KUBKID building blocks by Janod... the toys that grow!

With the celebration of Paisley's 1st birthday, she ended up with some pretty cool toys. I have to say that some of these toys are just absolutely amazing! Why didn't they have this when I was little?! I love the combination of educational and creative and fun all in one. A particular gift that really stood out for me were these Janod KubKid Building Blocks. Enough so, that I wanted to make sure I shared with all of you. Each block/cube has a different side and they make up 6 different illustrations. Janod is an educational toy manufacturer based out of France, however, you can order from most retailers such as Amazon or Barnes & Noble or Scholastic.

They blocks are hollow and designed with high color graphics of farm animals. It's fun to watch Paisley learn to stack and build with the blocks. They are rated 18months and up, which I imagine is meant for the puzzle aspect. Each side put together creates a vibrantly colored farm animal. Absolutely adorable. I've watched Paisley play with them until she falls asleep, as they are constantly entertaining to her! Whether you are giving these as a gift for a child, or for your own child, these are highly recommended! I think I may just pick up a set to drop off at the girls' daycare.

Janod fb page: Click here!    Janod twitter: Click here!

Life goes by in the BLINK of an eye!

Truer words have never been spoken! I'm not sure when it happened, or how even... it seems like we were on the countdown until Paisley could come home from the hospital. Then just days until Linda (MIL) came in from England, then the holidays, then the pre-op for each surgery... and we were saying.. oh, that's next week. And oh, that's in 2 weeks... and then suddenly - it's AUGUST! 

The preparations for a celebration of a life hard fought and won were looming in the back of my mind. I mean, how do you not go overboard? But how do you reign yourself in from being psycho-crazy-decorating-madness-mama? Thankfully, with the help of a realistic, yet supportive hubby - and some really great friends!

I wanted to show you some of the prep that went into this occasion, and then of course, some pics of the party and some pics of the birthday girl!

Making BUNTING. My friend KeKe and I decided we were going to hand paint ... that's right, HAND PAINT bunting for the party. I went a little nuts and said something like, "Hey let's make this look like a used car-lot!" And the next thing you know, I'm painting a scene from Super Mario Bros on a triangular piece of canvas at 2am. *shakes head* At one point in time, we roped the guys into painting with us, but our OCD nature took over and they were quickly fired.

Rolling LUMPIA. *This part of the post is directed at Katie, since I'm SO NEGLECTFUL and constantly forget to email her my recipe*

Recipe (this makes approximately 100 rolls):
Lumpia Wrappers (aka Spring Roll Wrappers)
1- head of cabbage
2c- carrots
1c- snap/snow peas or green beans
2.5 lbs.- boneless, skinless chicken breast cooked or ground beef uncooked

- Use a food processor, it's so much easier! Food process everything until it is minced. Mix with 2 egg yolks (separate the whites for later). Add seasoning. *As with all my recipes for lumpia, pancit, etc... if you don't eat a particular thing, don't add it. Ex: you don't eat cabbage, you can sub bean sprouts. Or sub ground pork for ground beef. Season with seasonings you prefer. Some people prefer salt and pepper. or some prefer a little more spice. I typically always add in some sort of meat tenderizer, because it does help when cooking.*

Deep fry lumpia until they turn golden in color and float in the pan. If you are using the precooked chicken, you only need to cook for a short time.

Big THANK YOU to Jenn, Rosemary and KeKe for your lumpia rolling slave labor assistance! And a big THANK YOU to Martha and Mary... for everything else :)

As you can see, the party was a success, the birthday princess made out like a bandit, and we are once more reminded how quickly time flies, how much our family is blessed and how grateful we are to have the friends that we have! Thank you to everyone who came out, who sent well wishes, who helped us through this year... just... THANK YOU. Know that while our time is hectic and limited these days, our appreciation for our steadfast friends is strong and never wavers. Thank your blessings, appreciate the silver linings, and share in the happiness when you have it. Oh, and share the cupcakes too!

Also, a big humongous, long drive thank you to Jane & her daughter, and Ate Gina & Uncle Jimmy and family and honorary Aunt Mary - for making that drive out to come party with us!

