The D-Word

 Calm down, it's not divorce. It's depression, which is just as sad and devastating.



*Warning* This is a sort-of heavy post. So, if you're looking for purple unicorns and poptart cats with rainbows coming out it's arse, read no further.


It's been a particularly hard day 7 months. It started in my last few weeks of pregnancy. I started having anxiety, which led to depression and anxiety after I gave birth. I thought I was prepared this time. (I suffered with postpartum after my son was born and the anxiety attacks started after my second miscarriage and got worse after my fourth) I talked with my doctor and was prescribed anti-depressants and then anti-anxiety meds after Sofia was born. I had pep-talks with myself and discussed heavily with my husband about what to expect.

I had this.

Then all hell broke loose with my husbands family. I won't go into details, but to sum it up, his two youngest siblings came to live with us. It was all good.

No one had anything to do with my depression, only I did. Sometimes when I would seem to be recovering, a situation would set me back.  I will NEVER place blame on anyone but myself for this.

 I quit my meds a few months ago because , "Hey! I feel great!" It's because YOU'RE ON YOUR MEDICATIONS, STUPID.

I preach about getting help when you need it by taking medications, faith, teas, aromatherapy, yoga, talking to a therapist, family, or friends. That it's okay to admit that you're depressed. It's nothing to be shameful of.
So why was I ashamed? I was too tired or angry to think that I needed to do any of those things. I just today said to a friend, "It's mind over matter, medications just help you get to that point."  Will I EVER listen to myself?

 I have been trying (not quite successfully) to fake a smile every day. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest when I hear my name called, when I have to go anywhere, or see anyone. And yes, that includes my family. I want to sleep all the time, my body aches, my head hurts, I cry any time I'm alone. Sometimes I take showers just so I can cry. I'm so ANGRY. The smallest thing will set me off. It's a dark, sad, and lonely place here.

Okay, I've dealt with this before. It's mild compared to where my depression has led me to before. The turning point was a few days ago. I started thinking about how things would be so much easier if I weren't here anymore. Mind you, I wasn't thinking it would be easier on anyone else, but it would be for me. Not having to feel this way anymore, no drama, no heartache, no worry... it seemed pretty nice.  However, I would NEVER act on this. I do have a boundary that bounces me back into reality, that reminds me of how much I love my family, how that would solve NOTHING, and  that "This too shall pass."

 *Please, if you're having these thoughts, it's not a solution. Visit this website. It will get better. Just hold on.*

 Anyways, so obviously I'm treading dangerous territory. How did I let it get to this point? I know my triggers, I know the first signs. How?

Because depression is a sneaky little bastard. That's how.

Depression reminds me of my ex. It gets in your head and tells you, "Everyone's out to get you. Let me take care of you. We'll just hide out in the bedroom in the dark. Who was that calling your name? Don't answer them. They just want something and you're too weak of a person to help them. You're worthless. You fat-ass. Why don't you gain another 10 pounds? Why would you want to get dressed up and go out? You're still ugly and no one wants to look at you. God, you forgot to make dinner again? You are the WORST mother and wife! Worthless."

Like I said... sneaky bastard.

Well, with the help of my family, I'm ready to get the sneaky bastard out of my system. My meds get refilled tomorrow and so starts the yoga, candles, tea, and most importantly, my talks with God.

Wish me luck.

-Heather

It's His Birthday, and I'll Cry if I Want To

Today is the 4th year of my son's existence on this Earth. I remember at one point in my life, I never wanted children. NEVER. Boy, that would have been a sad life.

 I've decided to tell y'all the story of Sawyer.

As I mentioned before, we found out we were pregnant 6 weeks after Josh came home from Iraq that we were pregnant.

 The Cookin' Stage-
I was moody, tired, and pukey. But hey, what's new? Well, apparently something else was off about me because everyone at work kept telling me I was pregnant. I didn't want to get my hopes up, so I just dismissed it for about a week. My symptoms kept getting worse so we decided to go get a test the next Monday. Josh went in Walgreens and came out with a digital test. I despise those, so huffily told him to go get a box of the line tests. We got home and I ran to the bathroom. I anxiously waited while I saw one line appear and then... "Oh crap! It's only one line. I told them I wasn't pregnant!"

 The week went by and by Saturday I thought I had the most God-awful stomach flu. We got home from work and I thought to myself, "I'm going to go take a test and double check." I didn't tell Josh what I was up to. I quietly slipped away to go do my bid-ness.

