Schooools out for Summer🎧

My son has his last day of kindergarten today. It’s bittersweet, as I’m sure most people with kids might feel the same.  I’m so excited for him, but I’m a bit sad he’s going to the next step and getting so big. I know the summer is going to zoom by us, so I’m going to try and make it as awesome as possible. This school year did go by fast for me. I can’t believe he will be going go to first grade this fall.

Through the toughness of adapting to school, all the trouble he caused, and changes he went through, he did it. I’m just as proud of him for completing kindergarten as I would be any grade.  At his little graduation ceremony before he even got over to his seat, the moment when I saw his cute little self in his tie walking over I already had teared up. I envisioned him as an 18-year-old finishing high school saying “later mom” in place of my peanut 6-year-old. He told me how he was so shy and embarrassed being in the front row with so many people watching. Yet, he did such a good job on all the songs and dance moves too!

As it comes to an end for the summer break, I’m left with mixed emotions that are even hard to put into words, so I’m just rambling. All the worrying, the anxiety and the stress of being away from him for basically the first time and almost daily, was worth it to see him grow. He’s so smart and learned so much (which I know duh – that’s the point of school).

I’ll have to remember that “I miss him and want him to come home” feeling I have when he’s home for the summer driving me crazy with his sisters ;).

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Chayse’s Birth Story

For his birthday, since I did this with the girls, here’s the story for Chayse.

Chayse is my first born and our only boy. Like Liana, he was definitely a surprise. In fact,  I didn’t even know I was pregnant until I was 3 months. The thought never even crossed my mind that I could be. I was going through a lot at the time so if I was feeling sick or run down I figured it was from the stress or crying I had done over the weeks. But nope. Pregnant. Once I got over the initial in denial and scary unsure about how to do this stage, it was a pretty easy pregnancy. At the time I probably didn’t think that but compared to my girls; his was cake. I did throw up a lot with him, and I didn’t with my girls (I was more nauseous and dizzy all the time with them, so it was opposite symptoms).

I was 38 weeks, it was a Sunday and almost 5 in the evening. I didn’t have any contractions the day of (that I felt) I was at the grocery store, then I went right home and started making a sandwich since I was starving. I made it but had a strong urge to pee first before eating. I went to the bathroom and went to pee, but I couldn’t stop peeing. I remember calling my mom because we lived together at the time and telling her my pee just won’t stop. I had no idea why lol. She said my water probably broke, and then, sure enough, we called my doctors office, and I had to go in.

Side note: My water never broke with either daughter, just him so another way his was different. I also used a midwife with my son only, then, later on, found a different doctors office and didn’t use a midwife.

So I arrived at the hospital around 5 pm or so. They had me bouncing on a big exercise type ball, and that did help. I don’t know if it’s because he was my first or what but his contractions (and I say this looking back after more experience because in the moment they hurt) weren’t as kill-me-now-or-I’ll-kill-you-as-I’m-crying pain as my daughters. But then I got an epidural, and it was better. He was my fastest labor and by far the easiest. After only 5 hours which everyone said was fast for a first labor, he had arrived at 9:13 pm. He was 6 lbs 9 oz and adorable.

Then I realized I didn’t have a name still and I felt bad. Being my first kid I couldn’t pick even after seeing him. Finally, I named him I think it was on the second day at the hospital. Chayse James.

So now I have all three stories. One thing is for sure that stayed the same in every pregnancy, and that’s the looks you get when you look like me. Everyone thought I was 15 and pregnant because I’m so tiny and you get a lot of nosy or mean comments. But, when comparing them if it’s because he was a boy, or my first, or my water broke, or whatever reason – his was easiest. No scary scar worthy stories like the girls just all good things. My belly went right back to normal and I had no stretch marks with him. He was my easy baby too. He ate all his baby foods I tried, and he wasn’t allergic to anything, he even slept for the most part through the nights. He walked by nine months, the whole works. I only wish I saw that then and appreciated it more after experiencing more difficult times later.

I can’t believe he is 6 this year. That it was that long ago. He’ll always be my tiny little newborn boy in my eyes.

