening allergy to most tree nuts. We are so grateful it happened when it did and not out in the middle of nowhere camping; no medical support in sight. So grateful for the quick response of those caring for him to take him right to Urgent Care. So grateful that he had a button up shirt on. So grateful he's beginning to recognize his allergy for what it is, knows the seriousness of it, and understands that it's okay to be different. So grateful that foods are labeled as safe or unsafe so we can begin to teach him (someone had commented on Facebook the other day "I think it's ridiculous that things like rice need to be labeled with food allergies...it's rice." If you don't have to look for those labels in protection of life, you don't understand their importance.) So grateful that he's alive. And...

We are so grateful that we found a preschool that is willing to work with us on this.

I was saddened at reading this article, not only because it angered me at the parent's response to publically protest by picketing but also because I can understand how it seems extreme to parents that don't have to deal with life-threatening food allergies. To an extent I get both sides; really, I do.

What really gets me though, the entire purpose of the whole post I've written, is in regards to the comments after the article...all 31 pages of them. I was appalled at some of these comments that followed the article. APPALLED. To say that the child in this article must be homeschooled is absurd; just like all the references to "some parents can only afford to feed their kid peanut butter" not everyone can afford to live off of one income and homeschool their children. To say that this child should be kept in a bubble? How dare you. To say that I'm a bad parent for sending my child to such an unsafe environment and out of my protection? Who are you to judge. To say that it's ridiculous to rely on prayer? God is bigger than that. We are fully aware that the next time it happens he may have even less time, will require an epipen, and e.v.e.r.y second will count. But we're striving to do our best, give him the best, and teach love and acceptance of everyone. And we will continue to be prayerful the entire way.

Despite all of this, I will have grace and recognize that until someone has watched the early stages of death, they wouldn't, and couldn't understand.

Transparent Moment--You don't have a disease, you're pregnant!

Today's Transparent Moment is written by Kenna. Kenna is the Mommy of 3; their adorable little boy, Brighton, and two angels in heaven, Bennett and a little sweet pea. Kenna is a Mommy that embodies grace, poise,  and is a true example of a wonderful mom. She and her husband have been through so much in the past couple of years, but their strength is astounding, admirable; their story is heart breaking. Thank you for sharing your heart Kenna! I think it's such a great, important reminder. You truly are remarkable!

"You don’t have a disease, you’re pregnant.”

My sweet husband had to remind me of this on an almost daily basis when we were pregnant with our first child, our little girl, Bennett. I’d respond, whining, “I know, but I’m so sick and so tired.” And he’d remind me of all the women that had been having babies for thousands of years. Well, I wasn’t those women; I’m me, and I am living now, not in the 1800’s when they were a lot tougher! He wasn’t trying to be unsympathetic, he was just trying to be real―trying to take some of the attitude out of my attitude, so maybe I wouldn’t focus on all the throwing up I was doing. I remember saying, “She better be cute!”
Then came the thirty week appointment. I was beginning to feel like after 210 days of throwing up, I was finally getting there! It would all be worth it once we met our little lady. But the unfathomable happened: at the end of the appointment, our doctor was unable to find a heartbeat. My world collapsed.  In the midst of all my complaining, I hadn’t stopped to realize: I was so deeply in love with my sweet little girl. She was my future. I’d have died for her. Guilt knocked me over like a tidal wave. In an instant, heartburn and puking became cherished memories, shared with a child I would only be privileged to hold once.

After that experience, the first time I heard a woman complain about her pregnancy, I felt like I had been stabbed in the heart. I wanted to punch her, but I also so badly wanted her to know how lucky she was to still be pregnant, and how much I wanted to take her place. She should know my pain: then she’d know better than to complain. Immediately, I knew I couldn’t really wish this hole of despair on anyone, and a rush of guilt filled me. My husband gently reminded me that I didn’t have this unfair perspective before, either. How could she know?

Thankfully, we were able to get pregnant with Brighton ten weeks later. I remember beaming each time I ran to the toilet or lost it in the sink. "The baby’s growing!" I’d cry.  And I hardly noticed the pulled groin muscle that caused me to limp my entire pregnancy. Around seven months, our little guy sat on my ureter, causing a sharp pain in my back―like a kinked muscle―that lasted until Brighton was about a month old.  Instead of whining, I chuckled at his masterful movement. His movement was constant: and I praised him for his reassurance, no matter what time of day or night.

I am now so aware of women everywhere that don’t have the I-got-pregnant-the-month-we-started trying-and-posted-the-positive-test-on-Facebook-and-forty-weeks-later-had-a-perfect-vaginal-delivery- and-posted-the-healthy-baby-photos-on-my-Wall experiences.  Our stories are all different―there are women that lose more babies than they get to hold, or ones who try for years to conceive, feeling each month like they’ve had a loss when they start their period.

If you’re pregnant, were pregnant―or know someone that is―and do not have this perspective of loss, it is invaluable to be sensitive to those who are hyper-sensitive. And, please don’t take it for granted. Remember, to have a baby, without any complications, is truly a miracle!  Every day of nausea, every uncomfortable moment, is not an inconvenience, it is a gift. You were given life―allowed the incredible, indescribable chance to bring a child into the world. Not everyone gets to have this experience―even those who want nothing more or nothing else. Please be nothing but thankful.

Readers: Kenna's heart is transparent in this post. It's so difficult to lay your heart out there with such a tender topic. I hope you can see how deeply caring she is. She knows there is nothing they can do to bring their sweet little Bennett back, but hopes that they can use her life to help bring perspective to others, or a sensitivity to others tragedy. Thank you Kenna for sharing your heart. 

Transparent Moment--The dreaded will

There it sits.

Staring at me. Mocking me.

Is it that I'm lazy? No, that's definitely not it.

Is it that I don't have the time? That could be true, but time can always be made for such important things...especially when I'm not even writing many blog posts.

So why haven't we done a will, especially in the past 4 years of having kids?

For awhile we were able to use the excuse that it was too expensive to draw up a will. I mean who could afford thousands of dollars in lawyer fees to get a proper one done? As wonderful and needed as a will sounded, we just didn't have that kind of money.

Then, I found this at Costco...

You can buy one too here

Ugh. There goes that excuse. This one was on sale for $30.

Another excuse we've used is we'd like to have life insurance in place first but we don't have the extra $50/mo for that...yet someone we always manage to scrounge up enough for coffees and other luxuries. Not to mention, now that I have the software from Costco I could recreate the will when we finally do get life insurance.

