Today I Yelled at My Littles

This afternoon was tough. Hence the name of this post. As I've been navigating my stay at home mom journey, I make it a point to not raise my voice or yell at my littles. Most of the time, I do a good job with this but to put it bluntly, today sucked.

Let me start with Attley. Oh this sweet girl. She is fierce in her emotions and she is constantly telling me how she feels (by screaming). Now that she is mobile and crawling all over our dirty floors, she is my shadow. Once she catches up to me, she then precedes to wind herself around my legs, in her (not so subtle) attempt to get me to pick her up because my left hip is her preferred hangout spot. If I ignore her cat like tendencies, she then starts to scream and boy does this girl have some strong vocal cords.  This is usually the point where I give in and pick her up. Because to be honest I can't stand to listen to her scream and have those big blue eyes full of crocodile tears. And if I am even more honest, this little demanding monster I have created is my fault. She loves to be held and she especially loves to be held by me. But you know what you guys?? I couldn't hold her for the first 5 weeks of her life. She was tethered to cords and monitors. Constant beeping sounds, strangers coming in and out of her room, and everyone telling you what is best. The first few weeks, I had to get permission from nurses to hold my own little girl. So, yea, I am going to pick her up is she wants to be held. The tough part is managing her needs and my desire to get something done without my arm burning from her 18 pound little body.

This afternoon I was attempting to make some soft fries for Attley because we are having some feeding issues with her...I won’t get into it now but I am trying to darnedest to get this girl to eat a variety of foods. But while I was cooking, Attley had other ideas...she wanted to be held. It got to the point where I knew we needed to get out of the house and go for a walk. I set her down and she immediately started to scream. And I yelled back. I am not proud but ugh..I just needed 30 seconds to get the fries out of the oven so I wouldn’t burn the house down while we were gone. I yelled “Attley! Stop crying, you are fine!” and then I felt guilty. She doesn’t know better...I mean I kinda think she knows how to “play me” but she is 11 months so I should be more patient. Once I was got her coat and shoes on, I apologized, saying I was sorry for raising my voice but it gets hard to hold her all the time. Did she know what I was saying? Probably not, but it made me feel better to calmly voice my frustrations and explain why I can’t always do what she wants.

And now enter Emmett. This little has been testing my patience lately. He wants help with EVERYTHING. (Yes, this needed to be in shouty capitals) Things he knows how to do and can do independently, he is constantly asking for help. Since I was frazzled with things with Attley, I asked Emmett to get his jacket and shoes. He got his jacket and asked for help to put it on, which I did (the sleeves were inside out). Next up were the shoes. Emmett has crocs and knows how to put them on the correct feet but for some reason today he couldn’t do it. He started whining and putzing around the mudroom while I am holding a wiggly Attley.  I just wanted to go outside and get some fresh air! My frustration was building and it boiled over.  I told Emmett to find his other shoe, put it on, and come outside. I took Attley out and got the stroller set up and her situated. I went back in to check on Emmett and I caught him red handed playing with the foaming hand sanitizer that I use when we come home from germy places (aka everywhere) and I got mad and yelled. Again. Strike two for this momma.

I took a deep breath and got down to his level and explained that I am feeling frustrated. I continued to explain how we are going on a walk and to do that Emmett needed to put his shoes on. Together we found his other shoe and he put it on and off we went.

It literally took me our entire 30 minute walk to calm down and shake off the previous few hours. I was in such an icky head space. Negative emotion after negative emotion was churning through my brain. And then I remembered something Tony Robbins said in August. He said that you can’t feel gratitude for something and feel a negative emotion at the same time. So I started listing off 10 things about Emmett I was grateful for and 10 things for Attley. Slowly, I started to feel better. I started to lose the ickiness of the afternoon and see some of the beauty. I feel so blessed to be home and I tend to feel such guilt for having a bad day but I think that is there is beauty in the ugliness if we are willing and open to look for it.

Postpartum Anxiety

This post has been hard to write.

