Back in the Saddle Again

Last week I started babysitting again. Just 4 hours a week, and it's a perfect match for us right now. Not having my sweet babysitting kiddo around, I'd forgotten how much I love her. I'd forgotten how well she and Rudy play together, how many fun memories we have together.

Having her come visit us once a week is so great. I'm hardly making any money at only 4 hours a week, but it's not about the money any more. It's about a chance for Rudy to have a playmate over, an excuse to pull the house together a bit more than it had been before, an opportunity to enjoy the company of a sweet little lady who keeps us laughing. I can't wait to see these three kiddos grow up and grow closer over this coming year!

Smack Down

There's this trail near my home. It takes you on a climb up a mountain, then levels out a bit, then climbs and dips and climbs and dips. Oh, and there's lots of rocks just to make things more interesting.

The first time I ever ran it was about 4 years ago. I joined up with this hard-core running club for a trial run to see if I'd fit in. They said runners of all levels were welcome. Ha.
By the time we'd finished our 'warm up' on the paved road that climbs the mountain to the trial head, my butt was pretty well kicked. And then we started running. The club members were actually very supportive and kind, but they were WAY out of my league, and I knew it. I tapped out at the first access road down to civilization, and headed home, defeated.

Fast forward 3.5 years. I'm training with a friend, I'm feeling pretty confident, and I'm in my early pregnancy with Julia. I decide to face my nemesis trail at my own pace. We walk the whole way up the access road. We jog along at a pace just faster than a trot, not because we want to enjoy the scenery, but because if we went faster, I'd be gasping for air (never good, but especially not good when you're trying to oxygenate TWO bodies). Like 1/4 of a mile into it, my friend catches a rock with her foot and I hear the sickening sound of someone desperately yet unsuccessfully trying to regain control. Stumble trip, trip stumble...THUD. All I can say to my poor crumpled friend is something stupid like, "Are you OK?" Well, my friend is super tough, so she pulls herself up from the dirt and does her best at a cheerful, "Sure...I think." We tap out at the very same access road that had been my saving grace years before after seeing that her elbows are both gashed up, and her pants are torn at the knee. It scared me 'cause I thought, "Wow, that could have been me, and what if I'd have fallen on my baby, or been injured more seriously and lost the baby as a result?" I decided trail running is not a good idea when one is pregnant, and never returned that season. In my heart, though, I wanted to conquer the trail that had chewed me up and spit me out, TWICE.

Now I have my chance. I just found a race that is being held on that very trail, and I'm going to run in it. I'm going to sail right past that access road, and keep going. I'm going to complete that race, and tame that trail. I'm going to train for it, hitting all the hills I can between now and April (when the race is being held). I'm going to run on the very trail at least once each month before the race, and I'm going to rock my strength training workouts so I'll have every chance of beating that sucker with a smile on my face, and all my limbs in tact.
One of my running goals this year is to give trail running a good try and see if I like it. What better way to re-enter the racing world after giving birth, than a smack down with my nemesis trail? Bring it on, baby, bring it on!

Rudy giving my new trail running shoes a test run to make sure it will be safe for me to run on the snow. After a little shuffling around, Rudy proclaimed, "OK Mommy, I think these will work just fine." Thanks, kiddo. Glad to know you've got confidence in my footwear. :)

Thriving

So, in managing my depression, I'm learning all sorts of things about myself, and what makes me tick, and how I can tick better. Some of them are things I've always known but not valued, others are total epiphanies.

The main epiphany is:
Not all my feelings reflect reality. For example, just 'cause it feels like someone's mad at me doesn't necessarily mean that they are. I may, in fact, be misinterpreting an action (or non-action) of theirs, coloring it with my own issues, and coming up with a totally unrealistic interpretation. I'm learning how to dissect my feelings down into the thoughts that brought on those feelings, and then how to analyze those thoughts to decide if they are skewed in any way or not. Very interesting stuff. There's a whole book about it- "Feeling Good" by a dude named David Burns.

The things I've always known but not valued enough:

• God knows who I am. I can talk to Him through prayer. He will answer if I listen with my heart.

• Jesus is my Savior. Not just from sin, but from sorrow too. He knows me completely.

• Exercise, eating right, and getting enough sleep are supremely important if I want to feel my best, inside and out.

