Mommy Guilt

That's what I'm told I'm supposed to feel.  Guilt for giving my charming daughter what she needs!

When I first held her during her first nap she snored.  I asked the doctor about it, was told it's likely just left over fluid and it'll clear up in a day or so.  I took his word for it because he's the professional and the way he worded it made sense.

Life went on.  After a week or so I noticed she had a chronic snotty nose.  Probably just reflux I was told.  Okay, I can handle that, after all my older child had HORRIBLE reflux for the first three years of his life.  I've walked that walk, so no big deal.  Hers wasn't as bad as Mikeal's was, but it was nearly identical, except she still snored.  That bit I was told was just a side effect of the reflux fluid that caused her snotty nose.  She was sleeping through the night, all was well, so okay, makes sense.  After all he's the professional, he'd been doing this for decades.  I'd seen him since I was 12, myself, here I was 25 years old.

Time went on, she made all her mile stones, on time, life was great, she started talking, and boy did she have a lot to say at just 8 months old.  She had a minimum of 25 words she used on a regular, correct basis.  It really helped that she has a brother 5 years older than she who talks non-stop. 

She ended up getting her first ear infection when she was 10 months old.  I wasn't distraught over it, yes she was sick, but my older child had his first one at roughly the same age.

So far, up to that point they were nearly identical...except Mikaila couldn't stand nursing at my breast, she'd fuss, fight, or when she did latch on she had a vicelike latch.  HOLY FUCK was it painful!

Mikeal, my first child to breastfeed latched on perfectly from the git go and it was absolute smooth sailing...outside of that first day when my foggyhead forgot the bit about having to change a diaper too, and let him nurse roughly 8 hours because it was the only thing that kept him from screaming...and he sucked blisters onto my nipples that burst a few days later.  THAT SUCKED...however, we were able to move past that, exclusively breastfeeding for 10 months before I had to go back to work, then we supplemented with real foods until he decided he wanted food & a sippy cup instead of mama milk.  He was great with it, I was okay with it.  All is well that ends well.  Not one time did he have formula, money well saved.

Mikaila, on the other hand, for two months I worked hard to bite my lip through the nursing sessions, often crying out of pain, but I was producing well, was even able to pump an additional 4-6 ounces after each feeding that I wanted to pump so that I could let Mikeal & Brian feed her from a bottle and she LOVED the bottle feedings...so long as the bottle was positioned just so.  I spoke with lactation specialists, I spoke with my doctor, I spoke with his nurse practioner, had a year of my own personal experience with it, including personal experience with blisters, thrush, mastitis, an unsupportive, abusive husband, I tried nipple shields, etc.  Anything they threw at my I tried and I became exhausted & depressed.  By the 3rd month of her life we switched to formula & bottles and life was happy again.  I didn't fail, I provided what worked best for my family, what made my daughter happy and healthy.  I succeeded!

But, as I mentioned, before backtracking, Mikaila had her first ear infection at 10 months old.  Mikeal only ever had 2 his whole life, but I had experience with them with my nephews who had chronic ear infections, so recognized all the signs early, took her in, she was given the standard ear drops & antibiotic, all was well....except...

By the time she was a year old I noticed she'd nearly quit talking.  She was doing more tantrum throwing, she quit sleeping through the night, and life became Hell.  My depression set in, the fingers were pointed at me for not putting her on a consistent enough schedule, not doing this right, not doing that right, you name it, I was failing.  The professionals told me so, and I believed them...not really, but I was supposed to, so I tried all the crap they told me to try with her.

Mikaila & her Uncle Bradley (my youngest stepbrother)

A few months later the bad behaviors were only worse, not better.  I took her again and again to the doctor.  Was given antibiotic bottle after bottle or a pep talk on the importance of schedules and sleep in infants/toddlers...as if I didn't know this or something, fuck I only had a 6 year old child who thrives WAY above the charts in everything, I tend to think I know what I'm doing.  But I was failing with my daughter.  She wasn't talking, she only screamed, she didn't sleep, would only nap 4-5 times a day for 10minutes -2 hours at a time and I was EXHAUSTED.

I lived near my mother, sister, other folks ones would think I could count on to be supportive of me, but instead they only added to the guilt I was already feeling.  Depression dug her claws in deeper.

I googled everything I could think of, talked to other mothers, was eventually left with the impression that I needed to take Mikaila in for more testing.  Specifically testing for Autism or other similar diagnosis.  I needed help and I wasn't getting it.

She underwent all the tests they threw at us.  Vision screenings were good.  Hearing screenings were good.  Just her behaviors were a bit off, but she wasn't consistent with her behaviors.  One week she'd appear to be fully on the spectrum, the next week she seemed normal, just didn't talk.  At 18 months old we started the occupational therapy with a therapist that came to the house once every other week, or so.

After a few months *I* noticed that if I spoke LOUDLY to her or included gestures to specify what she may need or want she didn't scream as much.  I mentioned it to the therapist & the doctor...and was told then to just continue and was given a book in baby sign language.  WHAT THE FUCK!  My daughter's hearing screenings came back good, she didn't quite meet the proper guidelines to be labeled as autistic or as having any actual disability because nothing was ever solidly regular.  Sometimes she was, sometimes she wasn't.  I was told it was just a short coming of my own, because I wasn't consistent enough with her.  Pile on the guilt.  After all, these are the professionals, and I know nothing about any of this.

By Mikaila's 2nd birthday my body was shutting down.  I'd gone almost a whole year with no more than 1-5 hours of sleep a day.

In November, before her 2nd birthday (birthday Dec 13), I laid down to go to sleep with my stomach severely cramping, within 10 minutes I had to make a mad dash to the bathroom.  I'm quite confident that there was absolutely nothing left in my digestive tract ..except blood.  LOTS and lots of blood.  I had to go to my mom's early the next morning to spend the day doing laundry at her place for the week, packed up the laundry, feeling a bit faint, but managing.  I was mom afterall, I can keep going.  I fainted a few times after I got to my mom's and was still shitting blood.  A combination of black & bright red, but it was blood nonetheless.  Enough to make me faint from the blood loss over the 6 hour ordeal.  My mom called a friend of hers to watch the kids and she took me to the ER.  It was quite the busy day in the tiny ER - three car wrecks resulting in 4 people being helivaced out to bigger hospitals, other massive traumas, a motorcycle vs telephone pole accident...I was given an IV and waited. And waited.  The single ER doc there that day, bless his heart, was just plum exhausted.  I rehydrated and was released with the diagnosis of hemorrhoid rupture.  Ok, whatever, he's the professional, I'd been there for many hours already and was feeling at least a bit better...plus my mom was watching my kids and I had laundry left to get done and you know, mom stuff to take care of.

A few more months of OT and no real progress.  We did discover melatonin around Christmas and for about 2 months my life was GRAND!  I was able to sleep!  Still not more than 4-5hrs at a time, but a MASSIVE improvement over the 10-30 minutes of sleep at a time.  Then the melatonin effects started becoming hit and miss and back to the guilt being laid on for drugging my child because I was just too lazy to do everything else that we'd already tried to get her to sleep.

We moved from Oklahoma to Tennessee when Mikaila was 27 months old.  I immediately sought out the Early Intervention program to restart her therapies here and learned SOOOO much!  To start with hearing screenings and hearing TESTS were two totally different things...the screening showed that her hearing was perfect, but her behaviors showed differently.  A referral from the new doc and she was on her way to having a test ran on her hearing by an ENT.  The ENT noticed that she had quite the build up of fluid on her ear drums.  I told him she'd been on antibiotics almost all of the last year for 'ear infections' that weren't quite ear infections, just the beginning stages of one...ear infections without the redness & fever, just the fluid.  Clue #1.


He prescribed a round of antibiotics stronger than amoxicillan, went back two weeks later, fluid still there.  He had also noticed that her adenoids were inflamed & her tonsils were LARGE.  July 1st, when she was 2 1/2 years old she had surgery to remove her adenoids and have tubes put in her ears.  She was a bugger to wake up from the surgery and never fully woke up, but did eat the popcicles they gave her and fought us when we'd try to wake her up, after a few hours they sent us home anyways.  She slept for almost 24 full hours, straight.  I worried and fretted over it the whole time.

When she awoke it was like she was a totally different child.  Normal talking bothered her GREATLY, fireworks bothered her, whereas the year before she could sit right under them and fully enjoyed them, she had to cover her ears after her surgery.  Within a week she was sleeping through the night and her daytime behaviors were so much less frustrating for both of us.  Mommy guilt started lifting.  But then it was quickly added back in by persons who blamed me for not getting this taken care of earlier.  You know, because the professionals were incompetent I should have known that.  I did suspect it, but when you live in the middle of nowhere where there are only two doctors, only one of which accepts your insurance you're kinda limited on what you can do on an extremely limited budget.

By the time Mikaila aged out of the Early Intervention program her assessment was that she just needed speech therapy.  She was transferred into the preschool program at the elementary school and life has steadily gotten better.

She goes to bed every night at 8pm and 90% of the time is asleep within 10 minutes, she gets up between 6am and 8am, and life is as it should be with a 3 year old who only has a speech impairment.