So, here I was again, staring at one line. I set the test on the sink and went to pull up my pants. I had them up, but I hadn't zipped or buttoned them when I look down and... "Holy crap! There's two lines." I remember thinking to myself, "You wanted this... now what? ....Oh my God! I'll be a terrible mom! What was I thinking?"

Then excitement set in and I ran out of the bathroom with one hand holding up my pants and the other the test. I shoved it in Josh's face and like a three year old proud of a drawing, I said, "What do  you think?" You know that smile that Ralphie does in A Christmas Story? One of those smiles slipped across my face when I said it.

We told family, and then friends, and then random people who we didn't know. I gain all of my weight in the beginning of my pregnancies, so I looked 5 months pregnant when I was just 8 weeks. So, I just lied and said that's how far along I was. (Yes, I'm a terrible person. But I only said that to strangers.)
I had sciatica, all-day sickness, and mood swings. Poor Josh had just survived war and he probably was more worried about surviving this pregnancy. I was miserable, he was miserable, everyone around me was miserable.

Why, Hello There!-

We decided to induce due to scheduling issues. (Never again) I had my water broken and pitocin started at 9:00a.m. on the 10th. I remember sleeping through most of my labor (except when I had a contraction or when people were playing with their phones). We had gone to birthing classes and the told us to find a place in the room to focus on during the peak of your contractions. Mine was a little outlet   outlet on the wall, under a table at the foot of my bed. I don't know why I chose it, but I remember Josh standing in front of it during one particularly bad contraction. I screamed at him, of course. He was so confused. He had no idea what I was talking about.

At some point in the afternoon on the 11th, they told me that they needed to do an emergency c-section because the baby's heart rate was dropping. They wheeled me in to surgery. The nurses were discussing something that was wrong with their cars and I said, "Oh! We just fixed that on our car! This is what's wrong and here's how you fix it." The room got silent. I think they were confused as to why I was discussing cars when I'm splayed open on an operating table. Who knows. I heard them say that he was out, but not crying. Once they untangled the cord around his neck (it was wrapped twice and in a knot) I heard the most amazing sound- his cry. "We made that! A life just came out of me!"

Sawyer was born at 6:31 p.m. He weighed 6lbs 12oz and was 18 in long. They rushed Josh and Sawyer out of the room and I was left alone. I thought they would put me to sleep, but oh no, they couldn't be that nice. I heard them discuss my hemorrhaging, my "lazy uterus" (Yes, a male doctor actually said that. A female nurse scolded him and said that it was NOT lazy, just tired. It had been working hard for a long time.),  and how they had never seen this problem before. When they started talking about how they didn't know how to fix it or what to do, I asked to be put to sleep.

When I woke up in recovery, I got to hold the most precious being I had ever seen. All of the hard things that had led to this were just a distant memory. This was my life now. Amazing.

The Later Years-

 Sawyer is now 4 today. We made it through the 9 months of colic, the ingesting of one of perfumes when he was 1 year old, the move to our new house, the tons of hugs and kisses, first words, and first steps.
My son is a sarcastic, hilarious, hyper, smart, caring, loving, bossy, insightful little booger. He's into superheroes  now. I shared this as my Facebook statues awhile back but it's worth repeating.

"My son says he's going to save the world one day... and I believe him."

To those of you who know Sawyer, you know there is no other child in the world like him. He amazes me every single day. I can't believe a person could have this much love towards another person. But, there it is.

 Loves him.

First 4th of July

First Swimmin' Trip

Easter 2009

                                                                                  First Camping Trip

                                            

                                                                                                               What he got for his birthday today

-Heather

Heather's Adventures in Dunderland

So. I dyed my hair red.

Not the whole Oh!-you-have-the-prettiest-red-hair-like-Ariel red. More like, I'm-so-tired-of-crappy-normal-colored-hair-so-I'm-going-to-go-crazy red.

 I'm in a rut, folks. I NEEDED change. My sister (who you will NEVER see pictures of on here because my heiny and her foot never want to meet) gave me some hair dye a few months ago. It's been sitting on my bathroom sink since then... until Saturday.

I was watching a movie and I saw this girl who was wild, daring, and most definitely not in a "mom rut." She had the red hair that I have been longing for for 2 years now. I typically stay in the dark reds or dark brown when I dye my hair. It's safe, right?

