Tantrums & Top Ropes

Bliss in a Bottle...

2012-01-17T22:57:00.000-08:00

I had a moment last night, one that invoked the kind of feelings I wish I could bottle and pass out to every soul in this world.

Alex and I took the kids to the park. It was chilly, but the kids both seem unfazed by the cool, moist air. I instantly regretted my decision to wear sandals the moment the frosty breeze nipped at my toes. Caitlin made a mad dash for the swings, where she firmly planted her tush for our entire playground adventure. Noah had other plans, he had asked excitedly before we left if he could bring his Buzz Lightyear bike - his big boy bike, training wheels and all. I stood shivering in the cold, silently cursing my intense disdain for shoes as my toes trembled at the chill, pushing Caitlin in the swing who seemed as though all was right in the world as long as she could feel the cool breeze wisping in her hair as she swung to and fro. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex chasing after Noah as he whipped around the playground on his bike. After a while, we switched offspring. I turn around to look for him and it hits me.

Just thinking about it takes me back to that moment. I'm standing on that quasi-squishy playground mat, the cool air dancing around my windswept hair. Noah speeds by on his bike, training wheels blazing, honking what has to be the loudest bike horn my in-laws could find. My heart pounds, but it's no longer blood it's pumping. Pure elation flows through my veins with every heartbeat. I am overcome as bliss pulsates through my body. I inhale, but it's no longer air my lungs breathe, but this very moment that I breathe in. I inhale.... no air... just the site of him giggling as he makes a left turn and honks his horn. I glance at Alex, he too is no longer breathing air, his heart no longer pumping blood. We exchange a look, the look. The look we give when Noah displays marvelous signs of his miraculous healing. The look we give because there are just no words. The look we give when we can't speak, because our lungs are too busy breathing in the moment, and our hearts are too busy pounding giddy excitement through every inch of our bodies and back again. We simply stare, mouths gaped open, our eyes ablaze with a thousand watery emotions.

You see, just a year ago, Noah couldn't even ride a tricycle. At his 4th birthday party, he couldn't ride a tricycle. Six months ago, he couldn't ride a tricycle. He couldn't get the sequence of events from his brain to his body. He couldn't dress himself, or take his clothes off. He couldn't coordinate pedaling, steering, honking that obnoxious horn.

Now.... well, now I hear Alex tell Noah things like, "Noah, why are you naked?" Even more amazing, I hear Noah reply "I'm naked! Like the sheep!" Oh sweet boy, even the sheep wear wool. Now, I chase after Noah and watch in both amazement and horror as he drags his shoe to stop himself. I'm both impressed with his resourcefulness, and horrified at what he's doing to his shoes. As he rode back to the car last night, he stopped himself with the toe drag. I taught him how to stop using the pedal brake. He picked it up instantly and was intrigued and excited about his newly acquired skill.

This child, the one who (much to my dismay) is still awake at 10:25 pm, the one who randomly hugs his sister, who strikes up random conversations with me, is not the same child from this post, this post, or this post.

The last four months have been an intense time of transformation and healing. Noah is moving from his social skills IBI class to Friendship Builders, a move none of his therapist though would happen at his last IEP in October. What's changed? Acupuncture. We took Noah to a Naturopathic doctor who is also a doctor of chinese medicine, who has helped many members of my family. He helped my brother ditch Adderall. He helped my mom quit smoking. He helped my PPD after I had Noah. We were hopeless, he gave his hope. He told us to pray, that God heals, and to have faith. We prayed, we went to acupuncture 3 times a week, we gave Noah herbal supplements every day.

And we saw change. Huge, amazing, unmistakable change. Change so huge people ask us about it all the time. Change so huge we finally feel like we know our son. Change so huge he will be going to regular old kindergarten next year.

Change so huge, I'm surprised I'm still alive... since most days, my heart beats pure joy, and my lungs breathe in bliss.

Dear Stupid Woman at Costco

2011-11-17T17:44:00.001-08:00

Dear Stupid Woman at Costco,

I hope you're a religious woman, because you should be thanking God I wasn't there tonight when you had the nerve to reprimand my child. Who the hell do you think you are? I'm so proud of my husband for standing up to you and telling you to mind your own damn business. If you wanted a "quiet dinner," then maybe, just maybe you should pick a more respectable joint than the Costo food court, with their deep fried heart attack delights. Honestly. Stay classy, lady. Hilariously enough, his "tantrum" was maybe a 2 on the toddler Richter scale. He was not screaming, he was not flailing, he was not causing a scene. He just wanted a flippin' churro. There was no yelling, no dramatics, my husband was handling it just fine before you took it upon yourself to stick your haughty nose where it certainly did not belong.

However, had I been there, there most certainly would have been a scene. I would have put on such a performance, The Academy would've taken notice. I have been waiting for some inconsiderate, callous hearted human to dare say something to me about my autistic son in public. Little did I suspect that it would actually happen not only to my husband, but while my son was doing something so stereotypical of a 4 year old.

I hope you felt small when my husband snapped "....he's autistic" at you.

Jesus commands me to love all people, but Lord knows I do not have to like you.

IEP Recap

2011-11-10T20:34:00.001-08:00

First I want to say thank you for all of the texts, comments, and phone calls about Noah's IEP. It truly means a lot knowing that so many people care. Thank you.

*Deep Breath*

Noah's annual IEP (Individualized Education Plan) was on Monday. If you read this post, then you already know that I despise these meetings. We had one last November once he was approved for services, then we had 2 more at the end of last school year when we demanded he be re-evaluated for autism. The parent can request an IEP meeting at any time and the school has 30 days to comply.

Funny side note: As we were parking at the school on Monday, I looked at Alex and said, "You know, if we were one of those families that had to fight constantly with the district, I would request an IEP every month just to screw with them." Yeah, I'm kinda twisted like that.

Anyhow, back to the meeting. I can sum it up for you in one sentence:

"We're the school district, we know best, it doesn't matter what any other therapists or experts or even medical doctors have said, we know all, they're wrong and we're right. Sign here."

Yeah, that's pretty much the attitude of the "autism expert" who still feels the need to bring up that she doesn't believe Noah has autism. Even in the face of their own evaluations and diagnostic tests. Apparently, she feels that her opinion is more valid than the diagnosis of a neurologist and a developmental pediatrician, or even the opinions of her own colleagues.

She talks about Noah like he is a lost cause that should just be medicated. I seethe just sitting at the same table as her. There's lots of "Be still, my fleshy, sinful heart" going on in my head during these meetings.

Everyone else was nice and helpful. His teacher was wonderful as always. We always feel better knowing she's there. It's like having someone in our corner.

We went over his goals:

He met goals related to answering what/where questions, answer yes/no questions, following 2-step directions, functional language, vocabulary and language in play.

He currently has 16 goals. They relate to age appropriate responses, taking turns, playing cooperatively, responding appropriately, attention, following directions, listening to a story, participation, remaining seated, rhyming words, opposites, describing vocabulary, pronouns, sentence structure, sequencing and /WH/ questions.

Papers, papers, papers

He is also now getting more therapy:

The occupational therapist wants to see him 30 minutes a week instead of 20 minutes every two weeks.

The speech pathologist wants to see him for 30 minutes twice a week instead of once a week.

In addition to the three hours a week of IBI (intensive behavioral intervention) therapy he gets after school, they're also going to have an IBI therapist in his class for one hour every day. She'll be assigned to him and one other child. She'll be taking notes on Noah's behavior every five minutes, and step in if he's not taking direction from his teacher.

Prior IEP reports. Organize them,
or drown in the paperwork.

More therapy is great, but I can't help but shout "WHY didn't you just start with this much therapy?!" in my head. Seriously, why start with so little only to go, "Oops! Our bad. He needs more. How did we miss that? Ah well, let's try again!" AAAGGGHHHH!! This is my child! Not a freaking casserole recipe! It's bad enough that we had to spend an entire flippin school year just to get these additional services. That's right, aaaallll of last year. Nobody listened, even though his teacher said he needed it too.

Alex and I feel that the only reason he's getting IBI in class is because the "autism expert" is trying to "prove" that IBI can't help him, because (in her words) "IBI helps kids on the spectrum." Want. To. SCREAM. It's worth noting, she's alone in her "opinion," and she's about to lose the right to have it.

I've informed Noah's teacher that we are going to formally request to have the "autism expert" removed from Noah's case. Alex and I don't want her to have anything to do with our child. She doesn't have his best interest at heart, she cares more about being right than doing what is best for Noah, and there is no way she is going to use my kid in her quest to feed her ego.

For the record, IBI has helped Noah TREMENDOUSLY.

The IEP lasted almost two hours. There is some concern about Noah's inability to focus on non-preferred tasks. Noah wants to do what Noah wants to do, and this is not just an autism thing or an ADHD thing, this is also a strong willed child thing. We're working on that. My child is not a lost cause, and I will go to hell and back to prove her wrong.

All in all, the good out weighed the bad. The main problem is the Negative Nancy, and believe me when I say she will not be at our next IEP.

Is there anything anyone has questions about? I know it's a lot of abbreviations and odd terms. It's a lot to take in and I live it. I want to make sure I do a good job of explaining it all. If anyone has any questions please leave a comment and let me know.

Rambles

2011-11-10T00:29:00.000-08:00

I AM going to blog about the horrors that were Noah's IEP... but not today. Today was an awful day. The IEP blog will be tomorrow.

Today sucked. No sugar coating. God is good, the sun still rises, blah blah BLAH. Today sucked.

Pick up at Noah's school has gotten ridiculous. The morning class (that's us) picks up as the afternoon class drops off. We park in a bus circle. It's small. There's a lot of cars. And 2 buses. It works well when everyone acts like civil adults.

Ha!

The circle was full. I couldn't pull up any further. So I got out. The mad mom in a minivan behind me got all up in arms. Pfffttt. It stressed me out. I started running to the gate to get Noah. Aaaaannnnd then.....

I knocked over a kid.

He walked right in front of me. I scraped my knee. And my elbow. The kid was okay. I felt like an IDIOT. And of course there were a bunch of witnesses. FanTASTIC. Now I'll be known as the raging rhino that plows through children. Who wants to drop my kid off for me tomorrow?

Caitlin threw my huge water bottle out of the cart at Target. The lid popped off. Water spilled all over the isle. I went to look for a store employee right as security came walking down the isle. I probably looked like a jerk who was walking away from the scene of the crime, so I blurted out "Do you have a towel?! SHE spilled water." Yeah, blame the baby Emily. REAL mature.

Here's where the day went from "ugh" to $*&%!@?!!!! Not even I can wax poetic about what happened.

I take the kids inside after we get home from Target. I strap Caitlin into her high chair ( Caitlin has a space saver high chair that straps to one of our regular chairs) and tell Noah that I'm going back to the car to get the bags out. I'm gone 60 seconds, tops.

I get to the door and hear Caitlin crying. I walk inside and find her high chair lying face down on the floor, with her in it. I ask Noah what happened and he says ,"I push sisters chair, with my hands."

@?>!!&%#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are you freaking kidding me?!? AGGGGHHHHH!!!! Luckily, she wasn't hurt, just scared. I've never been so angry at my own child. He spent the next 40 minutes until his IBI class in time out. When Alex picked him from therapy he threw a fit because he didn't want to come home. I had already told him he was in trouble for the rest of the day. Seriously kid, what the heck!

Argh. This wretched day is officially over. IEP post to come later. Suffice it to say it was just as bad, if not worse than we expected. Stay tuned....

Most Days

2011-11-07T10:02:00.000-08:00

Most days, we celebrate. Most days, we get crazy happy over every word of "good language" Noah uses. We praise, we give stickers, we party like rock stars. Most days are about progress.

Today doesn't feel like most days. Today I found this picture in his backpack.

I don't have a scanner... don't judge.

To a normal parent, this picture wouldn't be cause for tears. It wouldn't land them sobbing on the couch, clutching the picture and feeling a wave of torment grip their entire body. Six sweet faces looking at the camera, and my sweet boy looking anywhere but. "Well, all kids are hard to get pictures of." Yeah, but this isn't about him not wanting his picture taken. This picture, well, it very well could be just a "normal kid" thing, but it just triggered the emotional tidal wave. Eye contact is hard for Noah, it's fleeting. He rarely looks me in the eye when he speaks to me or when I speak to him. It's heartbreaking.

Today is Noah's yearly IEP meeting with the school district. (Individualized Education Plan), it's at 1:15 and I know it has my emotions on hyper alert. I hate these meetings. Hate. It's an hour long reading of my precious son's victories and very detailed descriptions of his shortcomings. It's awful and so very painful. The people are, well, yeah. His teacher is amazing, but the so called "autism expert" that attended his last meeting not only spoke to us like we were idiots, but had the nerve to recommend medication for Noah. She is not a doctor, in fact, I don't even know what her credentials are at all. Even IF medication was something we would even consider, Noah is not only too young for it, but his neurologist is adamantly opposed to medicating him.

So, I'm just super excited about today, does it show?

Agony, Therapy and an Ice Cream Scoop

2011-10-17T20:33:00.000-07:00

My child has Autism. Noah has Autism. Even as I type the words, it still takes a moment to sink in. No matter how many times I force myself to say it, there is still a voice inside me that screams in agony and denial.

Noah has Autism. Noah has Autism.... and I hate it. With every fiber of my being. every inch of my soul, I hate it.

I hate the bad days even more. Sunday was awful, he had a huge meltdown when we tried to leave church. I had to carry him to the car. He's getting big, and strong, and heavy, and he kicked and screamed at the top of his lungs the whole way. People stared. He ripped my finger nail. I sunk down against a cement wall and tried to reason with him, I asked what was wrong. He couldn't tell me. I died a little inside.

I made the mistake of stopping at Costco on the way home. Same scenario. We were parked at the far end of the parking lot. It was a long walk. He left a bruise on my hip. And a dent in my soul.

I'm not angry at God, though if I was I would feel rather justified. I do question Him, how can I not? The strain on my marriage, on my faith, on finances, on my spirit. The therapy, the cost, the need. Six appointments a week, sometimes seven or eight, many more needed. Neurologist, Pediatrician, Developmental Pediatrician, Audiologist, Occupational Therapist, Speech Pathologist, Acupuncturist, several IBI (behavioral) therapists... all have been a part of our lives just in the last few months. Soon an additional Speech Pathologist for private speech therapy, a private Occupational Therapist, and some gymnastics.

