When you find yourself unexpectedly expecting...

When you find yourself suddenly and unexpectedly pregnant, you can’t help but look up articles, advice, blogs, etc. that talk about unplanned pregnancy. The thing is, the vast majority of these address unplanned pregnancy as a first pregnancy, usually under some sort of desperate circumstance; being too young, being single, being financially unable to raise a child. There really isn’t much to go on when you’re married, and already have three kids. It seems as if the idea of unexpected pregnancy for someone that already has kids is not meant to be a big deal. You’ve already got three, what’s one more? And maybe for some that is how it feels, but what if it isn’t?

The honest truth: when I saw the positive pregnancy sign on that pee stick I bawled my eyes out. I wept on the bathroom floor, while my three kids were sitting, eating lunch and “Dora the Explorer” was playing on the TV. I was paralyzed. I kept telling myself I needed to get up and take care of my kids, and all I could do was lay, glued to cold floor, and sob.

After the crying stopped, after I went about the rest of my day trying to act normal, and after the kids were asleep, I sat on my bed feeling like the most wretched human being on the planet. How awful was I? How ungrateful? So many people who so desperately want to have a child and can’t, and here I am crying about having a fourth? I wish I could say those feeling somehow made me feel better about the situation, but really it just made me feel guilty on top of all the other overwhelming feelings that were swirling inside me.

Let me be clear, it isn’t that I resent my unborn child. I’m sure that I will love her just as much as I love my other children. However, I totally resent being pregnant. I resent the months and months of endless nausea and barfing. I resent the agonizing pain in my joints because my body really doesn’t like having to expand to accommodate a growing human. I resent the headaches, the heartburn, the restless legs keeping me up at night. But above all of this, I resent the fact that I am now facing the possibility of going through postpartum depression. Again.

After both my first and second children I had postpartum, I was incredibly lucky to avoid it with my third. Now though, I am haunted by the fact that it could happen again. When baby number three was about six months I remember feeling this incredible feeling of relief, knowing that I had somehow managed to avoid it- especially since I had thought at the time that I was done having babies, so there was zero chance of having to go through the horror again. I always knew postpartum depression was a high possibility for me because I have a depressive mood disorder. I was totally unprepared for how much more difficult, more terrifying, and more debilitating postpartum would be in comparison to my “usual” depression. Mostly I think it was because it was no longer just about me, it involved another person- this tiny, innocent, little human being, that I was responsible for bringing into the world in the first place, was tangled up in this convoluted web of emotions that were so overpowering I was incapable of saving myself, let alone them.

When you’re someone with a history of depression, and especially postpartum depression, getting pregnant feels a bit like playing Russian Roulette. Even if you do everything to try and avoid it, even if you take all the precautions, there’s no guarantee that you won’t find yourself staring down the barrel of that gun and wincing as the trigger is pulled.

Of course, these are things you’re not supposed to talk about. Having a baby is supposed to be this happy, ecstatic time in your life. People expect you to be glowing, excitedly picking out names, planning the nursery, nesting, and all that goes along with it. It’s hard for some to understand that the fact that I’m scrubbing my house isn’t in anticipation of my new arrival, but because I clean and organize when I’m stressed, and right now I am totally losing my shit. I started decorating for Christmas early this year, not because I just couldn’t wait to set up the tree, but because I desperately needed to distract myself from how wretchedly afraid I feel these days. I thought the twinkly lights would cheer me up a bit. Maybe gallons of eggnog and pulling out the Christmas movies would take my mind of off things. But not even Clark Griswold has been able to numb the fear.

So here I am, fully admitting it, maybe even trying to embrace it. I’ve got a great husband, three amazing kids, and a beautiful home… and I am pregnant. I’m also a little angry, totally overwhelmed, and completely and utterly terrified. How’s that for brutal honestly?

Oh, and my feet are swollen- which isn’t really the main issue, but it sure as hell makes putting on shoes miserable, so I’m annoyed as well.

When you realize you've given into mommy-martyrdom... and you don't like it.