So again, now that my excuses have been wiped away, I pose the question: Why haven't we done a will?

Truth: I am afraid of admitting what a will means. No, I am not afraid of dying. Rather, I am afraid of admitting that something could happen to my husband and I leaving our children. Alone.

Our children. The ones we would do anything for. The ones that we are neglecting with our negligence. Our children; the biggest part and only reason we have to do a will. The thought that we might not be the ones there for every moment of their lives makes my head hurt. Admitting that they may grow up not knowing their mommy and daddy makes my heart hurt. Tears fall at the thought. So instead, I've suppressed those thoughts and tuck the software in a back drawer far from mocking and even farther from sight.

And we've already done the hard part. We know if something happens to us our kids will be left in good hands. No, great hands. Hands that will love both of our boys as their very own. Hands that will firmly set boundaries, yet allow them to become unique in their own ways. Hands that will embrace their personalities and help them flourish. Hands that we love, adore, and respect deeply. Hands that will allow and encourage them to remember us if we're gone. Hands that will look out for their best interests, raise them with the same morals, and grow in a relationship with Christ. Hands, though not ours, that will be the next best thing.

God only You know our future. Please grant us peace and strength to complete this ever important task...for our children.

I can do all things through him who strengthens me. 'Philippeans 4:13'

Readers: It can be scary to admit we aren't the ones in control. We don't have control over when we live and when we die. It's been written in His book since He knit us in the womb...only God truly knows. But if we live each day in fear, think of all we'd miss out on! And yet, as I'm realizing, it's so important to make sure you have everything lined up for the 'just in case' times. Do you have your will complete? What did you use to complete it? Lawyer? Software? Something else entirely?

Transparent Moment--A letter to my boys

Dear Kadyn and Kai,

I always intended to write you each letters when I was pregnant, but those months flew by. I thought "maybe on your first birthdays," but those too have come and all too quickly gone. So, here I sit, no momentous milestone sparking the urge, but having an urge just the same. And maybe that's for the better; without a momentous milestone, you can understand how heartfelt this is.

When I was pregnant with both of you I would spend hours wondering what you were going to look like, smell like, feel like. I wondered what it would be like to hold you, to hear you cry, to see you smile. I spent hours wondering about the personalities you would develop, and the men that in a blink you'd become. I spent hours praying for you, for your friends, for your teachers, for each of your wives. The pictures that formed in my head during those 9 months were just bold outlines in a coloring book waiting to be filled in.

Of course I had/have many hopes and dreams for you. I had hoped you would never have to experience how harsh this world can be. But alas, Kadyn, you've already begun to experience that first hand at your preschool. I had hoped I would be a perfect mother to you, leading you, guiding you, but I've realized along the way that I'm not perfect, and that is okay. Nor do I expect perfection of you...just your best. I hope that you'll strive for your best every day, but not be too hard on yourselves on the days that doesn't come easily. I could go on and on...

But, the one thing that kept me from writing down all of my dreams and hopes for you was that I wanted you to create your own. I want you to fill in the pages of your coloring books with your own beautiful colors. Sure, I would love to influence what those are and become for you, but I also never want you to feel like you've failed me if you don't live up to my dreams for you. And yet, there is one thing that I feel a strong urge to convey. One thing that I hope you will always know, and always remember. One thing that I hope with all hope and pray with every prayer.

I hope you always know how much we love you.

Much of the world sees loves as:
A strong affection for one another arising out of kinship or personal ties; unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another.
Definition received here

But I would also like to include how God models love in 1 Cor 13:4-8a:
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but it rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
Verse received here


Oh how I try to be patient. It can be so hard to be kind all the time. Sometimes I want to scream and cry out, and sometimes I do. And for this I am truly sorry.

Love is unconditional.

In my line of work I hear all too often "I love you, but..." I love you but you're driving me crazy. I love you but if you continue to do that we'll have to kick you out. I love you but I hate the way you're acting. I love you but I can't stand...

To your daddy and me, there are no buts to our love. We love you both equally and whole-heartedly. Nothing will ever change that no matter what. Please don't mistake this for an excuse to do whatever you want; there are always consequences for ill choices. We may not love some of the choices you will choose to make, but your choices do not have to define who you are. Nor will they define our love for YOU. Ill choices aside, you are you.

And I vow to always separate out my love for you and my dislike for your ill choices. I love you Kadyn. I love you Kai. That will never change.

So, instead of a but, I would rather think of it as "I love you and..." I love you and I always will. I love you and I hope that through the harshness of this world you can also find glimmers of beauty. I love you and I love you so much that I will establish boundaries and consequences. I love you and one day, when you're ready to launch I will release you, trusting that we've helped raise you in a way to know that you're leaving with your very best wings to soar with. I love you and there is nothing you can do that will make me love you any less. Nothing. I love you and even after you launch I will still be loving you the same as I did the day you were born, the same as I did the first time you said Mama, the same as I did the day you took your first steps, the same as I did/will your first day of school, the same as I will on the first day you...no, I take that back...I will love you even more because every day that goes by, my love grows exponentially for you both.

I love you my sweet boys, yesterday, today, tomorrow and forever...unconditionally. No buts.

Love,

Your Mom(my)

Readers: If you made it all the way through that letter, thank you. 

Transparent Moment--the 2 week wait

The two week wait. The agonizing, hope filled, nervous, what makes 2 weeks seem like years long time between when you ovulate and when you expect your period. The time when every twinge, every ill feeling, every slight difference to your normal day sends feelings of wonderment and hope rushing to your head. It's the longest 14 days/336 hours/20160 minutes/1209600 seconds EVER.

This period of time is different for those that are actively trying and those that are not; those not trying don't even know it exists unless they have an 'oops.' And yet, those that are trying know all about the different emotions the 2 weeks can bring. It's different for males and females; males may be very excited and hopeful but it's the females that analyze every possible early pregnancy sign their bodies might possibly, maybe, hopefully be doing. And it's different for those on their first two week wait of actively trying and for those on their 6th+ two week wait, and even more so for those on the 12th+ two week wait; for those on their first, it's a feeling of excitement and for every month that goes by those 2 weeks become torture, agony, longing, desire, and yet, somewhere in the back of their heads, hope is holding on that this might be the month.