A few weeks ago, on the 25th of August she went in for a sleep study because she still snores, still has muffled speech, etc and due to the HUGE success with the adenoid removal & tube placement I wanted to look into the option of the benefits of removing her abnormally huge tonsils.  You would think this would be a good thing, right?  I have competent doctors who have tried things and we've had GREAT success.  No, instead I get more outsider guilt piled on because I'm now 'mutilating' my daughter because I'm a lazy/unfit parent and don't seem to want to take responsibility or something for my daughter's behaviors & muffled speech.  By these 'professionals' (meaning persons with longer life experience/multiple more children experience) my daughter is behind because of me...and for some reason my son excels, even though my daughter's life has been EASY in comparison to his at this age.  I won't lie, until he was about 5 years old life was a constant inconsistent rollercoaster.  If all the experts and professionals had a cookie cutter clue my son, who is 'perfect' child material - if you take off the tween attitude - should be an absolute hellion who's flunking kindergarten, still.  He just turned 9 and in the 4th grade gifted program, give me a fucking break!


This past Wednesday we went back to the ENT for the results of the sleep study.  Her sleep score is comparable to that of a 500lb, 50 year old man, who smokes 3 packs a day.  She's 3 1/2 and weighs 37lbs and doesn't smoke.  On several occasions her oxygen level dropped below 80%.  Not good, at all.  Her tonsillectomy is scheduled for October 10.  And I am HAPPY about this.  I am looking forward to my wee daughter having surgery, again.

She was cursed with my larger than normal tonsils & adenoid tissue.  I can't do anything about that, that tidbit was the way the genes fell, but I can do something about improving her quality of life.  Lay more guilt on me.  Such a horrible mother I am for being relatively excited over her having surgery to remove her tonsils with the hopeful expectation this will further clear her airway so she can breathe, eat, talk, sleep, etc like a normal healthy child does.

Special tribute to Caryn (@ihave7monsters) and her post about her own 'Professional' run Mommy Guilt here.  We, the mother/father/fulltime caretaker of children, ARE the professionals when it comes to our children.  Just because someone has a bunch of debt and fancy letters after their name doesn't mean they are right when it comes to our children.

Edit to add:  My bouts with depression have gotten a bit better.  I'm getting more sleep & Mikaila has made progress with talking so life doesn't seem as damning.  The support from friends is great, both online and offline; professionals are doing their job - addressing my concerns and sending us off to specialized professionals when the concern is  out of their specialization.  It is still a work in progress, I am still battling some personal health issues that became quite exaggerated during Mikaila's first few years of life, but these problems didn't just suddenly appear, so they're not going to be quickly fixed.  Everyday is a new adventure and life is relatively good.


****Update October 26, 2011****


Mikaila had the tonsillectomy on October 10th.  

So far we have been able to notice that her speaking is MUCH clearer, it no longer sounds like she has cotton in her mouth.  Still has some delay, but quickly gaining ground & catching up.


Mikaila no longer snores at night.  Absolutely the most heart wrenching thing to be laying by your baby girl, who for almost 4 years has snored every night of her life, and then notice that you are not hearing her breathing...took me almost a week to stop rousing her while she was sleeping, just to be sure that she was just asleep.


I have also not noticed a single runny nose, not even an inkling of a runny nose.  I had noticed a difference after her adenoids were removed in July of 2010...but with the removal of the tonsils & regrown adenoid tissue I can't recall a single runny nose.


Her daytime attitude is MUCH better.  She sleeps all night now that her throat no longer hurts, and life is peaceful...once we get past the bedtime battles 2-3 times a week.

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Depression

...sucks.

That's really all I have to say, but I'll likely ramble anyways about whatever escapes from my fingers onto this post by use of the keyboard.

In no particular order:

I miss my dad. He's been dead now for just over four years, but I've not gotten to hang out with him in 10. Sure we talked on the phone a few times & wrote a few letters back and forth, but it wasn't the same. See, my dad spent the last 6 years of his life sitting behind bars. He was given a 30 year sentence for a crime I don't believe he committed. Of course the argument stands that if he didn't commit it then he wouldn't have been given a 30 year sentence, not in this day & age...yea, our judicial system is so upright where innocent folks aren't locked away & the guilty are that - guilty. I mean, just look at the whole Casey Anthony or O.J. Simpson things, right?

I rest my case.

I've tried really hard over the last 10 years to wrap my brain around it to the point that it's so wrapped I think it's just warped instead. I really don't want to believe either side. If I take my dad's side of things and defend him, well, I've lost a great deal of close relationships because I did take his side. If I take his accuser's side then I am compelled to be completely disgusted with my father, but also betray what my heart & mind tells me. The most fucked up part of all that is I may not be quite so conflicted about it had some folks not been so adamant that my dad was completely innocent...until my grandparents both died. It was almost immediately upon their deaths that all these folks, who'd supported my dad, bailed on him, trash talked him, and to this day paint him as the worst kind of scum to walk the planet. Of course his accuser went from just a spoiled little brat trying to get what she wanted to the patron saint of all that's right but wrong in the world, a poor innocent victim. Fuck her.

I miss the children that I birthed that were born with barely a fighting chance at life. Dear Alonna was a victim of doctors not putting all the pieces together & me being so utterly depressed I barely made it through the last half of my senior year of high school. Her father, my first husband, was killed in a car wreck days after we'd gotten married. During our short marriage, because I was a FIRM "virgin until marriage" person, I conceived her. Between severe depression, ulcers, stress, school, work, family life, God only knows what all ailed me at that time, doctors had me on a nice little cocktail of medications to treat each and every ailment. No heed was paid to the notion I could have been pregnant. Hell, I didn't even think anything of it. I still had bleeding from time to time, I didn't pay that close attention to timing and all that because I wasn't having sex...had only had sex twice, and it was in wedlock. Teenage pregnancy doesn't happen except out of wedlock, right? OH, YES, I was a naive one back then. She was born in December...in fact she, Mikaila & my Grandpa all share the same birthday, December 13th. My pregnancy wasn't confirmed until after I'd fallen down a flight of stairs just a few weeks before. The fall down the stairs wasn't detrimental to her, even though I'd like to blame something so innocent on the loss of her life. No. She was born with very underdeveloped organs or holes in the organs that did develop due to all the different medications I had been on during the majority of my pregnancy. I was given the option to have a late-term abortion, but I wouldn't hear of it! What kind of fucking moron suggests such a thing to an 18 year old gal who's not only lost her husband & best friend since preschool, but is now finding out she's PREGNANT and VERY near her due date, just mere weeks after her parents told her to "Get your dog, your computer, don't forget your hamster & the rest of your shit & get lost?!" Simply because she wasn't paying enough of the bills anymore because she was trying to move out into her own place... Then of course I had her, without the first drop of pain medication, because I was scared out of my fucking gourd after learning about all the medications I had been on for the previous 9+ months. I still, to this day, have issues with taking medications & hesitate going down stairs... I PLEADED with the doctors & nursing staff to pull a miracle out of their asses. I don't blame them. They tried. For 14 hours they worked to sustain her. Reflecting on it 11 years later now, pieces of me wish I would have saved them each that grief. It's not the loss of Alonna that haunts me so much as the looks on the doctors' and nurses' faces as they not only tried to console me but also make my miracle come true. Thing that haunts me further is the stigma that "we don't talk about that".

Then there was Bridgett. I got pregnant with her almost immediately after Mikeal was born. Ok, not completely immediately, but I'd gotten my first depo shot after he was born, then my ex husband was thrown in jail for attempting to rape a 5 year old...I was given a lame story about how this little girl had walked in on him while he was peeing in a laundry room and it was just some messed up misunderstanding & all he was guilty of, from the early stories I was told, was indecent exposure. I did what any scared, almost 21 year old girl who's been horribly abused by her husband & no one there to support her, except him, with a 4 month old...I believed him & by my upbringing I stood by him. During the early hoopla of all that I missed my appointment to get my next depo shot, was pregnant when I finally did get a chance to make-up that appointment. I hid that pregnancy for as long as I could during the court proceedings. On our anniversary, in June, I was 23 wks along I shared the news with my ex. He responded by beating the shit out of me & throwing a 27" TV at me...back before they were just 10lb pieces of plastic. Then he left to go smoke some meth with his cousins down the road. ((My naive ass didn't know a thing about any of that until well after the fact.)) I carried my 10 month old son & drug my bleeding ass to a neighbor's house, where the lights were on...it was only about 2am...and they called an ambulance for me. All I really remember was about 24 hours later I was being released from the hospital & that my baby girl had died. I did file a police report. All that got me was a rap for being a troublemaker & liar by the police department. Afterall, the Lieutenant's adopted son would NEVER do such a thing! I made the whole thing up!