   I have three wonderful children. I am totally in love with my kids. I feel so blessed that I get to be their momma. And I also resent the hell out of the fact that my life now revolves around them. 

   There.  I said it. I am a bad mother.

I wasn’t ever going to be this woman. I wasn’t going to be a mommy-martyr. I had dreams once. Okay, so my “dreams” tended to be a bit vague, but I knew there were things I wanted for myself. Not because they were necessary, or expected, but just because it was what I wanted. Imagine the audacity!

   I was in a school a few years ago. I genuinely had no clue where I was planning on going with it all; which, of course, is the first thing anybody asks you when they find out you’re in school. “So, what are you planning on doing with your degree?” Because, you know, the only point of education is to get a career that makes lots of money, right? It’s not like education has any sort of intrinsic value on its own. I am one of those totally geeky people that genuinely likes learning. I like school. I crave knowledge. Sit me in a lecture hall, or place me in a seminar and educate me, man!

   Now, when there was only one kiddo, school was fairly manageable. He was in a great daycare, which made things so much easier. One was easy to manage. When the second came along and I tried to make it work I totally and completely failed. It was just too damn hard. You would think when kids are older it would be easier. My oldest was in school, shouldn’t that make things less stressful? Nope.  When they get older they start having a schedule you have to work around. They’ve got places they need to be and you have to get them there. It sucks having to pass on taking a class you really want to take, or even need to take, because it conflicts with your kid’s school schedule. Sure, there’s after school programs, but add that cost onto tuition, books, daycare. Holy shit! Not to mention how hard it is to come home and try to read two hundred pages each night and write essay upon essay when you have kids to feed, a house to clean, laundry to wash… you get the picture.

   So, I decided to “take a break” from school. I told myself it was just a short hiatus until things became more manageable. Of course, I then added another kid into the mix, so it then became an extended hiatus. Now I am beginning to feel as if I will never go back. Things aren’t getting less chaotic, if anything they are only getting more so the older my kids get. Seriously, folks, babies and toddlers lead much simpler lives than older kids. I tell myself I’m okay with it. This was my choice, after all. No one made me give up school. I decided it was too much. I decided. And I resent the hell out of that decision.

   Every start of a new semester I spend about a week seriously depressed. But no matter how sad I am, I can’t justify going back right now. It still would not work. Not to mention that I feel guilty for being there if there’s not some distinct end game I’m working towards. It’s not enough to just be going to school because you want to be, you have to have some illustrious career at the end of it to justify what you’re doing. 

   I am a stay-at-home mom. I am so by choice. I don’t think it is exactly my first choice though. It is sort of the only realistic option at this point. I can’t be a student, the full-time parent, and the housekeeper all at once. I couldn’t hack it. Which makes me feel like a total loser because there are so many parents who do. There are lots of people who go to school and work and have kids and they manage to do it all. I couldn’t. I hate that I have to admit that. I tried. I failed. I wanted to, but the stress of trying to do it all was leading to me having anxiety attacks three times a day and losing an insane amount of weight due to stress (twenty-five pounds in two months is not healthy!).

   So here I am, succumbed to mommy-martyrdom. Most days I am just fine. I really do love being with my kids. I love that my being home full-time allows them to do things that if I were not home would be impossible. Here’s the thing though - the thing that nobody really tells you or that you don’t fully understand until you’ve been there: being a stay-at-home parent is painfully lonely. Having conversations with a toddler all day can really start to make you lose your mind. Not having time for a social life kind of sucks. Although, I’m not exactly the most social person anyways- people sort of annoy me- but still, it would be nice to know I could be sociable if I wanted to be.

   I get a little sad every time I drive by the university (which is several times a day because I live down the road and there is no way to avoid it). I get into these sort of funks where I feel the need to distract myself from all this crap, so I get really, really absorbed in a book. Any readers out there will know what I’m talking about. You get so caught up in a story that you have to stay up until three a.m. and just read one more chapter. You dream about it, you think about it all day, you are totally lost in another world, another existence. Yep. Book binges are my escape. However, after the binge ends and the story is over there’s sort of this sad empty feeling afterwards. You feel a little lost in your own world. That’s when the effects of mommy-martyrdom are the hardest.

