Confession

My last post was September 29th. We’re looking at two months here, folks. I know I had promised to write more frequently, to be more consistent. But the last several months have been hard.

Ever since I had had Jordin I didn’t feel like myself. I blamed it partially on the stressful year I’d had. It’s practically impossible to feel like yourself when your life is flying off the tracks. So I ignored it. And ignored it some more.

Then, finally one day I was messaging my best friend over good ol’ Facebook, complaining.

I don’t feel like doing anything.
I just want to curl up in a blanket and watch Netflix all day long (which I did, quite often)
I feel like I’m failing at everything
My stupid boobs won’t work. I HATE pumping, pumping hates me. I CAN’T FEED MY BABY WITHOUT FORMULA?!?!
I don’t even have the motivation to shower
I just spend all day pumping, taking care of the kids, and doing nothing much else.

Just a lot of complaints. A ton of tears. And just generally feeling like crap about everything.

Her response “Have you thought to get checked for Postpartum Depression?”

Light bulb.

It made sense. What else could explain these unfamiliar feelings? I don’t have depression. I’m a pretty happy girl. Overly anxious most days, sure, but never depressed. I had damned good reasons to feel sad, confused, scared, and worried with everything that had been going on. But I have never found myself being actually depressed.

But for months I was crying all the time. Feeling like a failure. Feeling bitter and resentful towards everyone and no one at the same time. I would assure myself that Josh could handle everything with work and home if I just wandered off for a few weeks. I would snap at Josh for the smallest, innocuous, comments.

For example: I had just had a breakdown to Josh about not being able to take a shower that day because Jordin was on a roll. All he said was how about I go take one. “I’ve got Jordin. Go take your phone, listen to music, take a shower.” I flew off the handle. Tears, snot, and shrieking followed about how insensitive he was! I can’t, I have to pump! I don’t have time! Are you saying I smell?! Yada yada yada. Bless his heart, he let me have my mental breakdown. He rubbed my back as I mashed my face into his stomach, sobbing and snotting all over his shirt….calling him every name in the book. Once I calmed down he led me into the bathroom, waved away my apology, and made a pot of coffee for when I got out. God, I love that man.

I had absolutely zero motivation to do anything. I got to the point where I didn’t even want to leave the house, which completely clashed with my desire to just pack up and disappear for a while. Forget the nice weather. Forget it all. I just want to sit in my ugly green chair and do nothing.

So after some long heart to heart discussions, I took some steps to get this figured out.

And in the last month or so, I’ve been doing so much better. I’m not 100%, but I’m no longer logging 7 hours every day on Netflix, eating Ramen and Mac and Cheese and chocolate because I have ZERO motivation to actually get off my butt and cook myself a healthy breakfast and lunch. I’m not sitting around with headaches because I can’t force myself to get up and fill my water bottle.

But I am shaving my legs more than twice a month…because I have the motivation to actually do more than just jump in and out of the shower. AND I am wearing more than just pajamas all day too.

Have you ever spent MONTHS taking off the dirty pajamas, showering, and changing into clean pajamas? I have.

I’ve even started writing again. I just hit 68,000 words last week!

Things were definitely heading into “Who is this homeless chick?” territory.

Don’t get me wrong. I still have those days. A few days ago, for example. I blazed through 7 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. Didn’t shower. Didn’t change out of my pjs. Just didn’t do anything productive. But the following day I dragged my sorry butt into the shower. SHAVED. Wore real clothes. And I did some writing, played with the kids, and did the dishes…plus an episode or two of Grey’s. Not the most productive day, but infinitely better.

And look at me today. A blog post.

So that’s my confession. Postpartum depression.

Postpartum

It’s no joke. It’s scary to not recognize yourself during the time that you should be enjoying and embracing change. It’s terrifying to wake up one day and not want to move or do anything. And it’s heartbreaking to realize just how many times I had wondered if Josh would ask his sister or a stranger to watch our kids while he was at work…if I decided to just walk down the street and disappear for a few weeks.

I’m not usually one to admit when something to this degree is wrong. I’ll keep it deep deep inside so I don’t inconvenience anyone. But you know what? I’m going to inconvenience the heck out of people. Because I’m feeling better.