In the wake of my depression, I'm learning how to thrive, and it feels great!

Perspective

I'm coming out of probably the most enlightening experience I've had in my adult life: Postpartum Depression.
I feel like I've always had an open mind to mental illness. I've not been the sort to stereotype or judge or shy away from a person with a mental illness. I'd never understood it, though. Not with all the books I'd read, or the courses I'd taken in college. Not with all the people I'd had conversations with. Never understood it, not until about 2 weeks ago, and then, I UNDERSTOOD. I identified with all the stuff that I had just learned about before.
Depression has probably been settling over me for some time. Maybe since Julia was born, maybe even since my miscarriage, but it wasn't until about 2 weeks ago that I started to feel like something was definitely wrong with my mind.
I finally know what it means to be depressed. Not sad, not bummed, not even grieving...depressed. And with that understanding, my whole world turned upside down, shook for a bit, and then turned right side up again, never to be the same.
It's a good change.
Depression runs in my family. There's a reasonable chance that one of my children will face it some day. And then, I'll know. I'll really know what it's like, and hopefully, I'll be able wrap my arms around them, and hold them until they feel better. Even if they're grown up. Even if they live a hundred miles away. Because I'll understand what they're going through, and I won't say silly things like, "Haven't you been sad long enough?"  or "What are you even sad about anyway-you have so many blessings!"
My friends and family, especially my rockin' husband, Jason, have been so supportive. I'm so grateful the only person I had telling my to buck up and get over this was me. I spent about 3 days feeling really depressed and resenting myself for it. Denying it. Telling myself I wasn't the type to be depressed. Telling myself I should be happier, more faithful, more productive, more...something. Then I finally talked about it with Jason. I finally called it what it was, and you know, my depression lifted. Not right away, but within 24 hours I was feeling downright hopeful. I'd labeled my problem. I'd found something to research, something definite to tackle. And tackle it I did, with all my heart. I Googled, I checked out support groups, I borrowed books from the library, I talked to family, friends, neighbors, a therapist. I found out most everyone in my life has experienced or knows someone who has experienced depression. Some people call it the common cold of mental illness. Common, yes, but not to be brushed off. Depression can be deadly, after all.
Thankfully, my depression never took me down that path of thinking, but I'm sure it could have if I hadn't identified what was going on and then been totally surrounded with support.
After surfacing from my original depression episode, I sunk back into depression for one utterly miserable day. I really, truly believed I might not make it through the day. Like the world would just swallow me up and I'd cease to exist or something. When you're depressed, reasonable thoughts seem ridiculous, and ridiculous thoughts seem reasonable.
I'm learning all about managing depression now. I'm feeling really great. Better than I even felt before depression hit. Like the sky's a bit bluer, the air's a bit fresher, my baby's a bit sweeter. The whole world seems to be saying, "Glad you made it through, welcome back to beauty." And I'm glad to be back. I hope I'm back for good, but even if I have a rough day or more ahead of me, I'll know what's up. I'll know I'm really not losing my mind. I'll know things will get better, and I will be better for having experienced this.
I hope if you or anyone you love is experiencing a mental illness, depression or otherwise, you will have the courage to call it what it is, to seek help where ever you can find it, and to keep talking about it until it gets better, because it will, if you work at it.
I'm glad my fight has been a relatively short and sweet fight. I salute those of you out there who have been fighting for years and continue to fight. My heart is with you. Now, I finally get it- at least I get it a little bit more than I did before-and for that perspective, I'm grateful.

Daily Bread

Last night followed yesterday's pattern. By 6:00 am,  after getting up with my daughter every 45 minutes to an hour all through the night, gagging on my own mucus, and generally feeling rotten, I was ready to take a vacation to the Bermuda Triangle. The thread I had been holding onto was unraveled. And then my husband drove off into the dark, cold morning, headed to work and then school. I stood at the window in my spit up covered pj's and cried. Julia had been in a 'fitful' sleep when I'd put her down moments before. I was sure she'd be needing me to suction her nose or change her bum or clean her up after a spit up explosion any second, so I sat down and opened my scriptures.