   Wait a second; this isn’t the life I ordered! Oh wait, it is. I just forgot what it looked like.

An apology for my lack of social enthusiasm... although I'm really not that sorry.

            These days I find that I am a little bit anti-social. Okay, I’m completely anti-social. I have no desire to engage in small talk with people. I don’t have the patience to socialize. Patience is something I struggle with- patience with myself, patience with my kids, patience with people in general. It’s sort of a big problem. This lack of patience is greatly increased by sleep deprivation.

            Now, to all you parents out there who have babies who sleep well at night, this is something you may not fully grasp.

Oh, and I hate you.

Okay, I don’t actually hate you. I am fully aware that it is not your fault that none of my babies have been sound sleepers. It’s no one’s fault, in fact. Each kid comes wired a bit differently. Mine don’t seem to be wired for deep sleep, at least not until they are about two years old, then things start to click and nights become much more restful. 

            So, I don’t hate you parents with kids that sleep, but I also don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to hear about how your baby was sleeping six hours by the time they were three months old. This sort of information sort of makes me want to flip you the bird and then avoid any further contact with you. This may seem like a bit of an overreaction, but lack of sleep tends to bring that out in people. Oh, and please don't try and tell me all your tricks and methods for how you get your babies to sleep. Trust me, I've heard it all, read it all, and tried a lot of it (letting them "cry it out" is not an option- but let's not get into that debate).

            Most evenings I get in bed hoping that I will be blessed with at least a three hour stretch- not several three hour stretches through the night, just one. Because if my kid does happen to have a longer stretch of sleep at the beginning of the night that is all I get, after that it’s short little dozes for the rest of the night. If I get three hours of sleep it is a good night. Three hours. How insane is that?

            Now, if you happen to be a light sleeper, which I am, then it is even more problematic. Every movement, every whimper, a little snort or snore, and I find myself awake. So, basically I am constantly being woken up. And it’s not just the baby.

If my seven year old starts talking in his sleep, in his room, I hear it.

If my husband starts to snore, I’m awake.

My two-year old starts to stir in her room, and I know she’s about to wake up and say she has to pee, so I am awake. 

Basically it’s just one giant suck-fest of no sleep for this momma.

            Of course, it is totally all worth it in the long run. I wouldn’t trade my kids for all the sleep in the world (okay, some days I might feel otherwise). However, this exhaustion completely throws any shred of patience I used to have out the window. Whatever little bit I can muster has to be used on my children, so that I don’t find myself suddenly turning into Mommie Dearest.  So, I have no patience for other people. It is the main cause of my anti-social attitude. I leave the house when it is necessary. I socialize when I must. As for the idea of spending time with other people for enjoyment -forget it! I find it draining. Whatever energy I am able to gather is very precious; too precious to spend on anyone other than my family.

Sorry.

(But not really)

When you realize you don't want it all...

            Why is it that I feel guilty for being in my pajamas all day? Honestly, I don’t live this way every single day, but today was just one of those days. It has been raining, my knees are killing me (that’s what I get for pulling a giant pile of weeds out of the front yard!), and I’m trying to ward off an impending migraine. So, I stayed in my pajamas, I didn’t do any housework, and didn’t do any office work. I watched movies with the kids, read books, and drank a lot of tea. And now it’s evening and I feel guilty. I did not accomplish anything today. I was not productive. I didn’t “earn my keep” so to speak.

            There’s this strange societal expectation to be busy all the time. It’s as if we assume that life must be full of things to do or it isn’t worthwhile. It seems like it is some sort of competition to see whose life is the most “productive”. Does anyone else feel this way, or is it just me?

            I think that it can be even worse if you are a stay-at-home parent. I suppose it stems from this need to be defensive about what we do all day. You know that whole joke about sitting around all day eating bon-bons and watching soap operas - if we make ourselves crazy with things to accomplish then we prove the stereotype wrong. Heaven forbid we admit that we need a day off once in a while! Wouldn’t it be nice if labour laws applied to stay-at-home parents?