The first few months of trying to conceive can be fun, exciting, hope filled. The two week wait is thrilling. But once you pass that third month mark questions begin to creep in to your mind. However, statistics have shown that it can take an average of 6 months to conceive so you're still able to push those questions aside. Come and go the 6th month, and the questions begin to force themselves a little closer to the front of your brain. But again, statistics have shown that 90% of women actively trying to conceive will get pregnant within their first year. So, again, you're able to push those questions aside...but not entirely. And definitely once the year mark passes the questions settle in. They take up permanent residence; "What's wrong with me? Are we doing something wrong? Will it ever happen?" Sex can easily become a chore instead of something fun, charting, temperature taking, planning, ovulation sticks, and countless pregnancy tests. And the two week wait... And even though you haven't miscarried, it can seem like a part of you dies every time your period begins. It can be easy to look at pregnant women with disdain. Or, hear stories of women like myself(here) with 2 beautiful boys and harbor feelings of resentment, anger, remorse.

I was very fortunate that our first was a 'surprise.' We thought we'd get pregnant sooner than we were planning on since I wasn't taking birth control (and other forms of protection aren't effective when they're in the drawer) so I didn't suffer the 2 week wait like many women. We were equally fortunate that we got pregnant with our second right away; I only had the first cycle of two week waits to sit impatiently through. Even though I don't have direct experience with painful two week waits, my heart breaks when I hear stories from my friends.

Readers: The two week wait means something different to everyone. What does it mean to you? Share YOUR transparent stories!! 

Transparent Moment--Miscarriage

I debated about posting this because someone dear to me recently had a miscarriage, but as always, I think it's so important to know you're not alone. This post was written by a beautiful woman who has chosen to remain anonymous. A special thanks to her for sharing her heart on this difficult topic to discuss.

As I stood in the bathroom, hovering near the pregnancy test, I could feel my heart beating in my chest. This would be our 7th month of trying. Seven long months of waiting, wondering. But our wait was over.

It was positive.

My hands shook as I took 3 more tests just to confirm that the first wasn't a dud. All had the same results. Oh my gosh, we were pregnant!

Elation, excited, ecstatic, happy, and thrilled were all too small of words to describe my feelings. We were on cloud nine. We had been trying for 7 months, each month wondering if 'this would be the month.' My husband and I ran out to purchase a gender neutral outfit to mark the special day.

Immediately we told our friends and family closest to us and within a week it seemed like the world knew. Everywhere I looked I saw beautiful pregnant bellies and glowing mamas. My heart would skip a beat anxious for my belly to begin growing. Even at just shy of 8 weeks I already had dreams and ideas for the life growing inside of me. Despite not having a belly yet, my hands were constantly drawn to my tummy. I was in awe of all things baby. We were so excited to find out if I was carrying a baby girl, or a baby boy.

And then it happened. My world came crashing down.

It started as just a couple drops of blood. But it quickly began to gush. And the cramping. Oh, the cramping.

I lost the baby. The one I had been dreaming about, picturing in my head, naming. Gone. Nothing could have prepared me for that moment.

At first I didn't want to tell anyone. I wanted to be in my own sorrow for awhile. But, the calls kept coming; calls of wonderment on how my 8 week appointment went, wondering if we were going to find out if we were having a boy or a girl. I couldn't ignore them forever. My once fluttering heart felt like it had stopped beating.

I asked my husband to call our family and friends. I just didn't want to face them. A few cards and flowers showed up with wonderful well-wishers. But they didn't help take away the pain I was feeling and I couldn't stand putting on a fake smile while they were there. I cursed myself for having shared our exciting news with the world so soon. It just meant that many more people that we had to tell of our devastation. And it was amazing how many people didn't know how to respond at all. After all, the baby inside of me died.

I couldn't believe how long the bleeding continued. It was as if it was mocking me, reminding me of the barrenness of my tummy. The cramps were actually comforting, a true pain that helped my heart feel less. I still continued to see pregnant women everywhere, as if they were screaming at me that were able to carry their babies to term and I couldn't. And the outfit we picked out still sat in the closet, beckoning me to feel the soft fabric, feel the pain, and whispering the evil thoughts that began encroaching; what if I would never be able to have a baby? What if this kept happening? What if something is wrong with my body and I'll never be able to bring a baby to term? Did I do something wrong? What if I hadn't worked out last week? What if I had taken it easier the past few weeks? What if, what if, what if...

Slowly, the bleeding stopped. The pain was too raw to even think about trying again any time soon. And yet, after several months our desire to have a baby took over my fear of another miscarriage. Miscarriage--what a dirty word. Sure 20 to 30 percent of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, but I did not want to be on that end of the statistics again.

Miraculously I actually got pregnant again, right away this time. However, my heart was heavy; would the same thing happen again? My husband and I had originally talked about not sharing the news until we were in the 2nd trimester, but despite the fear, we were also excited and couldn't stand keeping it to ourselves for that long. We decided to tell our close family and friends, but also shared our hesitation with them and asked them to keep it quiet until our first appointment at 8 weeks when we were scheduled to have an internal ultrasound.

From the day we found out to the weeks leading up to the internal I couldn't sleep. I couldn't breathe; it was if my very breathe was being squeezed out of me. Every twinge sent me running to the bathroom. Every cramp made me burst in to tears thinking it was happening again. But the ultrasound came and went. The baby looked good. I felt sick as a dog, but the baby looked good. Hallelujah! However, I still couldn't shake the feeling. I knew the risk was still high until the 2nd trimester and because of that I couldn't allow myself to attach to this baby in the same way. I refused to buy anything baby until the 2nd trimester. I refused to think about names. And I refused to dream about the future.

But the second trimester came and went too. Finally I could allow the excitement to take over. I was pregnant. I was one of those beautiful, glowing, round, protruding bellied, pregnant women and I was finally bursting at the seems with excitement and anticipation. Our true 'wait' was over.

Just an update, a healthy, beautiful baby girl was born. And just a few months later (they thought it would take several months again!) they are now cautiously beginning the journey again as they just found out they're pregnant with baby #2. Congratulations and thank you for sharing your difficult story.

Readers: Hopefully there is someone out there that can find comfort in these words I shared with someone recently: Losing a baby, at any point, even pregnant, is still losing a baby. Despite not being able to hold (in most cases) a baby that dies during pregnancy, the baby is still yours. And the hurt is all the same. And it is important to know you are allowed to hurt, to cry, to grieve. And though you may feel like it at the time, you are not alone. Another thing to hold on to is that one day you will get to meet this baby. It may be a loss now, but eventually, it will be a gain! You will have a child to meet in heaven! If you didn't know before, you will then know if "it" was a he or a she. And you will walk hand in hand sharing all kinds of stories. But for now, allow yourself some time to grieve, and try not to beat yourself up with the 'whys.' 