"Well," I thought, ''I'm a daring person. I kick ass. I can get my husband to look at me like the men in the movie looked at her.'' At least that's what I told myself while I was debating whether or not to go for it.

''I'm a rebel.''

I can't lie, my stomach was in knots when I went to the bathroom to get the bottle. But, with each step towards the bathroom I kept chanting my mantra to myself. "You is daring, You is kick-ass, You is REBEL." (Yes, that's a The Help reference. Good movie. Go watch it.)

My sister-in-law, Bekka, had agreed to do the dying. She shook the bottle and as the bottle came closer, the tighter my legs wrapped around the base of the chair so I wouldn't leave. I thought, "There's time! I don't feel the dye in there yet! I can still be an unnoticed boring little person like always! That's comfortable!" Then I repeated my mantra to myself, and I felt the first glob of dye hit my hair. This was it. I'm going to be AWESOME!

Hair dye glopped all over the counter, the floor, my face. I knew then, this was a sign from the hair gods- this was a mistake.

Too late, idiot!

 I waited the 25 minutes and went to wash my hair out. My shower curtain, tile, bath poufs, and tub all turned hot pink.

 Oh. My. God.

 I rinsed for 20 minutes and my hair was STILL dripping pink. I got out, squeezed what water dye was still in there and went to dry my hair. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet. I should have left it that way. I knew it was a disaster the second I pulled the now hot-pink towel off my head. I teared up for a second and thought, "I've never seen a rebel look like this." As I started drying it to see how bad it really was, I started laughing to myself.


Here's the finished product, folks.

Lovely, big, red spots on my scalp

Fortunately, Josh was nice enough to pick me up some black dye on the way home. I've wanted to dye my hair back to black for awhile now too, so it worked out.

Tada! Back in Black

Rebel

Much better...

Boy, did I learn my lesson. Red is NOT my color and I can be kick-ass without dying my hair.

Rock on, folks. Rock on.


Laters,
 Heather

We're Still Havin' fun, and You're Still the One

This post title pretty much sums up how I feel about my marriage.

 Mind you, it's not been an easy road.( Is it ever? That would be boring.) However, I can honestly say that my husband makes me laugh at least once a day, and I could never imagine anyone else in his spot.

Every year there's always a discussion about how we made it another year and we made it through the hardships of said year. This year has been no different.

 I was going to do  this project for our anniversary, but time slipped away from me and it didn't get done. I was going to tell him 52 reasons I loved him, but all he's going to get is 21. (Hey, I had kids screaming at me while I was making the list. Don't judge.)




                                              The 21 Reasons I Love You

 1. You have faith.

2. My family adores you.

3. You're the kind of dad to our kids that I've always wanted for my kids.

4. You've always been faithful to me in every single way.

5. You completely understand me... and don't judge me for it.

6. You won't let me pump the gas.

7. You want to teach our son to be the man that you are.

8. You gave me our babies.

9. You trust me.

10. You made me believe in God again.

11.You've helped me heal.


12. You believe in me, and in turn, made me believe in myself.


13.You tear up with me when a song about sons or daughters comes on the radio.


14.You're EXTREMELY easy on the eyes. (Thank God, because I don't want to live the rest of my life with my eyes hurting.)


15. You. Are. A. Dork. And I love it.


16. Your voice is unbelievable. ( He sang Brian McKnight's Back At One to me over the phone when he was in AIT, and it sounded better than the original. I cried.)


17. You are an amazing provider for your family, and I'm able to stay home with our kids because of it. 


18.You've worked full-time and gone to school full-time  for 5 years- and have never complained about it. 


19. The safest I ever feel is when you hug me.


20. Looking into your eyes makes me feel like I'm home.


21. You picked me to get to experience your love every single day.


There you have it. 21 reasons why I'm so blessed.


I heard this song the other day, and it just fit us so well that I have to share it.

 Happy anniversary, Josh. I love you!
 

The Untied States of Heather

 Yesterday, after a chaotic day, my sister-in-law and I were discussing how everyone has multiple personalities. (Mind you, we aren't talking about the kind that take over a body. We were talking about how you can have different sides to you.) But, then the hard questions started coming up; How does one build a wardrobe for the different personalities? What if two different personality's values contradict themselves? Will people understand my blog? I mean, I'm a different person every. single. day.