            Of course, I think my feelings of guilt are worsened by the fact that my husband works 80 hours a week. I’ve always had this insecurity about our relationship - I’m paranoid that I’m somehow the “lesser” partner. However, I’m starting to realize that I probably work as many hours as he does, it’s just a different sort of work. I don’t make money staying home with the kids so somehow it seems like my working hours are less valid. None of how I am feeling is in any way due to my husband. He has never undermined what I do each day, it is all coming from myself.

            Somewhere along the way I got it in my head that being a woman in the modern world meant that you had to be in a constant state of frenzy. You know how they say that now we can “have it all”? Well, that seems like a very vague description to me. All what? There could be dozens of definitions of what “all” really is. Many seem to think it means you can have kids, marriage, and a career – no need to give up anything. Not to mention spending time at the gym, participating in PTA meetings, having your kids in every activity possible, a house full of Pinterest worthy DIY projects… you get my point. It seems to me that “having it all” somehow means not having enough time to enjoy what you have. Maybe I don’t really want to have it all, at least not by that definition.  So why do I still feel like I am somehow not living up to my fullest potential if I don’t do all these things?

            I guess it is going to take some time and practice before I can spend a day in yoga pants with no make-up on and not feel like I’m a slacker.

When I grow up...

I have to admit, I sort of suck at this blogging thing. I think the main reason is that the only chance I have to sit down at the computer and type away is after the kids are in bed, and by then my brain doesn't want to function anymore. Of course, that's just making excuses for myself and I really should get out of that habit. So, I may just need to force myself to stay up a little longer and jot down some of my thoughts. That means things are going to be brief, because I am tired and my pillow is calling me. 

    Children are often asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Well, I’m twenty-seven and I’m still trying to figure that out. My son is six years old and he wants to be an archaeologist when he grows up, or some days he will say that he wants to become Gandalf when he grows up. He has all sorts of wide-eyed dreams that many more “practical” persons would deem unrealistic. Okay, so the Gandalf dream is probably not going to happen, but the archaeology thing is a definite possibility. The point is, he is too young to have been tainted by the world. He knows what he wants, and to him it is not only entirely possible but also completely probable. I can vaguely remember what that felt like. I remember a time when what I wanted out of life what just that - what I WANTED. It had nothing to do with what other people expected, or what was logical, or what was the norm. Once upon a time dreams were real… until they weren’t anymore. We often refer to this as “growing up”, which makes me wonder: What the hell is so great about being a grown-up anyway? Sometimes I look at myself and I realize that there is a part of me that has disappeared, died even. Perhaps there should have been a funeral, because I feel as if I am mourning – grieving that part of myself that genuinely believed I could achieve the things I wanted. Listening to my son talk about all the things he wants to do makes me feel both incredibly excited and incredibly sad. I am excited for him because I want him to have those experiences he wants to have, and I believe it is entirely possible because I haven’t given up on his dreams. However, the sad part is that I am aware that I seem to have given up on mine. I truly believe that the most effective way to teach your children is by example, which is terrifying. How do I teach him to go after what he wants when I didn’t? Of course, the things I want have changed over the years because I’ve changed, but I still don’t find myself really chasing after what I want. I have become comfortable with letting things pass me by. I am accustomed to dreaming, waking up, and then forgetting what it was I had dreamt about. So, as I slowly try and allow myself to hang onto dreams again perhaps I may start to figure out what it is I want to be when I grow up. Right now the best answer I can give is this:

                                    I think when I grow up I want to be more like my son.

When you realize your children’s toys have become the bane of your existence…

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Seriously, some days I feel like our house is drowning in toys. I have been pretty good about teaching the kids to pick up after themselves. They know that before bedtime toys need to be cleaned up and bedrooms need to be tidy. Some days this is even accomplished without my having to nag about it. However, I still end up having to do some of the work and this has led me to the realization that there is just too much stuff! Why do we have all these toys? Half the time the kids get them out for about five seconds then they move on to the next thing. It has all just accumulated over the years to the point that I feel our house is overrun with it all. Now, I know there are a lot of folks out there that will not agree with me. I know lots of families that have entire playrooms full of toys, and that’s nice and all; but, what if I don’t want to use up an entire room just for toys? What if I actually don’t really want more square footage in my house just so I can accommodate a habit of accumulation?