It can be hard for friends and family to know what to say when a baby has died, hard for friends and family to know what to do, to know how or if they should comfort. Suggestions?

© Transparencies of Motherhood 2011

Transparent Moment--Down Syndrome

Typically I save Transparent Moments for Tuesdays, but this came up and I had to share it. So here's the reason I'm blogging at 10:30 pm on a Saturday night.

Something a pregnant mom rarely voices, but so often thinks about is "will my child have an extra chromosome?" That magic number 21 turning the chromosome count to 47 instead of 46. That fear that wracks so many women until their baby is born.

Down Syndrome.

At my 12 week appointment with both of my pregnancies I was asked if we wanted to do the chromosomal testing. I had asked what the reason for the testing was told that the biggest determining result would be finding out if our baby would have down syndrome. I asked if it was suggested. My Dr. then asked me in return "would the results matter to you?" I had a simple answer. No. If we were to have a baby with down syndrome then of course, we would seek God in figuring out how to be the best parents we could be. But, I still had my doubts. No, it was more fear. It bugged me, that I was fearful of down syndrome, yet accepting of it if God chose us. I think it's the fear of the unknown. The fear of uncertainty. The fear that I wouldn't be able to provide the baby/the child/the adult, with everything he/she would deserve. I really don't know what it is.

However, there is a beauty in Down Syndrome that often goes unnoticed. 

I want to ask you all to consider something...

Please read this blog:

www.kellehampton.com 

Her story is utterly beautiful. It's wonderfully transparent. This woman is amazing. Her gift of writing and photography is wonderful. And what a mom; her strength is astounding, her commitment is admirable, her love for her children is endearing. And her daughters? BOTH beautiful. 

Then, please go here:

Pay it Forward  

Wonderful. Beautiful. True. 

Readers: After spending time reading Kelle's story, I have to say the fear has subsided. I love that she gives a voice to down syndrome in such a lovely way. What were your fears when you were pregnant? And please consider donating! 

Transparent Moment--back to work--a Mom's perspective

"A working (out of the home) mom gets to have a cup of coffee in peace and quiet."

"A working (out of the home) mom gets to have a break from her children so she comes home refreshed."

I was blessed with 11 weeks home with each of my boys after their births. With my first, I felt that I had just gotten a chance to feel connected to him when it was time to head back to work (thanks postpartum depression). It felt so unfair. Just before heading back to work I tried to spend extra time snuggling, cherished the middle of the night nursings, and ate up as much baby as I could. I dreaded going back to work. I dreaded leaving my son. I constantly worried about what I was going to miss, about the fact that I wouldn't be there to teach him. I knew he was going to be in loving hands, after all, his grandmas were going to watch them. And yet, I sobbed the entire way to work on my first day back. The. Entire. Way.

Following the birth of my second son I felt connected with him right away. I didn't feel rushed through the holidays and really got to enjoy just being with my kids. My second was an amazing sleeper so I actually felt rested after his birth. I loved being home. I did art projects every day with my older son, made Christmas cookies and gingerbread houses, had some sort of out of the house activity most every day, and felt like I was able to gracefully handle having two kids. Two fit me. And it fit being home with them.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as hard going back to work after my second. Though I still dreaded it, I didn't sob. Maybe we can call it tears streaming, but not sobbing. Why? I didn't feel robbed of the bonding time like I did with my first. I felt bonded to him and knew what to expect with the whole juggling work/kids thing. And I was so grateful that they would be with grandparents during the day. After maternity leave with my first, all the way through my second being 7 months old, I was working 4 days a week, 1/2 day in the office, and 1/2 day at home.

Then life changed. It made sense for me to go to work full-time and for my husband to stay home with the kids when they weren't with the grandmas. Though uncomfortable for me, we stepped into it knowing it was God's purpose, and as such, He would give me strength to weather the discomfort.

Some days are harder than others. Some days I feel I spend on my knees praying for that continued strength. Some days I have to let the cleaning go. Some days I have to say yes to take n bake pizza. Some days I have to put the kids to bed an hour early even if it means they will wake up an hour early. I have come to realize that my house won't be perfectly clean all the time, my kid's parties would have store-bought cake if I could find a place that doesn't make cake on the same equipment as nuts, and there are some days that I just can't get to blogging (sorry I've been on blogging hiatus for awhile). And you know what? All of these are okay.

One thing I've found though is that I have to be excited about working. If my kids see my constantly complaining about how I want to be home with them, they may view working as a negative thing. And I am so thankful for the job that I have. It's allowing me to provide for our family. It's something I do actually enjoy. It's allowing our kids to be watching by a combination of my husband and our moms. All things I am so thankful for.

But the guilt. Oh, the guilt. God, please take away the guilt! I feel guilty when I'm working...like I should be home with my kids. And if I do get to take a day off to be with them (usually when they're sick), I feel guilty that I'm not working. I feel guilty that I'm missing out on so many things (the biggest right now is the one on one time that everyone but me gets with my youngest while my oldest is in preschool). And I feel guilty if I take any me time (the reason I force myself to get up at 5am to work out; it's before I head to work and before my kids wake up). Some days I just long for opposite circumstances.

I am not saying that working moms have it harder. I am not saying that stay at home moms have it harder either. I am saying that being a working mom has been emotionally harder for me. If you want to see a great series about how ALL moms work, go over to The Mommyhood Memos.

But that myth I quoted in the beginning about working being a break from my kids so I feel refreshed when I come home? I am usually so drained from work that I have nothing left to give my kids. I try though. It's frustrating that I get them at the end of their day...when they are crabby (oldest doesn't nap, but needs to), fighting, ready to eat, etc. It pairs real well with my drained, crabby attitude. I think they can sense that.

And yea, that coffee break where I can enjoy a cup of coffee in peace and quiet? I would trade it in to stay home with my boys in a second. Rewarmed coffee 10 times? Yes, please.


Readers: How do you get "you" time? How do you balance that with your spouse?


© Transparencies of Motherhood 2010

Transparent Moment--a dad's perspective--returning to work

I received this Transparent Moment from Josh, a friend and fellow blogger, author of Chucking Line and Chasing Tail (an awesome blog on fishing!). Josh and his wife just welcomed their first son, Carson, on November 4th.