I'm proud of the fact that I went to the meeting with his lawyer not long after that...I heard the confession tape for myself & learned the whole truth behind the charges. He'd picked a 5 year old girl up from an apartment complex, took her into a laundry room there, & considered having sex with her before some of the effects of the meth & alcohol he was on wore off just enough for him to let her go. I then spent the next few weeks charming my ex. I'd swear up and down how I'd be there for him & I'd never screw him over, yada yada yada yada yada. He was given a 4 MONTH sentence with only 4 years probation. On September 22nd he was booked on the charges...I left from the courthouse, with his ATM & credit cards in hand, & wiped those suckers clean, including the overdraft privileges. I sold what clothes of his that were left over from my brothers picking through them, I didn't make the first one of his vehicle payments, then I broke every fucking rule that bastard had laid upon me of what I wasn't allowed to do while he was incarcerated. I'd then write him letters telling him about how I started smoking, was going out to the bars, sleeping with whatever I felt like, doing whatever I liked. That $900 wedding ring set he'd bought me & still had a nice balance on - sold them for $175...then had a GRAND time at the bar....at least I think it was grand. I woke up in the bed of the truck, somewhere. ((Mikeal was safe at a babysitter's, who knew/understood/something to that effect my mental state of mind at that time.))

A few months later, on Mother's Day, I called Child Services on myself. I was in a desperate state of mind and was under the impression that they'd at least help me. I was suffering from alcohol addiction, was basically homeless, and well...it was bad. Know what child services did for me? Nada. Told me that because I had the presence of mind to call them that it meant that I was a good mother and could figure it out & didn't see Mikeal as being in any real danger. I BEGGED and PLEADED with them to PLEASE place him in a safe home & to help me get into a treatment program. They didn't. The next day I left Mikeal in the care of my 'less than fit roommate'...while he was passed out drunk (not Mikeal, the roommate) and got a job a few blocks away, working graveyard shift at Waffle House. Thankfully I had some awesome coworkers that let Mikeal & I move into their one bedroom apartment...then instead of going out to the bars I joined a chatroom.

I met a TON of very wonderful folks in that chatroom, and minus a few details, I moved from Tulsa, Oklahoma to Austin, TX, to move into a house with a complete stranger. Folks down there would drive an hour one direction to help me get out and look for a job, others would watch Mikeal for me, one guy gave me a car...I met Brian during all of that...yada yada...I sobered up, mostly, and my mother grew up a bit. I went back and lived with her for a while so I could get my divorce taken care of 100%, then moved back to Texas, eventually reconnected with Brian again, he proposed at my dad's funeral dinner, we went back home, in Texas, pregnant, yada yada...we've been married almost 4 years now with a Mikaila added to our family.

My ex is still a complete asshole.

My current marriage, like any other, has it low points, but overall it's awesome. I love where I live now, I love my friends, & tolerate most of my family, but I'm completely in admiration of my children and husband! But yet I still feel depressed. The logical side of me says I have no reason to be depressed. There's nothing I can do about the death of these loved ones, I know that having another child isn't going to replace any of the ones I've lost. I can't pinpoint a reason behind my depression. I'm mostly 'at peace' with the trauma my past inflicted upon me, but then every once in a while it just completely blindsides me and throws me for a complete loop and I don't even know what to think. The littlest thing can set it off and big things won't even phase me. I constantly feel like I'm swimming in a black hole that is devoid of everything, but yet I can see that I'm surrounded by all these folks that I know love & care about me and I just feel empty, withdrawn, and sad. But mostly angry.

The anger bothers me the most.

I'm absolutely justified to feel the anger. I can't think of many folks who wouldn't blame me for completely lashing out at some folks who have caused this anger. But at the same time I'm better than that. I feel guilty for having this anger. I want to just let go of the anger but I can't. I can for short periods. Most of the time I don't even notice it lingering. I don't want to be angry. I don't like feeling this way. This in turn makes me not like myself. And the cycle starts again. I've done decent, in my mind, with coping with it. I've gotten better. Stronger. But it's still there, haunting me. I know it's effected persons around me, I try to keep it hidden, to keep it a secret...because it's just not one of those things we talk about... I don't even know how to talk about it. I don't know how to fix it. Sure I can repress it and pretend it doesn't exist...for a while. But I'm not comfortable with that and that fuels my anger, just in more directions.

I don't know what to do at this point. I'm not even sure I even know what I WANT to do. I just know that my head isn't always healthy & it may never be fully healthy...but I also don't want to go through the rest of my life with this anger hoovering over me.

This grown-up shit is hard.


~*~Then of course I'm searching for info that I need, again, for my assignment, that was erased by Windows' need to fucking update without warning and restart without allowing me to save any work I'd worked SOO fucking hard on...and I run across this blog post. I needed it. I'm going to start working on setting the tone to my own happiness & fulfillment...by starting on #3, especially.~*~

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It Started as just a Comment...

I started to write a comment on A Daddy Blog's blog post about Disney Princesses & the messages conveyed by the Princesses of the various stories. I highly recommend reading the post before reading too far into this post of mine, simply because my post may not make a great deal of sense otherwise. *maybe* I could be wrong, but he wrote a great post, so either way you should still check it out, as well as the comments posted.

*~*Disclaimer: I've been drinking tonight, a lot. My mind is in rambling mode...or my drunk fingers are, I can't tell.*~*

I agree with your sentiment posted, Michael, as well as the points highlighted by the previous commentors.

Both my ex husband & my current husband can be likened to 'The Beast" and myself to Belle - strong willed, intelligent gal, of Beauty & the Beast...the difference is with my ex-husband I thought I could change him over to being a prince charming when he was nothing more than a beast at the core, even still - abusive, controlling, manipulative, you name it...except he was quite the charmer to everyone else, but me, after I was 'sucked in'. Current husband, where he wasn't abusive he did take quite a bit of time & patience to learn what honest love was & that he was worthy of being loved, despite not being 'perfect' by others' standards.

I agree we can't shelter our children from the negative influences...my parents tried, with everything...and from personal experiences, it doesn't matter how well we're taught by our parents, peers, etc we're still going to make some pretty stupid mistakes along the way...its how we learn from those mistakes & grow from said mistakes that shapes us into adults. Some young folks will never experience things like peer pressure to try things like drugs, or wind up in an abusive relationship, etc the list is miles long...I never expected to wind up in any such situation because I was smart, I knew better, I was intelligent, had a straight upbringing, etc...I didn't have the first ounce of street smarts though & that was a hard road to walk after I moved out as a single woman at 18. Then another hard road as a single mom with a toddler before I was 22.

My opinion is - to teach the good, the bad, & the ugly and how to avoid/react to each...then be there for them when/if they fall. That was where I got snared in-my folks weren't there to help me out of a dark situation because they'd taught me better, I went against what I was taught, I had to find my own way out of my own mess. I got the same story from the church I had been attending, other family members, and a random multitude of persons I'd basically grown up with as role models for me. My life was FULL of ideal positive role models. I think I knew MAYBE five whole people who even smoked cigarettes - my grandpa quit when I was 10, he's 78 now, still as feisty as ever, my stepgrandpa smoked what seemed like a carton of cigarettes a day, until the day he died, at 84 years old, from 'old age', and my PaPa smoked until he died 3 days before his 70th birthday - his death was attributed more to just a broken heart from losing my Granny less than a year before after they'd been married almost 50 years. She died of a combination of stress, diabetes complications, and a weak heart, never smoked a day in her life...my Papa was an over the road truck driver & smoked outside, she was barely exposed to any secondhand smoke.

Anyways, my point is - I didn't grow up around alcoholics, those that did have a drinking problem had quit their addictions years before I was old enough to even know they'd drank, ever. I don't think a single person I grew up around ever did any illegal drugs - I wasn't exposed to potheads, meth addicts, coke or heroin junkies...I seriously grew up thinking such things only occurred in bigger cities, like Los Angeles, New York City, & Miami. Of course, now, as an almost 29 year old adult I know better.

I've been exposed to a number of different substances, even ones that I'd never even heard of in my drug awareness classes. I know the street slang for 90% of it too. It is really scary to me to think of what I knew when I moved out of my parents' home, at 18, compared to what I learned within the first 3 years of being out of their home. By the time I turned 19 I was hooked on drinking & smoking pot - to EXTREMES. I sobered up for a while when I found out I was pregnant & then breast feeding, but within two months of leaving my ex, stopping breastfeeding, etc when Mikeal was 13 months old I was back into that party scene....I was also 21, so no longer had to sneak around or fake IDs in order to get into bars and the like. A few months before I turned 22 I found myself homeless with an 18 month old because no one was willing to help me get out of this bad rut I'd found myself in - between the depression, the lack of self-esteem, the complete worthlessness I felt I turned harder towards the "party" lifestyle.

I became the gal that everyone liked, everyone 'trusted', and I was subsequently exposed to more and more substances - I was the go to gal, if anyone ran out of anything I knew who to contact to get more...of course because I didn't do anything more than smoke a bit of weed once in a while and drink like a fish out of water I was a great pack horse to transport *whatever*. Ironically one of my 'contact' persons to get stuff from was/is the lead prosecuting attorney of the city, she guided me as to how to go about getting by with not getting caught, how to get out of having my vehicle searched if I ever was pulled over, the like.