Noah has been diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, something I've been saying he has for 2 years. He has inadequate feeding abilities, he can't chew properly and struggles to eat anything that isn't super soft or super crunchy. He also has serious issues with syntax, phonology, expressive and receptive speech. The Kaiser Speech Pathologist said he really needs private speech therapy..... but Kaiser doesn't cover private speech therapy for kids like Noah. They only cover speech therapy if you've lost speech abilities. Fantastic. One hour of private speech therapy is around $125 week, $500 a month. Did I mention that OT at Kaiser is only seeing us once a month? We're supposed to do all of his therapy at home. Our last appointment was 40 minutes of instruction.

This is why my blog has been quiet. The feelings that drive me to blog are raw and ugly. I will always fight for my son, I will do whatever I have to do to give him the best possible shot at a normal life... but I do it with a heavy heart. I go to each appointment feeling like someone has carved out my heart with an ice cream scoop and left a jagged, gaping wound in its place.

I walk this road with a heavy heart.

Broken

2011-10-05T21:43:00.001-07:00

Yeah, I *really* don't have time for this! Me and all my graceful elegance managed to break my toe this morning. At least, I'm 99% sure it's broken. What do you think?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Life Rambles

2011-09-07T00:00:00.000-07:00

Eek! Is it September already?

Noah starts school tomorrow, his last year of preschool. He also starts afternoon social skills therapy. Our school days are going to be crazy this year, but we'll roll with it.

He is also being seen at Kaiser by Speech Pathology and Occupational Therapy, which is awesome. It also means we now have even less money. It's only because of Jesus that I can laugh, throw my arms in the air and say "Whelp, what are you gonna do!?" Roll with it. We're rollers, we just roll.

Miss Caitlin is walking, nay, running! My sweet husband says that she is stuck in 4th gear. Our kidlets really love their daddy. Noah walked on Fathers Day, and Caitlin walked on daddy's birthday.

Caitlin has really taken a liking to all things food. I can't believe how much sustenance she funnels into her tiny baby belly.

Summer flew by, it didn't help that a nasty little virus traveled around our home for three weeks, hitting Alex and the kids one by one. I somehow managed to walk away unscathed. Caitlin ended up with bronchitis, we all ended up with a rough case of ohmygawdgetmeoutofthishouse. Also known as cabin fever.

Our church is doing some remodeling, which includes expanding the stage. Two weeks ago they invited everyone to write a prayer on the stage before the carpet was laid. I was home with a sick baby. Alex comes home and says, "You always miss the good stuff at church." So true, but duty calls.

Caitlin is 10 months old. I really should start planning her first birthday party. I'm in denial. She's not turning one. She will be my baby forever. Especially since my uterus is broken and she may be my last baby, whether I like it or not. I loathe you, broken uterus. Make me babies, now.

Yes, I want more babies. I also want a slammin' runners body and a pet cow. I think the pet cow may happen someday. No, I'm not joking. I really want a pet cow. Ask Alex, he'll tell you. I plan on naming her Charlie. I'm strange, but you love me.

My best friend is pregnant. She asked me to be on her birth team. *Squeal*

I've also been asked to be a groomsman... and a bridesmaid x2. Oh 2012, you aren't even here yet and I love you already.

And now for the best part of the post... pictures! Allow me to razzle-dazzle your retinas with an overdose of awe.

Yosemite

2011-08-15T20:39:00.000-07:00

We're outdoor people. We registered at REI for our wedding, and then registered at Macy's at the insistence of family. They said we couldn't live in a tent, we decided not to argue. We're outdoor people. So, for vacation this year we went to one of the most beautiful places in existence: Yosemite. If you've never been, go. Words don't do it justice...

Noah had a blast, as did Caitlin. She loved being in the Kelty carrier, and she loved playing in the dirt even more. Noah was in 4 year old paradise. He loved sleeping in the tent and going hiking. He wasn't such a big fan of rock climbing though, he kept asking us to pull him up the rock. He then freaked out about Alex climbing, telling his it was "too dangerous." We went with friends and had a great time. Super thankful Dan was there ("Monster Dan" to Noah), or my shoulders and back would've been hurtin' from all of the Noah rides. We had some 4 year old squabbles, what else could we expect from two boys, and a major traffic crush in the valley on our third day, but other than that the trip was great... though much too short. Four days in paradise just wasn't enough.

Whole Lotta Livin'

2011-08-08T17:42:00.000-07:00

I'm here, still kickin'. I was inspired by a friend to take a much needed hiatus from social networking... and I discovered....

I really don't like Facebook.

There, I said it. I don't care much for Facebook. I like the way it helps me stay in touch with family and friends, but I don't like the drama it creates, the way it makes people feel as though they aren't actually talking to other humans, and therefore think it's okay to say things in print that they would never say in person.... or makes us feel as though the world would stop spinning if we didn't share every mundane thought that ever crossed our minds. (<---Guilty.) Ever waste an hour of your time on Facebook, and then wonder, "What the heck have I been doing for an hour?!" Yeah, me too. So, I ditched Facebook and neglected my blog and spent a month LIVING.

Yes, LIVING. We went to Yosemite, four blissful days of no iPhone. In fact, on our way home I realized I had no idea where my iPhone was. (I eventually found it.) It, was, BLISS. I spent time with actual people. People I could reach out and touch. Real. People. We worked on the summer bucket list, visited family, went to lots of birthday parties. I must say, I'm a big fan of this new life with less technology and more people.

I'm not picking on the Facebook fans, I know it's very popular and I used to count myself among the ranks of the Facebook fanatics. I am however, challenging you to a little less Facebook and a lot more life.

Two Peas

2011-07-02T00:11:00.000-07:00

Feeding guinea pigs at Zoomars.

Two peas in a pod, these boys. Noah's food allergies have been a major blessing in disguise. It's the food allergies that landed Noah at the "allergy table" his very first day of class. Only one other classmate sat at that table, Caiden, and the two became fast friends. I wish I could put into words the bond these two boys share. He's different around Caiden, it's like they "get" each other. My rambunctious little boy is a little calmer with Caiden, a little more talkative, a little more focused.

They share the same food allergies and then some, so whenever the class does anything involving food, the boys always have their own special treat, and this is due in great part to Caiden's mom Jamie, who always brings an extra whatever for Noah. The last week of school the kids were having ice cream cones. Jamie brought in Rice Dream ice cream and gluten free cones for the boys. After school Noah excitedly said, "I had ice cream with my Caiden!" Melt. My. Heart. He usually refers to him as "my Caiden," and Caiden is the only friend privy to such endearment.

Noah has been very blessed to have friends who love him and treat him the same way they treat each other, and I am extremely thankful for all of Noah's friends, but his friendship with Caiden holds an extra special place in my heart. Caiden understands, he knows what it's like to be "different," to be quirky and misunderstood, just like Noah. With each other, they can just be.

And me, well, I'm thankful that Caiden has Jamie for a mom. I'm thankful that she has allowed me to pick her brain and ask her countless questions about everything from autism to food allergies, supplements and sleep issues. No offense to all of my other friends, but it is so nice to have a friend who truly, truly understands. A friend who thinks that yes, that craft at school sounds like an epi-pen and a hospital visit just waiting to happen.... so let's ditch school and head to the petting zoo. A friend who rejoices at the sight of dairy-free frozen yogurt and the elusive little gluten-free "g" on the pack of Trader Joe's anything. A friend who thinks that a 30 mile drive is totally worth being able to take your kid out for something as simple as a cupcake, from an actual bakery. A friend who understands that a simple birthday party is a non-stop stress fest when you have a child with food allergies. A friend who understands how exhausting the evaluations and therapy can be, how daunting the task ahead seems... but who is also relentless in her quest to do whatever she has to do for her son.

Notice Caiden is smiling and Noah is not?
That's because Caiden has the bell. Two kids, one bell
you do the math. (In another picture, it's completely
reversed! Silly boys.)

Tonight I'm thankful for divine appointments... and divine friendships.

My Reality

2011-06-22T22:49:00.000-07:00

"Emily, just remember, their reaction is not your reality."

These words have been echoing through my head today. They were said to me by my step-mom, Amelia, when I told her via Skype about Noah's autism, and how I was not looking forward to hearing peoples opinions. This woman, she has a way with words. She is an old soul with lifetimes worth of wisdom.

"Their reaction is not your reality."

It has become a mantra of sorts, considering the wide range of responses I've received. Alex said it best in his guest post: "Today I pray that they will recognize that this is not about them or me, but about a little boy who can only reach his full potential with close family and friends behind him every step of this treacherous way."

It is not about them, it is about a little boy, our little boy. I have come to accept that I simply don't care what anyone thinks. I don't care if you believe the diagnosis, I don't care if you think it's "overused" or "tossed around." I don't care if you think Noah is "just fine." I used to care, and while I would deeply appreciate all the support and love we can get, I'm not going to indulge the uninformed opinions or rude comments.

Your reaction is not my reality.

My reality is that I have a son with autism.

It doesn't matter what you think, your opinion won't "fix" Noah. Your disbelief won't make him better or help him overcome anything. Your denial only hurts him.

Your support, well, now that is a powerful thing. Your support will make him feel loved. Your support will help us feel loved. We've had quite a few people ask us what they can do to help. Our answer? Educate yourself. Pick up a book on autism and educate yourself. I recommend The Autism Book by Dr. Robert Sears. If you truly care about Noah, educate yourself.

Educating yourself will make it easier to engage him.
Educating yourself will help you understand that yelling at him for touching the door for the 10th time will not rectify his behavior.
Educating yourself will help you understand that yes, he is loud, and no, he simply can't help it, but he is working on it.
Educating yourself will help you understand that he truly can't sit still.
Educating yourself will show that you truly care.
Educating yourself will allow you to shed the ignorance that so many people possess about autism.

All I ask of you is this one, simple thing. Educate yourself, for the sake of my son and the millions of kids just like him.

Resources:

The Autism Book

Talk About Curing Autism (TACA)

Autism Speaks

Autism Society

8 Facts About Autism

A Father's Heart: This Road We Travel...

2011-06-21T23:24:00.000-07:00

Guest post from my loving husband...

Today I am thankful for teachers who stick their necks out for the sake of a child.

Today I am thankful that Noah will get the services he needs to succeed in his academic endeavors.

Today I am thankful for the family that "gets it" and accepts my son's autism and understands that life as we know it has changed.

Today I am thankful that these same individuals are willing and engaged in treading this road we get to travel.

Today I am thankful for my church family and total strangers with whom we share common bonds because they "know" and they offer their help with no strings attached.

Today I am thankful for Landin, the Down Syndrome child whose world I got a chance to enter into last Sunday.

Today I pray for family and friends that are "not there yet," that don't understand or accept the reality we live in. I pray that they will get on the boat, because we need their support and understanding.

Today I pray that they will recognize that this is not about them or me, but about a little boy who can only reach his full potential with close family and friends behind him every step of this treacherous way.

Today I thank my God, who knew Noah while he was yet in the womb, and has called him His own; who calls him blessed and has a plan for him beyond my imagination.

Today I pray that we would live in light of who we already are and not in light of what we think we need to attain. The work is done, the debt is paid, the pressure is off. Live life in light of what God has already said you are...

Closing Ranks

2011-06-20T14:55:00.000-07:00

Deep Breath..

We've been busy as of late. Too busy. Summertime always seems to bring a barrage of activities and gatherings, and while we of course enjoy being with family and friends, I can't help but feel a wave of anxiety rush over me during these busy times. Yesterday capped off a busy week, so busy that we even skipped an event last night and detoured home. Both kids were passed out in the backseat, I was on the verge of panicking tears.

I wanted to close ranks, to retreat and regroup.

The anxiety however, has decided to stick around. It's been joined by another old friend, one that pops in every now and then. It's a treacherous dance we do, me and this sadness that envelopes me. It covers me, but not like a cage, more like a big, warm blanket. It lulls me into complacency, convincing me to let the despair in. It's a familiar feeling, and it makes me feel... safe. I know that must sound absurd, but when your heart is always open, when you are always willing to expose your soul to people, to offer the olive branch of friendship... recoiling every ounce of yourself and diving deep into seclusion can be cathartic. If life is a battlefield, then I have retreated to the safe walls of my castle. I can take off my armor, set down my shield and just be.

Is it healthy? Hardly. The deeper I go, the harder I have to fight to resurface. But it's safe here. No comments about my children, no omg-did-they-just-say-that?! moments.

These feelings of intense solitude, of being alone... are also familiar. Old demons can also seem like old friends, not the old friends you want to go have coffee with and catch up. These are the old friends that caused you pain, yet you let them in and out of your life for reasons unbeknownst to you. It doesn't surprise me though, as my enduring husband will attest to, I have self-destructive tendencies, along with self esteem that resides in the Mariana Trench.

The bitter irony is, I also look forward to seeing people. Tomorrow is Taco Tuesday, and I'm super excited to go, even with the 50 mile drive home... compliments of Ortega Hwy being closed after 8 pm. My SIL has blessed me beyond words by requesting my support while she brings her first sweet baby into the world. I panic every time my phone battery dips below 20 percent, afraid I'll miss her call. I spent a bit of time chatting with her yesterday at our father's day lunch. I tend to gravitate towards her during family shindigs. She has a calmness about her, I know that we could just sit and watch the clouds pass if we so desired.

How can these conflicting emotions coexist? I don't know. I do know that I will feel a tinge awkward during social situations as long as the "old friends" hang around, I may answer my phone less, or call less. The only upside to all this is that I will spend more time calling out to Jesus. More time in prayer, more time burying myself in my Bible, seeking solace and begging God for light. Maybe my resistance to phone calls is God's way of steering me towards divine appointments. I happen to get a little message of encouragement this morning when I needed it most. Not about life or something mind blowing, but about my running, and that was mind blowing to me. Never underestimate the power of a kind word.

What about you? Are there personal demons that you battle? How do you cope?

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 5 - High Angle

2011-06-17T22:33:00.000-07:00

I love this picture, the way the toys are scattered about. I giggle a little when I notice which toys Noah has placed above Caitlin's reach. Such a random array of stickers and a Diego jeep, whatever happens to be precious to him that week...day...hour. I let him have his "mine" toys, as long as he gives Caitlin something she can play with. He's very happy with this trade off. Eventually, the "mine" toys become the trade off toys. Oh the tangled webs we weave.