Trying out the Contours Twist Grow With Me seat

We recently had the opportunity to test out the Contours Twist Grow With Me Seat in the Adkins Asylum. It's always fun to try out new gear, and as our family grows, we find our needs for different baby gear adapts as well. We really loved the design and the bright color selection that it comes in. But more importantly, we loved the fact that the foam insert comes out completely for cleaning! If you have children, you know there's really never a time when "clean" and "eating" are used in the same sentence!

We used this for feeding Paisley, who at the time was 7 months old. She seemed to be dwarfed by the seat, but then she is particularly tiny. Ella tried it out as well, and she managed to fit in just fine - however, we buy things that will grow, so I wouldn't necessarily suggest buying it for a 3 year old with the intent to use it long term, if you get my understanding. Paisley seemed to enjoy it though, as she liked to sit up and look around.

As for Kevin and I, it really made feeding easier and the Contours Twist Grow With Me seat is very versatile for all types of feeding. We have a counter height table and stools, so finding a highchair to work with that isn't always easy. I loved how I was able to strap it onto one of our stools (with a back) and sit and feed her, especially post-surgery. Kevin, on the other hand, likes to sit on the floor and feed the baby. So it worked for both of us! We're particularly fond of the Contours line of baby gear. They are consistently striving to make something that is good for more than a 3 month use. They care about safety and are always open to suggestions. I love their customer service, having dealt with them when we purchased our Contours Options Elite Tandem Stroller!

Click here to read my review of the Contours Twist Grow With Me Seat on Amazon.

I keep thinking I'm going to do a short post for you guys... I keep lying to myself and you

Yesterday, I posted this on my fb page... 

Bitter.com.

Despite the pain, I have had a great day today. Kevin is off, Ella's NICU follow up appt went great. Got stuff accomplished, I feel good, etc. Went to regular doctor appt and now being admitted. Where did the day go wrong? I just want to cry right now. And I want my mom :( And a burger, because ya know, they don't let you eat in here and I've been here for a while. Oh, and they have Frozen on loop - >( feeling bitter at The Baby Place at Celebration Hospital.

It was more as a lighthearted attempt at both cheering myself up and keeping my family and friends [that want to know] informed. I've had a VERY difficult past few days, both pain-filled and emotionally wrought. This pregnancy, which happens to be my last, has taken it's hardest toll on me. We jokingly blame Kevin and say "It's all your fault" - because if you cannot interject a little bit of levity in life, you are truly missing out. There is no one out there who can say to me that life does not come without obstacles... or heartache... or angst... or hell, even just the occasional speedbump. Some friends and family posted support and well-intentioned words of encouragement. And somehow or another a fistfight almost occurred.

There is also not ONE PERSON that can say to me that I don't value, treasure, consider myself grateful or blessed for ALL that I have. I don't bemoan the fact that I don't make 6 figures a year (or maybe I do on days when I'd really just like to lay down on snuggle with my little ones) but normally, no, you won't hear me complaining about having a job to do or a job to go to. Or having rent to pay, or anything of that sort. Because I'm grateful that I have a family, and a job, and a house to live in and even when I take my children to the doctor - I'm grateful that, for the most part, I have relatively healthy children, and the ability to take care of them when I need to. I count every blessing we have. And I don't focus on what we don't have. I've taken my daughter to countries where she can see firsthand how much more we are blessed than others, and shown her how to give back... even in the littlest way, so that we can better appreciate every. single. thing. we. have. 

EVERY. SINGLE. THING.

So now that we've got that out in the open. For clarification. I am not complaining. I am reaching out. I have said time and again, if my posts bother you, or if you feel compelled to roll your eyes because you feel I'm complaining, I ask you simply to either not read, ya know- scroll down your page til you see a picture of cats drinking coffee or something- or delete me from your friend's list. Because I cannot honestly EVER REMEMBER seeing someone in pain or need and telling them that I don't want to hear it.