On Mother's Day, right after my 22nd birthday, Mikeal wasn't but 21 months old, I called Child Protective Services on myself. I wanted help, I needed help, I needed motivation or something to get out of this lifestyle I'd gotten myself into. I love Mikeal more than life itself-it was my love for him that prompted me to make that phone call. I PLEADED with the social workers. I BEGGED them to help me, and if they couldn't help me then to at least take Mikeal away from me so he wouldn't be exposed to it all anymore. I was a disgusting excuse of a mother, where my opinion is concerned, frankly that's the only opinion that matters.

Imagine my shock and horror when I was told that because I asked for the help, etc that they saw no reason to intervene and take Mikeal from me. Apparently because I wasn't denying the fact that I was a fairly shitty excuse of a mother and I wanted to protect Mikeal, that he wasn't in any immediate danger, but the living situation was quite dire, (no food, no running water, living with a meth head, & 3 alcoholic adults) then they didn't see the need to take him or do anything at all about my case. They gave me a list of addresses of places I could go to get help, etc during the week. Later that evening, I called again, this time though I told them that I was on the brink of just ending both our lives so that we'd no longer be a burden on society - that worked.

I had to fucking threaten to kill my own child and myself before anyone even glanced in my direction. Two social workers & a police officer came out. In person I told them my first story, of needing Mikeal to be put in a safe home, where he'd be taken care of properly, and I needed help to get my life straightened out. After what seemed like an eternity of pleading they took Mikeal to a group home...the next day they took him to my ex-mother-in-law because she'd seen this as an opportunity to milk the system even further. I wasn't given any restrictions to Mikeal, I was told to get my life straightened out and at any time that I decided I wanted him back to just go get him and bring him back home to myself. And was left at that. It didn't seem to matter that I was needing to turn my alcohol system back into a blood system, or that I was in a dark mental place, etc. I did land myself a fair job, working graveyard shifts at the Waffle House that was within walking distance & then later I got a job at the Denny's just down the road too. I didn't have a vehicle. I tried meth during this time during a particularly horrible week where I was ready to really end it all - it didn't work, I saw no effect from smoking, snorting, or just eating the stuff...and I did a LOT of it that week. The 'professionals' were shocked that I didn't seem to be effected by it. I was over it nearly as soon as I'd started it.

I moved into a slightly better roommate situation - there was at least running water & the power wasn't constantly being turned off. Oh, and they had internet. I turned my 'need' to go out to get drunk into a chatroom obsession. I sobered up because of that chatroom - it was full of great folks, in Texas...I was in Oklahoma, an 8hr drive from the majority of the folks I'd chatted with, including Brian.

By the end of July I was nearly over my obsession to drink & go out, I was also making a fair income, and had someone nearby who was clean & sober & willing to watch Mikeal for me. That's when more problems started. My ex-mother-in-law decided that she didn't want to give Mikeal over to me...after all during those two months the state put her in a housing unit where she only had to pay $25 a month in rent, $25 a month in utilities, got almost $300 a month in food stamps, was awarded her disability for her fake back injury that she'd been working on getting for a while and had been denied several times, her life was GREAT! There was no way in any sort of fucking hell she'd part with her cash cow! She could lock him in a closet and run around all she wanted now. Heck, she even used him to help her in her shoplifting schemes - schemes where she could walk into ANY store empty handed and walk out with a few hundred dollars in cash & merchandise that she'd later sell on the streets.

I digress. After I learned that the ex-hag wasn't going to give me my son back without a fight that I didn't have a leg to stand on to fight one of my dear friends (I've known them all for now almost 8 years) worked a plan with me. He offered to let me live in his house, site unseen, for a few weeks, until I was able to get on my feet there in Austin....I just simply had to get down there with Mikeal. I worked my tail off to make more money...of course the more I earned the more often it seemed that my roommates expected me to pay towards rent, etc, leaving me no further ahead than when I'd started.

I finally was able to get about $500 in my pocket - my grandmother sent me a couple hundred of that, in the mail. I bought myself a Greyhound bus ticket, I was to be leaving out on the 14th of August. I talked my mom into coming up to take me to get Mikeal & drive me to the bus station - we told my ex-hag that I was going to be spending the weekend with my mother & Mikeal, I'd be back on Sunday or Monday, this was a Friday evening. She sent 2 changes of clothes for Mikeal, that was it, and one diaper, although he'd been out of diapers for months when he went to go stay with her in the first place. He'd regressed that much in less than 2 months.

Anyways...my bus left out at 6pm, 12 hrs later it pulled into the Austin terminal. A different chat buddy picked me up at the bus terminal & took me out to where I'd be staying - a GORGEOUS $300K house (for those of you not familiar with what that means in Austin - it meant 4 bathrooms, full entry way, 3 car garage, 4 bedrooms, a huge master suite, formal dining room, HUGE kitchen, HUGE living room, beautiful fenced in private yard, etc...I felt completely out of place. Here I was with every worldly item I owned at that point in two duffle bags, a carry on suitcase, and a normal sized suitcase...I also had a car seat. That was it....well, I did have a few things that my mom took back to her place-enough to almost fill the trunk of her 2door car, but even that didn't amount to much at all.

Over the course of a week complete strangers would drive all the way out there, some from as far as an hour away, to pick me up and take me around town to look for a job. Within a week I landed a job, the next day I was given a car by a different 'complete stranger'. Within a month I met Brian face to face, falling instantly head over heels so fast it still takes my breath away. A week or two later I moved in with him & his roommate.

Of course that wasn't the end of fairy tale. My ex-hag hunted me down & started sending out subpenas that would beckon me to make regular trips back to Oklahoma, she felt completely entitled to Mikeal. I won each and every hearing, simply based on the fact that 1)I'm his mother & 2) she's a convicted felon. She pulled every dirty trick in the book and I was still gullible and naive, we'd work out a 'custody' plan between the two of us...and then she'd run off with Mikeal for a few months with the help of her family. I put a stop to all dealings with her after that incident. She of course hired a lawyer and a few court hearings again the judge finally told her to get over herself and let me care for my child...that was 7 years ago. I've only heard from her once since, and that was about 18 months ago. She told me about how she loved her grandson and yada yada yada yada bullshit until her own son went back to jail for failure to pay child support for a little while. I've not heard from her since, and I don't believe my mom has either (seeing as she has my mother's number, but not my new one). For all I know she's dead from a drug overdose or was caught shoplifting and is now sitting behind bars for the rest of her life, per the terms of her probation from her previous arrest. Either way, GOOD RIDDANCE!

I've only heard twice from the deadbeat sperm donor since I left him in Sept 2003. The first time was in Oct 2005, just a few weeks after I moved back to Oklahoma so I could file for the divorce, then again in February of 2010, where he told the judge he wanted 50/50 custody of Mikeal & to never have to pay child support or he wanted his rights terminated and to never pay child support again. The judge denied him on both accounts and he's still spotty in making child support payments and hasn't bothered with anything else related to Mikeal, the son he loves so much.

Brian on the otherhand, he's been great. We've had some pretty low points, as a couple, broke it off on SEVERAL occasions, but he's always been a daddy to Mikeal. Even when he and I weren't seeing eye to eye there was no denying his relationship with Mikeal, for that reason alone I never completely broke off contact with him...sure we'd gone over a year without seeing/talking to each other, but we had some things individually to get taken care of both legally and personally.

Well, at this point I'm out of alcohol in my juice bottle and out of juice to put in my alcohol bottle, and it's 2am and I should be doing some of my homework assignments, instead writing this entry...but my point is you can give your children the best upbringing in the world, mine was far from 'the best' or even mediocre for that matter, but it was VERY sheltered - I'd never even watched MTV until I was in my mid-20s, and don't care a lick for it - and my young adulthood turned out to be less than stellar. The MOST important thing a parent can EVER teach their child is that they will be there for them to HELP them when they need it and are willing to work for it....and sometimes you have to let them have the opportunities to make some mistakes so that they'll learn from said mistakes so that they can grow away from making deeper mistakes. I'm seriously lucky to have survived those few years with no more scars than what I have now. By all rights I should be dead or sitting in prison for someone else's death or something equally life damning. I can't say I've been given a 2nd chance to make my life awesome...I think I'm pushing the ranks of being on my 20th chance at life, but I can say that the LAST thing I want to do is lie to my children about the reality of life. I don't sugar coat, or make my kids think they don't have to worry about such things because 'we live in a good area'. Because frankly, it doesn't matter in the slightest how nice of an area you think you live in. The crap is everywhere - ALL of it. Right now you have at least one neighbor who beats their spouse, another neighbor that tortures their children, and another neighbor that spends 90% of their time completely strung out on *something*. And maybe that someone is you.

My family and friends, even the ones that saw me on a near daily basis, never knew or admitted that I was being beaten, burned with cigarettes, raped, cut with knives, verbally attacked, etc...yea, sure, I'd tried going to them in the beginning, I tried getting out early...did me absolutely no good to a bunch of folks who preached about how an honorable wife sticks with her husband or the husband had everyone charmed and just thinking that I just had a flare for the dramatic, since I was only 19/20 and he was almost 10 years older than me. After being shot down about it I just got better at hiding it, to the point that I became the things everyone believed me to be - a drunken whore to put it lightly.

