Does Taking a Mental Health Day help for Individuals With PPD & PPA? 

I have been a ghost lately with writing, only keeping up with my social media platfoorms sharing specs of my day.

 

“I was merely taking a break and using my mental health day card.”

 

I can’t begin to tell you what it feels like to have fallen into the abyss. Like your soul stuck in the deep, half fighting to get out, looking for some kind of reason to save itself from falling time and time again. I had called it quits on writing, called it quits on connecting with others, networking with others, and just sharing how everything has been stirring in my pot of life.

The truth is, it started off as a ‘break’ and as time lapsed, it became harder and harder to find myself in the things I thought helped me with self-care. 

 

Then, life happened some more. J, had left for Mexico for another work trip lasting two and a half weeks. His return date was the weekend before our wedding. It made it that much harder to go back to my routine, when you have to be present for the kids ALL.THE.TIME. You get no breaks.

“No breaks to pee, no breaks to shower, no breaks to eat a full meal, no breaks!”

Thankfully, a couple of our friends came for Canada Day with their son, to help busy up my eldest, have some adult conversations for a weekend, and have some extra pair of hands for help. Oh was it helpful, indeed!

 

J, finally came home. He got half a day of rest and the next day we were off to Toronto, for our wedding. We would be spending nine days in total in Toronto, getting last minute stuff done, from baby shoes, to haircuts, to mani-pedi, to all the in-between; I lost energy to accomplish before the week of the wedding. The days before the weekend was spent hanging out with our best of friends, and soaking in the time we don’t usually have when we head back home to Toronto for a weekend. It was indeed a good time.

The day of the wedding came, it was beautiful in all of its glory. The ceremony had everyone in tears, including my middle-child who photobombed our kiss. But in all of its awesomeness, is the fact that J and I are officially married.

 

After the wedding, it was a quick jump to seeing houses to choose one to move to from our current. We went back to Toronto the weekend after our wedding to pick-up Apollo from his Grandparents house, since he insisted on staying after the wedding. That weekend, Artemis had been sick with a fever; cranky all weekend. We attended my cousins wedding, and it was back to Windsor. Artemis still cranky, eventually figuring out she has an ear infection, made it that much harder to get on with finding a new house.

The house we currently have is just absurdly huge for two short adults, and three midgets. J spends a lot of time away, leaving me to do the maintenance of the house and in it’s whole. Well it’s just too big to maintain alone, with three kids. Plus, the cost of our rent is up the bazooka. All the hard work J does makes it feel like more than half of what he takes home is rent. Obviously something had to give. So we ended up finding a big enough house to house our family of 5, but making it a little snug with visitors. It’s doable if you divide everyone per room, haha. So, the crazy of packing and moving slowly has commenced and were due to be out of our old rental and into the new one on Friday. The rush is only so we can make my brother-in-laws birthday this weekend, and because J leaves again on the 3rd. So moving on my own with three kids would be one that would send me to the looney bin.

My life seems to be on a serious roller coaster all the time. It’s become so consistent in falls, I’ve stopped getting that feeling you get in your tummy when you suddenly fall. I almost wish I was just stuck in between the fall and landing. Just sit there, as if I was waiting to be rescued from the technical issue.

 

“My one day mental health day, took a long ass daaay and let me tell you why.”

 

When you have PPD & PPA, it isn’t a matter of the moment you’re angry, or sad, or anxious and it goes away. You spend a long moment, sometimes lasting days feeling down, depressed, anxious, worried, in panic, angry and you cannot pin point the root of where it began and what triggered it. An easy day it seems, doesn’t feel that way internally. You lose all motivation in life, what makes you easily smile is crushed into a billion pieces, what wakes you in the morning is no longer appreciation for another day to live with your loved ones, but another day you dread because..well.. waking-up just hurts all of you. Your soul doesn’t feel bruised, it feels like it’s all jumbled-up and no one can take you out of this nasty ‘rut’ you feel.

