Making Lemonade

Today was terrible. One of the worst of the worst. I haven't been sleeping well. My nights have been filled with terrible dreams of love, work, and child raising--- all falling apart-- again. I'm not sure what triggers my sleep problems (well, late night sugar doesn't help... and hormones don't help... okay, I guess I do know), but whether I know or don't know: my complicated relationship with sleep is back. I went to bed last night, excited for today... but today: nothing went as planned. I woke up to rain. Fine, it's rain, not a big deal. Rain happens, it's nothing to cry about. But how I was going to make it to two banks and city hall with a toddler, in the rain, was beyond me. (#firstworldproblems, right?) But I NEEDED to pay my bills. I knew I needed to. Five days past payment on rent (not a huge deal, I've got a great landlord, she knows the payment will come in-- this was my first day free this week) and a little overdue on utilities--- maybe, I never received a notice. I started gathering things together-- I was going to get Marlowe in that stroller and make quick walk east when there was a break in the clouds. I pick her up, I bring her in her room to change her: the power goes out. I hear someone outside. WHY. My bill stated the payment was due the 19th (of April). WHY. I go to the window and I see the man who shut off my power, getting in his truck, and pulling away. And I'm stuck, in the 90 degree, raining weather, with no AC and no power for fans.... and I'm confused and upset. Why the man who turns a switch to turn off all the power in my house couldn't wait for tomorrow, couldn't wait an hour until I made it to the office, is beyond me. We finally make it out of the house, neither one of us is happy. Marlowe vocally whines the whole time, I whine in my head, but I'm certain you can see it in my face. She whines more. She screams. I give up. I give her a lollipop from the bank--- ANYTHING to give me a slight second of a break today. The lollipop is not another person or a helping hand. The lollipop is hardly a minute distraction. And I don't feel completely guilty. We make it home. I prepare lunch. She screams the entire time. She seems hungry. I place her in the highchair and she is disappointed and unhappy. Whines. Points to nothing. Whines more. I beg, I plead. Finally, she gives up on her pointless whining and reaches for food. She begins to eat. I stand up in relief, wash my hands, walk back to the couch, and she is asleep: covered in food, in her chair. I lay her, dirty, covered in food, on my bed. I get some work done and I clean my messy home. She wakes up, in a better mood. For a short while, the clouds move, and the sun shines in... and I make lemonade. The rest of the day continues with more fits, more tantrums, and refusing to eat anything of value, and the day, once again, continues to fall apart. 

Currently: I'm happy to be in bed, with my child asleep in her cozy, tiny bedroom. I'm happy we both survived our moodiness today. I'm not pleased that my emotions have gotten the best of me a few times this week, but I'm proud for making it through another trying day, alone. I look forward to a fresh start tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a good day. Tomorrow: I drink my lemonade. 

2 parts lemon

1 part sweetener

6 parts water

(sounds accurate enough)

Happy Weekend everyone! Happy Easter, if you celebrate it. It seems the earth and the planets are moving in all kinds of weird directions, changing and adjusting our moods and cycles. I know very little about this. I failed (well, I got a C) on every exam relating to the pull of the moon and tides in my college oceanography course (hardest class I've taken to date). With Mercury in retrograde (whatever that means), we're not "supposed to" make big decisions, take on new projects, or deal with finances, but instead, deal with already looked at and older projects. Whatever is going on with moodiness and pulls, it's supposed to end soon. Again, happy weekend. Make some lemonade. 

A Sick Update & A Giveaway Winner

**be warned: this post may be a bit rant-y, complain-y, babble-y, and contain a lot of (extra) typos. 

This has been one hell of a long week. I cannot not even begin to describe how much I am truly looking forward to feeling better. You read about Wednesday night/early Thursday morning.... well... as awful as the whole thing is/was, I was lucky enough that it all worked out with my (and Alex's) work scheduling. I don't work Thursday during the day--- I work Thursday nights...  which means I was able to spend all of Thursday with a very sick Marlowe. Thursday night came around and as I was walking out the door, I noticed a missed call from my boss, and discovered the truck wouldn't be going out that night. Boy, that was kind of a nice surprise. Marlowe slept all day and most of the night. She spent 80% of her time on me. As hard as it was to see her sick, it was also so nice to just lay there with her cozy little body on mine.
Friday, Alex had off work. He came over to watch Marlowe while I went to work. For the past month (plus?) Alex and I have had no more than five minutes of contact with each other at a time. I had decided a while ago that he would no longer be spending time in my home. He would pick up Marlowe at my doorway, and drop her off the same way.  I cannot begin to explain how much I dreaded him being there on Friday... but then at work: the sickness hit me ( and I thought she wasn't contagious. whoops). I rushed home a few minutes early to meet them for a doctors visit. Marlowe and I left diagnosed with the Flu (Type B-- whatever that means) and the three of us left with a prescription to fight off the sickness. The rest of the day I joined Marlowe wavering in and out of fever land. We watched videos together, tried to eat as much as we could, and whined here and there. Alex and I took turns getting things done around the house and making sure Marlowe was comfortable. I wanted nothing to do with having to spend time with Alex, but once I started feeling miserable myself, I was grateful it all worked out how it did, because, needless to say: it was nice to have someone around to help.
I handle the day to day pretty well, but when I'm sick? Pfffft. I'm a mess-- a big whiny, loopy, vulnerable, half brained baby of a mess. Marlowe started feeling somewhat better on Saturday. Me? I had a fever of 102 coming and going for different parts of the day. Trying to handle the flu, by yourself, with a baby who is suddenly feeling better (and going a bit stir-crazy and wanting attention) is god-damn hard. I laid on the couch, or on my bed, shivering under the covers, with a video to distract her, wishing I could magically morph into two separate people, complaining to no one, but myself.
Here I am on Sunday. I haven't had a good nights sleep in days. I'm still sick. Coughing myself into a beautiful set of abs (I wish). I'm stir crazy, bored beyond belief, and slightly depressed that the best day this week was the day I dreaded the most-- because hey, it's the day: I not only had another adult around, but I also had more than two arms to help care for my sick child. On the upside: Today, I've been given a day of rest. Marlowe has been feeling a lot better, her fever has gone down and she has regained much of her energy. Today, my mother has picked Marlowe up to stay with her for a few hours (my mom flew into town yesterday), giving me time to actually recover. I'm praying to the sick gods that tomorrow will be a better day. It should be. It has to be. Because I cannot, for another day or moment, sit here, bored and alone, in my home. This update is about five pages longer than I wanted it to be. Just give me my healthy, happy life back.