I still work on a daily basis to be the woman that I know myself to be before all the bullshit swallowed me, but it's hard. I've only recently gotten to where I trust myself to have an occasional drink or three even, such as I think I've had tonight...I didn't measure out the shots of vodka, I just took a few sips out of the bottle of juice, filled it up with the shot or to I had in my little bottle from a few months ago, then when I drank that down some I poured in a few more shots worth of vodka from the new little bottle Brian brought home for me....But I still can't stomach the smell of whiskey or tequila.

One can make Disney out to be the villain, or MTV, or classmates, or any number of things...the reality of it is it all rests on the shoulders of the parents, caretakers, and role models in a child's life. The lessons taught and learned don't stop when the child becomes a legal adult and moves out of the home. The teaching and molding influence you have over your child doesn't stop until your child has died, at that moment they're no longer able to learn from you. Until that time comes though, they will still continue to learn from you, even after you've passed on before them.

My PaPa's favorite saying all my life was: A day is only wasted if you learn nothing and you teach nothing. Never let a day go wasted. There is always something to learn, even while teaching. He wasn't a scholar, he dropped out of school when he was 8 years old to join the circus, didn't learn to read past that level until he was nearly 60 years old, when he started having to use a computer to drive a semi. However, he was also one of the wisest men I knew. He only passed away about 8 years ago, when I was 20, I saw him on nearly a daily basis for the last 10 years of his life, with the except of the very last year, when I had moved far off to pursue a life with my ex-husband, and I still learn things from the way he lived his life, treated my Granny, their kids, and nearly 20 grandkids and four great-grandbabies (Mikeal was the youngest one born when he passed, Mikeal was 4 months old).

As far as my opinion goes, and it's the only one that matters, my PaPa was a great man. He makes all the Prince Charmings of the Disney franchise look lame. Dads - be the type of man you'd want your daughters to marry. Moms - lighten up and just enjoy...the dishes and laundry will never be caught up and a little dirt behind the furniture never hurt anyone. Money, looks, things, etc mean jack squat. I grew up dirt poor, but I was happy. I married a man with a lot of money (in comparison, at least), who made a lot of money and I was absolutely miserable and mistreated. Now, our family income counts as below poverty level for a family of 4 and I'm happier. I'm still working on some demons & hang-ups I have from my past, but outside of that I have everything I want in my broke, slightly overweight, balding, covered in body hair, Prince Charming. He's kind, honest, trustworthy, loving, and my best friend. That is all I know that matters. The stuff & looks can be gone without even a moment's notice - integrity lives for generations.

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An Exercise in Nothing

That's how I'm feeling right now.

Since having my Mirena removed, coming off the weight gain causing medications, and increasing my activity level tenfold, I have gained 21 pounds, after an initial 10lb almost immediate, no hassle, loss.

I hate that the scale says one thing, but I look a whole other thing.
I hate that my doctors all have always given me the 'obese' label, even when I was wearing fitting size 10 clothing.
I hate that I have no 'food' issues, anymore, and yet still can't budge the scale.
I hate that I can consume less than 2,000 calories in a week and gain a few pounds.
I hate the fact that when I had a shitty diet of insane amounts of Mountain Dew, convenience store foods, and Taco Bell I was able to lose weight like it was my mind...now that I have a nearly no junk diet, barely a single soda a week, scores of veggies, lean meats, etc I put on weight.
I hate that my body seems to be insistent at staying this size, no matter what I change or what I do.
And it PISSES ME RIGHT THE FUCK OFF when someone makes a comment along the lines of 'you are really looking good, I can tell you've lost weight' when the scale says the exact opposite. The other day Brian commented that he could tell that my efforts to lose weight are starting to pay off...that I look to be fairly close to what I was when I was at my absolute lowest adult weight, 4 years ago. The truth of the matter: I'm 50lbs heavier right now than I was then.

I don't want to lose a great deal of weight. I have no desire to be in a single digit clothing size. A size 10 was what I was at when I was at my lowest weight...a size I hadn't seen since I was 11 or 12 years old. I was HAPPY with my body and my weight. I weighed in at 220lbs. I am 6ft tall and muscularly built. Seriously, tell me how many women you know who can tell you they are not only happy with being over 200lbs, much less be able to comfortably, without any extra assistance, be able to put on a size 10 pair of blue jeans, at 220 pounds.

This is a picture of me at 220lbs. It was taken the night I became engaged to Brian, March 28, 2007 (also the same night I became pregnant with Mikaila)...the baby is one of my nephews.

This is actually the best picture I have of me at the size I am now, although it was taken in May of 2006, at my baby brother's high school graduation party. Roughly 270lbs, size 18.

I think the crappiest bit about it all over the last few years has been the fact that I only gained about 20lbs during my pregnancy with Mikaila, who was born weighing 8lbs, 4oz, and by Christmas (she was born, via cesarean on December 13) I actually weighed only 210 and my size 10 pants I'd worn before I became pregnant fit me comfortably again. Since then I have fought a losing battle to just maintain.

Roughly a month ago I picked up my weekly workout routine...over the last week, when I have been going VERY hard at it I have gained 6lbs.
I do 100 push-ups three times a week - and not the girly, on my knees, push-ups either.
Three days of the week that I don't do push-ups I do sets of crunches that equals a grand total of 400 crunches each of those days.
I also spend a minimum of half an hour each day jogging up and down a full flight of stairs here at the house, non-stop and I also devote at least half an hour each day to doing Zumba-like dance.
In addition to all of that I do hard manual labor around the house, inside and out....just today I spent over an hour using a pick ax on the gravel driveway to smooth out a 6'x10' area.

My diet over the last week has included two steak dinners, one at Ruby Tuesday, paired with water to drink, one last night at home, cooked on the grill, paired with flavored water that has only 5 calories, if that. Outside of those two 'indulgence' meals I have ate a large bag of fresh spinach, two heads of lettuce, two tomatoes, two eggs, a small handful of shredded cheese, 3lbs of baby carrots, 1 handful of tortilla chips with salsa, and 16 dark chocolate Belgium truffles. I have drank the equivalancy of one pot of coffee, with sugar and creamer, 16ounces of sweet tea, and who knows how many gallons of water. That's it. Two carb servings over the last week, three servings of meat, and some dark chocolate have been the only 'bad' things in my diet and they've been consumed in great moderation. My calories burnt have almost tripled the number of calories I have taken in and I'm extremely frustrated with it.

I have no health issues related to my weight, my weight doesn't keep me from doing anything or wanting to do anything. I just want to be rid of this damned 'obese' label! Of course to do that my doctor wants me to weigh-in at 180lbs, at the very most, preferring that I be closer to 165 or 170.

I'm just fed up with the whole crap of it all today. Stepping on the scale this afternoon, after having ate nothing since 7pm yesterday, having only drank water all day, and doing a boatload of hard manual labor to level part of the driveway and doing 'real' yardwork for three hours today, gave me a gain of 4lbs since I stepped on the scale yesterday morning...the only thing I ate at all yesterday was a 5oz sirloin steak, two tablespoons of potato salad, a tablespoon of baked beans, and two small plates of green salad that was composed of iceberg lettuce, spinach, mushrooms, tomatoes, and a few pinches of shredded cheese, lightly coated with a fat free Ranch dressing.

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Number 301

Yep...that's what number post I'm on (on this blog) and I've been trying to think of something to mark this particular post monumental...and well, I've come up short.

I considered doing a post listing 301 things about me and well...I'm not terribly sure I have all that many interesting things to say about myself.

Okay, I lied. I know I have at least that many interesting things to say about myself, after all I've written 300 posts about me, my thoughts, my family, etc, so I should be able to create a post with a list of 301 random sentences about me.

The question remains though, would you seriously be interested in reading a list of 301 things about me?

I'll take my chances and attempt this feat. Feel more than free to skip to the end and just make a comment about what you think of me...who knows, I may even open this post up to anonymous comments so that all my lovely 'lovers' can let me know. I also don't mind if you make something up, in the very least it'll give me a giggle (I hope).