The alarm jarred me awake unlike any other I have ever heard.

My wife and my little  one week-old man were sleeping peacefully next to me, and I had to get to work.

There was one thing I wanted to do at that point.  Kick the alarm off the nightstand and snuggle up to my newly completed family.   But of course, I couldn’t.

It’s something that we guys don’t often want to talk about.  The tinge of guilt of having to go back to work.

The week I took off was fantastic bonding time with my new son.  The time he spent on my chest was awesome, feeling his every little breath, his sneezes, his growing strength and robust lung power.  The little dude can cry, that’s for sure.  

As the week progressed I spent time cradling his little head in my lap and watching his little eyes dart around as he took in his new world.   Nicknames started to take hold to our new addition.   He likes to eat, a lot, and people keep telling us how beautiful he is.  We are very proud parents.

I kept telling myself that a week would be enough and I’d head back to work.   The sense of obligation to do a good job at work is driven by my goals of giving my wife the opportunity to stay at home if she wants to.  Working at a 100% commission job, keeping the peddle to the metal is vital.

That means, going back to work before I really wanted to.

And I felt guilty.

I try to replace the guilt by stealing Dad and Son time when I can.  The early 5am feeding time when he and I have the one way conversations where I tell him what I am excited for him in his new life.  The first time I get to pick him up after I come home after slaying dragons all day.  I know I am going to miss a lot whilst at work, but to uphold a life that I see for my family in my minds eye,  I leave as the sun rises and work hard.

Why, because if I let them down….the guilt will be worse.

I am excited to meet this challenge time and time again.


Readers: Are you a working parent, or a stay at home parent (not that you work any less if you stay home!)? If you work outside of the home, how was your first day back to work? How do you deal with the "guilt?" Stay tuned next week for a mom's perspective on back to work after baby.

Transparent Moment--When being a mom doesn't come naturally

This is a guest post from fellow blogger, Jess. Jess is mommy to Charlie (3 1/2) and Lillian (17 mo). 

When I read or hear the birth stories of other first-time moms, I sometimes sense a subtle pang of envy. Not because of the birth itself—my own first experience with childbirth was wonderfully positive—but because of their response to that squirmy, screaming, ooey-gooey baby blob placed on their belly. 

I have always adored children and always knew I wanted several of my own. I started babysitting in fifth grade. I loved spending my time with kids, even into high school and college. When my husband and I actually talked about having a baby—or, as we liked to say, “We’re just no longer preventing having a baby”—I was thrilled. We knew other couples who had young children, and it was a joy to see these families interact. We were eager to have our own brood, our own little family community.

Being pregnant was my new favorite thing. Minus the leg cramps in the middle of the night, I loved everything about pregnancy. It felt right to be heading into this new life stage. I anticipated feelings of completeness and fulfillment and joy upon the birth of our first child. I assumed that my husband and I would fall naturally into our new roles as parents.

Throughout labor, much to my surprise, I wasn’t necessarily thinking of the reward at the end—I just wanted it to be over! And when the doctor placed my baby boy, my baby Charlie, on my stomach, all I could do was thank God that the pain was gone. When I held my baby and nursed him for the first time, I didn’t experience that feeling I had anticipated deep in my gut that I would do anything for that child. I didn’t feel a heart-bursting, breath-catching love for him. Those moments after his birth felt so matter-of-fact: “Yes, we have a baby now. Yes, it’s a boy. Yes, we’re parents.” 

The first two days of Charlie’s life were wonderful. He slept a lot, nursing was going smoothly, my parents were in town and absolutely in love with him, and we had a steady swarm of visitors to support us and adore him. Then my parents left. And Charlie turned a corner. For the next year of his life, daytime sleep was not his preferred activity. 

Mothering, I found, was not a natural instinct of mine. I sought advice and answers from books and friends, clinging to their words of wisdom, desperate for instruction on how to make sense of my new life. I didn’t feel confident, or even capable, in caring for my baby. I was in awe of him, for sure, but I didn’t feel overly affectionate or protective. Nothing deep down in me was acknowledging, This is my son.

On day two of Charlie’s life, a nurse came to our home to prick his little heel. (We lived in Canada at the time, where some of these tests and procedures aren’t done immediately at the hospital.) Charlie was wailing, and my mom, nearly in hysterics, was about to punch that nurse in the face for hurting her grandson. I sat there on the couch, wondering about my lack of emotion. 

On day eight, Charlie was circumcised. My husband and I took him to the doctor’s office, where finally, I became aware of a motherly instinct I didn’t know I had—I was ready to fight for my boy! The nurse directed us to the exam room, and with tears streaming down my cheeks, I held Charlie’s tiny hand as the doctor did the deed, but I wanted nothing more than to unstrap my baby from that plastic molded tray and cuddle him and whisper into his ear that everything would be okay. 

That day was a turning point for me, though mothering didn’t suddenly become easier. I still didn’t trust my gut instinct on how to care for Charlie, because I couldn’t even sense it. I was certain I didn’t have it in me. But at least I had an experience to look back on—a day I could point to and say, “See? I do have an instinct to protect and care for this baby. I’ll do anything for him. Because he’s my son.”

But still, parenting didn’t feel at all natural. Mothering—more specifically, being motherly—took work. While other parents gushed about spending time with their kids (even in their free time, it’s all they wanted to do!), my husband and I longed for the pre-baby days when we could leave the house at a moment’s notice. While other moms discerned between their baby’s cries and knew exactly when Baby was tired and when Baby was hungry, I felt completely at sea. Charlie cried often, and I usually felt like I was guessing as to how to meet his needs. When he was about two months old, my sister-in-law came to visit. We had just started letting Charlie cry to fall asleep, and I was miserable. It wasn’t working, and the words from the parenting books were mocking me with each passing nonexistent naptime. One particular afternoon, I laid my baby in his bed for a nap. He screamed and screamed and screamed in our tiny little apartment, but I insisted that he stay there. He needed a nap! Finally my dear sister-in-law couldn’t take it anymore, and she quietly asked if she could go pick him up. I let her, while I shut myself in the bathroom and cried my eyes out. I didn’t feel competent; I felt like giving up.