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 4 - Something Green

2011-06-16T18:29:00.000-07:00

Noah loves grapes, especially green ones. His language has gotten so much better, just last week he pulled a stool up to the counter, climbed up and very politely said, "I want these ones. Can I have these grapes?" Those moments melt me.

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 3 - Clouds

2011-06-16T18:21:00.000-07:00

Little Life Updates

2011-06-15T19:09:00.000-07:00

I'm a little behind....on the C25K updates, my 30 day photo challenge, and updates on Noah. I'm not very good at this blogging thing, as I've mentioned before. I get behind, and then the task seems so daunting, so I get even further behind. *sigh* Here's life in a nutshell.

Oh frozen peas, how I loathe thee. I
do not miss the calf cramps

I'm still trekking along the C25K plan. I finished week 9 day 1 today, which means I have 2 days left. Holy crap! I promise I will post before and after pictures, as well as stats and my future plans for running. I still can't believe I've made it this far. Trust me people, if I can do this... anyone can do this. I thought I would get shin splints, I thought I would pull a muscle, I thought I would just flat out quite. Yeah, I had those awful calf cramps, and horrendous back pain, but I got through it. Do it, do it, do it.

I am going to post day 3 of the 30 day photo challenge, I promise! I waited a few days since Teresa started a group for photo challenges that stared this past Monday. I figured I would wait for day 3 and join them. It's coming, I promise. I'll probably slide in just before midnight, because I'm sneaky like that.

I can't blame 'em, he is a good lookin' kid!

Noah has been Noah, sweet and happy as always. He's been making excellent progress with his speech and language development. We removed gluten from his diet and saw a significant improvement in his sensory issues. Since I last posted about everything he's had another neuro evaluation in addition to one through the school district. Oh yes, the opinion and diagnosis of not one, but two pediatric neurologists and a pediatrician just isn't good enough for them. They need to waste precious school funds doing their own evaluation. Grrr. To be honest, Alex and I were really annoyed when we walked out of there yesterday. It was the least in depth evaluation thus far, and we were concerned they were so wrapped up in Noah's pretty face and dimples, they made verbal note of this adorable nature and handsome good looks several times, that they were missing the issues. Noah's teacher informed me today that after talking with the evaluators, it looks like we are going to qualify for the additional services Noah needs. Translation: No, Ms. Power-tripping evaluator, My husband and I, oh and the three medical doctors who diagnosed Noah are not crazy, or lying, or trying to pull the wool over your eyes. Thanks though, for implying that we were crazy or lying, really... you must win the trust of a lot of parents that way. We thought it would super cool to have a kid with autism, so we made it up. *eye roll* We were not fans of 2 of the 3 district personnel in the room. I now fully understand why the district gets sued.

Miss Caitlin is growing like a weed. She's 8 months as of Monday. 8 months?! *sigh* My big girl, she's crawling up a storm and already trying to walk. This girl is busy, she has places to go and a brother to tag-a-long after. She's successfully mastered walking along the couch and around her activity table. Lord help me. She has so much personality, I'm surprised her Little body can contain it all. Did I mention she is freakin' adorable?! Yeah, this girl... oh boy, what am I going to do when she's a teenager? Good thing she has an older brother to post guard for her.

We had family pictures taken this month by my friend Chelle. She did an amazing job! Here are a few more:

My husband... he's hot. Super hot.

My favorite family picture to date.

And that's pretty much it! I must go now, Caitlin is walking around her activity table and is now using it as a walker as it slides across our wood floors. Eek!

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 2 - What I Wore Today

2011-06-09T14:44:00.001-07:00

Soooo, I'm a smidge behind on the 30 Day Photo Challenge. Hey, I never said they would be 30 consecutive days!

Day 2: What I wore today:

Today was week 8 day 3 of the Couch-to-5K

running plan, so my picture is me in my typical running

garb, along with my ~~neediest~~, err, cutest accessory. I do believe it's

the norm on these "what I wore" posts to declare where you snagged your

threads, so, if you must know:

Undershirt: Wet Seal

T-shirt: Target

Yoga Pants: Old Navy

Shoes: New Balance Store

Accessory: A precious gift

30 Day Photo Challenge: Self-Portrait

2011-05-27T21:16:00.000-07:00

Christine over at The Collins Clan put forth a 30 day photography challenge, and I being the inconsistent blogger that I am thought it sounded like the perfect thing to get me blogging every day... at least for the next month.

Day 1 is a self-portrait.

This picture says I am who I am. Yeah, I'm a mom and all the things that come with it... I'm a wife and all the things that come with it... but I am so much more than just those two things. Becoming a mother tends to make you forget who you are outside of the mom parameters. I'm also a friend, a christian, a woman. I love to read, rock climb, laugh, stay up too late and sing in the car. I'm a fierce ally and a formidable foe. I have a wicked sweet tooth and revel in a good laugh.

Being a mother and a wife are splendid definitions of who I am, but they aren't the only definitions.

Moments

2011-05-23T00:39:00.001-07:00

When someone figures out how to freeze time, please add me to the "need-to-know" list...

A Father's Heart: Coming to Terms with Autism

2011-05-14T11:54:00.000-07:00

Alex, my wonderful husband, has allowed me to share his heart with you all. This is a personal entry from his journal on coming to terms with Noah's autism.

I find myself meandering through the day in many ways, yet a small voice lingers on telling me one thing. Reading through “Crazy Love” and then spending time this morning with the men of Mariners Church Mission Viejo has been refreshing yet convicting. There is this picture I see of myself looking at my own timeline, and seeing the “eras” where I know I was walking with God and the “eras” where I was not. Even within the microcosm of a 24 hour day I can see the details of my relationship with God. Yet Francis Chan makes it a point to say that our lives are but a blip in the movie God has made. My life is but a vapor in the timeline of creation. How am I living through my small cameo in this God story? Am I living for His glory or for naught? What perspective am I seeing my life through? Mine, or His? But the one thing that reverberates through my mind even now is simply this, “live every minute rejoicing in the Lord, for it may be your last.” That may sound somewhat morbid, but it’s true. Tomorrow is guaranteed for no one; not for the saved nor the lost. In fact, my next breath is not guaranteed. This is a thought I need to take to heart, pray upon, leave at His feet, and just live out.

Days can be rough in this house nowadays. I feel like the reality of Noah’s autism is sinking in more and more in my mind. Noah kept complaining about a “boo-boo” on his finger, and Emily noticed he was favoring his left hand. It’s frustrating to not be able to find out how my child may have hurt his finger, because he can’t tell me. All he can tell me is that it hurts, that he has a “boo-boo” and needs a doctor. But he can’t tell me how it happened. Moments like this one make me appreciate even more those moments when his communication is crystal clear, audible and understandable. I realized yesterday that there are some things we won’t be able to do as father-son; at least not until much later. My dad and I used to play Memory all the time. It’s one of my earliest childhood memories. Sitting on a chair at the table, waiting for dad to lay out the cards so that we could start flipping two at a time to make matches is one of my fondest memories, and something I always thought I would have with Noah. We tried yesterday. He asked me for the Memory game, but his ability to sit still is so short that he moved on before we could even have a turn each. I look forward to the day when we may be able to play together.

What I am realizing though, is that not everything is lost. This is not the end of the world. Noah and I get to make our own memories that do not have to tie in with my memories and recollections of my childhood years. There’s no path to follow except the one that God lays out before us as he grows and as we work through his condition. While I many not have my Memory memory, I may just get to have even better memories with my son. Tonight, as I futilely made him eat his dinner, we were watching “The National Parks.” They showed a picture of Yosemite with Half Dome in the background; clouds engulfing its summit. I asked Noah if he remembered being there and if he was excited that we were going in a couple of months. His reply to me was priceless, “I want to go climb mountain.” If a love for the outdoors is to be the way in which Noah and I make our fondest memories, I will not be disappointed, but will rejoice and revel in discovering new trails with him, meadows rarely seen, and peaks rarely climbed. As a father, one of my greatest desires is to instill in Noah and Caitlin a love for the creation God has made for us; a love for the landscapes He has made to show us how big He is, and how much He loves us. There are no words that can describe the joy I felt seeing Noah hike a trail along the Merced River a year and a half ago. There will be no words to describe the joy I will feel in July as we hike together in Yosemite. And there are no words that can describe the joy of sharing one of my greatest passions with my children.

First of many trips to Yosemite.

Out of all these things today, God reminded me of a section of scripture that became an anthem for me in the past, and one that I would be wise to take to heart in these chaotic days.

Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. – Romans 8:37-39

Wednesday Ramblings

2011-05-11T21:15:00.000-07:00

*This was meant for last night, but Blogger went down at 10 pm for maintenance. 10 pm?! Really, Blogger... when else to people with kids blog?*

A rambling post is mainly me being too lazy to put my thoughts into a grammatically correct format. So sue me.

We took Noah, and thus all of us, off of gluten. Someday I'll write a blog post about why.

Caitlin is crawling and sitting up. Therefore she is also falling over and hitting her head on our hardwood floors. Every day.

I'm working on contentment, asking God to teach me to happy with what I have. This is hard when Noah constantly wakes Caitlin up. I crave a bigger place with thicker walls.

I've been amazed lately at how obvious God's hand has been in my life. I think that I should write about it, in hopes of blessing someone else, but some of the messes He saved me from are quite embarrassing.

I have astonishingly low self-esteem. God is workin' on it.

Public spelling errors are my equivalent of the "naked in public" nightmare.

I don't understand why people eat aspartame. That stuff will kill you faster than the sugar.

I'm trying to find the silver lining in every day. Today, Noah said he wanted "food," usually it's "snack." This is a big deal in our home.

I had always planned on pursuing a career of some sort when my kids went to school. Not so sure about that now that autism is a part of our family.

I'm thinking about writing an e-book, which doesn't require a publisher. I don't think anyone would buy it, but I could scratch that off the bucket list I haven't written yet.

I miss going to the movies. I can't remember the last movie I saw in theaters.

I have about a dozen unfinished blog posts that are waiting for my attention.

My hubby is home every night, but we rarely talk due to the staggering amount of schoolwork he has every night. He is 5 feet from me and we've barely spoken since he came home.

I hate doing dishes, so my gorgeous husband does them whenever he can for me. That's love, people.

Watching Noah play with Caitlin causes my heart to nearly burst with pure joy. One of God's many gifts.

I occasionally miss being pregnant, especially since I'm not sure if we'll have any more kids. Even if I "want" more, my endocrinologist has warned me of more fertility issues in the future. I know God is bigger than my broken uterus, but more might not be in His plan either. I'm indifferent about that right now.

I find my husband's love for God to be immensely attractive.

Despite my bad days and tough trials, I know that God is ever present and omniscient. I feel him cradle me during the my time in the valley. He is my glimmer of sun through the cloud shrouded sky.

Any rambling thoughts you would like to share?

Couch-to-5K: Week 4 and 5

2011-05-10T22:38:00.000-07:00

I'm a little behind on my Couch-to-5K postings, and I thought I should hurry up and post my recaps for both weeks four & five since I start week six on Thursday.
Week 4

All three days were the same: 5 minute brisk warm up walk, run 3 minutes, walk 90 seconds, run 5 minutes, walk 2.5 minutes, run 3 minutes, walk 90 seconds, cool down.

Week 4 Day 1

W4D1...nothing spectacular to note, run felt great.

This run went well, nice and easy. I lowered my speed to 5 at the recommendation of other C2Kers.

Week 4 Day 2

W4D2...almost lost my dinner on this one.

This started out bad and just got worse. I ate dinner way too late and ended up paying for it. I felt nauseous and all around terrible. I couldn't wait to be done with this one.

Week 4 Day 3

W4D3... ended on a good run.

I was a little nervous after day two didn't go so well, but this run felt easy and had me excited for week five. I had a little bit of calf pain, but not enough to ice them.

Week 5

Every day of week five was different, so I'll break it down by day.

Week 5 Day 1

W5D1... off to a great start.

5 minute warm up, run 5 minutes, walk 3 minutes, run 5 minutes, walk 3 minutes, run 5 minutes, then cool down.

I started out at 4.8 and quickly decided that it felt too slow and settled on 5. I spent the last 5 minutes of running upping my speed every 30 seconds, but it looks as though 5 is my mos comfortable pace for now.

Week 5 Day 2

W5D2... best pace to date.

5 minute warm up, run 8 minutes, walk 5 minutes, run 8 minutes, then cool down.

Five weeks ago I was huffin and puffin through one minute of running. On this day, 8 minutes didn't feel long enough. I finished strong on this one, topping out at 7 for the home stretch.

Week 5 Day 3

W5D6... 5 down, 4 to go!

5 minute warm up, run 20 minute, cool down.

My first big run, eek! I was truly excited for this run, but I feel like I botched it. I finished, and I ran it straight, no stopping, but it hurt. Alex said my form was off, that the tension from being nervous looked like it was making me stiff, and I paid for it. Not even 10 minutes in my lower back hurt so bad it was all I could think about until I was done. I kept a steady 5 pace, only increasing my speed the last few minutes.

Some days

2011-05-10T14:18:00.000-07:00

"So.... how are you doing?" I get asked this question quite often lately, and I get it, people are trying to be supportive. They're curious, they want to know how I'm taking the news, how I'm handling Noah's autism diagnosis. My response is always the same, "I'm doing well... even though we knew it was still hard to hear... he's still he same kid he was before..." The truth is, I don't always feel that way. I say those things because that's easier for people to hear than the truth. The truth? Well, here's the truth:

Some days, I wish I owned a punching bag so I had something to beat the daylights out of while I sob.

Some days, I look at my beautiful son and feel as though someone is hollowing out my insides with a carving knife.

Some days, I want to bury my head into a pillow and scream until my voice goes hoarse.

Some days, I refuse to answer my phone because I feel like my loved ones just don't understand.

Some days, I feel like I am barely keeping it together.

Some days, I feel like it's my fault.

Some days, I feel like someone is slowly ripping my heart from my chest.

Some days, I watch him struggle and I die a little inside.

More evaluation forms from the school district.
Apparently, the diagnosis of a neurologist
just isn't good enough for them.

It's been six weeks since Noah's diagnosis, and I'm still processing it all. The best advice I received after Noah's diagnosis came from my good friend Beth, and it seems like I'm finally starting to take her advice. I told her that I felt like a baby that had fallen down, and everyone was holding their breath to see how I would react. Her response was so different than anything anyone had said to me, she said "Emily, you have the right to react and feel however the hell you want. You don't owe anyone anything. Who cares what anyone thinks or what they have to say. This isn't about them, it's about you, Alex, Noah & Caitlin."