I have so much I want to share, so many mommas I want to help but I've been at a loss of how to get my message across. So, I decided to write about what I know to be true.

• post partum anxiety is more common than postpartum depression.

• Postpartum anxiety is not talked about in our society

• Postpartum anxiety is very, very real.

I would love to share my entire story of how I came to learn about postpartum anxiety and some science behind it but all I am going to say is thank God for momma groups like The Second Time Mama Class at Amma Parenting Center. Our teacher shared so much knowledge and I will forever be grateful.

So, here is my story with postpartum anxiety.

After Attley was born, her biggest hurdle was learning to eat. I sat with her day in and day out desperately begging her to eat. Counting every Millimeter, every drop of milk in the hopes that she would meet her goal. It was so emotionally, physically, and mentally draining. She would do well, and then we would go backwards. I would arrive at the hospital each morning hoping today was the day we would move to the final feeding step. After 5 grueling weeks and by the grace of God, Attley was discharged on Christmas Eve.

Fast forward two amazing weeks at home and Attley caught a cold resulting in RSV and being admitted into the hospital. Attley fought for her life and at one point stopped breathing. Again, God gave her tiny little body the strength to push through and get better. As she started to recover and feel better, a nurse came in and we were told we would have to meet a feeding goal for Attley in order to be discharged.

This is where I knew something was wrong.

I lost it. I started to weep uncontrollably in her room, barely able to breathe thinking about trying to meet new feeding goals. My mind started racing. My body was hot. And I knew something wasn't right.

During my meltdown, I did my best to explain to Matt that I couldn't feed Attley. I could not do another feeding goal. Being the amazing man he is, he took over. He did all the feedings and worked with the nurses and occupational therapists to make sure Attley was doing well. After a week in the pediatric intensive care unit, we were finally discharged.

As we got settled at home for the second time, I found myself getting anxious for every feeding with Attley. I became paranoid about her “leakage” (milk spilling out of the corners of her mouth) as she ate. I would sit there and worry-- is she getting enough? Is she eating right? Am I holding her wrong?

After a few days of this paranoid thinking and expressing some concern in my momma class, I had my lightbulb moment. In class, our teacher explained that when a prolonged traumatic event occurs, your body starts to always want to stay in flight or fight mode. It becomes accustomed to always being on alert so when things finally settle down, it doesn't know what to do. So, it creates a flight or fight response. There are scientific words that I can't remember but the gist was-- I had been in flight or fight mode for 12 weeks and my body didn't know what to do now that it was over. At this point, I was still an emotional mess. I remember calling Matt and him asking me if I'm ok and my reply was “No. I'm not.”

I made an appointment with my OBGYN clinic and got seen that day. After chatting with my doctor and discussing options, I decided to go on a low dose antianxiety medication.

I think it's hard to admit you need help and sometimes it's hard to take medicine for it but I knew I needed to calm my anxiety so I could be a good wife and momma.

Still to this day, I am taking my “little blue pill” as I call it. This month (September) has been a wake up call that I still need it and that I'm still recovering from the events of last fall. Having a baby is hard, becoming a momma is hard and it's ok to need help.

To anyone reading this, here is my plea to you:

• If you don't feel right, reach out. To a friend, family member, coworker, doctor. If you aren't ok, don't say that you are.

• And my biggest plea is to any woman reading this, be open! My anti anxiety medicine costs me $1.24 for a month's worth, but if I want to see a therapist about all of this it's about $100+ an hour. We NEED to be each other's support system, cheerleader, friend.

I hope that if you find yourself with postpartum anxiety you take care of yourself first. This saying might be cheesy but it is true.. “You can't pour from an empty cup”

Attley used this every day in the NICU. She had what they call "NICU stuffy nose" due to the lack of humidity in hospitals. September was the first time I had used it since she had RSV in January. 

This is the soap they use in the hospital. I had to use it one night for baths when I was in in a bind and it took me back to the NICU days.