  I still haven't figured out the wardrobe thing, but since I rarely get out of my pj's, it doesn't really matter. I'm a hot little stay-at-home-mom. How can you resist my unbrushed hair, the flour on my shirt from cooking, not to mention that I won't respond to you unless you call me Mom? (I have a name? What?) Like I said, HOT.


   So, let's begin with the confusing blog posts.
I'm thinking about having different blogs for each personality. You know, naming the personalities, then blogging about what those personalities are interested in. It sounds weird and a bit obsessive, but weird and obsessive are my middle name! I'm concerned that my one blog would seem far too random. But that might be more fun!

  Okay, here are the different sides of me that I need to name. (Oh yeah, this is where the contradiction comes in.)

 The Hippy:
 She's the one who hates when her husband hunts. (Guns are dangerous and Bambi is cute!) She's extremely into essential oils and their healing and cleaning uses. She is interested in organic and all natural foods. Notice I said "interested in", not "practices the eating of". She is liberal and thinks that injustice is one of the worst things in the world. Holistic medicine is her preferred choice when it comes to medical treatment. She thinks herbal teas fix everything.

  The Southerner:
 She thinks it's horrid when men don't open doors, carry the groceries, or stand up to defend their woman. Sweet tea is a must in the fridge, bbq's are a must in the Summer. She scoffs when people take their car to a shop instead of fixing it themselves. She would rather have an extended cab 4-wheel drive Chevy truck instead of a car in the driveway. (Although she loves her car.) She lives for the Arkansas Razorback football season. Hunting season is an exciting time around the house and deer chili is one of the best foods out there!

 The Dude:
 He loves to get under the car with his husband. Broken things are a challenge, not a problem. He is prideful, raunchy, abrasive, and blunt. He drinks beer and smokes ciggs. He spits, burps, and loves shooting guns. He doesn't get out often, but he's always there.

 The Homemaker Part 1:
She's the frazzled homemaker. She's the one who feeds the kids, gives the baths, does the laundry and dishes. All the nasty cleaning is left to her. She handles the money, and is always stressed. She loves staying home and snuggling with her kids (which you can tell she does often when you walk in the door and she's still not showered nor changed her clothes.) Sexy.

The Homemaker Part 2:
 Ahh. She's the 'Bree' of the body. She'll wear an apron all day, arrange flowers in the Spring, make plans for her gardening two seasons ahead of time (Unfortunately, gardening doesn't seem to be something that ANY of my personalities are good at. We just kill things.) She organizes, sews, crafts, and cooks. Oh boy, does she cook. Cookies, cakes, roasts, turkeys, side dishes, she somehow manages to learn to cook anything. (Except for hamburgers. She REALLY sucks at burgers.)

The 13 Year Old:
 She gossips, has a temper, gets involved in drama, and is incredibly sensitive. She doesn't understand other girls, nor does she understand why some adults are idiots. I mean, they're adults. Haven't they learned their lessons yet?! OMG, really...

The Mom:
 She is probably the most annoying by far. She thinks she knows everything and every problem in the world is her responsibility to fix. (She has a plan for the Middle East.) She gets annoyed when people don't take her advice. She tries to mother everyone. She really means well. I mean, she's been in some hairy situations and survived. That advice is worth taking, right? She plans the birthday parties and hands out the punishments. She's neurotic and wants to take the kids to the doctor for everything. It's always a love/hate thing with her.

The  Feminist:
 She can do anything herself. She doesn't need a man to take care of her or stand up for her. She doesn't like thinking the home is her responsibility. Don't tell her she's done something wrong, she intended to do it that way! She would burn her bra, but it's pretty, and those things are expensive!

I'm sure there are more that I haven't thought about, but I can be any of these people all in one day. Some of them I enjoy, and some, well,  I just really hate when they come around. Poor Josh doesn't know who he's going to get at any given moment. I imagine it makes it difficult being married to me. But, he's stayed with it for 6 years. Maybe he's adapted different Josh personalities to deal with my Heather personalities. Hmm... That makes you think.

 Well, y'all, thanks for taking a peek inside my brain. Sorry for the clutter! =0)

 Laters,
 Heather (and some other folks hitching a ride)

Sugar, We're Goin' Down Swingin'

So, here it is, my first blog.

I've been deciding for a week what I wanted my first post to be about. Since Monday is my 6 year wedding anniversary, I figured I would start with that event. You see, this was the event that made me realize that my life hadn't started until the day I married Josh. (Cliche, right?)