The moment I start to show even a hint of emotion over my son having autism, out come the "you just need to have faith" comments. My honest response (in my head)? Shove it. I have faith, how else do you think I've made it this far? What do you think gets me out of bed every day? How else have I been able to fight for my son? Surely, it's not due to my own courageous strength. God is the glue that holds my fragile self together. He is the only thing that gets me through the tough days in one (okay, some days it's two) pieces. BUT, don't deprive me of the right to feel. Sometimes I don't need to hear how strong I am or how "lucky" Noah is to have me for his mom. Sometimes, I just need to hear "You know Emily, you're right, this sucks. This really, really sucks." I know tomorrow is a new day, I know the sun will come out tomorrow and that God is the same yesterday, today and forever.

I am also human and should be allowed to mourn the "normal" childhood my son will never have. Could it be worse? Yes. Does that make this any better? No.

Couch-to-5K Week 3

2011-04-26T21:41:00.000-07:00

Ah treadmill, you evil piece of pain inducing machinery. I love and loath you at the same time. You have become my best friend and my true nemesis. Be warned, I will conquer you!

Now, on to my recap of the Couch-to-5K running program, week three!

All three days had the same splits, 5 minute warm up walk, 90 seconds jogging, 90 seconds walking, 3 minutes jogging, 3 minutes walking, repeat then cool down. I ended up throwing in an extra few minutes jogging, otherwise I would've ended up with a 7 minute cool down.

Week 3 Day 1

W3D1.... bring the pain! No, really, there was pain!
Tremendous calf pain post run.

This run started off great, went well, but ended horribly. I had awful cramps in my calves, as if someone was tightening a winch. I thought for sure I would ache the next day, but surprisingly I was just ducky the next morning,

Week 3 Day 2

W3D2... pain is worse, much worse.

Went downhill the moment my first run split was done. My calves were screaming for me to run, it was so painful to walk. By the time my cool down rolled around I was limping and wincing. As soon I was off of the treadmill I was on the floor while Alex tried to massage the cramps out of my calves. No amount of stretching or massaging was helping, I just had to ride it out until it stopped. Again, the next morning I was fine.

Week 3 Day 3

W3D3.... by far the worst day. I was holding myself up
and whimpering when I took this picture.

This was just painful all the way around. Just like day 2, the pain started as soon as my first run split was over and proceeded to get worse and worse. It hurt to run, but it hurt more to walk. I could barely stand for the cool down and Alex had to help me step off of the treadmill. I screamed into a pillow while he helped me stretch.

The only potential cause I could find was from the Cool Running website, which says it's from too much hill work, or in my case the incline setting on my treadmill. I had some slight shin pain during week one and started to get concerned about shin splints. Alex recommended I up the incline, which did help my shins, but it seems as though it also wreaked havoc on my calves. Tonight I start week 4, sans the incline, so I'll see if that makes a difference.

A Plea, A Wish, A Reality

2011-04-26T12:29:00.000-07:00

Sweet baby girl, slow down just a little. Six months have gone by much too quickly, there's no need to grow up so fast. The blissful innocence you have is such a blessed gift, cherish every second. Your ferocious curiosity and never ending need to touch, feel, play with anything and everything do indeed intrigue me and cause me to wonder how this will parlay into your developing personality. You have a flare for the dramatic, this became evident during our futile attempts at feeding you baby food. A simple grimace would not suffice. A recoiled head complete with a whip to the side and flailing arms is how you chose to convey your disgust at any substance that did not originate from mommy. Your pure adoration of your big brother is both heart warming and amusing. It reminds me of my own childhood and the way I thought my big brothers could rope the moon. He is so tender with you, his biggest infraction has been removing a toy from your reach, but never from your hands. Watching his love for you blossom has been one of the biggest joys of my life.

Our home has been messy since you've been born. I find it hard to pry myself away from those big blue eyes. I could hold you all day, or at least as long as you would allow since there is so much you have yet to explore. The time I should be picking up toys and putting away laundry is usually spent holding you in my arms and watching you sleep. I can't help but soak in these moments. I try in vain to memorize every detail, every pudge, every toe, every sweet face you make while dreaming. The laundry will still be there tomorrow... but tomorrow, you will be one day older, one day less a baby.... my baby. I have a hard time coming to terms with the obvious fact that you and Noah won't always be little. You will both grow up, become adults and have your own families... and my brain refuses to process this reality. How can you both be anything but my babies?! You will always be my babies, but oh if I could freeze time... if I could steal just a few more days with you both this little, I would. Time marches on though, so I will make the most of the precious time I have with you. I will take obsessive amounts of pictures and video, I will entice a giggle and a smile every chance I get. I will let the laundry pile up and shove the unfiled papers in a closet when company comes over, if it means just a little more snuggle time or an afternoon nap with my sweet girl.

Crisis of Faith

2011-04-24T16:55:00.000-07:00

Today was a game changer, one of those days you look back on in life and say, "This day was different, everything was different from this moment on." I've had a hard time trusting God. I spent my teenage years at a church that seemed to view God in more of a "turn or burn" sense. They were on red alert for the second coming, so much so that they missed the point of what living is all about. They missed how God can change your life, not just your afterlife. I know this has played a large part in how I view God. I have struggled with viewing God as a big bully, and not the loving, tender father that he is.

I had forgotten that once I was a scared, hurting 13 year old who could barely cope with the pain. I had gone to church my whole life, but God felt so distant, so unreachable. Even thinking about the pain makes it real again. I feel for that girl, that 13 year old sobbing at church camp, completely crippled with pain and sadness. It was there I found Him, in that camp chapel with that camp counselor. It was there I felt free for the first time, it was there I felt peace. I fell in love with Jesus that day, I clung to him and found new life.

Somewhere along the way.... I lost that uninhibited love. Somewhere along the way, it was replaced with fear and nervousness. I spent time as a prodigal, and even then I saw God's hand protecting me from myself. All of the misfortune I experienced happened due to my own stupidity. I have been struggling to find that passionate love again. And then today....

I've been to my share of Easter services. I've heard the story countless times. Today I heard something different. Today I heard the words that shattered the fortress I had built around my own heart.

"Jesus said that if you have seen me, you have seen the Father. Everything that Jesus is, God is."

I had, unbeknownst to me, separated the two. I felt the fortress crumble. It was like falling in love all over again. I physically felt my heart rejoice. And yet there was more God had to say to me today.... Pastor Mike talked about the shepherd who leaves his flock to find the one who has strayed.... the father who runs to greet his prodigal son and throws a party to celebrate his return. Stories I had heard over and over again, but today, today I realized that I had been that sheep, I had been that prodigal son... and God had rejoiced at my return. I had been carrying the burden of guilt all these years for having strayed, when God had been rejoicing at my return all along.

There is no sin so big that God can't forgive, no hole too big He can't fill. There is no pain He can't cure, no life He can't change. I can't bear to imagine what my life would look like today if I hadn't found Jesus at 13. I have this new life, this amazing love, all because Jesus willingly died for my sins. Today we celebrate life, because He is risen.

Round is a shape

2011-04-18T17:44:00.000-07:00

Yes, round is a shape, albeit not my preferred shape. Not just for vanity's sake, but also for my sanity's sake. I'm quite fond of the outdoors. Fond of hiking and rock climbing, I'm even fond of Alex dragging me 30 miles through the backpacking wilderness. There is a stillness in the middle of a mountain wilderness, where all you hear is the birds and the streams, all you smell is fresh air and trees. No cell phones, no computers, no Hulu or Netflix. No e-mails so urgent they must be answered at the dinner table. (Guilty!) Let's be real though, these things aren't as much fun when you're carrying an extra 40 pounds and huffin' and puffin' the whole way. I'm not a quest to be a size 2, I'm a quest to be healthy, and I'm going to share this quest with you, my mysterious blog readers.

I have two reasons for sharing this: 1.) Accountability - nothing keeps me motivated like public shaming.
2.) Encouragement - I am not a runner. Even when I was in shape, I hated to run. HATED. I hope that by sharing this, I might encourage someone else to try something they never thought they could do.

Two weeks ago I started the Couch-to-5k running program. It's a nine week program meant to get your butt off the couch and running a 5k in 9 weeks. That's 3.1 miles for my fellow Yankees. THREE MILES. Ugh. I've never ran more than 1.5 miles at once. Ever. Can you tell that I'm still doubting myself? That doubt is a huge part of why I'm doing this, because I've always thought, "Wow, a 5k?! I could never do that. I'm just not capable." Not to mention the 40 extra pounds I'm carrying. Yep, I just made that public. I need to lose that "baby weight" before it becomes toddler weight! Not just for vanity's sake, but for my health's sake as well.

So, here it is, my recap from Week One. (All three days were a 5 minute warm up, alternate 60 seconds of running and 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes, and a 5 minute cool down)

Day One - It was a sad sight, thank God no one was here to see it! I found out after that the incline was set at 1.5, which is why the calorie burn topped 200. (Yeah, like I needed it to be any harder than it already was, ha!) My speed never exceeded 4.2, which is two shakes above a fast walk. Oh yes, it's that's bad.

Week 1 Day 1... the road ahead is long painful.

Day Two - Slightly better, and slightly faster. (And boy do I mean slightly.) Zero incline this time, speed inched up to 4.5... still felt like I was being tortured.

Week 1 Day 2.... what was I thinking?!

Day Three - The end is in sight! The end of week one, that is. I can't remember what my speed was on this day, but it was a tad faster judging by the distance covered.

Week 1 Day 3.... must have been a rough one judging
by this fine camera work.

Week Two - 5 minute warm up, alternate 90 seconds of running with 2 minutes of walking for a total of 20 minutes, 5 minute cool down.

Day One - My shins started bothering me after week one, so I upped the incline at Alex's suggestion and it did help. Not much of a speed increase on this day, just happy to have finished.

Week 2 Day 1... felt better than week 1, just a smidgen.

Day Two - "Woo hoo! Two miles! Oh.... My... Agh! Pain, pain! Oh Lord, my legs... they burn, oh the burn! I can't breathe, I'm going to throw up." Yeah, that's pretty much how the end of that run went. I spent the entire cool down gasping and I'll admit, whining. BUT, I did reach two miles, and that's progress, folks. Big speed increase for me on this one, averaging a steady 5.5-6 for my running intervals and even jumped to 7 for my last run. (This felt great, until I found out that 7 is the pace at which my dear husband does his entire 1.5 mile run. Don't even get me started on his 5k pace. )

Week 2 Day 2... up .39 of a mile. Not too shabby.

Day Three - This was a hard run for me psychologically. When I tried to express how it felt to Alex, he described it as being "dead mileage," which was exactly how it felt. Numbers wise, it was my best run yet, but it felt terrible. I was pretty discouraged after this run, and I'm thinking I just wasn't ready for a 6 mph pace, which is the discouraging part. That's a 10 minute mile. I'm not ready for a 10 minute mile. Bleh.

Week 2 Day 3.... best day was also the most discouraging.

So, there you have it. Today starts week three and I'm still feeling a bit blasé. I will be (begrudgingly) jumping on that treadmill tonight... public shaming is a great motivator!

Moments

2011-04-15T16:22:00.000-07:00

Sweet little boy, every inch of progress with you is like a shower of bliss for your mama. Simple things, like picking up all your toys and putting the bin back in the cabinet... and doing it without me having to re-focus your attention or ask you again... brings me such joy because I know it's a sign of the incredible progress you have made over the last six months. I can't describe the emotions I feel when I look back and see all of your toys put away and you, happily playing with your train. I stared for a moment, savoring every second of this joyous moment. Still, motionless... afraid that if I moved or breathed too deeply the feeling would fade and that perfect moment would dissipate before I could enjoy it fully. I couldn't contain the bliss, I ran to you and we exchanged excited high-fives and giggles. These moments are worth every hour of school (and the many hours spent driving too and from), every dollar spent, every hard day and every frustrated tear.

Enjoying the best lolipop ever... Organic Loli's from TJ's.

Little moments in this home are a big deal and cause for celebration. Simple things like putting toys away were a challenge for Noah for a long time. Either he didn't understand what we meant or couldn't maintain focus long enough to complete even the simplest of tasks. I guess you could say we party a lot in this home. Every ounce of progress is precious and worth savoring.

My very first rant...

2011-04-10T23:34:00.000-07:00

...and it's a long time comin'.

People say stupid things. Somehow, we've become a culture of know-it-alls, a culture of being so indignant and offended if a three year old dare ruin our Target trip by throwing a fit.

Chill out, people. Every stranger you see is not your enemy.

My little family is quite familiar with the unsolicited advice and dirty looks. Yes, I know you're a parenting expert because you brought four kids into this world and not one ended up being a serial killer. Congratulations, would you like a cookie? I don't care what kind of discipline methods worked for you, can't you see my child is having a meltdown in the middle of the toilet paper isle?! And no, I don't want to know how would've handled this.

My child is not your child. You have no idea the challenges my child faces or why he acts like he acts. Here's a hot tip for all of the holier-than-though perfect parents out there:

1.) Silence is golden... and I'm referring to your silence. If the words about to escape your mouth are along the lines of "MY kids never did that," "He still sucks his thumb?," or my personal favorite "What's wrong with your kid?!" then please... reseal your lips and keep it to yourself.

And on that note...

2.) Not every thought that crosses your mind is so divine and extraordinary that is has to be shared. Just because you have an opinion, doesn't mean you need to share it with everyone... especially the mom in the shampoo isle with a sobbing child, who is also a complete stranger. She doesn't want to hear about your strict nose and toes rule.

3.) It is never, ever okay to tell a child that something must be wrong with them. Ever. Unless you would like the wrath of a protective mother to be felt in the middle of isle 7, then shush.

4.) I would also like to add the following, which should never be said to a parent of a special needs child: "All boys are hyper," "You're spoiling him," " He needs more discipline," "I would never let my child do that," "Are you sure he has _______?" *bangs head into wall* Seriously, not helpful. Not even a little bit... and you are probably the 4th person in a week to repeat that crap to the same parent.

Yes, some of these things have actually been said to me by complete strangers, and some by people I actually know. What happened to sympathy and compassion? Isn't it time we dropped the dirty looks and disapproving glares? You have no idea what is going on in that child's life, no idea as to why he is throwing that epic fit. Maybe his dad is deployed overseas, maybe his family just lost their house, or worse... maybe they just lost a parent. How small would you feel if you discovered that something awful was going on in that child's life and you and your oh-so important opinion just added insult to injury?

