I Have to Write About This Before I Start to Forget...

The first time I got knocked up by the Hubs, I started losing brain cells.  How does that Michelle Duggar do it?  I am about to share a story with you that I was not ready to share.  It's not because it pains me to share it with you but if I don't write it down now, I will lose the memories of how it all went down. 

Do you remember when Tom Cruise was on Oprah and said that Brooke Shields (with Postpartum Depression) should just take some vitamins and go exercise?   I could go up to that man and tell him to bark up another tree.  (refraining from making any other comments I may regret.)


This third pregnancy was different.  It was not like the first pregnancy where you are so very careful about every move you make.  It wasn't where you get to sleep whenever you want(Oh sleep!).  Or where you read everything you could get your hands on about the progress of your baby-in-the-belly and you only eat what they tell you is safe for the baby.  Don't get me wrong.  I was careful with this sweet boy in my belly.  But I had a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old to take care of.  Life was different.  Towards my last trimester, I was exhausted and felt like I couldn't make it up the stairs by myself, even if I tried.  I remember wanting to sleep...a lot.  I even had a hard time standing to wash the dishes.  Really?  Yes, really.  


I have loved being a Mom.  I did not think that a third child would change that feeling.  When I labored and delivered our precious baby boy, Micah, into this world, au naturel, we were overjoyed.  I felt the very same way with Kyle and then with Grace.  It was not any different except for that we just had one more.  


They stalled us at the hospital because Micah had higher jaundice levels than they were comfortable with.  I did think for a split second, "Isn't he supposed to be yellow, I'm Korean, after all."  I wonder what looks I would have gotten if I said that out loud.  My white husband doesn't seem to mind but that's for another blog.  


All said and done, they sent us home and we had to keep Micah under the Bilirubin Lights for 3 days.  Our family was together and we were happier for it.  I knew that the first two months would be a fog from the sleep deprivation but then 2 months became 3, 4, then 5.  It wasn't until NINE months after the birth of our 3rd child that I started feeling a little more like myself.  

At about month 4, it was just weird.  I would wake up feeling angry.  I was taking things out on my husband more than the normal riff.  I thought I was going crazy.  The Hubs and I would have conversation after conversation of what was going on with me.  I was constantly asking for forgiveness.  Thank God I have a man who can take the punches and tell me he will stand beside me, no matter what it took!  It was so ridiculously frustrating how angry I was.  So many people would tell us, "It's not man-on-man anymore.  It's zone defense."  Well, who the heck knew what that really meant until we were knee deep at the 40-yard-line?


Month 7.  I couldn't take it anymore.  I was getting angry at nothing.  I knew this was more than something I thought I could handle on my own or by letting out a good cry.  Hubs & I decided we would go see a Marriage Counselor.  We thought our communication skills were crappy at best.  What the Counselor told us was that we were rightfully exhausted.  We had too much on our plates and we needed to give ourselves some time to get used to being a family of five.  She even mentioned that I might have a bit of Postpartum Depression.  The strange thing is that I did not take that piece of information to heart. 


Month 8.  We went on our Family Beach Trip.  It took me 3 days to unwind.  I was already getting sad that our week was flying by so fast and it was taking me so long to relax.  Hubs & I had been praying for months that God would heal my heart.  And this is when the healing began.  Rest for my weary soul.  

We got back home after that blissful week spent on the beach, by the pool, riding bikes, feeding turtles and going on dates.  I started researching PPD.  With a clearer mind and a better rested body, I wondered why on earth did it take me so long to put my finger on this PPD?  The fact of the matter is being in it clouds your mind.  You can only think of how you feel but you aren't sure why.  I got angry and could not explain why I would get so upset if somebody so much as looked at me the wrong way.  I got angry at God. 


How does this happen with the third baby?  It didn't happen with the 1st two.  I still don't have clear cut answers.  I will tell you that my heart and mind are on the mend.  I am thankful that through trusting that God would meet me where I was, nurturing my body toward recovery after such major changes and prayer...a lot of stinkin' prayer, I am writing about this and not suffering through it.  I am thankful that I never resented our third little blessing.  I am praying that my joy will not be stolen again.

Hubs & I on a date...woohoo!

Couldn't you just eat him up!?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My 3 littles...how I love them!

Amazing.

Declutter

The plan was to take a few minutes picking up around the house. Since the theme of the summer has been "Declutter", picking up a few odds and ends equates to throwing out bags of trash and setting aside the "Giveaways". We got rid of our DISH but I'm still holding out that HGTV's Divine Design will come to my town!

I have never been a meticulous person. God love my Mom but she was always so crazy about keeping the house clean. When I was 16, I remember she threatened me with the proverbial, "If you do not pick up every thing that is touching your bedroom floor, I will throw it out!" I must have thought she was kidding. Clearly, I was having a teenage-angst moment, probably flailing around to Teenage Wasteland.

Later that day, you guessed it, all of my treasured possessions were thrown into large kitchen garbage bags and lined up in the garage. In 16-year-old-hormone-enraged fashion, I stole the keys and stomped out the door to drive the car away. In a rare moment, my Dad followed me and calmly asked to talk to me. He told me that I needed to understand that my Mom cared about me and wanted me to be responsible for my things.

Almost 20 years later, married to a paper hoarder but otherwise, lovely man, and with 3 children under the age of 6, I...I.Understand.My.Mom. These days, I find myself teaching our kids about picking up after they play. The clutter is daunting and clouds my mind. I think about how our house is never clean. I wonder what our friends and family think about our mess. I shudder when my 'perfectionist' mind says it is never good enough.

When my ranting and raving only gets my Hubs and the kiddos upset, I am reminded that it will not always be like this. Will it? Is the clutter just in my home? Or is the clutter in my mind and heart? Uh yes, all of the above. I pray that God would clear my cluttered heart. This clutter is something only He can clean up.