Because I’m proud of the fact that I’m inching towards normalcy. I’m proud of the fact that I’m smiling and laughing and joking more than I’m crying and snotting.

And I’m ecstatic over the fact that I’m proud of myself.

So, please bear with me. I’m trying my best to be me, I’m trying my best to take charge of my life again. I won’t blame you at all if you leave this blog and stop reading because “Holy crap, she posted three times last week, and only once this week. SLACKER” because this time around I can’t promise that I’ll be consistent. Because I just don’t know.

What I do know is that this too shall pass.

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Fall’s got me feeling blue

Good morning and happy Monday!

My last post, I talked about how much I love fall. Which is a ridiculous amount. For sure.

But my least favorite thing about fall. The inevitible bought of sickness. I’m one of those lucky people that as soon as the season changes begin, I’m usually in bed. Moaning, groaning, sniffling, coughing, with bits of tissue strewn all over the place. I guess, fall’s got me feeking more green than blue? It’s like clockwork. And this year was no different.

Sick again

Now that was back on the 15th, TWO WEEKS AGO. What starts off as a little stuffy nose slowly builds into a massive chest cold. Last year I ended up about two steps away from Pneumonia… breathing treatments, and steriod shot in the butt… the whole nine yards. When I get sick, it hits me like a freight train. So during this time, I try to be proactive and drink tons of water, get as much sleep as I can manage, and start dosing up with some good ol vitamin C. Sometimes it works, other times…not so much.

Hopefully there is an end in sight…soon. I’m sick of being sick.

And Jordin doesn’t like it at all. My obnoxious coughing and nose blowing keeps waking her up from her beauty sleep. In which case she’ll roll over and give me this look of pure annoyance. Little lady definitely has a bit of a ‘tude.

So…that’s that.

Here’s to feeling better and being able to actually enjoy fall!

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Bad Blogger! Bad! Part 2

So, yesterday I left you at a cliff hanger. Am I really narcissitic enough to think that you out there are clinging on my every word, waiting desperately for another post from your favorite blogger like it’s crack (or swiss cake rolls, in my experience)? Anyone? Anyone?

Beuller?

Beuller?

No? Ok, maybe that’s just me.

Ahem, anyways. I said yesterday that something amazing, scary, life changing, (yada yada yada) happened. And I wasn’t being super overly dramatic, at least not this time. If you haven’t already guessed… here you go.

One month smiles

See that cute face right there?

We had a baby! Cue the fan fare!

Her name is Jordin, and she’s a firecracker! Her big brother loves her to the moon and back. And we’re super lucky. Super, super, lucky.

Whew.

So, now things are getting back on track, we’re feeling less stressed on the day to day. What isn’t getting back on track is my weight. Ohhhh, the weight.

I am a stress eater who was pregnant. So can you guess what happened? Yeah, I gained a crapton of weight.

Seriously.

Crapton.

Definition: Craptop. (crap-ton) Noun: Equal to four shitloads

When we found out I was pregnant I weighed 198. Considering I last left you at 194, gaining only 4 pounds in 6 months through all the stress we were under was remarkable for me.

What wasn’t remarkable how much I gained and how quickly. By the time I had Jordin I was 248. Yeah, I gained 50 pounds exactly. Before anyone starts screaming about how much a pregnant woman should gain…I know. My doctors advised me on it. And yes, I was 15 pounds over what a average weight pregnant lady should gain, let alone someone who is already overweight, But I got big!

Last day pregnant

See? And from the front, I looked even bigger. Yay!

But don’t be too alarmed, I’ve lost a little bit (with a catch). It hasn’t been my priority, but I did.

So for my new, official (practically starting over) weigh in.

In true Plumpville tradition…

Last Weigh-In (April 2014): 194.3
This Weigh-In: 232.3
Total gained: 38 lbs

And… quadruple ouch.

Now, going into the OR at 248 and now, nearly three months later sitting at 16 pounds lighter would be an awesome claim. But, alas, I’m not even going to pretend that I’ve lost 16 pounds. I’ve definitely lost something but let’s not get too excited.

Figure at least 8 of those pounds were all baby, and at LEAST 5 of that was all the stuff that comes along with giving birth, I won’t give details…all you moms and dads out there who know what exactly is entailed will know. Those of you who don’t, throw up a quick Google search, ask your parents, or think back to middle school health class.