This pregnancy has been so pain-filled ... yes, PAIN-FILLED, not discomfort, not cramping... PAIN. I have struggled with literally throwing up around the clock (that's about 24-28 times a day) and when I wasn't full-fledged vomiting, I was dry heaving. When that wasn't happening, I was getting more and more needles as they pumped my body full of fluids so that baby and I would continue to survive. Every 15-18 hours, I inject a small needle and catheter like tube into my now VERY pregnant belly, where I am infused with anti-nausea medication (because it doesn't just go away in the 1st trimester like some people seem to think). And since I haven't always been in the best shape, heck, let's face it, I've been overweight for some time... AND I never properly healed from my c-section with Ella - I have zero muscle tone in my lower abdomen. The baby and everything else is now pressing on my pelvic bone, and according to the doctor, may very well have fractured it. HOW DOES THAT SOUND FOR FUN? If that's not a stunning endorsement for this is the last baby, I've never heard one louder (or better).

So more about me. Because this is my blog, and since I can't afford to go to the therapist right now, and she so kindly emailed me off the books, this is how I cope.  I, personally, have struggled with depression - and have internalized it as much as possible. Being in pain is such an enabler for depression. I truly think it is. For one, when you hurt, it feels like nothing will make things better. You take medications, and they are a temporary relief to your pain... but you know you'll be miserable again when the meds wear off. You are constantly struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

This Sunday, August 10th - was the FIRST time I ever recalled just wishing I didn't wake up. I'm not talking wishing I could roll over and go back to sleep. Or wishing that it was not the day before Monday. I'm talking, I wished myself out of existence. I was disappointed that I had to cope with the pain and misery for even one more day. I wished it more than I loved my family, friends... and more importantly, I wished I was not here more than I loved myself. It's a hard point to come to when you realize the pain is THAT GREAT (although, personally I think "great" is a horrible word to describe that feeling) that your very own existence seems inconsequential compared to the pain you are in. And then Robin Williams passed away, and it was such an echo of my sentiment. Because normally, I'm a happy go lucky, cheer people on type of person. And I ran out of "think of the blessings" and hit the IDGAF stage. And I guess, some people just aren't used to that from me. It's ok. When your turn comes, you're entitled to it. And if you say out loud how you feel... I certainly am not one to judge.

I won't say I'm "all-better" today. I'm a damned sight better than I was yesterday, sitting in the hospital, watching Frozen on loop (a friend commented, "Frozen on loop?!?!?! You are now in hell in the form of a hospital.") and getting poked and prodded, (which if you're dehydrated - which happens when you get sick all day no matter how much water you drink - makes for repeated attempts and sore arms when they try to get blood) AND still in pain, oh yeah, and you don't get to eat ANYTHING for, at minimum 10 hours, and who doesn't get cranky, irritable and whiny after 10 hours of no food #notthisfatgirl .... I was pretty miserable. Today I am "home" and en route to the perinatologist to make sure baby Paisley is progressing the way she should be since it's almost a given I won't go full term. I did NOT however, wake up wishing I hadn't woken up. My beautiful daughters came in and hugged me, and Ella was kind enough to wipe her snot-dripping nose on my shirt, causing me to immediately throw up (lol?) and Kevin woke up at 5am and checked my blood pressure, and put a frozen cloth on my head that I really don't recall asking for, and my Mom and Dad talked on the phone with me and told me they're rooting for me and we can do this. And I know we can.

To my friend that meant well, but it didn't come across that way, some of this is for you. To my friend (who is also pregnant and going through a miserable pregnancy) thanks for being my wing-woman, please don't bruise your knuckles. To my sister-in-law and other friends who think I'm a better woman sometimes... remember that I'm not. Because instead of standing up for myself, I turned off my phone, put my head back on my uncomfortable hospital bed pillow and cried. Like a wuss. I let it get under my skin. Into my head. Embedded in my heart. And I almost let it get the better of me. Almost. Until later that evening I logged onto fb, and saw the posts. That of the original poster who did not mean to be so harsh, and those of you who so steadfastly stood up for me, or helped me back up. They made me remember I am not alone. Thank you for that.

It's dark in here... enter at your own risk (oh yeah, and it's long)

So as I mentioned in my first post, some of this is to keep friends and family in the loop. Some of this is to keep me...sane. I've been struggling with this sort of depression off and on since I started getting sick with this pregnancy. I guess, if I want to be honest, that it means I've been teetering very closely on that edge, and the pregnancy was just an excuse to topple me over. But I've also been dealt some pretty judgmental blows recently.