Somewhere along the way—thank you, God—I realized that I had become aware of my son’s needs and that I knew him. But I didn’t arrive at that place quickly or easily. I grew into my role of “mom,” and I’m still growing, almost four years later. Most days I struggle to put my kids’ needs before my own desire to clean house or send a few emails. Putting myself first is what comes naturally. But I’m becoming more and more convicted of the fact that I didn’t quit working full-time so that I could be a stay-at-home housekeeper. My job right now is to be mommy to my children, and that often involves doing things I just don’t feel like doing. And when they have needs that must be met, it involves trusting my instinct to meet those needs. I know them; I love them. And I’ll do anything for them, because they’re my kids.

Thank you for sharing your heart Jess. 

Readers: Leave Jess some comment love :) It takes a brave mommy to share her vulnerable heart so transparently. 

Transparent Moment--Birth

Birth. A day that will change your life forever. This day looks different to everyone. For some, it's actually days...plural. For others it may be so fast you almost didn't make it to the hospital. For some, it may not even happen at a hospital. For others it may include the best Neonatal Doctors and Nurses there are. For some it might be a c-section. For others it might be au natural. For some it may be the day you adopted your children. For others it may be the day you became a foster parent. But whatever you call it, however you experience it...it's amazing.

I always hated hearing horror stories of birth. You want some? I have my own to share. However, that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about the awesomeness of birth.

Have you ever heard it said that God has a plan? He has a purpose and a reason for everything. Well, birth is certainly no different. With my first I thought for sure I was going to go in to labor early. I had my heart set on it in fact. I remember thinking every tightening of my tummy was a contraction. I remember every ache, wondering if this was it. And then they started. The night before his due date I was watching a movie with my hubby and my in-laws. I remember feeling them begin in my back and wrap around to my lower abdomen. Despite the fact they were 20 minutes apart I was in denial. I didn't even say anything to my husband about them because I had thought "this was it" so many times before. But this was different. In the back of my head I knew. I went to bed that night thinking if this is it, they will wake me up. They didn't. I was so disappointed. They started up again right after breakfast on his due date. My contractions went from 20 minutes to 3 minutes in just a few hours. It was incredible how my body just took over. How it knew what to do. Fast forward several, okay 12, hours to the actual birth of my son. Yes, I did get an epidural. Because of some side effects to the narcotics in the epidural, and a pretty high fever on my part, the actual birth was so surreal. As he was crowning and I felt like I couldn't push any more my Dr put a mirror up so I could see his little head. His tiny little head. His hairy little head. He had DARK hair! That gave me the extra burst of energy I needed to push him out...3 hours after his due date. I felt like I was watching from outside my body. And yet, when they laid my son on my chest for the first time I knew...I knew this was my destiny. I was destined to be this little boy's mommy.

The second time around I didn't want the epidural. I was anticipating labor to be similar to my first. It wasn't.  But again, God had a plan. This time I ended up being induced. I had to have pitocin. I still didn't want the epidural. Fast forward 12, no 16, hours and I finally gave in to the idea of an epidural. No sooner did the epidural get put in (was never fully numb they had to take it out again right away) but it was FINALLY time to push. Maybe it was because I had finally given in to my body, finally allowed it to feel the pain...or maybe God knew I would need the epidural I was dreading...but slightly numb, I was able to push out my 9.8 lb baby...two hours after his due date. My Dr told me if I hadn't had the epidural (did I mention how much I didn't want it...won't tell you why because I said this wasn't about my horror stories) I probably would have been in an emergency c-section because of his size. They placed him on my stomach immediately. I was so overwhelmed with love...and again, I knew...I was destined to be this little boy's mommy.

Did I have some scary moments? Sure. Do I want the world to know them? Maybe another moment for transparency, but not this time. This time I am sharing the wonders of birth. Time time I'm sharing what I tell all mommies out there...do not be afraid! If you are, that's okay too, and actually fear is completely natural, but know that birth is incredible.

With both boys (almost 2 years apart) my heart stopped when I saw them for the first time. I breathed in their newborn smell. Carefully inspected their tiny little bodies. Wept tears of happiness. I kissed their little heads over, and over again. Was this real? Was this little being really the one that had been kicking me the past 9 months? I was immune to their wails. I was grinning. This was our baby. The life and breath of me and my husband. The gift God had entrusted to us to raise. This was the personality I was beginning to see develop inside the womb. This is what he looks like, what he feels like. What a gift.

No matter what your child's BIRTH day looks like...cherish it. Scream a little louder. Sigh a little deeper. Pray a little longer. Love a little more. Own it. The BIRTH day is the day you become a parent...over and over again for every child you have. A.m.a.z.i.n.g. And never again will you celebrate a birthday in the same way. You, as the parent, will always remember that moment in time when you saw your baby for the very first time. As the years go on I would like to think that even for just a moment, on each birthday, I will pause and think of that scrunched up little face wailing at me from the delivery room. And I will say to him "Welcome home baby. I am your mommy. And I love you so much."

Readers--Tell me about your child's BIRTH. I want to know what you loved about it THE MOST!

Transparent Moment--Body after Baby

Fact: Most women walk out of the hospital room, baby in tow, still looking 4 to 5 months pregnant.

Fact: Most women's body shape changes after baby.

Fact: If this is not the case for you, I will briefly not like you.

Conversation about a picture that was taken 4 days post baby #1 (I was in a wedding 4 days after having my first):

My oldest son: Mommy, is that baby brother in your tummy?

Me: No, that's baby you that Daddy is holding.

My oldest: Why is your tummy so big?

Hmmm.

Conversation 1 week post baby #2 (In an allergy consult with our oldest son):

Nurse: Oh Sweetie, you probably aren't in any condition to hold your son for the shots. How far along are you anyway?

Me: Um, I'm not pregnant. I just had the baby a week ago.

Awesome.

Conversation JUST YESTERDAY (keep in mind my youngest is 2 next month):

My youngest son: Mommy. Tummy. (points to tummy)

Me: Yes. Good job.

My youngest son: leans on my tummy Skishy! (huge grin. Means squishy)

Me: Way to build Mommy's confidence love bug. 
That's because you were 9.8 lbs stinker.

Despite not doing too much in the workout department, I am thin. Yes, I don't have too much room to talk about struggles with body after baby. After all, I love my arms; lifting my kids up and down, down and up, and up even higher (bunk bed), has given me great arms. Something else I love? I have a completely supportive husband. He thinks I'm beautiful...no. matter. what. Which helps me boost my confidence. And I have to admit, sometimes when I look at my stomach...just how it is...I'm reminded of carrying my boys for 9 months, how wonderful (you can tell that I haven't been pregnant for 2 years when I refer to my last pregnancy as wonderful) pregnancy is, and the awesomeness of birth. And yet...