So that really only leaves about 5 pounds. 3 pounds lost in 2 months. Can’t complain!

Wait.

Yes, I can.

Now lets consider retaining water, and boobs the size of Texas.

Yeah. So of all the fat I’ve lost (because let’s face it, the goal here is to lose fat… not non-fat weight)… nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

There is a reason why doctors advise only gaining a certain amount of weight… those are all health reasons. Safety for yourself and the baby being numbers one and two (not necessarily in that order).

For me, I’m glad I had a perfectly healthy, beautiful baby girl… but I realize now vanity is defintiely one of those.

I gained WEIGHT not baby and belly. My lovehandles expanded to respemble something akin to floating noodles, and my old favorite pair of pink skinny jeans barely button (and the seams…those poor, poor seams).

Let’t not even get started on my knees, back, and ankles. Quintuple ouch. Although that ouch is actual physical pain. Yeah. Not fun.

So here I am. Back, back, back on the wagon. I was cleared for exercise six weeks after my c-section, then some minor complications with BC (I’ll get on that at a later time) made the thoughts of situps or anything that would remotely force me to stretch and flex my lower stomach basically nauseating.

But I’m feeling better, physically ready and mentally sooooo ready. Whereas a few weeks ago, I wasn’t. Especially not physically.

So, this time around, I’m starting heavier than I was the first time I started this blog. I’m only 34 pounds down from my heaviest weight, and 50 pounds up from my lightest.

I’ve got a long way to go, and in the last couple days I’ve realized how difficult this is going to be again. But I’m determined.

So here goes nothing.

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Back on track.

Bad blogger! Bad!

Well, hello there! Boy, have I been a bad blogger!

Let me tell you something, this past year has been the hardest year I’ve ever had to live through… Just call me “frantic” because I’ve been through the ringer for sure.


stressful six months
Longest six months ever!

My last post was from April. Of 2014. Here we are, over halfway through 2015, and I finally decide to pop my head in and say hello. (See? Bad Blogger!) Don’t get me wrong, there have been numerous times that I’ve logged in, had my fingers hoovering over the keyboard ready to pour my heart out write, and chickened out. The longer I was away, the harder it got.

But, to be frank, I’ve missed writing. I’ve missed posting about my mundane days and horrifying the random passerby with my food/exercise/lovehandle/cellulite obsessed posts. Recently, I found that urge to come back to my dear ol’ blog and give it a go. A real go, not one that ends with about 12 half finished posts in my drafts folder. Guilty.

The problem is that there was so much stuff going on that I was barely able to make sure my poor, overworked, brain didn’t melt.

Seriously, that should be a real medical condition.

I’ll give you the super rough, super choppy, version of my past year.

Literally a week after I posted my last post, to the day, the place I was living at just went to poo (the pun becomes evident really quick). The septic went a little crazy. We quickly got it pumped, two days later it started backing up into the house.

Didn’t catch that? INTO. THE. HOUSE. I’ll let you create your own image for that one, I certainly don’t wish to relive it.


Jack Sparrow is my spirit animal

Now, normally that wouldn’t be a problem. Pack up, move to a hotel for a couple of nights until the septic gets fixed. Done. Not too bad. BONUS Landon would have thought that was awesome…espeically if there was a pool. Swimming in Northern Michigan in the end of April is either incredibly brave… or a death wish. And I can’t deny that sitting in a tub where the water would actually covered more than my ankles would have been heavenly. Yay! mini-vacation! Yay!

Pause the celebration really quick. The septic itself needed to be fixed, not just pumped. With a pretty hefty price tag of $4,000. Ouch.

Oh, wait! We also found out that according to city guidelines the actual septic was too close to the house and needed to be moved towards to end of the property line. That tacked on another $3200. Double ouch.

Even if shovelling out over seven grand was an option, we were also looking at needing to stay into a hotel for ten days while getting the “repairs.” That’s another good thousand bucks in the cheapest hotel. Now considering food, gas, and all that fun stuff. Spending close to 9,000 bucks for a rental just wasn’t in the cards for us.

Triple ouch.

That’s a good chunk of change right there. Honestly, that potential nine grand is a really darn good starting point on our piggy bank savings for a down payment. You know, buying a house one day.

