Love in a Hopeless Place

Image courtesy of Newtown Photo Memorial Project.

How do you tell your children about the deaths of children in their age range? Can you reconcile this atrocious theft of innocence for an entire community with the idea of a God who cares, and is just and good? How many parents like me have likewise hid their tears and sorrow for strangers if only so their own children won't be frightened?
The massacre at Sandy Hook School has impacted so many. I live in CT. Somewhere deep in my heart, I always felt my kids were safe, if only by virtue of living in a tiny state. Tragedies like the loss of these precious kids happened in the great land of Elsewhere. Not here. Not to ours. Evil was for places like New York, large cities so unlike any here.

Standing up for Santa

Belief in the big red guy is a rite of passage for many American kids.

Growing up, I never really gave Santa a second thought. He just was. Once I became a parent, it also never crossed my mind for even a moment to not share the magic of Santa with my own children. It wasn't until a few years ago that I even realized that there are people who are against letting their kids believe in jolly old St. Nick for a whole multitude of reasons.

Life After RNY: the 2nd month

MonkeyMan and I, taken in November '12. See how my legs are crossed? I couldn't do that 3 months ago.

The second month after my WLS was the dubbed the Month of NSVs in my house. In the WLS community, we talk about our scale-related goals and victories, but we also talk about our non-scale victories (NSV). When you're disappointed with the numbers on the scale, NSVs are a fabulous way to remind yourself just how far you've come.

Is there truly a "War on Christmas"?

This gem has been circulating around Facebook lately.

It's December, a lovely time of year to celebrate many things: the birth of Christ, the miracle of God's provision, the change of the seasons, the strength of one's culture and heritage, the hope of rebirth and renewal, amongst many others. I should also add that many of our country's non-believers enjoy a robust holiday season as well, full of joy and meaningful traditions. In America, roughly 76% of adults identify as Christian in faith. That statistic is why I have such a hard time with the media-hyped "war on Christmas".

Life after RNY: the 1st month

Post-op bruising, 4 weeks out.

Just a small warning for my more sensitive readers: this post contains a frank description of the first month of recovery from my laproscopic RNY gastric bypass surgery, as well as photos of an open surgical site infection. This is also a very long post because, well, I'm long winded. Proceed with caution.

It's now been a little more than 2 months since I had weight loss surgery. I'm finally (FINALLY!) feeling back to normal. I can now say that I am so glad I did this. If you'd asked me last month, I would've burst into tears and told you it was my biggest regret to date.

What A Beautiful Life!



The Princess at 12 weeks gestation. Sorry for the blurry picture of a picture.

The Princess at 23 months.

My friend's daughter at 9 weeks gestation.



Miss N at almost 1 and a half.


 

I don't think I've done a post on my change of heart from pro-choice to pro-life. It's a difficult and heated subject to talk about. The overwhelming majority of the people I know are very passionate about it regardless of which side their personal stance falls on. In my opinion, abortion affects us all. I have no idea about the actual stats on it, but I'd imagine most people either know someone who has had an abortion or has had one themselves. This post is not about judgment. It's about my private struggle that lead to me believing all life has value.

Homeward Bound

Found on Pinterest. This spoke to my heart.

My husband, kids, gerbils, and I live in a small Northeastern state. I am the only one out of our bunch to have lived anywhere else but this place. I was born in Mississippi, and moved here when I was about 7. Although this is now home, it no longer feels quite that way. You see, Mr. P. and I have a dream.

Wherein I lost my religion, but found my faith.

"Jesus loves the little raptors..."

Religion has always been a mixed bag for me. I never truly understood how so many people worldwide could adhere to such things for a lifetime. I have long been a fickle sort of person. Just one of my many charming characteristics I suppose.
I was raised more or less an atheist. My father was at that time a staunch non-believer, although from what I heard he died a Mormon. My mother was raised Catholic, but rebelled against much of what she was taught. From Dad, I would get lectures on the foolishness of believers and from Mom, I would get lectures on how just being a good person is good enough for God. I'm not sure about my younger brother, but given his cross tattoo, I'm gonna guess that he is some flavor of Christian.
In my teens, I became a Christian...sort of. It didn't last very long, and I never felt as though I fit in with the church-going crowd. By the time I was 16, I was following a Wiccan path. I continued to be a solitary practitioner until my early twenties. Motherhood seemed to wipe out any time I had to enjoy any sort of spiritual path. That changed when I was about 24 or 25. I found Christianity again, and dove in whole hearted.

One more week!

My kids and I at the park, taken in April '12. From left to right, the Princess, me, MonkeyMan, and Tank.
 

I'm one week away from undergoing RNY gastric bypass surgery. You can now see why I have resorted to such a dramatic measure as weight loss surgery (WLS). My starting weight was 355 pounds. Ok, so that's not entirely true. My starting weight was 347 pounds, but I went more than a little nuts in the month before beginning my pre-op liquid diet. I ATE ALL THE FOODS! I am currently 332 pounds, with a goal of 317 pounds by my surgery date next Wednesday. I'm confident I can make that goal.

Our Birth Story: The Princess

John Dempsey Hospital at the UCONN Health Center, where The Princess was born.

This is the final post in a series of 3. This is The Princess' birth story, as best I can remember it 20 months later.