The sad thing is, it’s all feelings brought up by your mental thoughts. You say, do affirmations, think positive, but it’s not that easy. Your mind, it takes charge, and it takes over every bit of you and controls you from your emotions. It’s on over drive.

 

“Days, weeks, a month has gone by and this ‘thing’ of a feeling has you on a choke-hold, barely allowing you to breathe, and you’ve accepted that drowning is easier than trying to save yourself. It’s all too hard to.”

 

 

 

MM, out!

The 5 Things I Want My Sensitive Son To Know

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My first born is a boy. Ever since he was a toddler, he has always been the sensitive type. This was a bit of a challenge for J and I because, we are both outspoken people. As Apollo got older, the more we realized how much he internalizes situations more than the next person. He understood more in situations, felt everything, and was easy to cry about arguments or misunderstandings.

 

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J and I kept trying to build up Apollo. Strengthen his heart, make him braver, and less emotional. Why? Why did we do that? Why would we want to change our sweet boy?


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There was a phase in his life at an old school where he was being bullied. Instead of teaching him to be kind nonetheless, we advised him to fight back. To never allow anyone to touch him the wrong way, and hurt him. But he couldn’t see things our way. He would cry when we teach him how to be physical. Yes, you’re all judging us right now, but who are you to judge? You parent your way, we parent our way. I’m not asking for your way, I’m openly sharing my experience with my son, because J and I have also learnt from this. Things are different now.

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J and I were angry, at the fact that our child so kind and sweet, was physically being hurt because he couldn’t find it in his heart to justify physically hurting someone else for the wrong they’ve committed. Our son, so pure in heart. But we were hurting, and our way was to retaliate. This bully even had his father say mean things behind our son’s back and even about J. The child shared these rude comments with my son, and I felt so heartbroken and angry for my son. But in all of this, my son taught us that being kind has no limits, or has no condition. You are either kind, or not.

Apollo is brave, intelligent, kind, sweet, loving, generous, and thoughtful. 

 

 

The 5 Things I Want My Sensitive Son To Know

  1. Be Who You Are, No Matter WhatIn a world that is constantly changing, and not for the better. We need more kind-hearted individuals like you. Who you are, and how you treat others, is what makes this world a little better. We don’t need you to change for us, or for others. Stay as you are, and protect the good in you.
  2. Choose Kindness, AlwaysBeing kind, is the most wonderful thing in this world. When you share kindness with others, it sends a ripple affect and one of those people you shared your kind heart with, will eventually share it with someone else. Always be kind, in all you do and say.
  3. Never Let Anyone Hurt You As much as we value your kindness, we would never, ever want anyone to hurt you physically or emotionally. If you feel that this is something you cannot deal with on your own, Daddy and I will always be here to help you through it. Don’t ever let anyone hurt you, in any way. We will be your crutch, we will be your shield. While we cannot always physically be there, talk to us, ask us.
  4. Love With All of YouLove won’t always be pretty, nor easy. But in real Love is always something good. Love with all of you. Love hard. Love like you want, because there is nothing better in this world, than to love.
  5. Respect & Honesty Go Hand-in-HandRespect yourself and respect others. Always remember that what you put out into the world, comes back to you. Just as being kind is important, so is being respectful. No matter the circumstances, the words and actions we let go of, have consequences. Always be honest with yourself, be truthful with others. It wont always be easy to tell someone the truth, they wont always want to hear it, they wont always understand. But if there’s anything good you can do for someone is to tell the truth. In time, they will understand.

 

Life is not easy my son. Life is full of surprises and challenges. What we do with these challenges is what helps us grow. I promise that while it isn’t easy, daddy and I are always here. No matter the distance, the time, the circumstance, we will always be here for you. 

 

 

 

 

 

MM, out!

Mothering without a Mom

I had spent the last few days contemplating on writing about this. A topic I rarely find easy to share about. I didn’t want to time it where it was close to Mother’s Day and ruin it for anyone else.


“I know this may not be the same story for everyone but it is something I struggle with every Mother’s Day.”