Coming up in the new few days I have a sponsor spotlight and a (soup) recipe. And I still planning on doing a body care post... you know... one day.

And the winner for our Perry Mackin giveaway?
None other than one of our very own sponsors: Belle from Petite Biet. Congratulations Belle! The bag will be Brooklyn bound just as soon as I kick this flu :)

Thank you everyone that entered! Stay tuned, we have a few more giveaways lined up for April and May. And of course: don't forget about our Ride For Kids giveaway, where you can win a ton of awesome organic shirts, among other things... and 100% of the proceeds goes to help children with brain cancer. It's a win/win... even if you know, you don't win.



edit: I should probably mention, cause I'm pretty sure it will be brought up or questioned: yes, we totally used disposable diapers all week. I know I said we were an "all cloth" house, but I guess that wasn't completely true. I forgot to mention we use a disposable for sleep time.... and now: for sick time. 

This Morning

We woke up at four am today. Marlowe crying, warm to the touch, and drenched in sweat. I removed her blanket and handed her a bottle, a mixture of almond milk and water, and I went back to bed. Thirty minutes later, she was crying again. Still hot, still drenched in sweat, bottle: untouched. I picked her up, removed her pants, changed her very heavy diaper, and brought her in my room. I lay her curved, against my belly, and handed her the bottle again. She drank it, rolled over, rolled over again, and began throwing up. I feared choking and quickly picked her up to turn her on her side. She was crying and we were both wet. I held her as she cried. I wanted to cry. I took off our clothes, grabbed a small blanket and sat on the couch with her hot, tired body on mine. I called her father. I asked for his opinion. I asked for advice. I became frustrated. I hung up. I calmed myself, and called him back. He told me to let him know if we needed anything. I told him I would let her try to sleep and I would let him know if anything happened. We hung up, but kept in touch. I laid there for hours with Marlowe asleep, on top of me. She woke up every so often to let out a cry and slowly drift back into hot sleep. I cried. I want to cry now. I've grown to be so incredibly happy in my life, but in moments like these, I just want to cry. I laid there quietly sobbing with her on top of me. I wanted to get her a cool rag, a fever reducer, I wanted to take her temperature, and do anything to help her feel better. I needed to use the restroom, I needed a glass of water, and I needed a shower to clean her sick mess off my chest. I thought about the commitments I would have to break in the morning. I wanted to crawl into my bed, but knew I couldn't as the watery-milk was seeping into my mattress, into my pillows, hardening every linen I own. And I cried. Only one person, with two arms. 

There isn't a lot of things I need or want in this life. I live simply and I live comfortably. Sure, I would enjoy a home in a nicer-safer area or a more practical car, but I don't need those things to be happy. Money doesn't impress me and most things money can buy won't impress me. My happiness is here, in my home, knowing that my daughter (and myself) is clean, well-fed, healthy, growing, learning, and always incredibly happy. As long those things are in order, I am happy. The material things don't and won't matter when I know I am providing the most important basic needs, feelings, and nurturing for my daughter. So when I have Marlowe, sick and upset, struggling for sleep on top of my chest, and I find myself craving more arms or one more body to lend a hand, and raise her in the tough times, I cry.

As I sit here crying, I am so grateful. I am lucky to have what I have. I am lucky to be able to give what I  give. I know I am good mother, it's just sometimes, I wish there was more of me: for her. At this current moment, I am giving her everything I can give her. I am forlorn and I am sorry that I cannot be more than one person, but everyday, I will strive to be everything, within my ability, to give her more.

Currently, Marlowe is sleeping, but stirring, and likely to awaken soon. I asked Alex to come by this morning, he did. He brought the few items I asked for and replaced my body, with his, so I could take care of the house and myself. He left, leaving both of us asleep. Marlowe has been in an out of sleep all morning. We're not sure exactly what is wrong. It doesn't seem to be overly serious, but either way, I am hoping (really hoping) everything is just a symptom of the three (plus) canines and molars pushing through her gums. Her fever is steady, but so is her discomfort. Hopefully tomorrow, we will have a visit with a doctor. In the meantime, in her waking hours, I'll be trying to fill her body with fluids (in small doses, of course) and trying to keep her temperature down. In her time asleep, I will collecting myself and making sure everything around her is in place, as it should be.

I'll be back soon. 

Parting Gifts // The Universe

I've been posting and mentioning quite frequently about how tired I've been. Life is good, but I'm tired. Well, when I tell you that I've been tired, I mean: REALLY tired, not just "oh, single mama life is hard and days are long" but physically struggling to stay awake at points. Along with my exhaustion I've been feeling... well, nauseous, having lots of headaches, and you know, lucid dreams among other things too. Not too long ago I wrote a post about the separation of Alex and I and how I would be living single mama life again. I ended the post saying: "It's my time". I was so ready and so confident that life was going in a certain way and it would be easier without all the heavy problems Alex brought to my home, but it turns out: I was wrong (sort of). Well, the next day, I found out... maybe it wasn't actually my time, my time would be on hold, again. It turned out, that again, Alex had left me a small parting gift with his decision to leave. The day after my post, the day before I started work on the food truck, I found out I was pregnant, again.
Before I even stood up, the test read positive. My head was filled with a million different emotions and my heart raced a bit, but I didn't panic and I didn't cry. Now what? I decided I should finish getting Marlowe dressed and go about my day as planned.

You can imagine this story is pretty long (really, really long) so I'm going to cut it and let you click the link if you'd like to choose to continue reading....