Truth: I feel good about myself when I'm clothed; I'm able to easily hide my body under clothes.

Truth: I hate my naked body. Or rather, my naked stomach.

TRANSPARENT TRUTH: I usually keep a shirt on during you know what so I don't have to be self conscious. How's that for brutal transparency? (Sorry honey!)

You always hear how it takes 9 months to gain the baby weight, so be kind to yourself, give yourself 9 months to lose those pounds too. But what you see is the supermodels strutting the runway 2 months post baby in LINGERIE. Hmmm. There's a lot of pressure to quickly get body back. What you don't hear is that most women actually have to work at getting pre-baby body back, some women will always have slightly different bodies. You mean I have to work at it?! And I have to work at it in between not sleeping, changing diapers, working full-time, cleaning the house, writing blogs, taking pictures, entertaining, bathing, feeding, clothing, etc.?! 

Fortunately, losing the weight was never the issue for me. I nursed both boys and the pounds literally just melted off. I could eat every Christmas cookie at the table and still lose weight. I was down to my skinny, pre-baby weight within 4 weeks. However, my body was, and is, different. I understand that many women will briefly dislike me for even posting this, because let's face it...I'm thin and my weight is right where it should be (and I totally understand some of you are far from your goal). However, it's all about how I feel.

Since being pregnant I've purged almost every article of clothing I owned before I had my kids. Nothing fits. My hips are wider, muscle smaller, stomach and ribs wider, boobs smaller (how was that even possible?) and the weight is dispersed very differently. Body is just different. I go shopping for new clothes for myself and usually come home with bags of clothes for my kids. Not because what I found was too good of a deal to pass up, but rather, I get so depressed trying on clothes where I just can't take it anymore. It's easier to buy something in 2T or 5T that I know will fit my boys and they doesn't need to try it on. Needless to say I don't have many clothes right now.

Problem is, in college I destroyed my knees running and haven't taken the extensive time necessary to properly rehab them. So exercise is a challenge for me. Running was what I loved and I never feel like I'm working out unless I'm running. Silly, I know. But I'll admit, I've been afraid to work at it too because in addition to my knees, my stomach muscles severely separated with the birth of #2 (did I mention he was 9.8 lbs...), I got quite a few stretch marks under my belly button with #2 (and all out front?!), and I have a ton of extra skin (combine 9.8 and all out front). 

But now I have a goal. Hawaii in late Spring. Sun. Sand. Family. Hot...Bikini? I haven't worn one of those in 4+ years! That would be nice.

So, I'm starting P90X...but taking it really easy due to the bad knees. And you know what? If I'm still wearing a tankini in Hawaii, but feel good about myself, that's okay. Who's with me?

Readers: What's one thing you love and one thing you hope to change about your "new" body?

A recap of Transparent Moments

Yes, it's true, I don't really have a post planned for today. Instead of writing last night I spent quality time with my husband :) However, I thought it was a good time to recap on the Transparent Moments

1. Transparent Moment--Am I Cut Out For This ; a look at a mom's greatest fear of a child being unable to breathe.
2. Transparent Moment--Gender Envy; I have 2 boys, beautiful, wonderful, perfect, and yet, I long for a girl too. This post is the most popular post of the blog.
3. Transparent Moment--Postpartum Depression; enough said.
4. Transparent Moment--Comparisons; do you ever compare yourself as a mom? How about your kids?
5. Transparent Moment--Endometriosis; a guest post from a brave mama willing to talk about her pain and struggle getting pregnant and the happy result.  
6. Transparent Moment--Mommy Needs Friends; the most recent Transparent Moment. A look at the desperate need/desire for mommy friends.

Readers: Anyone out there willing to be transparent for a moment? I'm looking for future guest posters :) Your topic is your truth. Which of the current Transparent Moments is YOUR favorite?

Transparent Moment--Mommy needs friends

A friend is someone with whom you dare to be yourself.

Frank Crane

Just as in all parts of life, parenting without friends can be lonely. Both stay at home moms and work outside of the home moms alike need mommy friends. Someone to go to when there's an awkward mommy question. Someone to lean on when times are hard. Someone to count on when you need them the most. Someone who understands body after baby. Someone who has been there as a mom. Someone who is going through motherhood. Someone to just be a mommy friend with.

Sure, my husband is amazing at being there when times are both good and hard, and he even flatters me when I complain about my post-baby body. But what about when I need hubby advice? He's obviously pretty biased on that one. Or, what about when I'm pregnant and need to know if it's normal to hurt down there? Sure, I could google it, or even call my doctor, but sometimes I just need reassurance from a friend...someone who's been there. My husband and I are going through the exact same experience at the exact same time with the exact same kids; sometimes it's nice to get another perspective on parenting. What did you do when your child...


Yea, mommy needs friends. 

Growing up we had neighbors down the street that had kids the exact same age as my brother and me. Our families did everything together; Halloween parties, trick-or-treating, Christmas parties, game nights, you name it, we all did it. I miss that. I crave that. I thought it would come easily for me. Truth be told, it hasn't.

When we had our first son we didn't know many other people our age with kids. Actually, we didn't know anyone in town; sure, we had acquaintances, but we didn't have any friends. Enter operation mommy needs friends. There have been afternoons where I'm literally sitting at the park trying to strike up conversation with every mom. Sometimes I feel like I'm hounding other moms just to find some that I click with. When I look around I usually feel so alone; it seems like everyone at the park is there with someone else.

It's hard for me to believe that I am the only mom that is looking for friends. Something tells me I am not alone. But, is it possible that every other woman in the world already has a group of friends that they can't handle one more? Is it that everyone is too shy to speak up that they need friends or to actually pursue friendship? Or, is it that I'm a work out of the home mom and my schedule doesn't click with most? Whatever it is, it is alienating. 

It's been suggested that I go to a MOPS group. Or get involved in another mom group. Have you ever noticed when mom groups meet? During the day. Usually mid-morning. Apparently, work out of the home moms don't want to belong to a mom group.

I'm thinking of starting a match.com for mommies. After all, isn't that what it seems like? We're constantly assessing potential friends...Do we get along? Do we have similar interests? Do our kids get along? Are we roughly the same age? Are our kids roughly the same age? Do we have similar periods of free time? Do we share the same beliefs? And something I never thought I would run in to...do we have the same beliefs around holidays? (Am I the only parent that is allowing my kids to go trick or treating, and am I the only one allowing them to believe in Santa, and the Easter Bunny? You mean you don't want to come to my kid's birthday party because it's a pirate theme?). Yup, pretty sure mommymatch.com (no idea if this type of site actually exists) would be a great idea.

