On God's Hidden Blessings

Daxton just turned 4 months! Lucky for us, that means a 4 month sleep regression(check out this article that explains the dreaded 4 month sleep regression https://theollieworld.com/blogs/posts/the-dreaded-4-month-sleep-regression?mc_cid=38ef263dc8&mc_eid=994caaf284)! We've never had issues with getting him to sleep through the night, though he rarely slept during the day. We have found, through trial and error, that the more D sleeps during the day, the longer he sleeps at night. Unfortunately, we are losing our minds as all that we've worked for has become obsolete due to this regression. 

For the past few mornings, I've been woken up at 5 AM to a child who just won't go back to sleep. I am 100% sure he is still tired, but he FEELS rested and won't put himself back to sleep like he used to. Now if you know me, I'm not particularly kind before 9 AM, and downright cruel before 7 AM. I find myself sobbing on these mornings, praying that God will put a peace on my baby's heart so that I could even get just ONE more hour of sleep. I set him in the DockATot in bed with me to try to squeeze a little extra shut eye. I slowly drag out the wake up process we have set so that I can snooze another 15-30 minutes any chance I get. I become so angry with God for blessing my child with such an awareness that he doesn't want to sleep and miss anything. I yell to God asking what I'm getting out of this and why I'm being spread as thin as I am. 

This morning it hit me. God is giving me more time with my sweet baby. I was feeling extremely melancholic thinking about how my boy is growing up way too fast. I was getting so emotional wondering how on earth I would be able to handle watching him grow up, knowing one day he will no longer fit in my arms. Eventually, the smell of sweat and aftershave will replace the beautiful natural scent of his hair. But for now, God is saying, "Hey, you know time is fleeting, so get off your lazy butt and kiss your baby good morning." 

Once I realized this, I busted out the camera to capture the moment. Because time is fleeting. So I got off my lazy butt and kissed the heck out of this kid. Eventually, he did go back to sleep.

-T

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On Anxiety and Emotional Maturity

ANXIETY DOES NOT LIKE TO BE WRITTEN DOWN!

A celebratory post because I have officially been clinically diagnosed with anxiety (GAD). This is a big deal because I had been self-diagnosed until this point and it was important to me to justify my worries with a doctor's word. Even though I'm pregnant, that anxiety is different than the hormonal bouts of emotions I experience, and I am AWARE of the difference.

My therapist commends me for my emotional maturity and awareness. She often tells me what would normally be a revelation, and then finishes her thought with "...but I'm sure you figured that out already." What that means is that I know what causes my anxiety attacks and how to take preventative measures to ensure that I have less worries and more joy, but I still can't stop the emotional overload I face daily. If you've ever experienced an earthquake, you know what this feels like; knowing what is going on, but being completely powerless to stop it. Some "earthquakes" are stronger than others and no matter how hard you will it to be over, it isn't up to you. Maybe that sounds really scary, like for some dads in the birthing room knowing your wife is in immense pain and there is nothing you can do. Or perhaps you find the knowledge that there is nothing you can do to change the circumstances is calming and you just have to wait it out. In my personal experience, it's both calming and frustrating.

There was an instance a few weeks ago when my poor husband and I laid in bed in the morning while I had a minor panic attack. We were supposed to go to an 8 hour birthing class with 16 other couples thirty minutes away for $60, but I truly didn't see how I would actually be able to go. I am AWARE that I had not been getting much sleep in the days leading up this class, which leads me to have higher emotional and anxiety levels. I also was AWARE that being pregnant causes higher hormone levels--aka more worries and stresses aka higher anxiety. I was AWARE that my social anxiety would be WAY turned up due to the 16 other chipper pregnant women wanting to discuss cloth diapers vs disposable and what our son's name is and what type of crib we had decided on (which at that point wasn't even assembled). On top of these three emotional enhancements, my MIL was visiting, I didn't know when we would be eating that day, and it was my day off, which I truly cherish! The last point to make me not want to go was that in today's technologically advanced world, I could easily look up whatever information I need online; I was AWARE that taking a class could lead me to be more anxious when I was actually delivering, trying to remember the specific breathing exercise I learned and how to feel when to push and feeling overwhelmed trying to remember everything I learned.* I knew I didn't need it, but I still felt that since we had made the commitment, we needed to follow through. I also felt that maybe I was setting myself up to be the flaky mom who didn't care enough about her child's well being. I laid in bed crying because I knew I shouldn't go, but I also knew I would be judged if I didn't, by society and by myself. With the hubs gone every weekend, we wouldn't have another chance to take this class; it was now or never. Hubs was very understanding and after listening to all my reasons for going or not going and reading the class description, he said, "I think what is best for us right now is that we don't go." At that point, I realized I had been completely incapable of making the decision myself and I would have had a full out panic attack just contemplating whether I should go or not. What a freaking nightmare!