So yeah, here I was... single again, raising Marlowe alone again, and pregnant. My emotions were torn and bounced back and forth between the positives and the negatives of my situation. I so badly wanted a sibling for Marlowe. I so badly wanted to raise another child, and to have a growing family... but I no way thought that this is how it would be again. Part of me was upset, slightly bothered, and annoyed, knowing that: AGAIN I would be going through a pregnancy alone... that I would now, not only be raising one child alone, but two children, by myself. All while Alex would be living his life, with zero responsibility, for himself, just like he always has. That no matter what would happen, that I would be at every single doctors visit, in the labor room, up all night long, and exhausted to no end during the day, with a toddler, and a newborn, without a partner, without someone I could love and trust by my side. I would again be missing the joy of sharing a pregnancy and child-raising with a loved one... I would be fighting to parent alone. My mind continued to jump further into more thoughts of good and bad. Yes, it would no longer be my time, again, my life would be on hold, but there would be another baby. A baby to love, a brother or sister for Marlowe. Marlowe would not be alone. I thought, well now, on holidays and her birthday, and on the weekly visits with her father, she wouldn't be alone when having to be dragged back and forth. The idea of her having someone by her side brought me relief... and not just someone, but a sibling by the same mother and father.  I also thought about the fact that, without this pregnancy now, who knows when I would be ready to have children again, maybe a decade from now? When I'm 35? 40? When Marlowe is much, much older, missing out on someone to grow up with? Well, that's not how I would want life to be either. I thought about how physically and mentally exhausted I would be. Raising two on my own means less attention for both kids--- attention they deserve, attention I could give, but at what cost? But, then I would think about the fact that there are MANY women who are in this situation, with less help, and more children, who not only manage, but thrive, giving their children really wonderful lives. I thought about the fact that any problems I had now with Alex, wouldn't really change. I mean, what difference would it make? If I had to deal with all the crap of co-parenting with one kid, then two would be no different... it's a struggle either way. But then, I would grow angry thinking about Alex as a father. Thinking about how I would honestly feel like a bad person if I brought another child in this world with Alex as their father. Harsh, but true. It's already nearly impossible for me to get a weekly schedule out of him... so much time and energy trying to find out what day he will see Marlowe next. If he doesn't want to (or can't) make more time now, if he continue to lie about EVERYTHING and doesn't help with childcare, and/or help provide enough money now, he isn't going to do it later. If the pressure of being a father to one kid is already too much work for him, then two will surely be too much for him to handle. My heart was torn between wanting another child versus feeling guilt for having another child by the same, unstable man. But then I would think: I am young and I can do this. So what if I'm exhausted, low on money, and raising another newborn? I've done it once before, and I did it well, and I could (and can) do it again-- this time with two. I've heard many times in the past few weeks: "The universe won't give you anything you can't handle". Well, I knew I could handle this. Many thoughts and questions, but no tears, little fear, and moving forward.
A few days later: I told Alex. He filled the phone with questions. Every few sentences he would question: "Why are you so calm? Why aren't you freaking out?". I would respond: "Alex. I've been here. I freaked out before. I now know that freaking out isn't going to change this situation. I am fine and calm because and I can do this, I've done this once before. I was alone then, just like I am now, and nothing is going to change that, so why am I going to freak out?". Just like the first time, he viewed the situation as something to fear, as a financial burden, and not as a pregnancy or a baby-- after all: it would REALLY only affect my daily life. We very briefly discussed it a few times, and then decided: we would not talk about it anymore, because no matter how Alex felt or what he wanted, nothing was going to change.
The first time I became pregnant, I did not have health insurance. Until I was able to acquire health insurance (medicaid), my family helped me pay out of pocket for the first doctors visit. (For those of you who don't know how the medicaid system works: it can take weeks upon weeks to be approved for medicaid. I had very little income--- I had left Miami and was living with my brother and sister in law for most of my pregnancy until I could find a (more than) affordable place of my own... I was approved for just about everything the medicaid system could offer me, but it still took weeks until everything was qualified, approved, and put into system. And even after you are approved, the whole system is shoddy at best). This time around, I had no idea how far along I could be, I figured it could be anywhere from 2 weeks to 8 weeks--- thats a pretty big range in the world pregnancy. Even knowing very well each pregnancy is different, I tried to base things on how strong my symptoms were--- but really, between breast-feeding and weaning, I knew everything within my body was sensitive and off. I decided to wait, tell very little people, and about two weeks after finding out I was pregnant, I decided to schedule an appointment at Planned Parenthood (No insurance, remember?). I called, I scheduled, they give me rates, and told me about price adjustments for people who qualify. A friend came with me, she kept me company, we discussed dinner plans. I told her (about a million times) I wanted a feast with mass amounts of delicious food--- but mostly: I just wanted to stop being nauseous. I never actually threw up with morning sickness--- I did ONCE when I was pregnant with Marlowe-- but only after I ate cheese (real cheese, I never realized how lactose intolerant I really was until a few years ago)--- but I do (and did) waiver between wanting to run to the bathroom and wanting to eat every disgusting thing in site. 
We wait. Nothing seems real. A million thoughts run through my head and I find myself wondering if I am possibly dreaming. After an hour or two I am called into the office. I disrobe. I lay down. And I wait for the ultrasound tech. She comes in and we proceed. I lay there... waiting and staring... and confused. She has a weird look on her face and like hers, my eyebrows also start to scrunch down with confusion. I ask her what is going on. I honestly forget exactly how she put it, but basically: there is no baby. I ask: "what?" and she begins to explain that my gestational sack is empty. A "blighted ovum". I am confused and I have no idea what this means. She turns the screen closer to me and moves the ultrasound wand around to show me all the angles. My mind darts back to my first ultrasound with Marlowe. The screen looks so familiar.... but there is no little bean where a baby should be. I tell her: I don't understand, "but I took a test and it was positive and I have all the symptoms?". She tells me that if I took a test it would be positive, because I have all the pregnancy hormones in me. I ask her how common this is. She tells me: "I see this a few times a month". I lay there in shock. I question everything and I tell her: "I don't know if this is wrong to think and say, but I feel a bit of relief." 
I ask her more questions. Is she sure? Can she tell how far along I am and is it possible that a baby could grow and I will be pregnant? How would she be able to tell if there is no possible future baby? By measuring the sack? What happens next? She tells me: "Does seven weeks seem right?" Absolutely: five days after I had fully weaned Marlowe, a few days off from a night I had calculated as a possibility. She goes on to tell me more about my situation. Somewhere along the way, after I got pregnant, something happened, and a baby did not grow. The hormones were in me, and my gestational sack and uterus would continue to grow and eventually I would miscarry. I could wait for my body to miscarry naturally or I could choose to have a D&C. Knowing: I do not have insurance, the (small) risk of complications, a hospital bill would be incredibly pricey, and especially knowing: I'm the only one there to watch Marlowe 24/7 and (I imagine) a miscarriage would be an emotionally and physically uncomfortable thing to go through: I decide to stay and have the D&C. I go back in the waiting room. Five more hours pass. I am searching the internet for every bit of information I can find. I want medical terminology. I want statistics. I want possible complications of  D&C. I want to know if maybe it would be better to wait for a natural miscarriage. I want to know how long I would have to wait. I want to know the side effects of my procedure--- physical, yes, but mostly: emotionally. How will my hormones be affected? Emotionally, will it be the same as a natural miscarriage? Will I become depressed? How long will it last? How long will I feel "pregnant"? Why did this happen? Is there really no baby? There is no baby.
I am called in. I've decided what pain methods and such I will allow. I decide benedryl and an anti-anxeity pill. I don't want an IV. I want to be conscious and aware of what is going on. I ask the doctor even more questions. He tells me: it's quite common and most women don't know, they will miscarry before they are even aware they are pregnant. This all makes sense. 

