I’m an ok mom, and I’m ok with that.

The Mom Revolution

I feel like I am in the middle of a revolution (a momolution, if you will). For the first time since I became a mom, I feel good about what I am doing for my family.

Mom Guilt is REAL

And man, I was hit with it HARD. (Struggling to bond with my child for the first 4 months didn’t help, but that’s a different story).

The mom guilt strikes me the most with going to work and letting my daughter watch TV.

Work

I felt like a bad mom for leaving my daughter, the little human I created, at daycare while I went to my teaching job.

I would think to myself, why am I here taking care of other people’s kids but not my own? 

I would try to think of ways to leave. To make it work with me being home. I would make myself sick because of it.

Then it dawned on me: I am a rockstar teacher, who teaches rockstar students, and yeah, the environment might not always be the best but it’s what I’m meant to do. God definitely gave me this vocation.

I may not be with my child, but she is somewhere where she is oh so loved and has FUN! Most days she is disappointed that I am there to pick her up!

As a bonus- I’m doing what I love too and with some amazing people! So, I see it as ok in my book!

Overall, just do what feels best for you and what you think God is calling you to do. If that’s staying home- that’s ok! If that’s working- that’s ok too!

Screen Time: Friend or Enemy?

I see screen time as a frenemy ( I’m just doing all kinds of word combos today).

When my child watches TV, it makes my soul ache. I think about how bad it is for her, how the fast moving pictures could cause ADHD (I have no idea if this is true, it’s just my anxiety), or how I should be spending more quality time with her.

For these reasons, I limit TV to one episode of her favorite show a day (Storybots). But that’s on a good day.

Sometimes, I’m trying to make dinner and when nothing else stops the incessant whining, then TV it is.

It’s not perfect, but it’s ok for me.

And that’s how I feel about parenting in general. Not everyday is going to be the best day ever. Not every choice I will make as a parent is going to be great. But I know that every day I try to do what’s best.

And that’s ok with me.

 

-A.Faith

 

 

From darkness to light

Postpartum depression.

What an opening line- right?

I haven’t written on here in a while. Mostly because I feel like no one want to hear the endless ramblings that are going on inside my head, but lately the ramblings seem to ring true for a lot of people, so I might as well share my story.

Finding out I was pregnant was the best day of my life. Knowing I was carrying a life inside of me was such a tremendous blessing.

I dreamed of snuggles, breastfeeding, little giggles, and of what their little face would look like.

2 days before I was induced my husband lost his job.

Panic.

Suddenly nothing was picture perfect anymore.

I wrote a letter to my baby apologizing for  giving it life when I could not afford it. For being irresponsible. For being a disappointment.

That’s what I felt like the day she was born.

A disappointment.

I lost too much blood giving birth- but not enough to consider it a hemorrhage. It was just “close to one.”

I couldn’t get her to latch correctly at the hospital. A nurse gave me a disappointed look and told me I may need to give her formula.

I was in too much pain to walk but a nurse told me I had to or I would never heal.

On that walk I almost passed out because of all of the blood I had lost but the nurses told me I had to continue.

I was failing. Failing at birth, failing at healing, failing at feeding my child.

I went home and continued to feel my failure.

My mind snapped and told me it was a mistake. Having this baby was ruining my life, my husband’s life, and my daughter’s life.

We told the doctor and she put me on medicine.

It only got worse.

Until the breaking point when the thoughts of harming myself or my baby became too great and I was sent to the hospital.

I left not being allowed to be alone with my baby, but I was healing.

After a few days I called the hospital asking for some help because I could feel the thoughts creeping back.

Their solution was to call CPS saying I wasn’t following the guidelines of my discharge.

I was. I had a loving family member with me at all times.

But again, I was a failure.

I kept fighting. Kept praying. Kept visiting my therapist.

Then finally it clicked.

I could see a woman breastfeeding and not feel regret or sadness that I was unable to.

I could hear see someone with their child and not feel jealous of their bond.

I could feel joy for a pregnant woman instead of fear for her.

I was ok.

Now I have the most beautiful relationship with my daughter. She is a light in my life that I can’t imagine living without.

-A. Faith

If you are struggling, you are not alone. Talk to your doctor and make it clear what you need. 

Here are some resources that were helpful: 

Postpartum health alliance

Postpartum Support International

And reading the book of Job in the Bible. He goes through a great amount of suffering but he remains faithful to God.

 

Regret

Sorry it has been so long since I have written, it has been an insane few months that has got me thinking a lot about regret.

Regret is my biggest fear. Will I regret not going on that trip? Not buying that new car? Not taking chances?

Or the classic- should I have bought that? Did I say the wrong thing? Did I just ruin a friendship?