It all started the week before June 25th, 2005. I was working at Arby's and there was this egotistical, arrogant jerk that I started having to work shifts with. I prided myself as an awesome back-line worker.  In my silly little 18 year-old mind, I was the shiz-nit. (I later was put in my place, and it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.) Anyways, so, back to the jerk... I'm 4'11. (5' when I lie to myself. Once, I actually made the nurse measure me three times before she just decided to lie to me and tell me what I wanted to hear.)  This jerk would put the portion trays in the very back of the microwave so I couldn't reach them. He walked around like he owned the place, and he detested me.

For a solid month I complained about him any chance I got. Finally, my dad looked at me and said, "You really like him don't you? I mean, you talk about him all the time." I was floored. He was right! Somehow, this jerk had become a part of my life... and I liked it. "But", I said to myself, "I will NEVER tell him! He's leaving for basic in a week anyways. It's not worth the trouble"

"The jerk" worked night shifts and I was a day-shifter. One night I was getting gas and I happened to see my cousin's BF hanging out with another girl. I drove to Arby's (yes, everyone on God's green earth worked there at some point) to tell her. I was standing in the drive-thru window telling her what I saw, when who shows up at the window? The jerk. He just stared at me like I was an idiot. In his defense, I probably looked like one. I talk with my hands and I'm incredibly animated when telling a good story.


 Later that night, I told my cousin I thought he was cute. I decided I was going to give him my address and number so he could keep in touch while he was gone. On the way to work, I got SO sick to my stomach. I couldn't go through with it. My friend ended up giving it to him. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my marriage started with my friend passing my husband a note from me. I love the 3rd-grader in me! So the next day, I asked her what he said when she gave it to him and she said he just said, "Okay."

 Ugh. I blew it. I'm a loser. I took a stab and I failed. I will be that old cat-lady and single for forever. (So dramatic, you!) I decided that he was a jerk again, but still worth pursuing, so I invited him to hang out one night after work. He did, and so started the most magical 6 months of my life. (Or so I thought then, our lives gets more magical all the time.) We hung out for a week, notes were left in cars, neither of us slept... it was love.

He left for Basic Training and AIT, a week after we started hanging out. He wrote me amazing letters that our grandchildren will enjoy one day. I wrote him song lyrics while sitting at the top of my Oak tree in the dark. I got to see him for one day in the 5 months he was gone. He came home on December 7th. My Grandad (who you'll hear more about I'm sure because he was just that awesome) died 2 days later. Josh stayed with me through the visitation, funeral, and the holidays.

 On Christmas day, he proposed. I was told by a co-worker that he had planned to. So, I decided I was going to help him out by making it easy for him. What can I say? I'm controlling and a planner. Eh. Now remember, we were 18 and BROKE, so I drove us to the most romantic places that I could think of in this small town. He still didn't propose. Midnight was getting close and the romantic side of me REALLY wanted him to do it on our six month anniversary. So, he had about an hour. We finally decided to go walk around the park, but we didn't get too far because a skunk had stunk up the walkway. (SO, romantic) We sat down in a pavillion that was pretty dirty and full of stacked tables and chairs. This, this is where he decided to pop the question... and it was perfect. I didn't know it was perfect at the time, but looking back, it was so us.

 We had planned on getting married on our one year anniversary, but on January 6th, we found out he was deploying to Iraq. So, what was the practical thing to do? Get married on the next business day of course! My Grandma made sure we were married in a church and no one would let us wear our hoodies during the wedding. Losers.

Our wedding. Young, broke, but so happy!

                                               

One of the last hugs we had before he left for Iraq.

                  

He left for deployment three days later. He was gone until March of 2007. Six weeks after he got back, SURPRISE! We're pregnant! We had our son, Sawyer, in January of the next year. And our daughter, Sofia, in May of 2011.

Sawyer and Sofia

 Lordy, Lord have we had some sad tears shed, but, by far MANY more happy tears have been shed. We have had fights, miscarriages, money problems, family has let us down, but that tangled web has woven us together. Nothing is perfect, and that's what makes life so awesome! Can you imagine a perfect world, or perfect marriage for that matter? BORING!

 I love you, Josh. I can never tell you that enough, and you will never know how much I mean it.



 If this post was hard to read, I'm on my third cup of coffee and I have the brain jitters. I know this was a long post, but it's done a fairly good job of introducing me to those of you who don't know me. Alright, off to go fix my 4th cup.

 Laters,
 Heather