The List:

1. I am 28 years old.
2. I will be 29 on the eve of Cinco de Mayo.
3. I love my beer dark & in a glass container.
4. I enjoy a decent Lambrusca wine when the mood strikes.
5. I'm no longer fond of tequila.
6. Truthfully, tequila is no longer fond of me.
7. I really am not an alcoholic.
8. I can no longer afford to be an alcoholic?
9. Truthfully, I couldn't afford it back then either, I was just single.
10. I am loving Absolut Mandarin with pineapple juice.
11. I've been back in school for a year now.
12. I have an 8 year old son, Mikeal.
13. I have a 3 year old daughter, Mikaila.
14. I have a 27 year old brother, Daniel.
15. I have a 26 year old sister, Samantha.
16. I have a 23 year old 'baby' brother, Duke.
17. I have a wonderful husband.
18. I've been enamored with my husband since the day we met, September 2, 2004.
19. I am still enamored with my husband.
20. October 31 will mark our 4 year wedding anniversary.
21. I've been divorced.
22. June 13 is the anniversary of my divorce, this year will mark 5 years.
23. If you ask some folks I've known all my life they'll tell you I'm currently in a 'hospital' in Texas.
24. I've supposedly been in this hospital for the last 6 years.
25. A result is my son is a ward of the state and my daughter doesn't exist.
26. Other folks will tell you I ran off, leaving my husband & children, and no one has heard from me in over a year.
25. These folks wonder why I haven't kept in contact with them over the last year since leaving Oklahoma, with my husband and kids.
26. I've hated Oklahoma since I was 12.
27. I was born next door to the Wal-Mart home office center, in Bentonville, Arkansas.
28. I've lived in a number of states over my life...I think I've lost count.
29. I've lived in Arkansas, North Carolina, South Carolina, Virgina, Oklahoma, Iowa, Montana, Indiana, Texas, Missouri, New York, Tennessee, and Georgia....I think that's it.
30. I've spent my share of nights in county jails.
31. I've been wrongly imprisoned.
32. It took 29 days for the prison to correct their mistake.
33. My ex-husband's adoptive father had me arrested after announcing my intent to divorce (he was the Lieutenant).
34. I spent 10 nights in the city jail, Dec 22 - Jan 1.
35. They released me at 1:45am, New Year's 'morning'.
36. I never was charged with anything.
37. They also have no record of me being there.
38. Same city/county that wrongly imprisoned me for 29 days.
39. People wonder why I hate Oklahoma.
40. I did spend roughly 5 nights, in Texas & Arkansas county jails for legitimate reasons.
41. Williamson County, Texas cops don't take kindly to a white chick driving around, lost, at 3am, with a black man in her car.
42. Williamson County, Texas cops also don't seem to take kindly when you call them out on their racism, by calling them backwoods skinheads with a badge.
43. WilCo cops also must have superb hearing, seeing as I muttered that from 15 feet away while they searched my car.
44. I was very happy though they found nothing in my car, it was new.
45. I partook of regular ganja sessions back then.
46. My daughter just ran out the front door, so I'll get back to this later. (Noon 2/18)
47. Here I am, 14 hours later, getting back to this, I had the satellite internet installed, dinner out with the family, a Twitter wine party, and homework to get done.
48. I've lost my buzz I had during the wine party and homework completion.
49. Dinner was awesome, in every way, at Ruby Tuesday.
50. I lost the momentum I had when I was at #40.
51. At some point I'll get my momentum back.
52. So far, I'm thinking dial-up is better than this crappy satellite connection.
53. It is 2am on 2/19, I'm the only one up, besides the cat.
54. I love horror flicks, but as I've grown older they don't hold my attention the same way...or maybe it's just the EXTREME nature of the Saw movies that has done me in.
55. I'm the chick that watches horror flicks while making running comedic commentary during the whole thing, resulting in me having to watch the movie several more times before I actually know the whole story line.
56. Watching movies a countless number of times doesn't bother me.
57. Watching a movie for the first time with Mikeal, does bother me.
58. I know everything, my son knows I know everything, therefore he has to constantly ask 50 bagillion questions during every new movie, show, etc and expects me to have an answer for him.
59. I actually participated well in the Twitter wine party held earlier, for the first time...I've started to join in the past, then my ADD kicked in.
60. I have adult ADD.
61. You didn't notice, did you?
62. I hide my ADD tendencies well.
63. I lied.
64. I'm currently on Zoloft for depression.
65. My shrink doesn't think I am depressed, just need counseling.
66. My counselor thinks my antidepressant isn't strong enough.
67. I think they're both quacks.
68. I have two months worth of Zoloft 'stockpiled'.
69. My recent maybe pregnancy, maybe miscarriage fiasco is the reason behind the lack of taking the pills.
70. I keep telling myself I'll start taking it again.
71. Both my brothers wives are pregnant.
72. My baby brother's baby is due in August.
73. He and his wife just had a baby in August.
74. The older of my brothers wife is due in July...or March...no one really knows it seems.
75. My sister has been 'trying' to get pregnant for three months.
76. My mom is worried she has something wrong with her reproductively, because it's taken so long.
77. I've been trying since July, had a miscarriage for Christmas, my mom was more worried about her checkbook fuck up.
78. People wonder why I really don't mind living 600+ miles away from my family.
79. I've only seen my Marine baby brother since leaving Oklahoma.
80. I love the friends I've made or gotten to know here in Tennessee over the last year.
81. We moved to Tennessee because one of the moms I know from a 'mommy board' had a house opening up for rent.
82. Brian and I both got entirely 'over' living in Oklahoma that same month, a year ago.
83. My in-laws live just 3 hours away now, in Alabama.
84. Except for my mother-in-law, who is living, as far as we know, outside of Houston, TX.
85. I won't give my mother-in-law our physical address.
86. Last time we gave her our physical address she thought she'd move into our 900sq ft 2 bedroom house with us.
87. Mikeal was 5, Mikaila was 4 months old, and we had temporary custody of my 6 & 3 year old nephews then.
88. Brian is medically sterile due to a botched hernia surgery and subsequent infection.
89. That's how we've ended up pregnant three times in the last 7 years, only Mikaila to show for those pregnancies.
90. I hope I haven't repeated myself yet.
91. Mikaila was conceived the night Brian proposed to me.
92. Brian proposed while we were eating dinner at my daddy's funeral.
93. When he asked me I just gave him a blank stare.
94. He asked me a second time.
95. Of course I said yes.
96. The part of me that believes in the spiritual Karmatic world feels that Mikaila is our blessing from my father.
97. My mother raised me to be Baptist.
98. My father raised me to be open minded to all religions and beliefs.
99. My Granny raised me to be a Jehovah's Witness.
100. I was baptized as a Jehovah's Witness at age 15, to piss off my mother.
101. I lean more towards my father's teachings.
102. My dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 digestive tract cancer, 4 years ago today.
103. The cancer was found during his 4th open heart surgery.
104. He was 44 years old.
105. The cancer was in every digestive organ from his throat to his colon.
106. He died of a heart attack on March 26, 2007.
107. He spent the last 6 years of his life in prison for a crime that I believe to have been made up.
108. He was given a 30 year sentence for supposedly raping my sister.
109. I am 99.9% positive the accusations are completely false.
110. I only say 99.9% because I do love my sister, I don't like her, but I do love her, and on some deep level I want to believe she really wouldn't make up such things.
111. One of her best friends at this time, whom I had worked with, had bragged about how she was able to be exonerated to do as she pleased by making such accusations against her own father.
112. Now you see why I question such?
113. My parents, especially my dad, were strict, by today's standards.
114. But they were lovingly strict, they wanted to raise us to be decent, law abiding human beings.
115. Two of the four of us have never been in jail, of any sort.
116. Two of the four of us are loving, caring, selfless human beings.
117. Three of the four of us know &/or provide for all the children we brought into this world.
118. My baby brother hits all three of those categories.
119. I hit two of them.
120. My sister hits one of them.
121. My other brother, bless him, he's made a lifestyle of making bad decisions, both in women and in friends.
122. It is 3am, my 'bedtime'.
123. I got married the first time on February 7, 2000.
124. I was widowed on February 9, 2000.
125. I got married for the second time on June 27, 2002.
126. I left that bastard September 22, 2003.
127. My divorce from the bastard did not finalize until June 13, 2006.
128. Third time's a charm.
129. I am happy despite all off the bullshit to get here.
130. No, really, I am.
131. I smoke.
132. I don't have a problem with quitting smoking.
133. I've quit cold turkey a few times.
134. Those non-smoking episodes have lasted anywhere from 6 months to 3 years.
135. I first smoked a cigarette when I was 19.
136. I met my first husband when I was 4 years old.
137. We married just a few months shy of my 18th birthday.
138. I met my ex-husband in a bar, when I was 19.
139. Legal age to get into that bar, in a dry county nonetheless, is 21.
140. I was very drunk.
141. I stayed very drunk until my grandmother suggested that she thought I was pregnant.
142. She turned out to be correct.
143. I completely sobered up, immediately.
144. My ex became HIGHLY abusive.
145. I lost my 2nd pregnancy with him because he threw a TV at me, on our 1st wedding anniversary.
146. I was 24 weeks pregnant.
147. Bridgett Sapphire was born and died on June 28th, 2003.
148. I did have a daughter with my late-husband.
149. My medical team of doctors chalked up all my 'symptoms' as symptoms of everything else.
150. The medications I was on during my pregnancy with Alonna Emerald killed her.
151. No, I did not consider that I may be pregnant.
152. I was a virgin on my first wedding night.
153. I was/am on the 'larger built' side of the spectrum.
154. I barely showed, if at all.
155. I lost almost 100lbs that pregnancy, and it wasn't noticeable.
156. I was pregnant during my senior year of high school.
157. I was very active in school, work, church, taking care of 3 younger siblings, who were teenagers, then was kicked out of the house after graduation.
158. I realize now that the ulcers, the cramps, the migraines, the blood pressure issues, depression, and only God knows what else I was treated for were all more pregnancy related than anything else.
159. I was in the care of a number of doctors, one of them 'noticed' either.
160. I hate Oklahoma doctors.
161. Alonna was 14 hours old when I gave the doctors permission to end her suffering.
162. Would I do things differently if it happened now that I am more knowledgeable?
163. I don't know.
164. No one in my family acknowledges Alonna or Bridgett.