Almost instantly: the pregnancy symptoms slow and I being feel better. Physically and emotionally: there is a calm. I felt (and feel) a bit of disbelief about the whole thing. Still, I feel so many mixed emotions. I think back to that saying I kept hearing and I wonder "Did the universe know it wasn't my time?". I feel relief and part of me feels guilt. There are so many families out there trying to conceive that would be devastated in this situation, but I.... well, I don't know. I feel a calm and think: as much as I would have wanted a second child, a sibling for Marlowe, things are probably better off this way. Marlowe happened. I became pregnant, I was scared, alone, tossed back and forth, but I knew: there was no way I could go through with an abortion or adoption. And here we are. Marlowe is here. No blighted ovum, no miscarriage, no complications what-so-ever, she is here and the most important thing in my world.  
Yes, I allowed Alex back in our lives, I took a risk on someone undeserving of it, but he is and always will be her father. I wanted a family for her and I made the jump. Yes, he proved again that he was not able to fill the family role that I wanted and Marlowe needed, and he again let us down, but I needed to take that risk--- for her and for me. I now know what I didn't want to believe. I am now (more than) ready to move forward and continue with the beautiful life I share with my daughter, raising her alone. I wake up everyday and I feel grateful for the life I've lived and my lessons learned. Things were hard, very hard for a while--  with never ending lies, a new break up, the end of a family, raising one child, and pregnant with another, alone. Struggling to stay awake, finding new work, but struggling not to let my morning sickness get the best of me on the overly hot, smoke filled truck, coming home and doing everything I did the night before, but with even more exhaustion. (Not whining, ranting, or complaining-- it is what it is, nothing that anyone else wouldn't be able to handle, it's life). But through it all-- I continued to move forward and smile everyday, and complain about nothing--- other than, well, being nauseous. I came to a huge realization over the past year, months, and especially in the past few weeks: I am stronger than I ever realized. I am not looking for anything or anyone. I am just living--- Living a life I love, raising a beautiful and incredibly happy daughter, and I am happy. I am really, truly happy. I am proud of the mother I am. And I am proud of the person I am. 
I know this story is a lot to share, it's not a story about a perfect life or an ideal situation. I debated whether or not I would write publicly about this experience, or just let it be another thing that stays behind the scenes of this blog. A few days after posting about having "a story to share", I was catching up on many of the blogs I've missed over the past few weeks and found this quote on a cup of jo, in a post she had shared about being authentic:

"It seems to me that being authentic is being brave enough or just candid enough to be honest about what you are experiencing or who you are, whether it is popular are not. A person gives a gift to other people when they say, 'This is what happened to me or this is how I truly feel, no matter what the popular belief is about what I should feel.' Whenever you are honest, you are speaking for a thousand silent people who don't have the voice to say what they really feel or are really experiencing. So, if you ever talk about [the thing you went through], you will touch a million hearts. Because you are speaking for more than just yourself. You are never alone in what you are feeling. I love you."

It reminded me again why I write, why I share my life stories (as complicated or as imperfect as they may be), and why I feel the need to be so overly honest about everything around me. I have a few reasons for sharing my story. My main reason is so you know where I am at, where my head is, and how I am doing. That life happens, goods and bads, and unexpected situations. The world isn't going to stop turning, changing, and throwing unexpected curve-balls, so the best thing I (and we all) can do is to just be happy-- with ourselves (and all of life's ups and downs), to be honest, to breathe in and breathe out, and keep living. 
Somewhat unrelated, but I also wanted to share this story because of all the craziness surrounding Planned Parenthood in the past few months with funds being pulled by Susan G. Komen, the largest private breast cancer research group in the country.. and everything else that always goes on there. Whether you are pro-choice or pro-life I think we all need to be aware of the good Planned Parenthood is able to do for ALL women, but especially the women in need and women lacking health insurance--- which I don't have numbers or statistic in front of me, but I think we can all agree: the numbers for people lacking health insurance and proper care in this nation (and in TOO many parts of this world) are high. If it weren't for Planned Parenthood, I might still be sitting here today, suffering with all the physical and emotional symptoms of a pregnancy--- with no baby-- just waiting for a miscarriage to happen sometime in the near future. I am grateful for Planned Parenthood. With them, I was able to: get the help I needed at an affordable price, with no health insurance. And now, I can sit here today: feeling much, much better (great even), feeling happy, raising my daughter, and no longer wanting to gag at the sight of mushrooms or peppers. 