There is nothing that can explain the feeling of inadequacy like hearing other people essentially BRAG about something that comes naturally to them... but that you struggle with doing. From friends and family, to co-workers and bosses, and heck, even strangers. It's an age-old process. Millions upon millions of women time and again do it. And here I sit, having a pity party because bringing a new life into this world is not just an effort, but a seemingly impossible task for me.

I've had people tell me, "Well you know, it says that you're only supposed to be nauseous for the 1st trimester." or even "It's not like you have to do anything special, many women get pregnant." And I guess, to a certain extent, it's my own fault, because, well it's one thing to hear it, and another to let it get to me. And it's easy for some to go, "Oh just ignore them" - but it's another thing entirely to do it. I've even had one person say that if I wasn't overweight, none of these problems would occur. And maybe they wouldn't have. But the harsh reality is that I AM overweight. The harsher reality that I neglected to touch base on was that, when I was NOT overweight, I still had difficulty being pregnant. Depression doesn't use logic to weigh out those opinions though. It doesn't put up a flashing sign that says, "HEY! Skinny people have problems getting pregnant too!" or "Healthy women struggle with pregnancy as well." There is no statistic that says only overweight women have stillbirth. There's nothing that says perfectly healthy women have bodies that have unhealthy innards. There's no journal that says if you are 125 lbs. your babies will be full term. So it's easy to lie down and take it. It's easy to let it snowball. And yeah, sometimes I just feel like it's easy, so why not?

"But I'm going to let you in on the darker side of all of this. I may catch heat for it. I'm sure plenty of people have an opinion and will consider me weak, think less of me."

In the more recent weeks, I've been hospitalized a few times for various reasons. None of which are the same, but all equally scary. When they start slinging terms like "transfusions" and "waivers" and "living wills" it's time to put on your big girl panties and realize your pity party at home can get a little complicated. I've hit the stage where I can no longer walk without any extreme amount of pain. Some people would just suck it up, or since the doctor did prescribe pain killers, they'd maybe pop a pill. The thing is, I've never really been good at just "sucking it up" and dealing with the pain. And I've already got a grocery list full of meds, so yeah, I'm hesitant to just start poppin' more pills... prescribed or otherwise. 

But I'm going to let you in on the darker side of all of this. I may catch heat for it. I'm sure plenty of people have an opinion and will consider me weak, think less of me. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I'm tired of internalizing it. People ask me how I feel? And all I can think is... I feel like $h!t. You asked. But instead I smile, and try to lessen the degree of pain I'm in by saying something inane, like - "One day at a time" or "Almost there" anything other than what I really feel. They don't really want to know anyways. Most people just expect me to say fine and go about my day. So I do.

I woke up on Sunday with the most intense pain I've ever dealt with. I'm talking - worse than the post c-section, worse than when I broke my arm as a kid and never said anything to my dad because I didn't want to get in trouble because I went down the slide face first, worse than literally slamming my hand in the car door and hearing my pinky break. Yeah, THAT kind of pain. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against my pillow, felt the tears leak out, and realized that I was DISAPPOINTED that I woke up. I just wanted the pain to go away. 

You have to understand, that of everything I have to be grateful for in life, it's my wonderful husband and my two beautiful daughters. It's my mom, dad, brother and all the other family members in my life that just... give me meaning. I treasure family more than anything in the world. So when the pain is SO GREAT that the only relief I can look forward to is the thought of never waking up, and NEVER seeing any of that again - I realize that I've come to an impasse. It's difficult to admit that I would be so willing to give up EVERYTHING that I hold near and dear and treasure the most. Even to myself. 

I'm sure the first thing you're all screaming is GO SEE A SHRINK! No offense to those in that profession - seriously - but I don't put a lot of faith in seeing a shrink right now, unless you're going to take the pain away. It's the pain that drives me to this. I'm not on self-destruct mode. I don't go out drinking, or do any type of drugs to numb the pain. I'm not intentionally harming myself. I'm living. One. Day. At. A. Time. I'm crying myself to sleep. As silently as possible, so I don't wake up Kevin, because he has to go to work in the morning, after he drops Laurel off to camp, and gets Ella ready for the day. As I sit upright, because I can't physically lie down without intensifying the pain. I wake up approximately 14 times throughout the night. Which essentially means I don't sleep. And judging by the permanent purple smudges on my eyes that look like I've invested in permanent plum eye shadow - I'm guessing that I DON'T sleep. I spend all day trying to get "comfortable" in bed. And this is just the "physical" aspect of pain.