I think back to when I grew up and of course I had toys, but nowhere near the amount that my kids have. I had a few dolls and stuffed animals, there was a shoe box full of Barbies (which I really only played with when other girls came over to play), and a shoe box with my tea set…. and that’s about it.  My brothers had their own toys as well, but it was the same as myself- limited. And you know what? I don’t ever remember being bored with nothing to do. Lately I’ve been on an organizing spree (okay, I am pretty much always on an organizing spree), and I thought about getting some toy cubbies, you know the kind you find at Ikea and such, because there just isn’t enough storage space for all the toys to stay organized. Then it hit me. Maybe the answer isn’t more storage, maybe the answer is getting rid of some of the crap that they don’t need to begin with!

This whole de-clutter and de-junk method is a bit of a debate between my husband and I. He doesn’t like to get rid of anything. I think if he was not married to me he would be in serious danger of being a borderline hoarder. I would like to get rid of some of the toys that my son once played with but haven’t seen use in years, but my husband argues that our daughter might want to play with them as she gets older. Here’s the thing, if they aren’t there to be played with she won’t know the difference, will she?

I’m noticing that the mentality of more is better is total BS. Honestly, more is just more exhausting. Having more things seems to often mean less time to actually enjoy them. I don’t want my kids growing up thinking that having lots of “things” somehow makes life better or more enjoyable. The scary thing is that I already see this happening with my son and he’s only six. It’s no longer the case that getting new toys is a treat, it’s almost like it has become an expectation. Kids learn by example. They may ignore everything you say, but you can count on them watching everything you do. So, as I’m on this journey to simplify my own life, I am hoping I will show my kids how to do the same. Step number one: this weekend the kiddo and I are going to do some serious sorting and purging. I don’t believe in getting rid of the toys behind his back, I think it is important that he be a part of the process. He decides what stays and what goes, but I can help him figure it out.

When you realize you have a love-hate relationship with money…

            I hate the word “budget”. I mean REALLY hate it. The main reason for this is probably because I suck at setting a budget and sticking to it, so the word just reminds me of my probable failure. So, I would like to first say that I am not doing the budget thing. Nope, we are calling this by a different name because the “b word” is too discouraging. Some people refer to it as a “spending diet”, but I also hate diets so that won’t work either. So, let’s just say that I am practicing financial control. After all, in many other aspects I am a control freak - we’re talking borderline OCD here - so I can work with the term “financial control”.

            Now, it isn’t like I have some obscene amount of compiled debt. I have some personal debt, more than I would like, more than I could pay off in three months. Being in debt makes me feel sick, actually physically ill, so really for me this is a health issue. I have some, shall we say quirks, which make my life a little interesting. I battle with depression and also struggle with anxiety attacks. Money issues tend to cause my anxiety to flare up to epic proportions, which is misery for everyone in my household. I am medicated, which helps; however, like my doctor so often reminds me, medication is a stepping stone but it is not a solution. So, in an effort to make myself a little healthier, and to make my life a little less frantic, I am setting out to gain control over my personal spending habits, and maybe simplify my life in the process.

            Some people wouldn’t classify my spending as problematic. I don’t spend large amounts and make big purchases. I am a light spender… but I am also a frequent light spender. Twenty dollars here, ten dollars there -lots of little splurges adding up before I have a chance to catch up. It is time for the madness to stop! So, here is my list of things I will be doing in an effort to get things under control - so I can get back to feeling less like a slave to the plastic cards in my wallet, and more like a healthy and sane (or saner) person.

1.     Accountability. This is the big one! Having someone that I answer to about my spending is key. This will be my husband primarily. Not that I want him policing me on my spending, because that would just create a whole new batch of problems, but someone that occasionally asks me how things are going, or has access to my spending info so I can’t pretend that I haven’t spent money. Posting this is also a big part of it. Its one thing to tell yourself you’re going to change your spending habits, but telling other people means it is public knowledge.