You Change When You Want To // You Change When You Need To

I think it is safe to say a lot of people were hopeful, but not expecting a lot when Alex came back into the picture. In general, people want to believe that there is good in all people... that people make mistakes, they grow, they change, they learn, and they are capable of becoming better people. Me, my family, my friends, and my readers hoped for the best, but he left once, twice, multiple times before, so what would stop him from leaving again? Well... nothing. He didn't want to be the bad guy anymore. He was the bad guy when he left me during my pregnancy. He was the bad guy when he was popping in and out of my life. He was the bad guy when I was raising my daughter alone... he didn't want to be that guy anymore... so one would think the simple solution to this would be to... you know... change? Stop? Something? I don't know... but in my eyes, leaving again doesn't seem like the solution to becoming the good guy. It makes you not only a bad guy again, but an even worse guy.
He had an opportunity that not many men would have. Not only did I allow him back in my life after all the harm he had cause me and our daughter, but my family and I embraced him with open arms, forgiving all his past mistakes. We were all ready to move forward and believed he was ready too. The only thing expected of him was the promises he made. He had a second chance, the second chance he asked for-- the chance to be the man he promised he could be. Instead of taking the opportunity to right his wrong and fix the family he had broken, he chose to take advantage of his second (undeserving opportunity) and continue to lie to everyone. It angers me how simple a family for us could have been. I moved past the previous pain, I let go of past anger, and I moved forward, knowing it would have been the only way for us to work. All we expected in return was an honest man. So simple and so painfully wasted. I guess when he told me and my family he was offering: "My love, true undying love, the willingness to make it work, to take any measure necessary to stay a team, to fight together, to parent together, to raise our daughter together, to support, to encourage, to support, and to bring back together the family we started so long ago"... he forgot to leave a disclaimer mentioning his efforts would only last four months. I wanted to believe it was for real this time, that he would fight and not run, but like every time before, it was just words and just for show. 
But this isn't a victim/villain story. I'm not a victim. I had a choice. I knew his past and I still chose to believe that he wanted a life and a family with me. He was offering me and my daughter a life that we not only deserve, but that I wanted. I wanted to believe it was real. While, I wouldn't have made my choice if I had known his efforts would be so incredibly short-lived, I don't regret my choice. I needed to try. Yes, he was undeserving, but I needed to know I was doing everything possible to give my daughter a life she deserved. Again, I am here knowing I have no regrets. I am a good mother, a good woman, and a good partner. I stayed when others would have left, I fought through his family, and I fought through his lies. And I stayed through my insecurity. Through the pain, I stayed for my family--- for our family. And he left, for himself... breaking not only a promise to me, but to his own daughter.
Many of my readers of reached out to me, telling me my writing had changed when Alex came into the picture--- that there was tension behind my words. I think they are correct. I lived in fear and insecurity. I knew Alex lied... he always lied. The very first day I stepped into his home, 4 years ago, he lied to me. I hoped his time in New York had done some good. I hoped he had seen the error in his ways. That he was no longer one to hide behind lies or run whenever a problem, responsibility, or real life was in front of him. I hoped and believed his efforts to have me and Marlowe back in his life, as a family, were a starting point to prove not only his personal growth, but also, his readiness to be a real parter, a father, and also, a man. I was undoubtably wrong. In his little time back in our lives and in my home, his lies were not only consistent, but growing. As happy as I was with my daughter, my friends, and my family, I was also living a life I did not enjoy. I spent my days fearful that he was going to leave, again. I spent my time wondering what words of his were true. I spent my nights questioning how much he could really care about me, my daughter, our happiness, and our home, when he spent so much time causing pain with his lies.
I came home from our Miami staycation feeling renewed... I felt that our time spent away from everything would set a new mood in our home. The next day, nothing had changed. The next night, I uncovered more lies. A secret "friendship" that he had been hiding for weeks.... a way to escape. Instead of taking action, fixing wrongs, and facing the real problems at home, he spent his time at work, laughing, being friendly, and using all his free time, communicating with a new friend. The hurt inside me was unbearable. So many times I wanted to leave because of the lies. So many times I wanted to leave because of all the problems Alex brought into the household, but I stayed. I always stayed. I stayed for my love for Alex. I stayed for my daughter. And I stayed for the idea of our life and family together. Anyone else would have left for a multitude of reasons, on a million different occasions, but I stayed and I fought for our home.
Each day was a new opportunity to create change, to create a better future, to and to fix and move past the wrongs of the previous days. Instead of moving in the right direction, Alex checked out. The next morning, things got worse. More lies uncovered and a heated argument. Alex had a choice--- he always had a choice: Stop the lies, stop creating problems, and move forward... or... do what he's done so many times before in the past: run and avoid. He went to work and didn't come home. A relationship takes work. A home takes work. A child takes work. A family takes work--- and not just a little work, but a lot--- a never-ending amount. Why would he choose responsibility when it's so much easier to be a child, living at home, answering and caring to and for no one, with zero commitments other than work? He chose the only thing he has ever cared for the only thing he has ever worked for or protected: himself. He went out until 5 am with the bartender friend and didn't come home. This was two weeks ago. How he feels that it is okay to pick up and leave with a daughter at home is beyond me. I could never fathom this. I could never do this. This home, this life, my daughter is my responsibility. I don't get to break my commitments. I don't have a choice to pick up and leave. He shouldn't allow himself to have that choice either, but like he's proven so many times before: he likes to play the bad guy. He chooses that role. Even with his attempts to hide behind his lies, he still lives and breathes that role. To his family, to me, and to his daughter: He makes his choices--- he chooses to be the bad guy and instead of putting in a real effort, he is chooses to disappoint.
I break down and cry from time to time. I feel numb often and I feel pain even more. I feel anger at times, resentment in others, but overall it's a feeling of sadness. I mourn the loss of our future together. I mourn the loss of one home for Marlowe. I mourn the loss of the man I loved, the man hiding under the lies. These feelings will come and go for a while, it is a process--- one that I have been through before.


Change doesn't just happen. Change happens because of want and desire, but more often than not: change happens out of need. Alex didn't want to change, and he certainly didn't feel the need to change. Not for his friends, work, family... not for me, our family, and not for our daughter. You won't be hearing much about Alex on here anymore. He's been in and he's been out. He's proven unstable, unnecessary, and to be a bad guy. In time, the blog will be more of the positive and inspirational place it once was before. All in all, life is changing, again. Not because I wanted it to, but because it needs to. With Alex gone, and with the expenses that come along with a growing child, I'm looking for new ways of income. I'm sad to think I won't be able to spend my days, at home, raising my daughter, but I am happy to know that I have big plans to do the things I love and I am able to create opportunities I've always wanted. I've had a few big plans working through my head in the past couple months, and now because of these (and other) changes.... I not only want them to happen, but need them to happen. While the waves of sadness will continue to hit me from time to time, I am still hopeful and thankful of the positive things the universe is not only placing in front of me, but throwing directly at me. This wont be my first time being a single mom. Marlowe and I have lived this life before, and will live it again, but I am certain: it will only get better this time around. It's my time.