After talking it through with Josh, I got on the phone to my mom. After some plotting, planning, and hour and a half commutes, we came up with the decision to move.

Now, that decision was so hard to make. Very difficult. But, you see, that’s what happens when you don’t have a back up plan. For someone who thrives on planning and schedules, it was kind of a fml moment for me. Of course, who would plan for needing to vacate their home because of a overfilling toilet? Not this girl, that’s for sure.

Yeah ok.

So to make an already long story short. I resigned from a job I loved, which sucked. I had just gotten a new promotion, an amazing opportunity, and then I put in my two weeks before the ink on my “I accept this position” paper dried. We moved to Traverse City, then down state leaving all our friends and “up north” family behind. Two moves in less than 3 months. Ay caramba! From there is was downhill. It was amazing being so close with the family members I was lucky to see once a year. And of course there were several fun things that happen. An orchard, Cannibal Lane, and the library in Traverse. That’s paradise for someone used to a wee little library. We even tried out restaurants that we wouldn’t have normally eaten at.

yummy wrap
“Healthy Choice” wrap from The Kitchen in Traverse!
Yummy wraps for sure!

That was awesome.

What wasn’t awesome was finding new jobs, dealing with the stress of being away from the people I saw everyday for years, and the loss of my grandpa from stage 4 cancer… within two months of moving down there.

Grandpa
I miss you, Grandpa!

Those were the big things, that doesn’t include all the little tiny things that added to the stress.

Let’s just say, I started to crack. There were many, many, many sobbing phones calls to my mom and sister. It was ridiculous.

Psychic Almonds
Oh, psychic almonds. You knew. You knew.

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t handle change well, right?

Too much change in a short period of time. And I’ll be honest, weight loss…well my actual health in general kind of took a backseat.

So after finagling some thing we made the journey back up north about 15 minutes outside of the town we’d originally lived in. As soon as we hit Manistee, Josh turned to me and said “Welcome home!” Which is ironic because both of us swore how much we wouldn’t miss Manistee. It was too small, too snowy, too boring….too too too. You never realize what you miss until you aren’t there. I didn’t realize how much I loved Manistee…until I wasn’t there.

So yeah.

That’s the cliffnotes version of what went on this last year. Phew.

Oh wait, there is one more thing. One more life altering, amazing, scary, and incredible thing.

But I’ll wait to tell you all of that.

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Bar-b-que

Manistee hit 48 degrees this weekend! Holy crap yay!

Some of you lucky people out there are probably thinking “why is she so happy about 48 degrees?” I’ll tell you.

A month ago today we were at 1 degree. Yeah. Single digit crap. With the “smartphone revolution” there is this lovely little app that’ll tell you the “real feel” temperature. When it reads “Real Feel -27” that is synonymous with “It’s friggen cold as hell!”

Not to mention there was a week where schools were closed every day that week except one. While Landon was partially thrilled (yay, pajamas) and eventually heartbroken (I miss my friends) I was dreading every moment of it.

So for the temp to hit that magical 48 number we saw, was amazing in epic proportions. Almost like summer. Case in point… We walked around in t-shirts yesterday. Yeah, that’s right. It was awesome.

So our first questionably brilliant idea…let’s have a bar-b-que.

And Bar-B-Que we did.

It was a fairly interesting site to see the guys out working the grill in about three feet of snow, but they did it and it was was totally successful.

Unfortunately there are no pictures to share. Seeing as my camera is broken thanks to a precious 5 year old who decided to step on it due to unforeseen complications I am forced to use a camera phone, which I hate. Hate it I say! So you’ll just have to take my word for the great food. The vast ammouts of calories I crammed in my mouth was completely worth how good it was. Did I feel guilty? No, no I did not.

There were ribs, corn on the cob, baked beans, potato salad, gaucamole, coleslaw (ewwww).

I have a feeling that grilling is going to be a regular thing around my house if the weather stays nice.

It’s been rather busy and hectic these last few days, so I apologize for the scarce post. I’m actually about 9 minutes away from leaving from work. Nothing like cutting it close…right?

But in honor of the quickly melting snow and flooded backstreets, I hope that your spring plans are kicking into high gear!

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