Kindergarten and Glasses

It makes me sad I haven’t posted a blog in a while, but I don’t think anyone’s noticed lol. With my daughters birthday this month, then my birthday, then it was spring break from school, I have just been keeping busy. I’ve been trying to do more things with the kids while the weather had some beautiful days too.
Back to it. We recently found out my son has astigmatism in one of his eyes so he would need glasses. He did well for his eye exam which is so hard for a little kid to have to sit through and explain what they think is better; at least that’s how I feel after watching him. Yesterday, his glasses came in (if you see the picture attached). He was bummed when he first found out he would need them. He said he wouldn’t wear them, and he didn’t want people to say anything; he didn’t want to look funny. But I told him it’s still good to be different. Family and his friends will think they’re cool. That it doesn’t change him, they’re just like wearing sunglasses, and everyone likes sunglasses. Of corse, I told him about the cool people who wear them, including mom! 😉 I remember how I didn’t want to wear mine either. And yet now I will not take them off for anything. Now, I don’t like the way I look without them. So I know it’ll just hopefully take time. He picked out the pair he wanted (even though I so wanted to tell him to pick the ones that made him look like little Harry Potter!). He knows he needs them to see better, and they help, which he noticed when he put them on. It makes me sad though that at his age he already worries about what others think. Even if I tell my kids all the time how much we love them and how cute they are. How it doesn’t matter what others think as long as they like something and they’re happy. We try to reinforce we are here that’s all that matters. If kids say something mean and make them upset, they’re just jealous of how cool they are and maybe they don’t know how to express it and that it doesn’t mean anything. But, still.

He’s also been wanting to wear a little fauxhawk lately too – that he does himself if you took notice in one of the pictures. I try to fix it when he lets me, so it doesn’t look so much like he just didn’t want to brush his hair but, whatever makes him happy. He even got a good report on a reading testing they did. His teacher said he scored up to green, and that she isn’t sure how many others will be ready to do that. So, that was fantastic for him.

No matter how much you feel like you’re doing something wrong with kids, as long as they’re doing good, you must be.

Liana’s Birth Story

Liana’s birth was the scariest day of my life. But before we go there, let’s flash back.

If you read the last birth story about my daughter Kaylee you’d see how she was planned. Now, Liana was not. In the least bit. She came at an awful time actually. It was during a hard time in my marriage. We were trying to figure out the next steps for us. We were thinking of the divorce steps more and more and at the same time I’m growing more and more pregnant with this little baby. It was a hard experience trying to decide what’s best. I remember thinking I wouldn’t be able to do it and not even sure that I was going to go through with my pregnancy. (Which was a shock to me because I am pro-life, and I wouldn’t be able to go through with that personally when time came to it.) But I looked into options and to even have those thoughts try to take over my beliefs was a scary part for me. Once I look further into it, I was reassured it wasn’t for me. I knew this baby deserves to be here, and that I would have to figure out a way to make it happen. I had to work with what I can as I got farther along. My support systems had been split on thinking I could do it alone; already having two kids and my schedule the way it was.

It was a rough pregnancy just like the others nausea-wise. I was also exhausted and achy with her always, they never lightened up. The scary part came after though. If you read my previous post earlier this week you would know that my grandfather had just passed, and the next part happened maybe two days later. I was crying and overly stressed with everything. Little did I know, it was time.

*Some TMI stuff ahead so don’t read if don’t wanna know the messy.

After a stressful pregnancy with the marriage issues (and stressful death just happening), I woke up at 6 am feeling like I had just peed. I got my phone flashlight to check it out just to see. Now, I will never forget the feeling I had when I did. The god awful feeling of my stomach sinking to my butt, feeling like someone pulled out my insides while I watched. I was filled instantly sick with fear, with anxiety. I almost puked; because when I looked down, I saw blood. I got up as quietly as I could because the other two kids were sleeping. Shaking, I got downstairs without freaking out (until I got down there.) My husband had just left for work an hour before on top of it, so I’m alone panicking in my house. By the time I got to the bathroom, I had two large clots come out of me! Probably close to the size of a tennis ball, or my iPhone 4. It was the scariest thing because here I am thinking A.) Why are these big pieces falling out of me?! And B.) Bleeding bright red blood in pregnancy is never good. Let alone how much I was bleeding. I called my sister because she was right down the road and asked her to sit with the kids so I can go to the hospital. I had only just hit 36 weeks pregnant. That alone was nerve wrecking thinking this is happening early. All I could think about honestly was I just lost my baby, I don’t feel her, I’m bleeding, and this is wrong. So when I got to the hospital, they checked on ultrasound to see if my placenta was in the way maybe causing pieces to fall out. They said if it’s in the way I’ll need a C-section –which was scary to hear on top of it –but weirdly it was not. I don’t even know what was coming out. They told me I was in labor, and thankfully the baby was still alive, still doing OK, but I was going to have to deliver her. After 12 long, scary hours of labor, it was finally time to push.