Fortunately, my efforts, combined with a lot of prayer, and some pretty incredible ladies making the effort too, have paid off. The other day I received an incredible email from a friend. Yes, a mommy friend! Her words were music to my ears. As you might have seen in my post from yesterday, my love language is written words of affirmation. This. Was. Perfect. So dear friend, thank you. Thank you, for YOU. For somehow knowing the perfect timing, for knowing my heart, and for calling me to transparency.

And a shout out to other mommies...YOU are not alone. Keep trying. I know stay-at-home mommies struggle with this too, I've been there. Just keep getting out, get involved. Or, just wait for mommymatch.com ;)

Readers: What have you done to meet other moms? Can I challenge you? My challenge...reach out to someone you don't know very well, or affirm a friendship you do. Invite someone new over for a play date...what's the worst that could happen?


© Transparencies of Motherhood 2010

Transparent Moment--Endometriosis

Today's Transparent Moment is written by Katie; author of Being the Browns

For our third wedding anniversary, in August 2006, my husband and I took a trip to New York City. It was on this trip that we decided we would like to start trying for a baby.  Little did we know the years of struggle, pain, fear and disappointment that we were about to embark on.

All of my life, the only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to have kids and I wanted to be a mom. I was unsure of what to study in college, never really felt that I had any special gifts or talents, but knew for sure that if I was nothing else in this life, I was going to be a mother.

We were living in Vancouver, BC at this time and some friends of ours had recently announced that they were pregnant. We loved that they had kept it a secret as it was such a fun surprise when they told us the big news. So we decided not to tell anyone that we were trying because we thought it would be really exciting to surprise our friends and family. This decision lead to approximately two years of feeling isolated and alone in our struggle to get pregnant. Countless negative pregnancy tests, many alcoholic drinks refused, and I even stopped exercising because I thought that maybe the impact of running was too hard on my body. But I kept it all to myself. When anyone would question when we were going to have kids (as people always do), I would nonchalantly shrug and give a generic answer like “when the time is right” or “when we’re more settled.” I read books, we had sex every single day some months, I had acupuncture and even tried eating or avoiding certain foods.

After a year of trying to conceive, we moved across the pond to Scotland (my husband was embarking on a new schooling adventure) where I continued acupuncture but quit soon after because it obviously wasn’t working and I was spending far too much money on treatment (those elective treatments are sadly not covered by the amazing free health care in Scotland). Within a couple of months, I went to see a doctor. Since we were both young and it had been over a year, my doctor started doing blood tests and referred us to a fertility specialist. I had numerous blood tests at different points in the month and my husband’s sperm count and mobility was also tested. All the tests came back normal. Of course I was relieved that we were normal, but part of me almost wanted something to be wrong so that we could fix it, or so I could know once and for all that I wasn’t going to get pregnant…ever. I started to become bitter, I was angry at God, confused and sad. Slowly, one by one, all of my close friends became pregnant or pregnant again. I was thrilled for them and glad that no one seemed to be having trouble getting pregnant like we were, but at the same time I wanted someone to understand what I was going through (even though we were still keeping it all a secret at this point).

It wasn’t until the end of September 2008 that we finally got our appointment to see the fertility specialist. We met our doctor who reviewed and explained, in more detail, the tests that we had already had done. I was then given an internal exam. Once again, everything seemed fine and normal, except for a small cyst on my right ovary. The doctor was not overly concerned as ovarian cysts are quite common and usually go away on their own.  He also told us that this should not be any cause for infertility. He said that he would monitor the cyst and told me to come back in a couple of months.

On the bus ride home after this appointment was when we decided that we needed to finally share with our close friends and family what was going on. So over the next several months, we slowly began to share our news with those closest to us. The love, prayer and support that came from sharing was overwhelming and incredible. We were sad that we had not shared sooner and relieved that we could now open up to people who loved us.

In the meantime, the cyst had started causing me unbearable pain once a month (during my period). I had to miss days of work, I blacked out on more than one occasion and pain meds didn’t seem to help. It would hit me out of nowhere and I would be down and out. In December 2008, we went back to the fertility specialist to check on the cyst and to continue discussing our fertility options. The cyst was obviously still present, it had not grown but it had not shrunk either. The doctor told me that we could schedule surgery to remove it or leave it alone and see if it goes away on its own. He recommended surgery and I decided to follow his advice. The laparoscopic surgery was scheduled for March 31, 2009.  At this appointment we also began discussing the possibility of IVF treatment. He explained it to us, told us about the waiting lists and said that at our next appointment (post-surgery) we could discuss it further and we could decide if we wanted to begin the IVF process.

In January I had a hysterosalpingogram done. This is the “dye test” where they inject dye into the cervical canal to investigate the shape of the uterine cavity and fallopian tubes. This test was also normal, of course.

After enduring the pain for three more months, on March 31st I checked into the hospital for my surgery. I had several conversations with interns, nurses, the anesthesiologist and the surgeon.  Next thing I knew, I was out of surgery and waking up, through a fog that lasted several hours. I stayed one night in the hospital and the next morning the surgeon came to talk to me about the surgery. Everything had gone very well and they were able to remove all of the cyst. The surgeon then asked me “have you been having difficulties trying to conceive?” It turns out the cyst was an endometrial cyst caused by endometriosis which can be a cause of infertility. We were so happy and relieved that we may have finally found an answer. Though we didn’t know for sure that this was causing our infertility, we had renewed hope and began to feel much more positive about the whole situation.

It took me about two weeks to recover and I have a small scar that will always be there. Life went on as normal for the next couple or months and in early July we took a trip to Italy. It was there without the stress or pressure of ‘trying’, on vacation, having a great time and without even realizing it, that our baby was conceived. And on March 30th, 2010, exactly one day shy of a year after my surgery, our amazing, perfect daughter was born. 10 fingers, 10 toes and more than we could have ever dreamed.

Just recently Katie and her husband celebrated their sweet little girl's 6 month birthday. Thank you Katie for sharing your beautiful story. 

Readers: It's often so hard to share your heart...even with those closest to you. My hope for you and for those around you is that once you've shared your story (whatever your story may be), you too will be surrounded by love, prayer, and support.