I'm Alive

Things are still upside down around here... but I'm doing what I can to keep this home as stable as possible for little M. I wish I could say more about what's going on... but really, even I'm in the dark about everything. I haven't seen or even really spoken to Alex in days... but it's pretty clear that both Marlowe and I have been thrown off beat. I just keep reciting mantras to myself throughout the day, trying to keep my head and heart clear... because falling apart is not an option when I've got this little girl to raise. It's also been a HUGE help to have my mom in town... she's been very much needed for the moments I'm struggling to do it by myself. Who knows what's in store for M and I, but for now, I am trying to take it one day at a time. 

My mom insisted we drive out west to the polo ground for opening day. It was nice to spend today in fresh air and sunshine. Marlowe had a blast, I cleared my head a bit, my mom relived moments of 20 some years ago with a tiny me on the field, and Michelle was a grumpy (but pretty) mess of a hangover.  I spent 100% of the time chasing down a baby that refused to be held. Marlowe met (and chased) a million and a half dogs (okay, maybe 15) and ran around waving at everyone. Marlowe was photographed a million times (ok, again, not a million) and will even have her picture printed in the newspaper! She's such a hit, really, she's the best thing ever, even when refusing to be held ;)

Tonight has been hard. Marlowe's sleep has been thrown off once again. And I am just exhausted, physically, but mostly emotionally. I'm practicing my patience in all directions. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Fresh air is good for the soul. 

almost a photo of M and I. She was a screamer and scratcher every time she was picked up. Like a nasty little adorable kitten. 

skydiver // polo // air

babes, my mama and my baby.

polo // my mom went paparazzi on me.

paparazzi style mama life. 

And.... she's up again. Goodnight folks. It's gonna be a longgg night. 

Weaning Is Terrible... And So Is Everything Else.

That's it. We're done. Marlowe has been successfully weaned. "Successfully"... right well... really, that sucked. If I'm going to be honest on this blog of mine, then I'm going to tell you: I've been miserable the past month. Yes a whole month: miserable. Before and right after I had Marlowe I was so incredibly worried about postpartum depression. I knew if anyone was at risk to sink into a deep dark place, it was me. Alone, scared, no sleep, raising a baby... yeah, well, (you know the story) I got past those scary postpartum months with no depression and (what I think is) minimal side effects. Sure, occasionally I wanted to cry (things were tough at times), and I felt incredibly depressed every time I nursed her... what's the name of the "calming hormone" released while breast-feeding?  Oxytocin? Increasing that hormone sucked for me. Every time I fed her, I felt like a depressed crying zombie. Well, over time my body (hormones) normalized a bit more, and nursing didn't affect my mood as much, it just: took up a lot of time (remember, I've got a kid that nursed 15+ times a day), hurt my body and breasts (kicking, pinching, summersaults, jazz hands), and left me a slave to my baby (no sleep, no long outings, pumping, etc). Wow, I'm scaring new, pregnant moms, huh? I swear most babies aren't nursing overeating, pain inducing, gymnasts. Yeah, well despite my nursing depression and everything else, breast-feeding was totally (totally) worth it. Here we are at 15 months and my baby has been 100% formula free, loaded with breast milk nutrients, incredibly healthy, and the best eater in all the land.  (Go team!)
Weaning was incredibly difficult.... for me. Even offering one less feeding a day affected my body and mood. I felt the shift when we cut out night feedings. And I felt an even bigger (HUGE) shift when we went down to one feeding a day. I was slowly, but instantly, sad all the time. And you know what I did? I kept playing it off. I played the tough guy, kept patting myself on the back, and telling myself how great I was doing. I wanted so badly do believe I was going to fight through my hormones, like I had before, and come out with a weaned baby, no side effects, and most importantly: no depression. Pft. FAIL. There were a few days that we managed to skip our morning feedings and by 3 pm, I thought I was going to die. No, thats an exaggeration. But really? I felt like I had been drugged. I can't even begin to tell you how easily my body is affected by hormones. You know how everyone thinks pregnant woman are crazy and hormonal? I felt the most normal I had felt in years, while being pregnant, and off the pill. The last week of weaning was the worst. THE WORST. At every moment of the day I felt like I had the worst hangover of my life and would go back and forth with the idea up throwing up everywhere, all while having the sharpest stinging headache I had ever felt. All the while, I kept telling myself "well these side effects are the pits, but at least I'm not emotional". Heh, liar.
So yeah, I was sad. Not every second or minute, but probably almost everyday: I would have long moments of sadness and tears (I am not a crier). Marlowe made me laugh and smile (a lot) and my friends (when I saw them) usually made me happy, but still, I felt depressed. I was saddened by the fact that Alex was/is never around and the "family" I so desperately wanted felt again: like it was just Marlowe and I. I wanted (needed) the situation to get better and each day it didn't, I got more sad. And instead of just accepting that this is just the way this family will have to be, I closed off. I pushed away family, I pulled more away from friends, and I closed out Alex. Instead of telling anyone about my internal struggles with breast-feeding and weaning, I found it easier to disperse the blame to other areas in my life. This obviously didn't go very well. I pride myself so much in being honest and straightforward and yet, I found myself in my own form of dishonesty, with denial. Bah. Worst part is? My pride kept me from really realizing this. I didn't feel supported or understood, but then again, why would I if no one knew how I was really feeling? Once I accepted the fact that I wasn't as strong as I wanted to believe and my hormones were indeed creating a depression, I felt better. Admitting there is a problem is the first step, right?
So yeah, Marlowe is officially off the boob and has been for a little over a week. My body is slowly starting to normalize and my mood is slowly starting to shift back to a setting of normalcy. Marlowe is doing fantastic. She has adjusted better than I could have imagined. And everything else? Well, it still sometimes sucks. There are problems or issues that will be constant. Alex still works too much. I would still like some more family time. I would like to feel more support from my partner (but thats hard when I've been closing him out for a while). I don't feel endless amounts of love like I would like to (and sometimes, I struggle to find and feel the love at all). Sometimes I'd like more praise or reassurance... or to be told I look nice or am doing a great job. Alex's family will never like me or be happy with (or even accept) our relationship. I'm having a hard time keeping up with everything else around me, while raising a child. And of course, I still don't get a moment break to myself... but that is life. At least now that I have admitted to myself that my hormones, did in fact get the best of me, I feel better and I'm ready to (keep) moving forward. Things will never be perfect, ever. But, the good news is: I've got a good head on my shoulders, and a good grasp on reality, my emotions, and my body. I just need to always be honest with myself and sometimes tell myself: "Hey tough guy, it's okay to be weak. Stop being stubborn, and go ask for a hug."