Liana Brielle was born April 2nd at 5:41 pm weighing 6 lbs 5 ounces even being early. She was going to be big like her sister for my little ol’ self if we went to 40 weeks. Still as happy as I was to have her out, soon as she came they told me she wasn’t breathing good, and they took her to the nicu before I could even spend time with her.

They also told me I was still bleeding, and they had to give me two shots to try to stop it. I was hemmoragging, and I was going to need a blood transfusion soon I lost so much. I just kept thinking how I was dying over here, and I don’t know how my baby is either.. I’m okay obviously 😉

Over the next few days, I would have to visit her in the nicu, and she was hooked up to all sorts of things. It broke my heart each time I saw her even though I know it was helping her. Just not being able to hold her or touch your newborn baby is the worst. You’re extra emotional with your crazy hormones, so it was like the icing on the sad cake. The hardest thing is leaving the hospital without your baby. I cried from the moment seeing her that day until I got home… and on and off each time I had to go back. They told me to stay home and rest because of everything, but nothing was going to keep me away from seeing her. I didn’t want to miss those first moments I would get to finally hold her or feed her.

I still don’t know to this day why I was bleeding and clotting. My doctors say it wasn’t something that typically happens unless somethings wrong with the placenta, and that’s all I got explained. It’s a mystery to me, but I think stress and sadness induced me. Even if they say that they don’t think stress caused labor all they want, I feel it.

Having her now of corse she’s perfect. Looking back thinking about how I felt in the beginning I just can’t imagine not having her in my life. Part of me is sad because, from what happened I don’t think I can ever have more kids. I mean if I could I just wouldn’t since I’m mostly traumatized from giving birth again. But for now, as she just turned one this weekend, Im left with how fast it goes. I’m just trying to enjoy it all. Together.

Grandpa

It has been one year. Already. I’ve never had anyone close to me die before then. I’ve been “lucky” I guess in that way. I’ve lost people but if they passed I wasn’t really old enough and understanding of it all, I should say. But, it happened as it is bound to in life. It was one of the saddest days, naturally.

I was at my doctor appointment for my 36-week checkup. I was pregnant with Liana. I got a phone call as I was leaving the office. Perfect timing actually, because the branch I was at, was basically attached to the hospital. My mom called to let me know they were taking grandpa from the  Convalescent home he had been staying at to the ER. ( He had a rough point up to then. Without going into everything that he was struggling with and declining in, just know he had Dementia too) While he was there he got worse. It’s sad and hard to see anyone go through that, and of corse more so someone you care about. Family.

So, at the hospital that day, I met my mom and grandmother to see what was going on. Things apparently had gotten worse, and they told us they didn’t know if he’d make it through the night. The rest of the family had come down to wait it out. He passed in the hospital, and we all got to go in and be around him.

It’s always hard dealing with death. I still don’t get it. It still doesn’t phase me sometimes. I can’t believe you just don’t get to see someone anymore. Ever. It’s just crazy. It’s also a whole other thing when someone has passed right in front of you, and you can see them just being there. But Gone. You have that last image of them like that, forever. Without much detail of all that, just know I was upset and stressed. While being in the last month of my pregnancy (go figure) so it was rough all around.(I honestly believe no matter what I’m told that it aided in my going into labor which will be in the next blog post but, that’s just me.)

You obviously have pictures and memories to help get you through. But time doesn’t care – it’s going to keep moving forward. So you hold onto the good and special things, and the person will always live through you. One of the things that’s cool is that we share a birthday. I know even though he’s gone, but I still get to share that with him, so it’s great.

This post could be so long if I went into everything. What he was like, what he’s done..and all of the memories. But I’ll leave it at:

~ Rest in peace gramps, we love you and miss you.  ❤ ~

Diy Valentine’s crafts 

 I still am not feeling great from being sick all month with pneumonia. It’s been a long, painful, slow, bloodwork filled recovery. Now my girls are both getting sick with runny noses and are extra crabby, so there’s that.