I read the word of God. She slept. I prayed. She slept. The sun rose, and I began to feel human again. She slept.  I read about some successes friends have had recently, and remembered that beauty is out there in the world, just waiting to be noticed. Rudy woke, and I sang (or rather squawked, with all that is left of my voice after this cold has gone to town with it,) our good morning song, and remembered how it really is "A brand new day". Rudy remembered too, and we had fun playing Dragon slayers and Dragon trainers (Rudy recently saw "How to Train your Dragon" for the first time.) while Julia continued to sleep.

When she woke, around 9:15, she peacefully nursed and settled into content awake time, joy of all joys! Rudy invited her to ride on his dragon with her, and they had some beautiful sibling time, riding out to save the viking village together. When I tried taking her from Rudy, Julia cried to stay with him, so stay she did. They visited for 20 minutes, happily.  Here's a few shots I took to document our beautiful morning together:

OK- maybe I went a little shutter crazy, but you understand, right?

To make a good morning magnificent, Jason's ridiculously flaky (but today blessedly flaky) professor canceled class so our family was reunited by 9:45 in the morning! With Jason around, I settled in to nurse Julia while listening to Elder Christofferson's talk he gave last Sunday evening. It was *exactly* what I needed to hear. I'm gonna listen to it like 20 more times, I think. :) His talk was about seeking our daily bread (whether that be physical 'bread' or spiritual/emotional 'bread') from our Savior, and taking it one day at a time. About trusting Him, and seeking Him, and finding Him. Sigh. Like I said, exactly what I needed to hear.

You know, it's true what 'they' say, God never leaves us alone, does He? And thank goodness for that!

Rudy's First 'Tea Party'

Rudy didn't know that a tea party was what he was having, but if this isn't the boy version of a tea party, I don't know what is. The other day (NOT yesterday) ;) Rudy invited all his special toys to breakfast with him as a reward for following their sleep rules. Way to go, Crab, Beep-n-Bop, Turtle, Broc the Croc and Airplane. Good to know my son's associating with friends that are a good influence on him. :)

Motherhood

Rudy, Julia, and I have had colds since last Thursday. Today Jason was gone ALL DAY. (Like it's been 13 hours since we've seen each other, and we still have 3.5 to go.)

I tried to be brave and strong and chipper, but I was mostly tired. Rudy watched 2.5 hours of Dinosaur Train this morning while I tried to get Julia to stop screaming for more than 10 minutes at a time. When I told Rudy it was time to turn off his shows, he spent the next 1/2 hour telling me he really REALLY doesn't love me. Not one bit. Not ever. And he's not sure if he even likes our house. I guess I don't blame him for being frustrated and moody when this is the face his sole caregiver and potential playmate wore most of the day:

After naps (which Rudy thankfully took after one return to the bed) things were better for a while.  Rudy and I played King and Queen.  King Rudy crafted a special crown for me and presented it with showers of adoration. Good. We baked pumpkin cookies together in preparation for our postponed Family Night.

Then Julia woke and continued to fuss. I decided she might have an ear infection. My rockin' mother in law came over to stay with Rudy and provide me with wheels to get my little lady in to see her doctor. No ear infection, luckily. Just a bummer of a cold. 

After Mom left, Rudy was moody again. When I told him he had to come to dinner instead of keep playing, he spent the whole dinner reminding me about how he REALLY doesn't love me, and how he doesn't like and never ever will like what we're having for dinner. (Scrambled eggs and tortillas-one of his fav's.) By now, I'm counting down the minutes until I can put him to bed. I decide to postpone family night again.

At 7:30, I'm finishing up his bed time routine. I'm saying a good night prayer. He's protesting that he wants no prayer because he doesn't want to go to bed. He throws a ball at me, hitting Julia who is strapped onto me. I stop praying, tell him 'Good night' in a less than chipper tone, turn out the lights and walk out of the room.

Motherhood is seldom glamorous, but sometimes it's just plain crusty. I hang in there on days like today (even if only by a thread), because no matter how much my kids challenge my patience or self worth or strength, I just keep loving them. They're mine, I'm theirs, and there's nothing that can change that. It's a beautiful relationship, belonging to people so completely. It's worth a rough day now and again. And because the beautiful moments, when they pop up, are so heartbreakingly beautiful that I could never imagine living without them.

Here's to a better day tomorrow!