Now, I don't mind advice from well meaning loved ones, that's not what I'm referring to here. I'm talking about random strangers who take it upon themselves to be rude and condescending in the middle of Applebee's, or those in our lives who somehow think it's ok to spout off rude and hurtful comments about my parenting skills.

I could link back to numerous blogs of mothers who have special needs children and have experienced horrid treatment in public. It saddens me that people have just become so rude and heartless.

The old adage still rings true.... "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." (Luke 6:31 NIV)

Thus far

2011-04-08T00:29:00.000-07:00

Noah's road to being diagnosed with Autism has been a long and winding one. I'll save the details for a later post, but here it is in a nutshell.

Noah never babbled. Ever. We were always concerned about this, but since he made eye contact and liked to play with his toys and with us, we were told that he was probably just a "late talker" and we should "wait it out." When he was 12 months old we changed pediatricians and started seeing Dr. Robert Sears. (Yes, that Dr. Sears.) When we returned for his 18 month check-up, Dr. Sears was starting to become concerned that Noah had such little language. He was limited to Mama and Dada, and even that he used sparingly. With the exception of one sick visit, we didn't see Dr. Sears again until Noah as 2 1/2. (Frequent Dr.'s visit aren't necessary when you don't vaccinate.) In that year, Noah acquired some more speech and language skills, but not nearly enough. I spent countless hours researching speech delays, through which I learned that the majority of speech delays aren't diagnosed until age 3, which is why the assumption up until that point was that he was "just a late talker."

Shortly after his 3rd birthday, I grew increasingly concerned. I shared these concerns with my mom, who then shared them with a close family friend, Terry, who also happens to be a Speech-Language Pathologist. She graciously offered to meet with us and give Noah an evaluation. Looking back, I know that our meeting with her was a divine appointment. God had arranged this day long before Noah was ever born. Terry was amazing. She was the one who got us on the right path. After spending some time with Noah she confirmed that he did have a substantial delay in speech and language development, and was also behind in other areas as well. Terry recommended we contact our school district and get Noah evaluated for services ASAP.

We were just about to move to a new area, and as soon as the last box was in, I was on the phone with the district. We had to wait for paperwork, then fill out an endless stream of evaluations. Then we had to wait a month for our first appointment, then we had 6 weeks of evaluations with a Speech-Language Pathologist and a Child Psychologist. This was a long process. We met with Terry in June, and October 12th was Noah's 5th evaluation. I know this date because I was in labor, at his evaluation. Oh yes, nothing, not even having a baby, was keeping me from getting him approved for services. There is no way I was risking having to reschedule and setting us back. One week later I showed up for his final evaluation with a newborn.

The district has been both amazing and disappointing. At the end of his evaluation, we were told that Noah was 18 months delayed (50%) in both speech and language, and had substantial deficits in areas pertaining to his attention span. They missed the sensory issues. They glazed over his pathological speech and habitual behaviors. They did, however, approve him for early intervention pre-school, 5 days a week. Noah has been thriving there. It was his teacher, Ms. Thee, who at my questioning, urged me to have him re-evaluated for Autism. I knew then that I wasn't being paranoid... the moment the words left her lips I knew I was right. She said that she wasn't going to do things any differently no matter what the diagnosis was, but that we needed to know.

Dr. Sears' office recommended Dr. McIntosh, and the soonest appointment was 2 months away. Fortunately, Noah was already receiving therapy, so it didn't feel like lost time. Dr. McIntosh asked us a ton of questions, did a thorough evaluation of Noah, and before the words left his mouth I beat him to it. "You're going to diagnose him with PDD." Sure enough, I was right. Call it Pervasive Development Disorder, Mild Autism, High Functioning Autism.... a rose by any other name and blah blah blah. Dr. McIntosh said the best way to describe Noah is High Functioning Autism.

Here is an excerpt from his report:

"Noah is a nearly 4 year old boy with delay and abnormal functioning, with onset prior to age 3 years of
(1) social interaction, (2) language as used in social communication and (3) restricted, repetitive, and stereotyped patterns of behavior and interests: fulfilling the DSM-IV criteria for Autism.........He also has some ADHD-like symptoms and abnormal sensory responses (both of these are very common ASD comorbidities in children his age.)" -(Meaning the two conditions are co-existing but aren't a direct result of each other.)

Now for the good news: Noah is extremely intelligent, affectionate and has no issues developing bonds. His social issues are related to the quality of his social interactions, which is largely affected by his speech and language difficulties. Both the neurologist and his teacher expect him to start mainstream kindergarten at age 5, just like the rest of his peers. Dr. McIntosh expects Noah to, with the help of therapy, outgrow the ADHD-like symptoms.

So, here we are. I thought there would be more tears than there has been, but today I feel relieved, thankful and hopeful.

Relieved that finally, finally we have a diagnosis. We have a springboard.

I'm thankful, so so thankful for the people who have made such an impact... people like Terry and Ms. Thee, whose gentle encouragement has made such a difference.

I'm hopeful.... hopeful that Noah will, in fact, overcome this. There is no mountain I will not move, no distance I will not travel. I will do whatever it takes to get him whatever he needs.

I guess you could say I'm also determined. I'm sure there will be more tears, more anger... but I won't curl up in a ball and allow the sorrow to consume me. God has a plan in all this, and I may not know what it is.... but I'm sure not going to miss the ride.

Precious memories

Six letters.

2011-04-06T22:11:00.000-07:00

I never fully understood the power of a simple word until one was spoken to me that shook my whole world. I knew, we both knew. Alex and I KNEW months ago when we made the appointment. I knew a year ago when I drove to Temple City to have his speech evaluated by an amazing woman who generously offered to have a look at Noah.

A mother knows. And I KNEW.

Why then, did it feel like the world collapsed on top of me? How is it possible to have the wind knocked of you without a single touch?

I never knew one word could have so much power. Six little letters. One little word.

Autism.

On April 5, 2011, in the small office of a wonderful Pediatric Neurologist, Noah was diagnosed with High Functioning Autism. My sweet, beautiful, happy Noah... has Autism.

Even though we knew, it didn't take the sting away... or the anger at those who up to this point, had missed it. Noah had six evaluations with a Pediatric Psychologist through the school district, and she missed it. In her defense, Noah is very social, loving and engaging.... however, he has serious delays in speech and language, as well as sensory issues. It took the pediatric Neurologist 90 minutes.... she had 6 hours with Noah and still missed it.

I will be posting more about Noah and the challenges he faces. For now, this is all I can bring myself to type and as I am still working through the emotions and just trying to get my bearings.

I have been blessed by tremendous support from family and friends in the last 24 hours. Words of courage and kindness, love and sympathy.

April is Autism Awareness Month. Please take some time and educate yourselves. Please, if you have the slightest concern about your child, have them evaluated, and don't stop until you're satisfied.

http://www.autismspeaks.org/
http://www.tacanow.org/
http://www.ariconference.com/
http://www.autism-society.org/

Gab.

2011-02-27T00:31:00.000-08:00

Let's be real, I have a lot to say... if you know me well, you're most likely laughing at that statement. Expressing myself is not something I have an issue with. I can find something to talk about with the most random of people, anytime, anywhere. I've never had a problem getting people to talk to me, it's a curse I blame my mother for. You see, people like to talk to my mom. They like to tell her their life story within minutes of meeting her. I'm not exaggerating, it happens all the time. She has vendors and clients at work that tell her the craziest things about their life, without her ever even asking. Co-workers plop down in her office and dish all of their problems out. I used to joke that she needed a couch, not chairs in her office. We used to work at the same company, and I would mention a colleague from another company only to have her say something along the lines of:

Mom: "Did you know her son has -insert random medical condition here-?"
Me: "Really? Wow, I didn't know that."
Mom: "Yep, and her husband left her when she was pregnant with another other child."
Me: "She has two kids?"
Mom: "Three, technically. One died a few years ago."
Me: "Wow, how do you know all this? Did you ask?"
Mom: "Nope, she just told me one day."
Me. "Okay... wow."

There's just something about her that makes people feel comfortable enough to talk to her. As it turns out, it's hereditary. I make friends everywhere, and I don't mean that in a bragging sense. Alex calls it my "Woo." I'm not quite sure what that is, but he insists it's because of my "Woo." He says I have a way of making people feel comfortable enough to open up and talk. It doesn't hurt that I have the gift of gab. That's right, I am aware of my ever vibrating vocal cords. Sometimes people tell me that I talk a lot, as if they have just made some miraculous discovery that I was not aware of until they told me. I talk, a lot, I get it. I don't do it on purpose, it's like Tourette's. I love people, I find them fascinating. I always feel awkward when there is silence and feel the need to fill that silence. I don't know why, I'm working on that.

I talk fast. I'm aware of that too. Sometimes I catch myself, that's when I know I'm talking really fast. Most of the time, I don't realize it. It makes me super self conscious, I'm always thinking back over an encounter wondering if I talked too much, too fast...

My mom, however, doesn't have the chatterbox curse. Don't get me wrong, the woman can talk with the best of 'em, but my particular gift of gab I get from my equally gabby father. Case in point - I hang up after a long phone call with my dad, look at the screen and realize that we had been talking for 178 minutes - 3 hours. Three hours?! I call downstairs to Alex, "Holy crap! I was on the phone for 3 hours?! Is Noah in bed?" Alex is not surprised, not even a little bit. My dad has got to be the only person on the planet that I would have a 3 hour phone call with.

I also get my opinionated ways from my dear dad. I have an opinion about everything, just ask me... however, that doesn't mean I need to share it with everyone. I would like to start blogging about things that I am passionate about and have a strong opinion about, and not everyone is going to like it, and that's okay. I read a lot of blogs and I don't always agree with what the person says, but I think it's important to read and understand a viewpoint different than my own.

What do you think? Do you follow a wide range of blogs, or only stick to the ones that sing your tune?

Caitlin's Birth - Part 3

2011-02-15T21:48:00.000-08:00

My epidural was put in and I was out before the first pressure wave even hit. The last time I saw the clock it said 11:50 pm. I woke a few times during the night, switched sides and felt pelvic pressure. Each time I woke I saw Alex, staring at me or the monitor, worried. Veronica was (thankfully) asleep. I woke up at 4:50 am, feeling extreme pressure and immediately called for the nurse. She came in and checked me, I was (finally) 10 cm, but Caitlin was only at zero station. I looked up and noticed an empty IV bag and thought that was strange. That empty bag was for my epidural, which explained why I was in such pain. It was done, and I felt everything. She left to talk to Sherri and came back and said that I needed to start pushing. At zero station. Caitlin hadn't even descended below my pelvis, which meant I had to push her through my pelvis. I didn't feel "pushy," all I felt was enormous amounts of pelvic pressure. So, using exhale pushing techniques, I pushed, and pushed, and pushed for a hour, and made zero progress.

First hour of pushing.

My nurse was nice, but she was young and it was obvious that childbirth scared the daylights out of her. She just didn't know how to help. She slipped out and in came Damelah. Ahh, Damelah. I wasn't too fond of her at first, she was the "I'm going to help you, even if you hate me for it" nurse, and a total godsend. Upon examining me, Damelah decides that she needs me to push while she is checking me. Anyone who has had a baby knows how uncomfortable it is to be checked. It was the one thing I just couldn't relax enough through to allow my hypnosis to work... and now this crazy nurse wants me to push with her hand inside of me. Oh. My. GOSH! Do I really need to say how unpleasant that was? It wasn't just a one time thing, this would happen over and over and over again for the next few hours. I hated it, I begged her to stop even though I knew it was necessary. This is how Damelah knew that Caitlin's head would slip under my pelvic bone when I pushed, and then go right back up when I stopped. This is how she knew I needed to push harder.

So I did. I pushed so hard I couldn't breathe. It wasn't that I was intentionally holding my breathe (known as "purple pushing") and there was no obnoxious counting involved, but the sheer force wouldn't allow me to inhale or exhale. My entire body shook with each push. Each pressure wave brought terrible pressure and the only mild relief was to PUSH. I had my feet pressed against Alex and Veronica, and I didn't know it at the time, but I was pressing into Veronica's shoulder with so much force that I left a huge bruise. Damelah wanted me to take oxygen between pushes. Caitlin's heart rate was steady, but it was flat and she wanted to see more peaks and valleys. The oxygen ended up helping me tremendously, I was able to rest a few minutes between pushes with the oxygen mask. With each pressure wave I would sit up and push, and then lay back and rest until I felt the next wave. I used my hypnosis techniques to stay as calm and relaxed as possible between each push.

Resting between pushes.

It took 2 hours just to get Caitlin through my pelvis. By this point I am exhausted, and fighting my own internal demons. Just recently Veronica described this moment to me in the perfect way, she said that every VBAC woman reaches a point, a crossroad, in her birth where she has a path to choose. She thinks to herself, "This hurts. This hurts a lot. I can push through this, I can keep going, or I can give up now and it can all be over." This was my crossroad. Through all of this pushing, Veronica was my cheerleader. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and every ounce of progress was celebrated by her. At one point I looked at the end of the bed and saw Veronica's head, "Oh my gosh, Em! I can see her head! I see her head!" We were in this together. She was planning her own VBAC only 2 months away. She knew how much this meant to me. Alex knew as well, but she knew. I pressed on.

The bossy midwife, Sherri, would come in to check on me and all I heard was Damelah saying, "Watch her push. Just watch her push." She was protecting me, she was trying to show that I was, in fact, making progress. Sherri came in around the 2 hour mark for pushing and said, "Well, you've already been pushing longer than we usua-" Que Veronica. She was all over Sherri in a heartbeat, "Yes, and you're going to keep letting her push because she's doing such a fantastic job and there are NO complications." Sherri mumbled something about perennial massage and walked out. She never came back.

Here's the plot twist, what we didn't know then: Caitlin had an asynclitic presentation, meaning her head was straight and cocked to the side. Babies are typically born with their chin tilted to their chest, so the smallest part of the head comes through the largest part of the pelvis. Caitlin's chin was not flexed, and the largest part of her head was presenting. It's like trying to push a square peg through a round hole.

Image source www.spinningbabies.com
Asynclitic presentation

It's extremely painful and usually ends with a c-section.