I want to have a life full of happiness where I can look back on everything and smile- but that’s not reality, is it.

I have witnessed alcoholism, divorce, lying, cheating, fear, carelessness (or caring too much), and I worry about my life. Will I get divorced? Will I be lied to someday? Will I make a horrible choice that I can’t turn back from? The unfortunate answer is- who knows.

So as I sit, worrying about regretting things in my life- I am wasting my life.

I am wasting my life worried about regret (can I regret regretting? That’s too much to think about) anyway… why worry?

I am a big believer in God (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) and only HE knows the plans laid before me. So I can sit here wallowing in the fear of regret or……

I can LIVE!

I can pray that I would follow the correct path, sure there will be bumps in the road (maybe even some mountains) but I have to keep going. I can’t sit here and have a fear of regret of things that have not even occurred.

If you are sitting there worrying like me, (even if you are not a believer in God), please remember to live your life.

Truly LIVE it and take the obstacles as they come.

Savor that first sip of coffee, take the time to talk to a loved one, try just sitting in silence and listening to the world around you, and remember that there is so much to live for.

 

–A. Faith

Pumpkin pie

Wow, it’s Thanksgiving again!

For me, that means another one of my birthdays has recently passed-oh and my mom’s birthday-oh yeah and my sister’s (we are all a bunch of November babies).

It also means that a TON of memories have been made.

When I was thinking of what I’m thankful for, I started thinking of memories. Memories of laughing in the kitchen playing monopoly with my cousins (oh yeah and the memories of one of us crying when we went bankrupt), drinking tea from a nice mug because I was too young to drink coffee, making leaf piles- just being a kid.

But around this time of year one memory stands out the strongest-

making pies with Grandma (Meema) and my sister.

I am the honorary pie crust lady (I really do roll out a mean crust), my sister makes the pumpkin pie fillings, Meema slices the apples at a wicked speed, and my sister and I get to mix in the cinnamon and sugar into the apples (and lick our fingers afterwards).

This has been a tradition for as long as I can remember and at first I thought “I’m thankful for that tradition.”

But then I remembered what makes those memories and traditions special- the people.

The people that gave me memories and traditions and shaped me into who I am. When I look back on my life it is filled with pumpkin pies, game nights, sledding with cousins, chaotic family dinners, weddings, graduations, hide and go seek, and it is all of these people who were with me to make these memories that I am thankful for.

So thank you to my mom, dad, sister, cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents for the childhood.

And thank you to Meema for the pumpkin pies- memories that I will be thankful for for the rest of my life.

~A. Faith

 

To be little again

This morning I checked the news. 

I hear that is what adults do-they stay informed. 

This morning I read that 5 police officers were killed in a planned attack. 

This morning I didn’t want to be an adult anymore. 

I remember being in middle school, and wanting to grow up. To be able to drive places, to do what I wanted, to buy a dog, to marry a handsome man- you get the idea.

The way I thought adults behaved and lived their lives is way different than what it actually is.

Being an adult means realizing the world is a scary place and learning to live with it. 

When I was young, I thought I was going to marry my first love. When my mom told me that most people don’t end up marrying the first person they fall in love with, I thought she was lying.

I thought that the world wouldn’t be so cruel as to have you fall in love with someone and then have them drift a part- but then it happened. And I moved on.

I thought being a high schooler meant that you were going to be skinny and have lots of friends.

But then I was bullied for my weight, for my love interests, and for my personality.

I thought having a job meant that you would be able to support yourself.

Then I realized that people can’t live off of minimum wage.

I thought being an adult meant you could go and have fun whenever you wanted.

Then I learned that people were being shot in movie theaters and night clubs.

Being an adult means realizing the world is a scary place and learning to live with it.

As a person who suffers from anxiety, this realization can be crippling. I leave for work in the morning and sometimes wonder if I will come back. My husband leaves for work and I worry I might never see him again. I worry about my family and my friends, and I worry about the world.

I am living in a city where the police chief, Ed Flynn gave four “simple” rules to not get shot in Milwaukee:

• Don’t be part of a crime gang or crew
• Don’t be a drug dealer
• Don’t illegally carry a gun
• If you are in an argument with a stranger, ask them how often they’ve been arrested. If they’ve been arrested more often than you’ve been arrested, concede the point

And yet, you hear about children being shot and killed in this city, or being hit by stray bullets. Children who I am sure have done nothing on this list.

This world is scary.

If I could go back to being young and playing pretend, climbing trees, coloring, and playing T-ball I would.

But I can’t, I am an adult now. I am a part of this scary world. A scary world that I can try to make a difference in.

To teach, to love, to help, to offer a smile.

This world is so full of lemons, but I can try to make it sweeter.