 I'm living. One. Day. At. A. Time. I'm crying myself to sleep.

As silently as possible...

The "emotional" side is just as intense, and sometimes worse. I sit in bed and volley between having faith and not. I mean, who really lets you live in this much pain? Or what have I done wrong in a past life to deserve it? But also, there's the loneliness. When my family comes home from their respective places, and they all convene in the living room... I sit in my room and cry some more. It's a self-imposed prison. I jokingly refer to my 1-2 hours of walking around as my "time-out" or "prison break"  for good behavior. You have NOTHING but time on your hands to sit and think about things. 

Oh sure, everyone says just relax and enjoy it! Or some have even suggested getting away from my family because they must be the cause of my stress. I want to tell these people that they have no clue. In the nicest way possible, you have no clue. When our household income is literally sliced in two with no notice, but the bills remain the same. Or when you want to do something as simple as get the oil changed, but can't really afford to do that, but you're afraid to let one of the only working vehicles you have go to pot. Or knowing full well that the laundry will continue to pile up, or the dishes will eventually need washing, despite the fact that it hurts to stand for more than a 10 minute stint. Or, and this is the pity party part... knowing that only 1 or 2 people will stop out to say hello and give you a friendly face, an adult to talk to, a little news from the outside world. Because for some, the discomfort is greater than the friendship. And you have to live with that. And you get to THINK about that. Because, in all honesty, what else is there to do?

I can't tell you that writing this out and sharing this will make my hips feel better. Because it won't. I can't say that I'll mentally be a better person for having written this - because I just don't know. I may instantly regret hitting the publish button. But I'm in for a penny at this point. I can't say that I'll be able to walk tomorrow without pain... because, well I'm pretty sure I won't. I can't even tell you that if I wake up in pain tomorrow, I'll feel any differently than I did on Sunday - because I don't know what tomorrow brings. I don't know the extent of the pain I'll be in. I don't know what mindset I'll have. If I went to bed and actually slept. If I was able to lie down on my side instead of propped up vertically all night. I won't know any of this until tomorrow. But MAYBE... just maybe, before YOU judge someone, before you roll your eyes because they sound like they're moaning, before you notice that our yard is overgrown or there's an oilspot in our driveway, or see my husband helping me out to the car each time... maybe you'll realize there's always more. And that it makes people feel less. And when you're down to nil, it doesn't take much more to teeter over that edge.

*On the bright side, officially at 27 weeks. We're talking BABY STEPS with the doctor... so the goal is to get to 30 weeks. Then we make another goal... until we get to where we need to be. Paisley needs to just hang tight and stop trying to make an early appearance.*

Life is what happens...

So, I've been jotting down notes in Word ever since I found out I was pregnant. I thought about going back and doing some posts retroactively, but to be honest, it's a litany of me getting sick, missing work, getting sick, going in the hospital... you get the point. I'm going to just throw in some back knowledge, and a little bit about why we're going here and then I'll start from there. I'm a 33 year old mom to two beautiful little girls, and wife to one crazy red-haired British dude. That's what my Girl Scout troop calls him: the crazy British dude. Kevin is my rock. I want to make that clear from the get-go. Because I'm sure in one or two or all of my posts, I may rant or grumble or whine or plain out bitch - and it may seem like I am ungrateful. And I don't want for any given point in time, anyone to ever mistake the love and appreciation I have for my husband. He is our foundation, and without him, I cannot imagine how our lives would be. That being said, there are times when a simple shake of my head, nod and smile, yes honey - any of those... are entirely appropriate.

I am presently 25 weeks pregnant with our 3rd (and last) child. As luck would have it... we're having, you guessed it - ANOTHER GIRL! Poor Kevin. Of our 2 daughters, both were born premature, each pregnancy worse than the one prior. Laurel Leah (DD#1) is now 9, and was born at 32 weeks. Elora Sage, aka Ella, (DD#2) just turned 2, and was born at 31 weeks. Her birth resulted in a TIA, or a minor stroke, for me and had her hanging out in the NICU for just over a month. So let me just make it clear, each birth has been progressively worse. While Laurel was early, she did not require a stay in the NICU. She was big (7lbs and 6 oz) and I was on insulin with this pregnancy and aside from being a little jaundiced, she was healthy. I was induced, had her naturally, and recovered relatively well, albeit a bit worn out. Ella, on the other hand, had us going from the beginning.