It's why I had a 2 cm cervical lip. It's why I flew through the roof when Sherri broke my water. It's why it was taking 4 hours to push her out.

God works in mysterious ways, and I'm very thankful that Peggy was the midwife who would deliver Caitlin, and not Sherri. Peggy walks in 3 hours into pushing and simply says, "I hear we're having a baby today! Well, I'll be back soon. Keep it up."

Eh? No "You've been pushing too long" mumbo-jumbo? No scare tactics? Nope.

The next hour is a blur. I had tunnel vision, I barely remember the people around me, but I remember the pushing. It was as though I went deep inside myself, and primal instinct took over. This baby needed to be born. Every part of me ached. I rejoiced inside when the nurses came in with the blue drapes and a tray full of the midwife's goodies. Before I knew it, Peggy was seated at the end of the bed, doing perennial massage. Everyone was cheering, "Push! Push! Puuuush!" I felt burning, the pressure was overwhelming. I thought to myself, "This has to be the last push," and it was. One, final, huge, body shaking , teeth gritting push... and out came her sweet baby head, followed quickly by her shoulders.

After 14 hours of labor and 4 hours 16 mins of pushing....

Caitlin Joy was born October 13, 2010 at 9:06 am. 7lbs 15.5oz 21 inches long

The intense molding is from her asynclitic presentation.

Moments after her birth, sweet words from my husband.

I had some tearing due to her asynclitic presentation, but nothing too serious. After spending 2 hours bonding and breastfeeding, we transferred to our postpartum room. My mom and aunt brought Noah down to meet Caitlin, and I took nap. When I woke up, I could barely move. Every inch of me ached, every muscle burned. I was sore. I also realized that I had been pushing so hard that I ruptured blood vessels above my right eye. At the time, all I knew was that Caitlin had been malpositioned. I wouldn't know what a feat her birth was until the next night, when Peggy would come to do the discharge exam and explain what happened. I talked to her about my choice to get the epidural, how it hadn't been a part of my plans. Peggy said, "I think you made the right choice. If you would have tried to endure contractions that intense all night, and then tried to push for 4 hours, I don't think you would have made it. Sometimes, epidurals can be a good thing." She was right, and I felt better. I was teetering on the edge of feeling like a failure. How was I supposed to know childbirth didn't usually feel like that?

Blessed.

My recovery was long, I had severe pelvic pain for 2 months, and my stitches took 9 weeks to heal. I still get pelvic pain some days, and Caitlin is now 4 months old. It feels like a bruise that won't go away. It took a while to process my emotions from Caitlin's birth. It wasn't the birth I had planned, but it was the birth I had. In the end, I feel victorious. I had a VBAC. From the moment I woke up after Noah's c-section birth, I vowed never again. Never again would I allow myself to fall into the hands of a pushy care provider. Never again would I consent to pitocin. Never again would I trust an OB or a hospital without factual evidence telling me I should. Never again would I allow my life or my baby's life to be exposed to the dangers that come with a preventable c-section. Of course I would do anything for my baby, even have another cesarean if that's what my baby needed due to whatever reason... but, a VBAC was the safest option for us both, and it was worth every push, every pain, every stitch and every ache. I would do it 10 times over again if it meant bringing her into this world.

I learned a lot of this experience. I learned to trust not only myself and my body, but those close to me as well. Alex was absolutley amazing, a true birth partner in every sense of the word. He was supportive and protective, everything I needed, he was. Veronica was my pitbull, no one was doing anything to me without my consent, not with this girl around. I was blessed beyond words to be there for her VBAC birth 2 months later, and my life was forever changed by it. I was there for her c-section exactly one year prior, where 40 hours of hard labor landed her in the OR. We share a bond that can't be described in words. Having my support team made all the difference in the world. Thank you both.

Caitlin's Birth - Part 2

2011-02-15T00:37:00.000-08:00

We got settled in our room and the nurse started my antibiotics and set up the monitoring strip to get 20 minutes worth of fetal tones. I turned my switch to off and stayed deeply relaxed during pressure waves while Alex and Veronica pressed on my shoulder and used the prompts I had told them were most beneficial for me. As soon as those antibiotics were done the IV was taken out and I was back up on my feet. When the midwife checked me upon admission I was 6 cm, which was fantastic, but Caitlin was at -2 station. -2?! She had been at zero for weeks, but had regressed sometime in the last week or during my birthing time. Upright was the best position to encourage her to descend into my pelvis.

The midwife on duty when I checked in was Linda, and I was VERY excited to see her! I had never met her before, but I had read about her and knew that she is an old school midwife. When shift change happened at 7:30 pm she came in with the new midwife, Sherri, while I was of course on my knees leaning into the bed. The nurse was a little peeved because she couldn't get a good reading of the Caitlin's heartbeat, and was poking at me while I was trying to relax. Linda piped up and said, "Leave her alone, she's fine. She's doing exactly what she should be doing." Unfortunately, I wasn't nearly as fond of Sherri, the midwife I would have all night.

On my knees, while Alex uses a hypnosis cue and
softly whispers "Peace."

I spent the next following 3 hours switching between leaning into the raised back of the bed while Alex and Veronica put counter pressure on my back, and sitting upright. The pressure waves had begun to feel much more powerful, even more powerful than the pitocin augmented pressure waves I had with Noah. I was starting to feel intense pressure in my back, so much so that to counter act it Veronica (32 weeks pregnant) climbed up on the bed, placed her hand on my lower back and used the force of her entire body to apply counter pressure. That's right, two giant pregnant woman on the bed. Don't ask how we fit, because I'm not quite sure, but how I wish I had a picture of it!

Switch off during a pressure wave while Alex reads me a script.

I went through transition, nausea and all. I had taken a break from kneeling and was sitting upright, with a little bucket in case I did throw up. Veronica told me to dry heave, maybe it would help push Caitlin down into my pelvis. It, of course, didn't help, and she knew it wouldn't, but it did give us all a really good laugh.

Transition. The grimace is from the nausea.

The nausea passed and it was back to kneeling. Around 10:30 pm I told the nurse that I wanted to be checked. Transition had passed and the pressure waves were getting stronger.

(*NOTE* If you are a pregnant Hypno Mama, bubble of peace before proceeding.)

Sherri came in to check me and said "Well, you're 9 cm.... on the left, but you're only 7 cm on the right." WHAT?! I knew about cervical lips, but had never read of one this large. Usually they're .5-1 cm, but not 2-3 cm, and they're caused by the position of the baby. Sherri of course said it was due to Caitlin's position, and that she needed me to lay on my right side for a few hours. Up to this point I had spent the majority of my birthing time upright, because upright was the most comfortable position for me. We tried some different positions for next 30 minutes or so, but they didn't help, and each pressure wave was getting stronger. I was having a hard time focusing, and couldn't believe how intense they were. (The whole reason for Noah's c-section was because I was given too much pitocin.)

We talked with Sherri about breaking my water, hoping that it would help Caitlin drop and put pressure on my cervix. She warned me that it was going to make my intense pressure waves even more intense, but she recommended it. She was not exaggerating. The moment she broke my water, even before a pressure wave, everything changed. There was now pain, constant pain that got 100 times worse with each pressure wave. I was shaking, trying desperately to turn my switch off and breathe deep. I kept thinking "23 hours with Noah, 23 hours of no meds and too much pitocin and it felt nothing like this." The nurse kept telling me it was because of Caitlin's position. Sherri kept saying I needed to try to rest, that I had a lot of pushing ahead of me.

The pain we getting worse, I'm not sure how to describe it in words. I only felt it on my lower back and lower pelvis, and it wasn't a cramping pain, or a tightening pain. Do you remember giving your friends "indian burns" when you were a kid? You grab someones arm with both hands and twist the skin in opposite directions. It felt like someone was doing that with my entire body, while trying to explode out of my lower back. Alex and Veronica look concerned, I was starting to scream and cry... there was lots of crying. My room filled with nurses, all of whom were worried. "You don't have to suffer like this, Hon." They rubbed my back, they meant well. Veronica ushered them out of the room and told the charge nurse that I was aware of my options, and would let them know if I decided I need some kind of pain medication. I know they meant well, but this was Veronica's job, to protect me. Any choices about pain meds were going to be my choice and mine alone, without outside influence.

I didn't want pain meds, or the barrage of medical interference that would come with it. I was enjoying my lack of an IV and the ability to each and drink as I wish... but something was wrong. I asked to speak to Sherri and asked her what my options were. Both 9 cm & 7 cm are usually too far along to get an epidural, and our nurse had already said as much. "We can give you whatever you want, what do you want." Sherri said rather matter-of-factly. She recommended against Nubain, saying that it would just change my perception of what was happening, making it even harder to deal with. I asked to speak to an anesthesiologist. He was a tool, and even said that there were no risks with an epidural. *eye roll* I was again reminded that I needed to lay on my right side.

I tried to stick it out, and broke down sobbing. "Something is wrong, something is wrong." I kept saying over and over again to Alex and Veronica. "Go get Sherri, please go get Sherri." Sherri came in and I asked her if she thought that an epidural would slow or stall my labor, she said no, due to the fact that my labor was so well established and my pressure waves were so strong. I asked her if I would need pitocin, and she again said no. If she would have said yes, then the epidural wouldn't have been an option. Pitocin is a major no-no with a VBAC. "You need to rest, and you need to lay on your right side." I looked at Alex through teary eyes and said, "I can't do this. Something is wrong, I need to rest and something doesn't feel right." He asked me if I was sure several times, with an intense worried look his eyes. He worried I was making a decision I would later regret. He was worried that this would stall my labor. He was worried, understandably so. I was worried too.

Caitlin's Birth - Part 1

2011-02-13T20:39:00.000-08:00

Here it is, a long overdue post about Caitlin's birth.

Last pregnant picture

I woke up Tuesday morning, 2 days shy of my guess date, and was feeling what felt like more braxton hicks (I'd been having them for weeks) but other than that felt just fine. I talked to my friend/birth partner Veronica, and joked that she shouldn't leave church without calling me first because the braxton hicks were starting to feel pretty regular. I showered, got dressed and took Noah to his IEP evaluation with the school district. At this point, I was starting to wonder if this was it. As I was walking Noah to his evaluation, I noticed I was breathing a little deeper with each one, and realized that these could very well be actual pressure waves, not just warm ups. The ladies at Noah's evaluation were super sweet and offered to reschedule, but getting him evualated was such a long process that I didn't want to risk missing a single one.

Hugging Noah before we leave for the hospital

I called Alex on my way home and told him I was stopping to get gas, just in case. I put on my Birth Day Affirmations track and started to mentaly prepare myself for birth. We had lunch, and I put Noah down for his nap. At 3 pm, I had one super strong pressure wave. It was so intense, and caught me so off guard, that instead of turning my switch to off, I just sat and marveled at the power. I called Alex and told him to be ready to leave work at a moments notice. At 3:30 I had another long, strong pressure wave. Just like the first, I felt the pressure like a ring around my lower back and pelvis, and my first instinct was to get into a warm bath. I grabbed my phone and hurried to the bathroom, calling Alex as I turned on the water. After, I called my mom to come pick up Noah, and then my other birth partner Veronica. I relaxed in the warm water and didn't have another pressure wave until a few minutes after Alex came home. (4pm) I then decided that I needed to shave my legs. No joke. There I sat, pregnant lady in the tub, shaving between pressure waves. After about 30 minutes of this I decided I was no longer comfortable and wanted to get out. I was trying to make it upstairs to my room, but kept having to stop and relax through pressure waves. I was still downstairs when my mom and aunt (mom's carpool buddy) showed up, and Alex thought we should start timing my pressure waves because they seemed pretty consistant.

Alex rubbing my arm durring a pressure wave and using
hypnosis cues.

My mom had been at Noah's birth and was a tremendous source of support, but I needed her to watch Noah, so she would miss being at this birth. I decided I wanted my mom to come upstairs with me and help time my pressure waves while Alex finished packing Noah's bag and gathered our bags by the door. I was feeling really good at this point, turning my switch to the off position and relaxing deeply with each pressure wave. At one point, Noah came upstairs, climbed up next to me, and was taking long deep breaths with me. At around 5:30, my mom pointed out that my pressure waves were 3-5 minutes apart, lasting 60 seconds each. I decided to hop in the shower, as I was feeling a lot of pressure on my lower back and knew the steady stream of warm water would help. I was happily leaning against the shower wall, letting the strong stream of water hit my back when Veronica showed up. It's important to note that Veronica was also pregnant, 32 weeks pregnant, and was crying like a pregnant lady when she showed up. Her enthusiasm would benefit me greatly later on. I had been 3 cm at my last check up, and needed to get to the hospital 4 hours early due to being GBS+. At 6pm we called Kaiser to let them know we were coming, and I reluctantly got out of the shower. I would have stayed in there for hours, I was so happy and comfortable.

Deep in hypnosis while Alex puts counter pressure on my back

I spent the car ride listening to my Birth Day Affirmations and eating small snacks. We walked into the L&D ward at Kaiser Irvine at 6:30, and were immediately put into a LDR room. I may have exaggerated my breathing just a little, but I knew I was far enough along to need a real LDR room, and not a traige room. The nurse checked me and I was... 6 cm! Yes! Perfect, we all thought. Four hours, just in time for my antibiotics. The nurses even said they were sure I'd have her by 10 pm. Little did we know how wrong they were...

Work.

2011-02-05T00:49:00.000-08:00

Two blogs that I follow and love (you can read them here and here) recently wrote about being a stay at home mom, and what it takes for that to happen. This is a subject that I am extremely opinionated about, because I've been a working mom, and take great offense over the insinuations that are made about working moms. So I'm going to lay it out for you, and potentially tick off a few people in the process. (This isn't directed at any one person, so I hope no one thinks I am directing this at them.)