165. Does it hurt?
166. Sometimes.
167. But none of them cared enough to even take notice, of any of it.
168. I was very close to one of my aunts as I was growing up.
169. I told her about losing Bridgett being the final straw for me, asked her about living with them, since her older 3 kids had moved out.
170. I was told I was a horrible heathen (to put it nicely) to even consider breaking my marriage vows.
171. If you were to ask her about me today she'd tell you that I'm in a mental hospital, permanently, in Texas, and I've been there for the last 7 years or so.
172. Part of that has to do with the fact I stuck up for my father, her baby brother, and not my sister.
173. My family has issues.
174. It's no wonder my counselor & shrink can't agree on my treatment.
175. I think I missed my most recent counseling appointment.
176. Nope, nevermind, it's not until the 22nd.
177. Maybe I'll print this list and let her read over it.
178. I'm sure she'll take kindly to me calling her a quack.
179. I really don't think she's a quack, she's seen me more than once and didn't tell me I seemed perfectly normal.
180. I've probably had half a dozen shrinks & counselors tell me I seemed normal to them.
181. Just because I seem normal doesn't mean that the pain isn't there.
182. Just because I seem normal doesn't mean I don't want to talk to someone about my issues, someone that can offer me exercises and support to work through some of my hang-ups.
183. You're still reading this?
184. Should I tell you that it's 3:30am now and I really didn't go to bed 62 sentences ago?
185. I don't like being up this late.
186. When I'm up this late these types of sentences & details come out my fingers.
187. I wouldn't be lying if I told you I maybe have 40 posts that I never completed and never published because of all this crap.
188. I typed most of them up between the hours of 2 & 4am.
189. I actually like this format for posting the 'crap'.
190. The concise sentences hit the details without all my filler.
191. Seriously, have you read other posts I've written?
192. Then you know exactly what type of filler I'm talking about.
193. There's enough extra non-essential filler in some of those posts that even I don't have a clue what I'm talking about.
194. All of my blog posts are first, final, only drafts.
195. I blog because its therapeutic to me.
196. I've posted disclaimers on blogs I have gone back and edited.
197. If I really took the time to go back later and proofread and revise my posts you really wouldn't know the first thing really about me.
198. I'm honestly painfully shy.
199. No, I lied.
200. I'm not shy.
201. I'm not comfortable with receiving sympathy, condolences, or pats on the back for living life.
202. I didn't type and post the crap of my life to hear your words of shock, encouragement, sympathy, or anything of that nature.
203. I posted the crap because I wanted to share this stuff.
204. My blog is my journal of pieces of things I want to leave for my children.
205. I don't want it all to be sugar coated.
206. I know my children will be adults one day.
207. They need to know that regardless of what they think their momma wasn't perfect.
208. I made mistakes.
209. I suffered heartbreak.
210. I lived the life of a breathing human.
211. I passed harsh judgment on others.
212. I bragged about my children.
213. I vented about my children.
214. I embarrassed my children.
215. I love their father, but he's not perfect either.
216. Folks have told me I should write a book about my life.
217. I've tried, several times.
218. A book wouldn't do my life justice.
219. There are thousands of books about people's lives, their trials, tribulations, triumphs, failures, etc.
220. Has this society benefited from such books?
221. Sarah Palin has proved that any egotistical arrogant bitch can have a book written about her life and superficial thoughts.
222. Why should I join those ranks?
223. I have a public blog.
224. It's free to read.
225. I don't have to go whore myself out to sell copies or make money off of it.
226. I mean, really, look towards the top, below my profile info, I have a counter of blog hits.
227. This is my 300th post and I haven't even broken 1000 blog hits since putting up the counter at my 200th post.
228. The 'lifetime' counter, from when I started this blog, three or so years ago, is only sitting at around 3000...and every time I access my blog it counts as a hit.
229. I prefer to live my life helping persons, in the flesh.
230. Or by sending them packages through the mail, if I'm not able to make the trip personally.
231. I've been homeless.
232. I was homeless with a 15 month old child.
233. My mother, sister, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc didn't give me the time of day.
234. Random folks that I met in chatrooms, forums, at work, at social events got me through that dark period of my life.
235. I met my husband through a chatroom.
236. I met my best friend in that same chatroom.
237. I was given a car by a person that I only barely talked to in that chatroom, only saw him twice, once when he handed me the keys, the second time when I had the money to pay him a small bit on the car.
238. He moved a few weeks later, ignored my requests for his mailing address so I could send him the other $500 of the $600 he'd offered me the car for.
239. Many others from that chatroom I didn't physically meet until they picked me up to move into their lavish homes or apartments as I worked to pick up the pieces of my life.
240. It took me almost two years to get into a steady habit of being able to take care of my son, in my own place.
241. I've not been back in such a position.
242. Being 21, single, depressed, ran through the rocks and the wringer, with a toddler is no easy feat.
243. Thank God for all the awesome people I have met in my adult life.
244. I've never considered suicide.
245. Suicide is a cop-out.
246. Living life is hard, period.
247. It doesn't matter if you came from a small town, backwoods, 'welfare' family or your nanny clothed your butt in platinum diapers from the top of the mountain.
248. The simple fact is you're human.
249. You will face failure.
250. You will encounter success.
251. Its after 4am.
252. Life is blissfully the hardest most rewarding thing you'll ever die to live through.
253. I'm kinda shocked I've made it this far in this list.
254. I had a bit of wine this evening.
255. I did not know it was possible to feel like I have a hangover headache, before I even make it to bed.
256. Because of the headache, and the fact I want to end this post on a better note, I'm actually going to go to bed now, I'll finish in a few hours.
257. I stayed up WAY too late last night (this morning).
258. My house is a disaster.
259. Its only a disaster because I've been stuck in internet connection, homework, blogging, company, children home, hubbub of activity.
260. We're out of milk & Brian left his cell phone at home.
261. He has my car because his truck won't start.
262. Eggs, yogurt, and toast sounds REALLY good right now.
263. I need to get into a better habit of eating breakfast, at breakfast, instead of just relying on coffee again.
264. I'm in the process of losing 50lbs.
265. My doctor thinks I should lose closer to 100lbs.
264. I'm a 6ft tall, well built, female.
265. Weighing the 'recommended' 180 pounds just makes me look anorexic and just plain outright sick.
266. When I was 50lbs lighter, at 220lbs, I was wearing a size 10, and my clothes actually fit, properly, with no flabby flesh hanging over or out of my clothes.
267. My goal weight is 220lbs, because that is what I am comfortable at.
268. My current weight does not interfere with anything, I'm highly active, I run, hike, can still do 100 push-ups without 'dying' ...and not the girly push-ups either...I just shocked my Marine baby brother with my 'abilities'.
269. My cholesterol, blood pressure, etc are all well within 'perfect' range.
270. I have no actual medical issues, outside of the previously mentioned depression/ADD whatever thing.
271. My baby brother is awesome at push-ups...so long as while I'm trying to push him back to the ground I don't trip over my own giraffe legs, thus landing on his legs...barely.
272. He was only a bit irritated, but only because he's had one knee replaced and both his ankles rebuilt from a hit he took from an IED.
273. The day I heard about him leaving Afghanistan, less than a month after he had been sent there, frightened the SHIT out of me!
274. I was 5 years old when he was born, and was his primary physical caregiver, my love for him is equal to the love I have for my own flesh and blood children.
275. Mikeal is only a slightly altered version of him - physically, mentally, etc. - so much so that I often call one by the other's name.
276. Last week was the first time I'd seen my brother in 28 months.
277. I got to meet his new wife, his 6 month old son, and one of his new sister-in-laws.
278. How awesome is it that his sister-in-law moved down from upstate New York, to North Carolina, to be their live-in babysitter?!
279. Another of his sister-in-laws will be moving down soon, so that they will have two live-in babysitters for when the new baby is born.
280. If I didn't know better I'd say my brother was some sort of pimp daddy. LMAO!
281. The necessity of having live-in babysitters comes from the fact that not only is Duke a Marine, but his wife, Amanda, is a Marine.
282. Another reason is they're going to have two babies, who will only be barely a year apart in age.
283. My sister's idea of 'helping' out when I was struggling as a single mother, was to harass, bully, and threaten me.
284. She wanted me to sign over my rights to Mikeal and let her have full legal & physical custody.
285. She didn't even care enough to let me ride in her vehicle, much less maybe open her home up to her sister who was living on random couches with a toddler.
286. I did let Mikeal stay with her for a few weeks so that I could get a job, within walking distance of where I was staying, and save up some money to get myself reestablished.
287. I pray that she never has to go through anything close to what I have had to live through, she wouldn't survive.
288. I'm going to digress from my current line of thought.
289. Wow, I'm almost at the end of this list.
290. I love to sew, knit, read, cook, bake, plan, take pictures, hike, garden, can food, freeze food, save money, and everything that revolves around my children and husband.
291. We are nearly debt free.
292. We have lived very well on less than $20,000 a year.
293. We have never done without something that we absolutely needed.
294. We're taking our first 'real' vacation this coming summer.
295. Of course we're going with a large group of friends (they're actually all family, but we've been adopted in).
296. We all are splitting the expenses so that we can all best afford to be able to go and enjoy ourselves.
297. I love my 8 year old son, Mikeal Alan Paul, born August 26, 2002.
298. I love my 3 year old daughter, Mikaila Jade, born December 13, 2007.
299. My husband is spectacular and I would not trade him in for anything.
300. I do love my life, past, present, and future, it has all gotten me to where I am now and I have no regrets.
301. Maybe I do regret playing the Mega Lottery once in a while...I understand a person can't win the lottery if they don't play.