The best news? 

The transition from breast-feeding to not, has not only brought a bit more room and freedom for Marlowe and I, but has also created a better, more comfortable (and snuggly) bond between us. Our uncomfortable (for me) nursing times has turned into the best sleeping cuddle sessions a mom could want.

And honestly, part of me liked not being on the internet. Not blogging, not reading other blogs, not responding to emails... or even opening my email... it's been nice. It's 10:43 pm and my plan was to read and respond to my overabundance of emails tonight.... it didn't happen. I'm behind, and not going to let it bother me. I have my large sponsor space booked until May... other than that, I'm slacking. Next month? Less sponsors (which is actually a bonus for the sponsors that will be up... more individual focus on them), less work, less blogging, and (hopefully) more focus.

Grey Days

It hasn't been fantastic around here. It's been very dark and wet. I recently mentioned the little time Alex have together.... well, that time has become non existent (especially for Marlowe). 14 to 16 hour work days (with no days off) leaves very little time (read: none at all)---- for anything. I've been trying to fill that gap again for Marlowe, she senses the feelings in the air.... so easily affected by every mood and emotion. The days seem longer, but lately, less gets done. She's got a mouth full of teeth, but there are still more trying to push through. Between the teething screams, there is: little play, little sleep, little accomplished, and a lot of nursing. I know it's only a matter of time before things get better. Soon enough there will be: more time, sun, and no more teething (at least for a while). I'm looking forward to those days. Until then, I am filling the days with as many: snuggles, walks (weather permitting), and play as I can.

At this very moment: windows open, (fallen) photos moved, and a miserable exhausted baby asleep on the bed.

A little video from our walk before the rain (one of three walks that day). 

Marlowe meeting squirrels for the first time:

(yes, the video was cut short. Marlowe wanted to get a little too close to the squirrel. The mama bear in me did not approve. )

On the upside: The fact that I can have the AC off, even for a few hours (with the humidity), is AMAZING. Also? On our PJ walk the other day^^ I was able to throw a long sleeve shirt on Marlowe. Cooler weather is coming!

And when I write "grey", I mean REALLY GREY. Our midday light became THIS at noon today. 

Floor Bed

I've been trying this out the past few days. Yep, my room as become one giant bed. Naps have been getting a little better.... &night time... well... not so much. I ended up on the floor bed last night with a baby that was up for most of the night. The two nights prior it went pretty well. It's easy to get her down to sleep... it is just that once she wakes up I have to decide to make the difficult effort to keep her on the floor bed or bring her in my bed. And after a very long day by myself, with zero breaks, it seems near impossible to fight the solo bed battle. I always lose and end up with a baby on top of my arm tucked under my chin. I'm doing what I can to stick with no more night feedings and only allow feedings after 5:30 AM (or preferably once the sun is up), but again, sometimes I just don't have the energy.
I'm finding that besides my lack of energy, the main problem with keeping her asleep in her own bed is her constant amount of moving and sitting up in her sleep. Every few minutes to every hour she sits up in a daze and falls back over. This is fine... until she falls over against the wall.... or off the mattress. This floor bed is practically a queen size mattress and she still manages to roll on the floor. I am the most still sleeper I've ever met, so to see this much movement is quite ridiculous to me... but she is a baby... and she is ridiculous.
My main goal here is to get her accustomed to her mattress... and not mine. To have her feel secure enough to sleep in her own bed, knowing: I'm right here if she needs me. &Eventually... (hopefully sooner rather than later) move her into her own space (again). 

Kids

I've heard so many mother's say: "every age so far has been my new favorite!" Errrr.... not for me. I don't feel bad stating there were stages (plural) I really did not enjoy. Four months? Not a huge fan. She wasn't yet mobile, she was teething like crazy, &I felt like a bad mom if I wasn't holding or entertaining her 100% of the time. It was tough. Newborn stage? Eh. I never really cared much for babies (I had no desire to have kids--- sorry, it's true)... I loved her with all my heart, but her newborn stage just wasn't something I was into. But right now? I love. This is so far my favorite. The past two months... where she has been very mobile, and very curious, but not yet old enough to fully tantrum (there are only tiny tantrums here and there), has been lovely! She loves me and needs me but feels independent enough to explore our home on her own. She's so much fun, full of life, and her personality is really starting to shine through. It's been great... and I will be sad when she outgrows this little stage of hers. That's not to say, I'm not looking forward to future stages... cause I am (many of them), but I am sad to know I'll never get this one back.

Marlowe &Ebba. Ebba was around Marlowe's age when I get pregnant. I remember loving this age for her too! Yes, Christine and I have some gorgeous little girls. 

What are your favorite baby and children ages and stages? Are there any you didn't care for? Should I be dreading or looking forward to certain ones? 

Ps. It's safe to call my kid a toddler now, isn't it? She doesn't ever crawl and has learned how to climb into kitchen cabinets, open the trash can, and the toilet. That's totally toddler status, isn't it?

also:

oh dear.

A Vacation Break

Well, it's been a bit lonely around here. Some people know this (but really, not many at all), Eric and I broke up. With Marlowe's father wanting to enter back into my life ("win me back"), we both thought it would be best to keep our break-up on the quiet side for a while, so that no one (more specifically and especially Alex) would think the break up was for Alex.

Eric and I tried to make it work, it didn't. It's no secret that Eric has been a HUGE part of my life and Marlowe's life for the past year. With the help, yes, but more importantly, with the time spent and conversations we had on the day to day: it has been a difficult change. It's really important for both of us to continue as friends, &we are doing what we can to stay in each other's lives.