Being a working mom is extremely difficult. Period. Unless you've been both a SAHM and a working mom, you can't possibly know. I'm not trying to belittle anyone's experience as a SAHM, and I know that there are women who have it equally as hard just being a SAHM (friends with 3 under 5.. I'm lookin at you!) During the 2.5 years I was a working mom, I got less sleep and had far more to do in a day than I do now being home with 2. In fact, I don't think I could have handled 2 kids and worked. I had to get up, shower, get dressed (and by dressed, I mean dressed. Not the yoga pants and pony tail you will typically see me in now.) Hair, make up, something other than yoga pants.I will admit, on more than a few occasions I snuck into the bathroom as soon as I got to work and applied my make up. I'm sure Jill can recall a time or ten when I dropped Noah off with zero make up on. (And if she can't, then Lord bless her for not being able to tell the difference!) Then I had to wake up a sleeping child, dress them, feed them, pack their lunch, diapers, clothes etc, and out the door. After dropping Noah off and getting to work, I had a cascade of things to do. By the time I picked him up, my brain was shot, but now I had to switch to mommy mode. We took Noah to the park just about every day. Dinner had to be made, the house had to be cleaned. I had the same domestic duties as any SAHM, just less hours to do it all in. (I can already hear the "Well, you chose to work." No, I had to work. Bills honey, they're called bills.) What if I had chosen to work though? Would that have made me a "bad" mother? I'll get to that later.

I was fortunate enough to have a flex schedule. I was able to work from home some days and even bring Noah into the office with me when he was younger. The days he didn't come with me, my amazing cousin, Kristen, would come over and watch him, for free. God bless that girl, I don't know what I would have done without her. Like all good things, that ended and I started paying my aunt to watch Noah certain days, which involved me driving way out of my way to drop him off. For a few months I took him to Jill's house 3 days a week. She could use the money, and I needed someone closer who I could trust.

Home office

Working at home sounds great, until you realize you're doing two jobs at once. I had a super demanding job and was a slave to both my iPhone and Nextel, both of which might as well have been welded to my body. I'm sure I don't need to go into the joys of trying to have a work related conversation with a screaming child in your arms. Good times.

Another late night... and yes, that's a Twitter window
you see open.

Now for the confession that is sure to have my SAHM card revoked - I liked my job. How dare I, I know. I did, I truly enjoyed it... until I reached my breaking point. Until I couldn't do two jobs at once, and daycare was out of the question, on many levels, including financially speaking. It just wasn't worth the expense. Alex and I made the very, very difficult decision to become a single income family. Sounds simple, right? Except for the 2 car payments, debt, and expensive rent. I gave 2 months notice, and prepared for a huge life shift. We had to move, and finding a place we could afford proved difficult. We ended up living with Alex's parents for 8 months. (It took us months to find a place we liked, and it ended up being totally worth the wait.) It was terrible, and strained our marriage. I love my in-laws, but I love them more now that we no longer live with them.

I get really, really upset when I hear people say things like, "Well, other people are raising your children!" No, they aren't, and you're being ignorant. I worked with a very sweet girl who had 3 kids, and she HAD TO WORK. Her husband made so-so money, but not enough for them to live even a modest life. She loved her kids, and even switched her hours to 7-4 so she could get home earlier, you know, after someone else spent all day raising her kids. (That was sarcasm, I hope you caught that.) Working moms aren't "bad" moms, they don't love their children any less, whether they *gasp* choose to work or must work. We're not saints because we stay home with our kids, we're just moms, and so are they.

Now, I know that there are women out there who whine about having to work, as they drive away in their benz. Yeah, life must be tough. However, some people Just. Can't. Afford it. Congratulations if you managed to swing it, but stop assuming that just because you did it, everyone can.

One of my last days at work was at mediation along with my boss
and our attorney. This was the view.

Progress

2011-02-02T01:26:00.000-08:00

It's been a little over 2 months since Noah started preschool, and he has been absolutely thriving! He has made tremendous progress, and I think I just might be in love with his teacher. She's amazing, and Noah is in love with her too. This woman should be nominated for sainthood. Not only is she a preschool teacher, but she is a special education preschool teacher, more specifically a speech & language special ed teacher. The woman has nerves of steel, and heart of pure gold. Noah adores her. He can't wait for the morning class to file out so he can run through gate and line up for class. Every day he yells, "Hi Teacher Mancy!" as soon as he sees her walking across the playground. (It's Teacher Nancy, but Noah has some difficulties with the first "N.") He has shown major improvements in his speech & language abilities, which has affected his mood in a positive way.

Tonight was rather momentous, Noah did something that is extremely rare for him... he asked Alex a question. It's referred to as spontaneous speech, meaning that it's an original thought, not a sentence he heard someone else say, not a canned phrase, it's Noah's own sentence. He touched Alex's chin and said, "What's that?" referring to his 5 o'clock shadow, Alex replied "It's a beard," and Noah said, "What's it for?" Three. Simple. Words. I'm tearing up just typing this. When your child is 18+ months delayed in speech and language development, three simple words feels like winning the lottery. He asked a question, a real, genuine question.

Our days our pretty hectic with Noah's school schedule, poor Caitlin hardly gets to nap. We're out the door at 10:35 every day for 10:50 drop off time, home at 11:10, back out the door at 12:50 for 1:05 pick up, and back home by 1:20. Caitlin falls asleep not long before I have to put her back in the car seat to pick up Noah. With the exception of little 20 minute catnaps here and there, she's usually awake from 8 am until 2:20 pm when Noah goes down for his nap.

Caitlin is such a happy baby. This girl smiles all the time, and as of last night she giggles at Noah. Noah was dancing around the living room, and Caitlin's face lit up and she just kept giggling at him. Priceless. I wish I would have gotten out the video camera, but I was too afraid to move a muscle... hoping that if I just stayed still it would continue. She, like her brother, is a mellow baby. She sleeps from midnight to 7 or 8 am without waking, and goes down easy at night. (I know, I know.... it's just not right. Believe me, I know how lucky I am.)

Blog Envy

2011-02-02T00:27:00.000-08:00

I have blog envy. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I do. Terrible, terrible blog envy. I also have a horrible memory, so you'd think I'd be more committed to blogging. I wish I was. I wish I had blogged more of Noah's young life, because again, my memory is HORRIBLE. Alex will ask me if I remember so-n-so, and I tell him he's lucky I remember his name every morning. No joke. Back to my blog envy. It's not that I don't want to blog, or that I have nothing to say (ha!)... blogging intimidates me. I hate that I have to pick a title for my post. Why does it have to be titled? Can't all the posts just be called "crap Emily has to say?!" I hate that I find it so difficult to include pictures in my posts. (Seriously, if someone would like to take me under their blogging wing and tutor me on this, I would be eternally grateful.) I hate that I can't seem to find a cool layout for my blog. I hate that I'm so paranoid about what other people will think about my blog. I see super cool blog posts on other blogs and want to do one that's similar, but then I feel like I'm stepping on toes. I love this blog, and this blog, and I just started reading this blog. Ugh, why oh why can't I remember to blog?!

Big Brother

2010-11-16T17:39:00.000-08:00

I love, absolutely LOVE this picture. This is the very first time Noah held Caitlin. It was November 8th, and a certain toddler was putting up a huge fight over bed time. I had Caitlin with me in the living room, and after she let out a little cry I hear Noah say, "Daddy, hold baby sister... baaabbbyy siiiiiister!!" Alex takes Caitlin into Noah's room while I scamper behind with the camera, hoping that Noah will actually hold her and not shrivel up with nervous fear like he had been doing. As you can see from the picture, he most certainly did not shrivel up! It was the most heart warming, beautiful 2 minutes of my life. He seems to be settling into his big brother role quite nicely.

First Day of School

2010-11-15T15:02:00.000-08:00

Today (well, technically yesterday, since I'm posting this late!) was Noah's first day of preschool! Surprisingly, there were no tears shed... from any of us. I was expecting tears, from me, since I only had 5 days notice before his first day. I thought I had months before my little boy would be off to school, and even then I thought it would only be 2 or 3 days a week, not 5! It's what he needs though, and I am so, SO thankful that this resource is available (and free!) to us. The support we have received from our school district has been amazing.

Noah was a trooper, he didn't seem nervous at all. His teacher, Ms. Nancy, said that he did well and there were no tantrums. She also said he had a hard time sitting still for any of the activities and that would affect his ability to learn things. (His lack of an attention span is part of the reason he is in this preschool.) He had a difficult time with the verb cards, and Ms. Nancy recommended we stop by Lakeshore and get some to practice with at home. Noah was a big ball of energy when I picked him up, and then in a matter of minutes he completely crashed out in his car seat. Could this be the return of afternoon naps?! Not so much, he woke up as soon as we got home. Ah well, I can dream right?

.

2010-11-08T18:40:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow is Noah's IEP meeting with the school district, where we find out the results of all of his assessments. I'm anxious and dreading it all at once. There is something to be said about ignorance, but after tomorrow, nothing will be the same again. Tomorrow begins the speech therapy appointments, the potential pre-school days .... and the harsh reality of having a written diagnosis. An "official" diagnosis, which means no more dreaming that maybe, just maybe, I'll wake up one morning to a complete, original sentence, and not something he's repeating from a Caillou episode. No more hoping that the tentative apraxia diagnosis is wrong, even though I know that it's not. I know that being approved for services is the best possible outcome, but my biggest fear is that they can't help him. The prognosis for apraxia varies from child to child. Some children make remarkable progress with speech therapy, and some children don't. Right now, I still have the option of tremendous hope, but once the ball gets rolling, I will have to face the reality of whatever comes. I want so baldy to have a conversation with my son, to ask him what he did at the park with daddy and actually get an answer. I want to be able to ask him what terrifies him about groups of people singing together and have him tell me so I know how to give him the comfort he needs.

Prayers are most coveted, and desperately needed.

Family visits, pt 1

2010-10-03T17:47:00.000-07:00

We were blessed beyond words with visits from family this past week. Noah had his Noni (my mom) come visit on Wednesday. It was a rather low key visit, we talked, ate lunch and made brownies. Noni of course slipped him the chocolate covered spoon, which he happily licked clean. It was so nice to have her here, she's been recovering from a broken arm, so her visits haven't been as frequent as either of us would have liked! Upon her arrival, Noah immediately dragged her to his room to play trains, and then proceeded to bring her all of his favorite toys.

Dreamy Giggles

2010-09-28T17:35:00.000-07:00

This is going to be short and to the point. Noah did something adorable on Friday morning, and I want to remember it. Alex gets up for work fairly early, and since Noah ends up in our bed 99% of nights, it's just me and him after 5 am. Friday morning, while Alex is downstairs having breakfast, I crawl back into bed after one of several sleep interrupting potty breaks. I check on Noah, he's conked out. A few minutes later I hear the most hilarious giggle come from Noah. I check, he's still asleep... laughing at some fabulous dream he must be having. It was priceless. This is not the first time my little spit fire has vocalized in his sleep. Usually, it's something about Caillou or Thomas. This instance is by far my favorite. I want to remember it always. When he drives me crazy, 4 or 5 times a day, I think about that innocent, sweet giggle and manage a smile through my gritted teeth and pursed lips.

First born

2010-09-22T14:43:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, my first born. As the "big day" draws nearer and nearer, I've been trying to steal as many moments with my little man as possible. He's become quite the cuddle bug this past week, as if he knows big changes are coming. I'm realizing what a blessing it has been that this pregnancy happened much later than we had planned. We've had 3 1/2 years with just Noah, and as much as I am looking forward to adding Caitlin into the madness, I am so thankful for the time I was able to spend with just my little guy. We've been rather busy these past few weeks. I've been trying to do as much with him as possible, because I know that very soon, everything will change. Random trips to the park, beach, etc... won't be so easy and spontaneous anymore.

My mom always told me that there is something special about your first born. The time you were able to spend with them, the mistakes you made and the things you figured out along the way. This used to make me a little sour, since I am her 3rd child after all, but then I became a mom and I understood. Even when Noah was a newborn, I realized that the lazy days I spent camped out on the couch, him snoozing on my chest.... were going to be unique to him.

Simple Sunday

2010-08-30T18:09:00.000-07:00

My awful memory is one my biggest motivators to blog. I have a terrible, terrible memory. Days like yesterday, I want to remember. Nothing out of the ordinary, which is what made it so extraordinary. Just a simple, mellow Sunday... and it was bliss.

Alex and Noah headed to the pool at about 10:45. The pool is heated, and it's a "kids only" pool, so it never gets deeper than 5 feet. Perfect. I decided to go sit by the pool and watch. I'm still fighting a terrible cough, so swimming didn't seem like a good idea, but some fresh air and sun sounded delightful. We stayed by the pool until noon, when it became obvious that a certain 3 year old was extremely tired. Before we could head back home, he climbed into my lap, soaking went in his towel, and decided he wanted to lay in the sun and cuddle. It was one of those moments I wish I could slip in my pocket and revisit on a whim. We lazily walked the short distance home, had lunch and Popsicles, and then Noah went down peacefully for a long nap. We topped the day off with lots of train play, snuggles, and a movie. It was positively perfect.

He's growing up SO fast, and I have the hardest time believing that he won't always be my "little" boy. Before I know it, he won't want to snuggle, or hug me in public, or run crying to me when his toy breaks or he falls off his scooter. He won't always suck his thumb or carry his blankie everywhere. So, until the day comes when these childhood habits fade, I want to savor them and write them down, so when he's 17, and out past curfew... I can look back and remember the times that he was that "little" boy who sucked his thumb and couldn't handle a bump or bruise without mommy and his blankie.

Life, updated.

2010-08-30T17:51:00.000-07:00

It's been an awful long time since my last post, and I'll be the first to admit that I am a terrible blogger. The thought of posting seems daunting to me, partly because nothing makes me feel intellectually inferior like the blogger website. For the life of me, I just can't figure out an easy way to place pictures in my post. Well, there's also the fact that I tend to delay uploading pictures to my uber slow computer until my memory card is full... which happens every 2-4 months. It's not helping my cause, I know.

Anyhow, on to the update! We moved to Laguna Niguel, into a townhouse style condo that we are positively in love with. As I type this, Alex and Noah are across the street at the park, a trip that has become (almost) a daily ritual. Life seems a bit slower here, and every week we find something new to do. Alex quickly discovered the trail that runs behind our condo community, and has a taken liking to torturing himself on it as often as he can. The only major downside is the distance from family and friends. I've been blessed enough that my two favorite girls, Heather and Veronica, have been down more than once to not only help unpack, but to also take the kiddos to the pool and visit. I feel like I'm in a "good place," so to say. I feel peaceful and happy, and it feels good. The past 8 months were rough, and Alex and I are thrilled to be settled, and worry about nothing except preparing for the arrival of Caitlin.

Hopefully... there will be more blogging in my future. (With limited pictures, taken almost exclusively form my iPhone.)

Me, part one

2010-01-12T23:16:00.000-08:00

When I started this blog, I did so with the intent of showing who I am, the good, bad and boring. So here's a "get to know Emily" better post. Enjoy!!