We can all try.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

– 1 Corinthians 13:13

-A. Faith

Do this, don’t do that.

Do this, don’t do that.

So often society and the people in our lives tell us what is right, what is wrong, how to look, how to feel, the list could go on for days.

My least favorite is when it comes to the way I look.

I am 22, according to my BMI am obese, I wear glasses, I love patterns, I love bright lipstick, I have no particular “style,” I am simply me.

The label of “obese” surprised me, especially since my doctor used the BMI to give me this name without asking about my lifestyle. Particularly if I work out (I do), If I lift weights (I do), and what my diet is like.

I don’t think I look obese, but the name stuck. I stopped seeing myself as Andrea that loves fun lipsticks, patterns, and embraces her many styles and started seeing myself as:

obese.

But I took control of that word. I owned up to the idea that I could be healthier and have since lost 10 pounds. This was for ME, not for the term obese or the doctors that gave it to me.

Glasses is another area where I used to struggle.

Oh, you don’t think glasses can be beautiful, let me prove you wrong…

I got them when I was in first grade and hated it. They set me apart. They made me different when all I wanted to do was blend in.

At one point in my life (around middle school) I stopped wearing them completely. I would endure the headaches, try and force my vision to focus, and all for what… so that people would like me?

I even had a woman come up to me at a store once and say to me: “Why do you wear glasses? You have such a pretty face, you would look so much better without them.”

Thanks to my husband I have a new love for my glasses. Not only do they help me see (HUGE bonus) but they add fun and flair to my face (along with the bright lipstick of course).

My personality is also an area where people have brought me down.

My silly self is beautiful.

They say I am “too much,” I had a boss tell me that it made me seem “dumb,” I had teachers tell me I would not succeed because of it, I had someone ask me what medication I took to be this way (as if a happy personality cannot come naturally).

I stopped caring.

If you think I am dumb, that’s ok, because my GPA says otherwise. If you think I can’t succeed, that’s ok, because my college degree and community involvement says otherwise, if you think that I must be on drugs, that’s ok, because I know otherwise.

It took me awhile to feel beautiful in who I am, but now that I have I feel like there is no stopping me.

I LOVE my body.

I LOVE my glasses.

I LOVE my personality.

I LOVE who I am. Yes, there will be days when society looks at me and rolls its eyes but I will stand there and wave them along.

Because as long as I love who I am, and I have people in my life that love me for who I am,

than that is all that matters.

I am me. And I am beautiful.

-A. Faith.

 

 

 

People pleaser

I am a people pleaser.

I worry all the time about what people are thinking about me.

I worry that I am letting myself or those I care about down.

I worry that I am not good enough.

When I am worried about these things then I hide. My friends wonder why I’m not in touch, my family wonders why I’ve been so distant, but how am I supposed to face them when I can’t face myself?

And what happens when I am trying to do good things in my life, but others don’t see it that way?

This question is what keeps me up at night. I feel happy and sick to my stomach at the same time.

It makes me question who I am. Am I this people pleasing person I have always been? Or am I trying to distance myself? And If I’m distancing myself from this person I used to be, will my family and friends still be there?

I don’t have the answers. But I have to hope that they will fall through the cracks.

I want to be able to rejoice in my life and the choices I make, even when others may not agree. But then that people pleasing voice pops into my head: “You know that no one will respect you now, right?” or “You know that everyone will be secretly disappointed with you, right?”

After losing my faith for awhile, the Holy Spirit entered my heart and helped me see what the truth is. That I need to do what is right by God, and that all people may not agree. But it is much harder than it sounds when it feels like all eyes are on you, scrutinizing your every move.

I am a people pleaser.

I worry about my reputation.

I worry about what others think.

But I need to remember that what matters is God and what he has in store for my future.

Even if you are not a Christain, it is still true that people pleasing will not lead you to happiness and that is an undeniable truth. Not that you should purposefully go against others to harm them, but some decisions are meant for only you to make and not everyone will understand.

So be strong, worry less, trust in God, and remember that your opinion of yourself, is just as important (if not MORE important) than what others think of you.

 

-A. Faith

Being strong isn’t about pretending

This quote right here, yeah, it is bullshit. 

Excuse the strong language but it is the only word I could think of that could properly describe how absurd and awful I think it is.

Being strong is NOT about pretending.

Pretending to be OK. Pretending to be happy. Pretending that everything is perfect.

It is NOT ok to pretend.

Pretending to be ok means hiding your sadness, your anger, your fear, and letting it consume you.

You let it sit and rot. And it will continue to stew and sit and ferment until you start to believe that those feelings are just apart of who you are.

Well they are not.

You do not have to suffer through sadness alone everyday, or anger, or fear, or any other negative emotion.

All you have to do is say something. To anyone that you trust, just say something.