In 2007, we decided to try for more children. Ok, so "we" in this case means myself and God. I had become what I felt was stronger in my faith, and while I trusted God for a multitude of things, I did not trust Him to give me only as many children as He had planned. I convinced Mr. P. that it'd be a fine idea to give up birth control and trust God for our fertility.
That year had been fairly good for us. Mr. P. was working hard and we were on the verge of being able to get off of welfare. Both our marriage and our family life were growing stronger each day. Faith in God gave us a sense of peace about our lives. It seemed a good time to add to our family.

Our Birth Story: Tank

Bristol Hospital, where Tank was born.

This is the 2nd in a series of 3 posts. This is Tank's birth story, as best as I can remember it 9 years later.

2002 was the beginning of a series of rough years for our family. By then, Mr. P. and I were engaged to be married, raising our toddler son, and really struggling to find our feet as independent adults. Due to MonkeyMan's traumatic birth, I found myself unable to stand upright much of the time without excruciating pain, and thus unable to work. Even though Mr. P. worked full time, we were still on welfare. We lived in a one bedroom apartment downtown, and did what we could to have a "normal" life. Unfortunately, we both come from childhood backgrounds that did not fully prepare us for family life and responsibility. In late August of that year, we found ourselves homeless.
In a panic and not knowing who to call for help, I contacted our DSS (welfare) worker. She was able to get us 2 months stay in a local hotel covered. I will be forever grateful to her for arranging that. It gave us a bit of calm before the storm. We moved into the hotel room in the next town over, and tried to come up with a solution to our problems. Because we did not have a car to get him there and no public transportation available, Mr. P. lost his job. We soon found out that because we had no permanent address or phone number, he could not find a new job. That led to being unable to find a new apartment because we had no income and no permanent way to contact us. So much for starting over fresh in this new town.

Our Birth Story: MonkeyMan

St. Francis Hospital, where MonkeyMan was born.

One thing I've noticed in all my reading of online mothers' boards or groups is that people really like talking about the day their kids were born. I've also seen a certain pattern emerge. Stories of natural birth, particularly homebirth, are long, detail filled, and often use very descriptive language. Stories of hospital birth, particularly c-section birth, are often shorter, less detailed, and often the mother writing sounds quite unhappy or even traumatized by the birth of her child. Now I know that this is not true of 100% of birth stories. Blogs like Happy With Hospital Birth and Hurt by Homebirth show that my simplified analysis is not always true. That said, I've decided to share my 3 birth stories over the course of 3 individual posts. Here's the story of MonkeyMan's birth, as best as I can remember it 11 years later.

There and Back: A Vaccine Story

Dumb title, I know. Ironically, my youngest child and I are sick as I write this. Please excuse any poor writing or dives into overly poetic wording on my part. Blame it on the fever.

The vaccine "debate" is full of light and dark moments.

I first became a mom in 2001. Having been raised by an LPN mother, I never really thought twice about vaccinating my kids. It was just something everyone did. At the time, my infant son and I saw my family doctor. Each time he was seen, she would warn me of the risks of choosing to vaccinate him. Possible dangers ranged from pain and fever all the way down to autism or poisoning him. Slowly, I started to question the idea of vaccination as a way for society to protect our most vulnerable from the horrid deadly diseases of the past. The more our doctor explained about how vaccines are not necessary anymore, thanks largely to good hygeine and better nutrition, the more I became convinced that vaccination was not right for our family. I stopped it all by the time he was 5 months old, firm in my belief that no other children I might have would be subjected to Big pHARMa's money making scheme of poisoning our children via vaccination.

What have I gotten myself into?

In December '11, I started my journey towards having RNY gastric bypass. Last week, I had my surgical consult, and first appointment with 1 of my 2 registered dietitians. In the next 2 months, I've got all kinds of tests to be cleared for surgery. I've also got to lose 10% of my body weight, which is about 35 pounds. Yes, you did that math right. I weigh almost 350 pounds.

Damned if you do. Damned if you don't.

International Breastfeeding symbol

  Breastfeeding. Bottle feeding. Seems simple enough. The reality is that more goes into infant feeding choices than most realize. What a lot of mothers experience that influences their choice is pressure.
In an informal (very informal) chat with some friends, pressure seems to be something many of us have experienced. It comes from all sources, too. NICU nurses, pediatricians, midwives/OBs, spouses, friends, family, and of course, the internet. And it can lead to health consequences, amongst other issues, if the mother feels pressure to breastfeed when formula is needed instead or if the doctors do not inform her that formula is an acceptable option. Opinions abound when it comes to feeding our babies.

Homebirth matters more than you'd think.

Back in April '11, I found myself in a position to have many of my notions of homebirth in the USA challenged. I want to share what I've learned because I don't think many people understand what goes on in this seemingly underground birth movement. Before last year, I assumed all midwives were CNMs (and if the initials after their name differed, I assumed it was a state-to-state difference but same education/qualifications), and that all homebirth moms were just plain selfish. The people I knew who had a homebirth loss, or even just the ones I'd read about online, well, I could not muster up any sympathy. From where I sat, they valued their "birth experience" over the safety of their child. As for the midwives who attended these infant deaths, I just didn't see how it could be their fault. After all, they were educated and trained nurses first before becoming midwives, right? Must've been something to do with the mother, perhaps not disclosing pertinent medical information.