Yep, that's me... born Emily Joy Byers, currently Emily Joy Gonzalez. I enjoy long hikes through the woods, dinner by campfire and a good bottle of wine. I also love random roadtrips,

thunderstorms, Elvis, my iPhone, making people laugh, trivia shows, playing board games in Oregon until the wee hours of the morning, my climbing shoes, dogs, old jeans, black and white movies, dancing like no one is watching, pedicures, long phone calls, interesting food and smoothies... just to name a few things.

Now that I've named some things I love, here are the people who mean the world to me.

I was born to these 2 fine human beings, the 'rents.

My family is anything but ordinary however, and my 'rents have doubled and I now have 2 more fantabulous people that I call family.
(Amelia & Dad, New Years in Japan. Dennis & Mom, Alex's 30th Birthday.)

These are my brudders, I love them like a hamster loves a wheel. That's Jon on the left, and Jim on the right. They'll always be Jonny & Jimmy to me. (Jimmy's Wedding.)

This is my brother Jimmy and his lovely wifey Krista on their wedding day. He married an awesome woman who I am proud to call my sister.

My brother Jonny... well, he's still trying to find that one lucky gal.

This is my soul mate, Alex. It will be 10 years ago this May that we met, and our story is the stuff fairy tales are made of. I'll save that story for it's own wonderful post.

After the shortest engagement possible, we married May 28, 2005. Happiest. Day. EVER.

Two years later we welcomed this crazy little child, and our hearts became whole.

Catch up

2010-01-05T22:06:00.001-08:00

I have an inkling that blogging is not my thing. I envy you bloggers who manage to keep your blogs updated on a daily (or even weekly) basis. I'm going to try, really, I am. Maybe now that Teresa has a blog I'll feel more motivated. :o)

Crash.

2009-10-21T15:58:00.001-07:00

I wish I could put into words how I feel today. Yesterday was an awful, horrific experience that I wish was a bad dream. I'll spare you all the juicy details and just say this: I had a huge argument with my boss yesterday over something that confirmed what I had felt, that I've been unappreciated for the last 5 years. It's no secret that my bonus calculations have been off for 5 years (we're talking $24,000 in potential bonuses), and they did nothing to rectify it. Yesterday, I had a huge argument at work, and If I hadn't already given my notice, I would have flat out quit. No one should be treated the way that I was. I can't remember the last time I was that angry, frustrated or utterly crushed. I have an awful headache today, and the fact that I have a meeting tomorrow with our President & VP is not helping matters much.

By now, I'm sure everyone knows that my pregnancy test came back negative on Friday. I spent Saturday at a baby shower, with not one, but 3 pregnant women... and two babies. I never thought I would be one who has a hard time at baby showers, but the pain from Friday was still fresh, and I had to constantly fight back tears the whole time. However, I wouldn't have missed that shower... it was for a very dear friend, who had problems of her own getting pregnant. It was all very bittersweet for me.

There are lots of growing bellies around me, congrats to all the expecting mamas. It's difficult for me to express how hard it is to watch everyone I know get pregnant, because I don't want to make anyone feel bad. I am truly happy for all the impending bundles of joy, but it is a hard pill to swallow. Like I have said before, I would rather see all the ladies I know get pregnant, than see a single one go through what I am going through. This is a club that doesn't want new members.

I'm having a rough time, there just seems to be a lot of not-so-great things going on in my life right now. I'm trying really hard to see God through all of it, but my vision feels a little fuzzy. The fact that we are moving in 10 days and still have no where to live is a huge burden. I feel like I'm only giving Noah 50% of a mom right now, and that I am just failing him on epic levels.

I've reached my breaking point, where my body feels like it's going to explode, my heart races at random times during the day, my body shakes and my head pounds. I just know I'm going to crash.

Infertile.

2009-10-17T12:04:00.001-07:00

Considering the hectic nature of my life right now, it takes a lot of passionate feelings to make me want to actually take the time the blog. I also feel like a lot of people who have been following my pregnancy quest don't really understand what the problem is. I hope this will clear some things up.

The reason I'm not pregnant is not because I am stressed, it's because I am infertile. Yes, I already have a child, but I have been diagnosed with secondary infertility. I could be the most zen person on the face of the planet, and that would still not cure my infertility. I have Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). I have physically seen the cysts courtesy of an ultrasound, there are more than a dozen on each ovary. That was difficult to see, and hearing the words from the doctors mouth made me cry. My testosterone is too high, and my progesterone comes in at a pathetic 3. My Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) said that I have most likely had PCOS since puberty, which is why I have never had regular periods. There is NO cure. It's a syndrome, not a disease, and there is no known cause.

For the first 6 months of this conception adventure, I used ovulation sticks every day of my cycle. I never ovulated. I went through 2 cycles of Clomid and ovulation sticks with a regular OBGYN and the sticks never turned positive, and the first blood test showed my progesterone at 8, however my RE has told me that 8 is not high enough to indicate ovulation. The second round of Clomid produced no ovulation at all. Clomid works for 80% of women. This last cycle was my first round of Clomid under the care of an RE. He doubled the dose, and also put me on Metformin. Metformin is medication used to treat type 2 diabetes. Some women with PCOS have insulin resistance (high blood sugar.) I, however, am the oposite, where my sugar is consistantly low, almost too low. The reason I am on Metformin is because it causes the cysts to shrink and seems to keep new ones from forming. It's not FDA approved for this, but it's standard treatment for PCOS.

After 3 days of Metformin, I collapsed at home and woke up on the hardwood floor with a headache and Alex stroking my hair. I had been feeling weak and was telling Alex something wasn't right when he said I just collapsed. It was 8 pm and I hadn't had dinner, and my fasting sugar is already 70...I can't imagine what my sugar was at that point. I was only "out" for about 10 seconds, but it scared the daylights out of both of us.

My RE was very upfront with me, and said that there IS a very real chance that I won't have any more children. He can do every invasive procedure he has, but there is no guarantee. There ARE woman who are NEVER able to conceive.

There are other aspects of PCOS that I have been lucky enough to not experience yet. Hair loss, acne, excessive black body hair growth, patches of thickened and darkened skin, high chloserterole, type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, sleep apnea... I am also at increased risk for endometrial (uterine) cancer and cardiovascular disease.

The worst thing you can say to an infertile woman is "it will happen." You don't know that, you can't promise that, so please, please don't. I know people mean well, and I know they care and are hopeful, but you can't even imagine what this is like. My RE didn't offer any words of that sort when he called last night. He said to call him when I start my period and we'll go for there. He doesn't offer words of hope, because he knows that "it will hapen" is a promise he can't always keep. Do I want to believe that it will happen? Of course, I want to believe it so badly. But I can't tell myself that it will happen, because every time it doesn't happen is more painful that the last. Up until the last few days there had been very little crying. Now there is crying. I saw my potentional child, I saw my egg, and somehow knowing that it was there makes this harder.

I refuse to throw myself a pitty party. I wrote this blog hoping it would shine some light on what I'm going through. At this point, I am unsure if I am going to continue with the RE. It is a difficult process to go though, and he has already said that he can't cure me. I want to be cured. I am really leaning towards going back to my acupuncturist to rid me of my PCOS.

I truly, deeply appreciate all the support and prayers I have received. It means more to me than anyone can imagine. I am an emotional roller coaster, and all of you have helped keep me hopeful... thank you.

Lacking a Niche

2009-08-26T22:33:00.001-07:00

I'm having a rough day... week... month... year!!! The Clomid is NOT helping. AT ALL. I used to think I was immune to drug side affects. HA! With the exception of my Penicillin allergy, I've never experienced all those fun little potential prizes that come with medication... so then what is this? Pharmaceutical karma?? Whatever it is, I hate it.

Why Clomid? Allow me to explain. (WARNING: I'm not in a good mood, so below is a rant filled paragraph about secondary infertility in all it's glory. If you don't want to hear it, then skip it. Whatever.)

I'm broken. Well, at least my ovaries are broken. Alex and I have been trying to have #2 since November. As soon as I was off the pill, my cycles went back to being sporadic. I started doing ovulation sticks, thinking it would help. After one month, it was obvious that I would need to do the sticks every day, not just the standard 7 days. Lovely. There's nothing I love more than peeing on a stick first thing in the morning, every morning. Ugh. If there was a competition for peeing on sticks, I think I'd have a pretty good chance. I've had lots of practice! Three cycles (not months) go by and nada. My OB sends me for lab work, and the results are not good. For procedures like IVF, they want progesterone levels to be at 20; for things like IUI and pregnancy in general, they prefer at least 10. My level.... 3. 3?!?!?!? Yeah, 3, which means that there is no way I can ovulate on my own. Why? Well, I actually don't know. My OB said that sometimes, infertility just happens. Infer... what?! The "I" word is not one I would have ever thought would apply to me. Ouch.

I left her office with a prescription for Clomid, which she chalked up to being no big deal....and silly me believed her. The side affects of this crap are awful, and I'm currently smack dab in the middle of my second round, which will be my last. What I didn't know when I started it is that it's normal to gain around 5 pounds each cycle. It's also normal to have hot flashes, severe mood swings, depression, dizziness, weakness, loss of appetite and ovarian cysts. (I've had option D, all of the above sans the cysts. ) I even came across a blog where the writer said she was going to design a shirt that said "Sorry, the Clomid made me do it." I want one. This feels like the worse PMS ever, every day for 3 weeks. My poor husband! Oh, and the risk of ovarian cysts also means that I have to go in for a pelvic exam between each round. Fun times.

If I don't get pregnant on this cycle, then I'm asking for a referral to a Reproductive Endocrinologist and starting injectables. I can't go through another round of Clomid.

Now, before someone says something to the effect of, "Oh, but it will all be worth if once your pregnant," trust me, I already know this. Of course it'll be worth it, but I'm not staying on medication that makes me feel like hell for 3 weeks when there are better options. I'd rather pay the $300-$500 for injectables that have close to zero side affects than deal with 3 weeks of hell each month. Until then, I'm going to whine about it, because it's my blog and I can.

Back to the post title.

Ironically, I am surrounded by women who are either pregnant with their second, or have recently given birth to their second. I'm not one to be all sad and mopey because my friends are pregnant, I'm actually extremely happy that none of them have had to experience this. However, it just furthers my feeling that I "don't belong." Sometimes I feel like that awkward kid in high school that no one really pays any attention to. I was not that kid in high school, so this is all rather new to me. I don't "fit" with the working moms, because mine is not a 9-5 kind of job. I don't "fit" with the SAHM, because technically... I'm not. I just don't fit..... and sometimes, it hurts.

Let me just clarify that this situation exists not by choice. I work out of necessity, because we need health insurance and the insurance through Alex's work is atrocious and costly. When he took this job three years ago, we weren't even thinking about kids yet, so the lack of quality health insurance wasn't an issue, we were (and still are) covered under my employer. Alex has been trying to change jobs for a year, but he's a manager and aerospace is not doing well. Manager positions just don't come up as often.

So, I'm stuck. :o(

I think Noah finally went to sleep, so I'm going to do the same.

Homework... blah.

2009-08-22T23:37:00.001-07:00

Today I had a tantrum my very own. (Not a Noah type tantrum, I'm not even capable of exerting that kind of energy over something I detest. ) Tonight I had a ton of homework to do, but it is a bit of my own fault for waiting until 4 hours before it's due. In my own defense, I have had a super busy week, but still, I waited... and it sucked.

Anyhow, today we took Noah to get fitted for his tux. He's going to be the ring bearer for my brother Jim's wedding. Yes, my Mexican jumping bean is supposed to behave and walk down an isle in an orderly fashion. Oh boy. The general consensus is that he is going to book it down the aisle and leave the poor flower girl in his dust. Fortunately, the bride and groom are good sports and said they won't mind in the least.

I also went for Krista's (Jim's fiance) dress fitting today and let me tell you, the girl is stunning! I'll post pictures after the wedding, I don't want to spoil the surprise that I am privy to being a bridesmaid. (!!!) Yes, I've been a bridesmaid for months now, but it still makes me so excited to be a part of this wedding.

Fresh Start

2009-08-21T22:08:00.000-07:00

Ahhhh.... don't you love that new-blog smell?! My former blog never felt like home... ok, actually, it reeked of failure... so I brushed it under a rug like no one was looking, and started this one. Honesty is refreshing.

We had quite the busy week, here's a brief recap:

Monday: Noah and I had a rather low key day. We strolled down to Noah's favorite park, the Tot Lot.

He refuses to look at the camera. Lovely.

Slide, slide, slide. Over and over and over.

Tuesday: I spent the day at work, and Noah spent the day with his Gramma. I don't have any pictures from that day, but I know that he had a blast. Gramma took him to the beach and on a super long walk. He always has fun when Gramma comes over.

Wednesday: Ah yes, Wednesday.... it started as a stressful day, but got much better after Noah and I showed up at work, only to have my boss tell me that he wasn't expecting me in that day. We left in time to make the playdate at Kirstin's house! Noah was so exhausted after, he slept for 3 hours.

Noah is especially fond of Jonathan, which Jennifer and I attribute to the brotherhood that comes with being halfers. (The fact that they are both 2 year old boys is just too boring.)

Noah and Jonathan in the jumper.

Noah attempting to run off with the coveted

orange bouncy ball.

Jonathan wasn't about to let Noah leave with

the orange bouncy ball.

Orange bouncy ball?

Awww... sharing is caring, right?

(Ok, so they're not sharing, they're just both

refusing to let go. That counts, yes?)

Thursday we met up with friends at the Westminster Mall. Noah was well behaved the whole time we were there, which was a nice change. He usually goes nuts after 5 minutes in a stroller.

Thursday was also climbing night! Uncle Jon was awesome enough to watch Noah, which allowed Alex to go climbing with me and Brandie. We were nice enough to let him tag along, although he almost got his butt kicked after a smirky comment at the sign in counter! ;-)

And lastly... a fun little picture of me fixing my pants. Oh baby.

Today Noah joined me at work. He usually spends the day playing with my co-workers 7 year old little girl who comes in with her in Fridays. (Yes, my boss is amazing like that. :-) However, Noah wanted to be with either me or my mom. (My mom and I work for the same company.) Once he woke up from his nap, he was crying "House, house, house, bye-bye, bye-bye mommy, house." We left soon after. We also had a family dinner tonight to celebrate Dadzilla's 32nd and my brother's 30th.