First of all, John Lennon sure knew what he was talking about... we went and made plans! Kevin and I were newlyweds, having married on the 4th of July that year, and planned on waiting for the immigration process to finish up before extending our family. In September, we discovered we were young, misguided fools - and I was pregnant! I managed to escape the insulin beast, but what I didn't get there, I more than made up for. Ella's pregnancy had me passing out left and right, my heart wasn't up for the extra load. Apparently neither was the rest of me, since I ended up with a TIA. I went in to one hospital and woke up in another with the doctor telling me, "You should let your parents know you're having a baby." To which I replied, "Oh they already know." And he chuckled and said - "NO - you're having one in about 2 hours" and so began the saga of Ella.

It was more difficult than anything I'd ever dealt with before. Leaving your baby in the hospital when you go home from giving birth is a disappointment like no other. We recently acted as our local March of Dimes Ambassador Family, and when I spoke, I referred to the varying emotions you feel as a parent that first time you drive away from the hospital with your child in the NICU. We had no real option, as we still had a little girl at home. And yes, we had jobs if we wanted to still be able to provide for our family. It was rough. My husband and I sat on the side of the road that first time, and cried together. We were in varied stages of guilt, grief, anger, frustration, disappointment and yes, we still had that sliver of joy because we DID have a baby. And for all intents and purposes, she was healthy and whole. But we felt incomplete - and we knew we would until the day we could bring her home. Ella's progress was much like many babies in the NICU, and also different from so many others. She was a strong little fighter, and jumped through hurdles faster than they anticipated. Every obstacle or goal she was to meet, she met and then moved on to the next one. She was a happy baby (still is) and loved to be cuddled. Wasn't fussy and irritable and the nurses loved on her all the time. We met our favorite NICU nurse, Jenn, at Winnie Palmer - and she left such a lasting impression on our hearts, that we continue to keep in touch with her today... even if she did move several states away *grumble, grumble* from us!

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

-John Lennon 

But that experience left a mark on us as well. We tendered the idea of having another baby and ultimately, we decided we just weren't going to try for another. I'm by no means on the shelf, but I was getting older. It had already been proven that my body just wasn't capable of carrying a baby full-term. And despite people telling us that "every pregnancy is different" - we also had experts that said that the likelihood of having a repeat experience was very high (especially since we're talking about the same father) - this is why you'll hear me say, "It's all Kevin's fault" so often. Kevin and I arranged for him to have a procedure done (the dreaded V) in late March. Unfortunately, we'd had some issues with our current BC plan, and then I went on traditional BC, aka the Pill, while being sick and on antibiotics. At this same time, my heart started doing these weird fluttery things again, and I was passing out...again. So lo and behold, I went to the cardiologist. When he told me my heart was working for 2, I felt a little stupid. Okay - I felt a LOT of stupid. I work in a doctor's office by the way, so the fact that it did not occur to me that antibiotics and birth control are not good team players... well, like I said, I felt a LOT of stupid.

 

We don't believe in the alternative, so Kevin and I immediately got over the shock, cried, laughed, told our families, cried some more. Fast forward now to mid July - my thyroid has given up the ghost, my blood pressure thinks it's in an express elevator, and now my blood sugar thinks EVERYTHING is cake, with icing, on top of icing. After a few days stay in Winnie Palmer, which sometimes feels like a vacation were it not for the needles and rationed meals, my perinatologist has deemed me unfit for work. I'm officially on bedrest at 25 weeks, and slowly going nuts. Okay, maybe not so slowly. The next few weeks will chronicle some of the struggles, maybe flashback to some of the health issues, and since I'm 90% positive I won't go to term with baby Paisley - her journey after birth. On the bright side, I have plenty of opportunity to notice that the tops of the walls in my bedroom never got painted. Oh yeah, and it's all Kevin's fault. Thanks for reading!