To me, being strong is allowing yourself to cry in front of your best friends. To tell a close co-worker about how you haven’t been able to sleep because of worry, to show your family that you are angry because of a statement that was made.

We are all human, we have all experienced these emotions and we need to be there for each other.

Enough of the stigma. It is not weak to discuss your feelings, it is STRONG.

I have a personal story I would like to share, about being strong and speaking up:

I have gone through bouts of depression before, and usually I would suffer through it silently because I didn’t want anyone to see me as weak. I would hide it. I would do what that idiotic quote above says and just smile on the outside. But eventually it started building up. It felt like a pressure inside me, looking for small cracks to squeeze out of, but I was boxed up too tight. I started cutting myself. I made sure to do it in places where no one would notice. Like my ankles, my thighs, and my stomach. It relieved the pressure. (Or so I thought it did). I felt alone. But society told me to just smile through it. Until my boyfriend at the time noticed. He asked me questions. He made me open up and let the pressure out. He became the person I could talk to about it. It helped convince me to see a counselor and to visit a doctor about getting a prescription for my depression. Talking about it took a lot of strength. But I am glad I did. Sometimes (very rarely) those negative feelings come back and I still am able to count on him and let him know that the “bad thoughts” are creeping in and I need his help. And he will talk me through it. I am very thankful that someone allowed me to open up to them and convinced me to get the help I needed.

If you are going through something, talk to someone you trust, don’t hold it in. See a counselor if you are able, just let it out. You don’t have to suffer alone.

If you are a person that someone decides to talk to. Be there. Refer them to professionals that can help if it is that serious. Or if you see someone that looks like they are struggling, just ask if they are ok.

We need to be there for each other.

The concept of being silent and acting ok isn’t being brave or strong, it is what hurts people.

So speak up or lend an ear. Be strong.

Because being strong isn’t about pretending.

-A.Faith

Resources:

This cite offers help 24/7. You can chat online or call. It is confidential and completely free and offers help from trained counselors.

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org

One sour moment

Today started out great. I got to pick up some hours at work ( I know, it sounds crazy that work would help make my day but I love my job! And I need money), I have been keeping up with eating healthier, I had a great idea in mind for dinner, and I planned on working out.

Everything seemed great,

then the sour happened.

I got some unsettling news, the day before but I was powering through it (although it was hard) I still thought it would be a great day,

then burned my hand cooking.

I know, it sounds dumb. Burning my hand ruining my day. But it just felt like an addition to the emotions I was trying to push behind me.

It was a shock. I grabbed a skillet with my bare hand that I had just taken out of the oven (curse you Pinterest one skillet meals) and it hurt,

a lot.

And then I was mad at myself as I was running my hand under cold water. I kept thinking; “You are smarter than this! Why would you just grab it? You know it is hot!”

I was embarrassed. I was angry. I then became sad.

That one sour moment made my whole mindset sour. I kept thinking about the news I had heard that had made me upset. I thought about how I wouldn’t be able to work out now because you can’t lift weights with a burnt hand, I just kept letting myself stew in negativity.

Then I thought about it- why am I letting this take over my day?

Everything was going pretty good until burned my hand, that doesn’t mean that the whole day was shot.

And the same goes for all things.

In life, we get burned.

Unexpected things happen, we make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean that it has to define who we are or what our life has to be like.

It is ok to feel the sting. In fact, embrace it. Because that is how you know you are healing.

And eventually we might get left with a scar- a memory. A reminder that we overcame something, that we learned, that we lived, and that we have the strength to continue on. 

So even though I burned my hand and even though my life is giving me lemons, I will fight through.

I will live.

And I will carry my scars proudly. Because that is what it means to live. And I will not let my mistakes, misfortunes, or unexpected circumstances define who I am.

Because I am so much more than that.

-A.Faith

 

Hello New Year

Oh the new year. It means fresh starts, change, challenges, and adventure. You never know what the new year will bring. 

There were many sour times in 2015, but there was also sweetness. 

I fell in love, gained great friends, did well in school- all sweet. 

But then I also went through a hurtful breakup full of heartache, a questioning of who I was, and doubt in my abilities- all very sour. 

But both the sweet and the sour have made me who I am, and have made me excited for the new year.

I’m excited to learn more about me. To spend time with friends and family. To have new experiences. 

2015 taught me that nothing is definite. Things are always changing, but you can take those things and learn and grow. 

Having my heart broken taught me what I deserve, questioning who I am taught me to seek the answers, and doubting my abilities made me work even harder. 

I am learning to embrace life’s challenges because it makes me stronger. I am doing my best to not be afraid. 

So hello New Year, hello new sweet and sour moments, and hello to learning. 

I am ready.

-A.Faith