But, with Valentine’s Day around the corner and having Chayse home from school because of snow and other things, we attempted some crafts. I am horrible at crafts. I like doing them, but I think my 5-year old has better skills. Let’s just say it’s hard to tell who cut what and who drew which when you look at both of our art.

I am also excited, more than him, that my son gets to bring in those cute little Valentine’s Day cards for his class this week. I love that stuff. But back to it, here is some of what we did today with the number next to it if it’s on the link at the bottom:

  • Turn your pencils into love arrows
  • Hand shaped heart cards(#9)
  • Heart stamp (#12)
  • Heart link chain (#15)
  • Lollipop flowers
  • Paper plate heart hats

We cut love bugs and drew other random things but I didn’t get a picture of those into the collage above. Well, not one that I’m willing to share as proof of my attempts! 🙂

Here’s the link below for some easy crafts. I choo-choo-choose you, to have fun!(Simpson’s reference if you caught that 😉 ). Let me know below or on FB if you try any.

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/easy-valentines-day-crafts-for-kids_n_6518196.html?ir=Good+News§ion=us_good-news&ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000023

My little medicines.

I often say to my children while they’re not feeling well, “I’m sorry you’re sick if I could take it from you and give it to Mommy so you’re better, I would.”

It seems in this house we catch everything. We’re just friggin’ sponges to the colds and yuckies out there. My son had walking pneumonia back before December, maybe even around Thanksgiving and he was miserable. He would be upset so much, and I would say it to him daily. I know he knew I tried all I could, and I did take care of him, and I’d do anything. But when they’re sick they just don’t want to hear it unless you’re waving your wand and it’s happening then. I can’t blame them I’m the same damn way. I’m stubborn and if you aren’t easing my pain whatever you say is going in and right back out my ears.

Fast forward to last week. I had painful coughing fits constantly. I felt short of breath, and it hurt so bad in my ribs. Just a run down achy feeling for around five days before I went to the walk in. I seriously avoid going to any doctor always, so going should say something. My anxiety overpowers me, but I finally pushed and got there..with company. The doctor told me I just had bronchospasm and acute bronchitis and ordered me an inhaler and some cough medicine. Well, a low-grade fever and some more of the nonstop coughing brought me back four more days later. They ordered an X-ray and some new meds and told me no pneumonia was found but if I still felt like I couldn’t breathe to go to the ER. I tried to go to the store that night, and I was starting to pass out in there. I couldn’t breathe any better even though it had been a few hours but I knew my mind wouldn’t be at ease without another check. 7 long hours, an ekg, and another X-ray at the ER later, they finally told me they saw pneumonia. The doctor there also didn’t even catch it; the radiologist did.

I have a point and connection to the beginning of this story below I promise.

When I got home, I was still so sick that I couldn’t sleep or stop coughing. They say rest but mom to three never really can even with help, not fully. My son came over to my bed the next night. He said, “Mommy, it worked what you said.” I was so out of it I didn’t know what he meant and barely got out a “huh?” He said, “you know, you took my pain when I was sick like you said. I got better and you have my pneumonia now because you took it from me then because you love me, and it went to you for you to take all my pain.” I explained, in reality, it’s not that easy, where I can somehow take their pain, so they never feel anything but great. I also don’t want them to feel bad thinking moms always sick because of us, but it was the cutest thing for him to put together and say. I mean I would if I could take every sniffle, cold, belly ache, pain or sickness I could for them, which is why I say it, but it’s just wishful mom thinking.

Now I still feel awful, and I am in so much pain that I can barely take care of them, and do the things I need to do. I was starting to get depressed also just thinking how much isn’t going right. But when I have moments like that or remind myself to think of the kids being sweet, they help take my pain. They help me not be so down and try to figure out how to get through it in return. I think they’re better at what I try to do myself. That’s what it’s all about. Family love is a form of medicine.

Kaylee’s Birth

kayleeSince my daughters birthday party is this weekend and her 3rd birthday is Monday, I figured this blog post will be about her. A birth story, if you will. 

Kaylee is the only child out of the three that was well, planned. I love all the kids the same but with her, I was just aware of my choice. Ready to do two kids. My pregnancy was pretty straightforward I’d say. She made me super nauseous, though. I never threw up, which I did with my son, so I wasn’t sure being nauseous 24.7 was any better. It was constant. They always told me it would get better towards the third trimester. No. It didn’t. I carried her all in the front like a little turned watermelon; see picture attached. You couldn’t tell I was pregnant from behind and when I turned, man the looks I would get.