2.     The receipt basket. This is part of the whole accountability thing. I am setting a small basket on the kitchen counter. Every time I spend money the receipt goes in the basket, right where I can see it. There’s no ignoring how often I spend money, because the more I spend, the higher the receipts will pile.

3.     The envelope system. Gag. I hate doing this. Plastic is just so much more convenient. It is also so much easier to lose track of what you spend. So, cash it is. This will involve that dreaded “b word” that we won’t mention. After dividing my monthly income into the envelopes they will be hidden away. The cash comes out when I need it. This will help prevent impulse buys while I am out and about.

4.     Amazon and I will be taking a break in our relationship. I love Amazon! It is my drug of choice! The best (or worst) part of it all: my credit card information is conveniently saved onto my account, so I just click and say goodbye to my money without having to think twice. This is why I have deleted my credit card information from my account. So even if I think about slipping I will at least have to retrieve my credit card and enter my information manually. Hopefully that will be enough of a delay to make me think twice about what I am doing. In general though, I think it is better if I just avoid visiting the site altogether. So, I’ve decided we need to take a break. Don’t worry Amazon, it’s not you, it’s me.   

5.     Get organized. This is multi-faceted. One step will be meal plans, or at least sort of. Honestly, our schedule is a bit of a gong show so scheduling meals is kind of futile. But I can make a rough list of meals for the week to pick and choose from, and make sure I have what I need for each so I don’t have those last minute trips to the grocery store or the impulse to order pizza at five o’clock. Another aspect is avoiding small, unexpected expenses by stocking up my car, stroller, diaper bag, etc. For example, making sure I have water and snacks in them all so I don’t end up being out with hungry kids who are screaming for something to eat, which leads to buying snacks (this is especially important since my kids eat like little hobbits).

6.     Rise and shine. Ugh. I am so not a morning person. I feel like throwing my phone through the window when my alarm goes off in the morning. However, getting up earlier and giving myself time to get ready for the day before I get the kiddo off to school will give me a better start to the day. Normally I don’t get myself ready until after I’ve taken him to school. However, if I’m actually ready, and by that I mean not still in my pajamas with yesterday’s mascara smeared across my face, then we could actually walk to school. It is only about a fifteen-minute walk with the kids, and it will save on gas, not to mention that I could probably use the exercise. More money, less cellulite.

7.     Avoid temptation. The mall is a pretty obvious choice here. However, there are places that are probably just as bad or even worse than the mall when it comes to impulse buying. For example, Superstore. Oh, how I love Superstore. Everything I need is under one roof. There’s no running from store to store with both kids when I need more than just groceries. Everything in one place, all expenses on one receipt… which means I can pretend that all I bought were groceries and household items even though I may have a few things in there that I picked up in the clothing section. It doesn’t help that the kid clothes are just so dang cute and cheap (I like buying clothes for my kids much more than buying clothes for myself). So, although the groceries may be a bit cheaper there, it might be worth it to shop at a regular grocery store. I may spend a bit more on the groceries, but I will probably save a lot in the end because I won’t have the temptation to spend on other non-essentials.

8.     Sell, Sell, Sell. It is time to clear out all the junk that we really don’t use or need. I got a start on this already by taking our excess strollers (three to be exact - yes I know that is ridiculous) to the consignment store. Also, I am starting to sell stuff online (thank you Kijiji). The money can go towards paying down some of that debt.

9.     Get tips from the spending savvy. This involves finding blogs, websites, etc. that include tips on saving money in every aspect possible. I have already found a few that seem to be a good match for me, so I will try to make it a habit to browse these rather than browsing Amazon or ModCloth.

10. Give myself a break. Let’s be realistic, if I go too extreme here I am going to snap. So, I will set aside money each month for little extras. When that money is gone, it is gone and there’s no more fun money. This will be so I can maintain things like the traditional Tim Horton’s Thursdays with the kids, or my giant Diet Coke when I fill up the car with gas.