With Marlowe's fathers visit and then with the trip to Massachusetts planned, there has been about two weeks of distractions keeping me (and Marlowe) busy from the regular day to day. But now, here we are again, in South Florida, and the major changes are apparent. I knew going to Massachusetts, that I would come back and nothing would be the same, and boy, was I right.

The past few days have been hard. Between the 8 hours of traveling solo with a sick baby (it really takes  a toll on this 5'2" body).  &The rainy dark weather back at home. &Because Marlowe is without a doubt teething again-- my breasts are feeling her toothy rage. Also, there is a fever (I took for teething) and a rash that quickly appeared (that I took for a diaper rash and detergent change)--- that turned out to actually be a case of Roseola. Mild, for sure, but still difficult when you don't have food in your home (from cleaning it out pre-vacation) and your gas has been turned off from... well, forgetfulness (lack of payment). I've had no choice but to co-sleep (get no sleep at all) with this very clingy baby, becuase Marlowe refuses to sleep any other way.

This isn't meant to be a rant, or a long post of complaints, it's just real life. Today seems much brighter--- not only outside, but inside too. Marlowe is slowly becoming her easy going &happy self, and I'm finding ease and comfort in her slow return to normal. A lot of things are changing around here. And no one knows for certain how life will turn out, but for now, we are stepping one foot in front of the other, moving forward, and staying positive, because even with the bad, life is undeniably good.

Mama Baby Travels

As mentioned, Marlowe is a traveling champion. The flight to Massachusetts could not have been easier. Marlowe ran around a bit playing with toys and my jewelry and waving at everyone until boarding time. Once on the plane, Marlowe fell asleep within the first 10 minutes while nursing and stayed asleep for about half the plane ride. (Scheduling trips around nap time = smart). She woke up and was happy to find lots of snacks, toys and a whole empty seat next to her to play in. She only began to get a bit restless in the last 20 minutes, but pulled through with no tears throughout the whole flight. My mom picked us up, I set up the car seat, and we drove an hour into Worcester with no problems.

The flight back was a tad bit disappointing. The airport was incredibly crowded and once we made it through security we had to make our way to the very last gate in the terminal----- once we arrived we had found that the gate had changed and had to make our way all the way back towards the beginning. There were no seats. We sat against the wall for 30 minutes while all the flights around us got cancelled---- ours didn't, but instead we had a three (four) hour delay. Of course, our gate was moved again not very long after--- and we were again stranded with no seats for half the wait. To top it all off, Marlowe was suffering from a fever (most likely due to teething--- she has no other symptoms other than lots of drool and biting mama). Marlowe nursed and fell asleep on me while we sat on the floor (again--- we had booked our flight to hopefully sync with nap time). Soon enough mama and sleeping baby moved to a chair to sit for the rest of the wait. Marlowe woke up in great spirits, made some friends, and then it was finally time to board the plane. The flight was long (not actually long, but felt long) and ridiculously crowded. We had a 14 year old boy next to us. He was happy to have Marlowe next to him and gave her tons of high fives and even offered to share his peanut butter sandwich with her. We kindly said no thank you. Again, no tears from Marlowe--- just lots of snacks and toys and a nap towards the end of the flight until we finally arrived to West Palm at midnight.

I'm pretty impressed with our first time solo-traveling experience. I wanted to hang my head and cry when the delay was announced, and head back to Worcester to my moms for another week. But I sucked it up and we both pulled through. I'm a lucky mama to have such a good little traveler by my side.

bow: c/o up a tree cup a tea
tank: american apparel

Sorry I've been absent while away. There turned out to be a few unexpected surprises and events while away. I have so many photos to share from vacation! I hope everyone had a lovely week! <3<3 

Without Marlowe

Without Marlowe, life was weird. Eric and I sat around trying to figure out what people without kids do. 18 months ago I was not pregnant or a mom--- what did I do? How did I entertain myself? We tweeted, facebook, and texted asking what other people do. I mean, every weekend is relatively busy for us-- but we wanted to try new things--- things we can't do with a baby. I wouldn't call it the hugest success. Basically: we ate a lot of crap, stopped by a fruit festival, drove through the neighborhood looking for homes, watched excessive hours of LOST, ate more crap, went to a bar, played photohunt erotica until last call, more LOST, more crap, and some sewing. Sure we did a few things, but for the most part it just felt like we were sitting around, waiting for time to pass. We peeked into empty playpens and protected our plates like Marlowe was there. We were confused by the silence around us while watching mindless TV and searched for other distractions, like just sitting and watching TV was no longer enough.

Here is a bit of what we did:

We started with breakfast followed by a fruit festival. The fruit festival was weird. I was emotional &there wasn't a lot of fruit. I put on a happy face, swatted bugs, and bought a bag of lychees-- you know, all the things one is supposed to do a fruit festival. 

same outfit as before. why? why not! I like it. shirt: anthropologie. shorts: american apparel. shoes: sperry purse: grandmothers. hat: stolen from eric. 

the lipstick tree

I was attacked by bugs. Always. Sigh. I know, I'm just so sweet ;-)

We headed back home &decided to do what most baby-less people probably do... First: eat junk without little hands reaching for plates (chili hotdogs and fried plaintains). Second: take off our pants, get in bed, and watch LOST.

   

We then drove around looking at homes and snooping in backyards-- *finally* we had found something difficult to do with a baby. At one point we were even adventurous and got home and then got back in the car 20 minutes later! Yes, hoping in and out of cars for a five minute car ride with ease! We're crazy like that *rolls eyes*. We stopped at Michelle's to pick up dinner, went home, &watched more LOST. 

We had a beer together, of course while watching LOST. 

   

 I got dressed for the night--- aka I left the same outfit on from earlier, but I put on boots and even some eyeliner. And of course: Eric was there to convince me everything would be fine and to entertain with goofiness. Went to see some music, drank another beer, or two, played photohunt, yawned, whined, cried, &went to bed. 

The next morning life was filled with biscuits and gravy, couch time, and you guessed it... LOST. There was puppies and sewing and not much else.... a sore throat, a stuffy nose, &just a lot of waiting &clock watching. 3 hours left. 2 hours left. 1 hour left.

   

And then the best thing happened: she returned. Eric came over. I cooked dinner in the kitchen (potato broccoli soup) while hearing lots of giggles in the other room. I peeked out to watch Eric playing with Marlowe, &once again, life was basically back to normal.