It doesn’t help that every pregnancy I got those looks since I’m so petite and so short. I look 16. Strangers at work always had to chime in and ask me about my age, is it my first kid or not, just my life.

We made it to 38 weeks and by then I was so done. (My son had come on his own at 38 weeks so I was banking on her doing the same even though they’re always different.) At my appointment that week, my doctor told me I was okay to be induced the following Monday at 39 weeks. She had other plans a few days before that day could come, though. My contractions did start at home, but I didn’t even know they were contractions at the time. I just kept getting hot and annoyed and not able to sit still. I didn’t realize I was going into labor because there wasn’t “pain” it was more just uncomfortableness. As much as I wanted to have her I kept talking myself out of it saying it’s probably just her on a nerve, and I’m not in labor. Even after having one kid already the feelings, to me at least, are forgetful each time. It’s new levels, new pains each time. I couldn’t decide if I even wanted to call the doctor again or go down if I was in labor because I wasn’t in pain like I was expecting to be. After going back and forth trying to decide while on the phone with my mom for about an hour, I finally called and went in to be checked. It was good that I did because by the time I got outside the hospital the pain side of the contractions started and I was sure then. I remember saying the pain was too intense. I was begging for the epidural saying I couldn’t do it, and I wanted to give up before it was anywhere near time to push even.

After I had received the epidural, things got better obviously. Then somewhere towards the end, I started getting faint. I kept feeling like I was going to pass out because luckily I usually know when I’m going to pass out every time ahead of time, I don’t know why. Then, sure enough, I started passing out. All I remember is a noise was going off because something was happening and a ton of nurses came in. At first, I was like oh great more people to see me and look at me. Which I didn’t want I barely wanted my mom or husband near me. Then I remembered wait; something is wrong, and that flew away. My doctor came in and told me the baby is in distress and we had to try to push her out. Here I am passing out and terrified trying to keep myself up. I just kept thinking focus her heart rate is dropping get her out now. I was overwhelmed with worry that she wasn’t going to be okay. I don’t know but when you need to do something like that fast you just magically do it. I pushed with every bit I could. Even though I had no feeling in my lower half, so I didn’t even know if it was enough. Sure enough, January 18th at 9:34 pm she came out.

He picked her up and out and I remember this image to this day: my baby in the arms of my doctor and he was pumping her little chest with his two fingers, and she was blue. She wasn’t crying she was just there. Like a little blueberry muffin. I started bawling because my first thought after all that was what happened, Did I not do it fast enough? Why isn’t she crying? What’s happening to my little girl? That whole moment with her being blue and the doctor only lasted about 6 seconds, but it felt like an hour at the least to me. My husband and mother were in the back of the room too because everyone came in and kind of took over, so they didn’t even have to see what I did.  He plopped her on me after and she was okay. She started crying, moving. So I was okay. That image will always stay with me and choke me up. From home to delivery she came in 6 hours. She was 7 pounds 7 ounces. It wasn’t a super long endured labor by any means. But sure an experience to remember.

As days and weeks passed we learned she had allergies. She switched her formula about 3 or 4 times until we got on a special one that worked. She barely ever ate any baby foods. My poor girl was always picky and wanted the things she just couldn’t have. When she was 1, we found out she’s allergic to milk, eggs, peanuts, all tree nuts, seeds, dust mites and animal dander. I even had to make her a separate allergy free cake for her birthdays. She has an epi-pen even, and it’s a learning process. It’s not easy finding things she’ll eat without an egg or milk ingredient over the years. I’m starting to think even to this day she’s bound to turn into a little chicken nugget any moment since it’s all she eats. She has awful eczema. She also has stomach issues and can’t exactly go to the bathroom without help from medicine. So she’s got a lot going on for a tiny little perfect human.

Sometimes I cave for her way more. Everyone says I baby her too much or she gets away with more and I shouldn’t. I can’t help it, or don’t want to. To me, I want her to be able to get whatever little things she wants and make her happy. I think it’s because she just has so much to deal with and pick around already that to me she needs it. I don’t think it has anything to do with her being my first mommy’s girl or planned or anything along those lines. It’s just about making her happiest. If she’s spoiled or a brat when she’s older well sorry right now, I don’t care. I mean she still has her manners and can play nice and all that. I’m content with how I’m doing it while she is still small. She’s only turning three after all.