I was fully aware that I was having a minor attack while it was happening, but I couldn't talk myself out of it. I felt my mind racing with my thoughts and emotions. I told myself that I was being irrational and overreacting, but I couldn't stop it. I felt the storm inside of me, but it was completely beyond my control. The worst part about being emotionally aware and having anxiety is the guilt that comes after an irrational reaction or an attack. I felt terrible for dragging my husband through my emotional mud puddle. I felt so guilty for not being able to control myself and almost submitting myself to an anxiety attack that definitely would have not been good for my growing baby. I felt guilty explaining our choice to our friends and fmamily, though I know I shouldn't. Amidst feeling all this guilt, it was further felt by simply knowing I shouldn't be feeling that way.

(continued 2 weeks later because I'm too busy for my own good)
Decision making is rough y'all! After speaking to my therapist, I realized that my anxiety doesn't allow me to find a middle ground. Though I see it and encourage it in the lives of others, adopting and implementing it into my own doesn't work out. When I was young, I heavily weighed every decision I made, whether the decision merited such contemplation or not. I now find myself doing this in deciphering which career path would make me the happiest. It is for this reason I was incapable of making a decision in the aforementioned scenario.

So I guess my purpose, other than venting, for writing this post is that I think it is so important for the who have anxiety to acknowledge that they sometimes are incapable of making a decision so that they can find someone to help them when they need it. For me, my husband and my mother are typically the people I call upon when I need help making a decision. They will either tell me I am overthink a situation or give me advice that may help guide me to a final answer. Also, those of you who have a person in your life who has anxiety, know that they don't TRY to make life more difficult when they can't make a decision. Every decision they make takes so much energy, time, and effort, that at a certain point, it is someone else's turn to stand up and take the reins. Good luck to all you decision makers!

-T

On the Nanny Life

Being a mom can be such a rewarding, yet trying, part of life. There is so much to consider, appointments to attend, paydays to receive, practices to get to on time, nap times, homework, and meal prep. I am not a mom, but I still live this life as a nanny for four. This is an equally trying and rewarding experience, complete with the silver lining of being able to go home and get my alone time every night. My time as a nanny has completely prepared me for motherhood, and I have been told I should recount my experiences on my blog.

My four kids, two big kids and two toddlers (when did they grow up!), are all super sweet and loving, but still navigating life and testing their limits everyday. 9GoingOn19 is responsible and helpful, but definitely needs to get her priorities in check! ConstantlyActive is 8 and he is CONSTANTLY ACTIVE, which is great, and also...not. SweetAndSassy is 2-almost 3-and definitely testing her limits, but always minds her manners. BlueEyedBeaut is 2 in a few days, and constantly trying to keep up with her older siblings, meaning she has developed quickly, but also pushes her limits as much as her siblings. I love each and every one of these kids, and each day they teach me while I (hopefully) teach them. I have learned patience on a level I never knew existed, how to manage picky eaters, the best way to plan ahead, and that things don't always go according to Plan A, B, C, or K. No matter how miserable you feel the day is, the sweet smiles that cross the faces of these kids make everything worth it. 

So no, I'm not a mom--yet. But I have dealt with cribs full of exploded dirty diapers, doors slammed in my face, ER trips, crazy days carting kids to and from school, cheer, baseball, playdates, and whatever else life throws out that day. To say I am prepared for motherhood would be an understatement. To say I must really know what I am doing would be a terrible exaggeration. I am learning as I live each day and really trying to fit in with the daily rhythm changes these kids experience. We have all gone through a lot together, and I have taught them life lessons just as much as I have learned a few of my own. 

Lessons I have taught:

Make choices that reflect the kind of person you want to be.

No one else is responsible for the choices you make.

Friends come and go, but your family will always be there for you.

Trust isn't given easily, rather it is earned.

Bullies need help.

Rightfully prioritizing your life leads to happy days.

Responsibilities first, play later.

Lessons I have learned:

Plans change. Figure it out.

There is no perfect family.

Eating healthy is great; junk is okay too, in moderation.

Life gets complicated.

Your level of patience depends on the day of the week, how much coffee you have inhaled, and how many kids are in your house.

The house will get messy. It is okay.

Today was definitely one of the more trying days I've had, but I am living to tell the tale. No matter how tough life may seem, others have it worse. Ultimately, nothing can replace the joy I feel when I watch these kids accomplish something or create something great. I am blessed by the job I have and I cannot wait to tell my tales.

-T