So that's my nutshell. If you actually read the whole thing I'm shocked. No, I'm really not shocked, I wrote it all in hopes that you would read it. Now that it's completed I just have to publish it. Publishing posts is a weak point of mine. Especially such personal posts that mention things like my dad, my family dynamics, outside of the family I chose and gave birth to, and my personal flaws. Ok, I didn't really mention that many personal flaws...but maybe if I notice at number 400 that I'm at that number I'll include more flaws. Goodness, I hope I don't bore you with another list posting, especially a list post so incredibly lengthy.

In short I am incredibly blessed and thankful for living my life and am happy to share it with whomever is interested in reading about it.


Disclaimer: I reserve the right to create a new blog post based upon any comments submitted.

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The End Result

Ok, so first, I wish to apologize in my delay with regards to getting back to this particular subject...I was actually hoping to get more information before I actually wrote this post, but more information just doesn't seem to be in my cards.

The 'story' began back around the 14th of November...well, technically July, but until November everything was 'normal', so there's no point in hashing through all that.

This particular blog post is going to primarily be focused around gynecological details that may border along the lines of TMI, so you've been warned. Its my blog, I force myself to write it, I don't force you to read it.

So...now that the disclaimer is out of the way... Have a nice day... Or if you do decide to read to the end, well, I'm sure you'll be scratching your head in much the same way I have been...but, I still wish you to have a nice day.

November 14th marked 'Day 1' of a new cycle...exactly on time, everything went as it had gone for the last 15 years of my menstruating life. Because Brian and I are not currently using any form of birth control I've been fairly diligent in keeping up with my cycles since having the Mirena removed in July. EVERY month has been exactly 26-29 day averages, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary for me.

November 28th, I was having Thanksgiving dinner with friends, things were going great, I felt a bit off, but was hopeful that my 'offness' was because Brian and I had a pretty good shot of becoming pregnant that month, we'd actually hit my 'peek' dates quite stunningly, so was hoping the 'offness' was just pregnancy settling in. I went to the bathroom at one point only to find that I was bleeding, quite heavily. I silently 'grieved' a bit, talked to our gracious hostess about it, while it was just us sitting outside... Now, a bit of 'twist' she'd experienced the same thing - unexpected mid-month bleeding - just days before me, so I thought nothing of it. Another tidbit - during the last almost three years of 'knowing' her we tend to run on almost the same cycle, hers is only a day or so ahead of mine, and her sister runs right along the same path, just a few days after me.

December 13th rolled around, and nothing. BUT I was suffering from heartburn, exhausted all the time, pukey, cravings, the works, I had hope that maybe I was pregnant and the mid-month bleeding was just extreme implantation bleeding....So I made my friend take a test with me...her sister had started her 'normal' cycle already, meaning we were both late, and it was 30 days since I'd started on time last...all tests came back negative.

December 25th came, she started...I still hadn't. So I took another test. It came back just faint enough for me to think maybe, just MAYBE, I was indeed pregnant. Due to everything that had transpired during the month of December Brian and I had not had much opportunity to do anything that would produce a positive pregnancy test result, which left the mid-November conception dates...

Brian made me quit testing because I was becoming a bit obsessive about the results, and the results never seemed to get any darker. I would have gone in to see my doctor during this time, but she was out of the country until the first of January, wouldn't be back in the office until the 3rd of January.

I talked him into bringing home another pair of tests on New Years Eve. I HAD to know and enough time had transpired that a test would definitely prove one way or the other. I blogged that here.

I was left with no more answers than I had before I took the tests. Two tests, from the same box, gave two VERY different results, using the exact same urine.

I resolved to just wait until I could get in to be seen by the midwife who had removed my IUD back in July, surely she'd be able to clear up the whole matter.

I was able to get in to see her on the 3rd of January...

I only saw the nurse, who instructed me to provide a urine sample, to which I obliged. She ran their urine test, which, regardless of what they tell you to get you out of their office, is no more than a Dollar Store cheapie urine test. Within two minutes she was back in my room, informing me that it was negative, to have a nice day. The bedside manner was just atrocious. So I asked her what the chances were of it being wrong, seeing as just two days before I had a test come up positive. I also asked her about doing a blood test. She rolled her eyes at me, said she'd do another urine test, and ask the actual midwife about blood work.

A few minutes later the nurse returned to let me know that the second urine test also came back negative and that the midwife said that if their test didn't pick it up, no test would pick it up, if I don't bleed for 90 full days then they'll do blood work, until then I was to go home and not worry about it. The nurse also told me that the midwife said that even if all I do is spot that it counts as day 1 all over again.

As if almost on cue I had some spotting after I got home. YAY...I thought..maybe my cycle is going to start back up and my sanity will return. Except not. I only had one twinge of spotting, every day, for the next week, that was it. Some of it I chalked up to 'vigorous' marital activities, just because the spotting could have been a result of such, given the timing of the spotting and general lack of it.

After the end of that week even the spotting stopped...until about the 15th of January. I was almost positive that my cycle had started back up again. I had actual cycle-like bleeding...for almost 12 hours before it stopped again.

Because of the snow and ice on the roads I wasn't able to make it in to see my general doctor until the 20th of January. She sent me home with orders to get blood work done and a full hormone panel.

Here it is the 30th of January, I'm quite confident that I'm not pregnant, as I'd mentioned on the 17th, but I still don't have a clue what's going on. My doctor's office never called me back last week to let me know what the results of the blood work was and I still haven't had anything that resembles a real cycle. At this point, if I was indeed pregnant I would KNOW by now. I figure I'd be about 11 weeks pregnant...based on previous pregnancies that made it this far I'd be feeling the little flutterings of life growing inside me. Not to fail to mention the detail about everyone around me would be able to look at me and see my growing bundle.

So I just don't know what to think/feel.

It didn't help much hearing during all of this that first my brother, who is just younger than I, was expecting a wee one, his wife is due at the beginning of July...or mid-March...I've since heard conflicting dates, but regardless, they're expecting... Then the next morning I heard from my baby brother, he and his wife are expecting a wee one the first of August, after just having one this past August 10. I was also told my by mother that my sister is trying to have a second one. Of course my mom also had to make the comment about how the three not trying to get pregnant are the ones pregnant all at the same time...I had to correct her that we've been not preventing/trying since July, not just since November, like my sister... I'd told her about my possibility around Christmas.

I finally got a hold of her again this past Friday, to let her know what the doctor had said... She was more interested in the affairs of her checkbook than what I was trying to tell her about my miscarriage/body 'hiccup'... Of course she did mention that the older of my two brother's wife was 6 months pregnant, due July 1...no, the math does not add up, and I informed her of such, so now she had no clue. Plus this particular sister-in-law ranks up there with my other favorite sister-in-law as far as being a selfish, controlling, abusive bitch, so my mom may not fully find out the details until sometime after the wee one is born. I'm just hoping my brother is able to stay out of jail for the duration of this pregnancy...he missed out on his oldest two being born because he'd landed himself back in jail. But I am SUPER excited about my baby brother and his wife. They're both extremely respectable, both in the US Marines, and are going to have twinkies, a year apart. *giggle* I can't wait to see them all in a few weeks!!! Its been over 28 months since I last saw my baby brother and I have yet to meet his wife, face to face.

Yes, I know, I'm a bit off track there...my point is no, I am not pregnant. The likelihood that I had a miscarriage is greater than not, but because of the wonderful midwife I may never know for sure. I'm oddly not terribly upset over having a miscarriage, if I did indeed have one, likely for this reason that I just don't know for sure. It could just be that the stress over the last few months did a number on my body, but then again, I didn't really start feeling stressed out until closer to the end of December, so that would not account for the hiccups in November & early December.

Right now I'm just hoping my cycle straightens out sooner rather than later, then maybe we can get back on track with everything. We already have enough fertility issues as it is with Brian being pronounced sterile about 5 years before we found out we were pregnant with Mikaila...then my scared uterus that has been cauterized twice and cut into twice (one D&C after an early miscarriage that wouldn't stop hemorrhaging, another D&C after I lost a 23 wk pregnancy due to abuse at the hands of my ex, and two cesareans) so I don't count on this being a quick process, if it even happens, but getting thrown curve balls like this doesn't help matters much at all.

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