As a child, I spent a lot of time with extended families who babysat me for my Dad. Aunts, friends, and neighbours. I spent much of my childhood having to move around and never really being in one place. I was raised by my aunt (my dad’s sister-in-law), from the age of three to nine. She did end up leaving to come to Canada when I was seven. Her oldest son who was left behind, his wife and their baby would end up taking over. It would be another two years before I would leave to Canada. I was nine years old.


What I have learned from studying in the field of education with children is that, the first six years of a child’s life is the most critical for parents to invest the time in. It’s so important for their development, and what that time contributes to who they’re becoming.


I remember as a child thinking my aunt was my mom. I fought for her attention, fought with my cousins that I was no different from them. I did things to gain her love. I wanted to be hers, and I wanted to be claimed, someones. When she left, I was devastated. Like a piece of my soul chipped at, for losing someone closest to a mom. I was so excited to see her again when I came to Canada, but her view of me would change. There would be a wall between us, that separated me from her. She had her own family, I wasn’t hers. I couldn’t have her. A few years down the line, that broken line would have her betray me. I trusted her, I thought she cared about me, and she would out me like a bad story. The part of me who loved her is now gone. It still makes me sad.

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Don’t go chasing something that was never meant to be yours.


I would later on try to build bonds with my dad’s women friends, the moms of my friends, and every other moms I would later on meet. The heartbreak it came with, was so overwhelming. To constantly fail at being someones. I tried so hard to be wanted. I just wanted what everyone had. I wanted that nurturing love, that love that’s there when your world is crumbling down, when your heart is hurting so bad, that love that comes so unconditionally because, YOU ARE HERS.


All my failures at finding HER in others, eventually made me feel numb. I stopped looking. I stopped wanting that. I stopped caring. It would eventually sit in the back burner where a ton of my experiences have been sitting and burning away.


JUST LET GO…

Here I am, a mother of three. The most wonderful accomplishment in my life. The chance I never got to have for me, but now I’m giving to my three beautiful children. Every mother’s day, my heart hurts. It hurts for what I can’t fully celebrate. A day I don’t really care for. But also a day that brings me so much pride. I am a Mother!


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Ryan Jon’s Mother’s Day Message

Wherever you are…

Time has passed. I’ve mourn your loss. I wonder at times, if you’re okay. If you’re still alive. If you ever thought of me. The most painful thing for me is being angry with you. It affects me at any given moment. I wonder how it would have been if you were here. Do I have siblings? I would love that. Did you ever come looking for me? Did I mean much to you, even after you left? If you could have the chance to see me now, would you? Why did you give me away? Why didn’t you fight for me? Why wasn’t I enough? Does your heart hurt the way mine does, because we share one. If you could see me now, would you be proud? You’re a grandmother to three beautiful babies. I am everything, you never was. Sure you struggled. Sure you were alone. Why did he leave you? Does he even know about me? I don’t know anything about this part of me. I wish you had left me with something. I wish you had fought harder. I wish that the time I lost, is a struggle you battle each and every day. I am broken, I am hurt. I needed you. I wanted you. I just needed you to look back. This is something I will forever carry in my heart. As time lapse, I hope for one thing only, to let go of you and stop the heartbreak.
— Happy Mother’s Day, from the daughter you never had.–“


HAPPY MOTHERS DAY TO ALL OF YOU!

To all the moms out there who grind each and every day for their little loved ones, to the ones who have lost theirs, to the ones who are trying to have just one, to the ones who had no choice but to give theirs up, to ones doing it all alone, HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU. You are most loved, no matter what!


Apollo, Artemis & Cassiopeia

“I’m not always the mom you want me to be. But I will always be the mom, you need. I won’t always do things right, I won’t always give you everything you want. But I will always be here by your side, to hold your hand through anything and everything. I will always love you from the depths of my soul. For all the moments you feel defeated, know I am always cheering you on. I will always help you get up again. I will do things you won’t always understand, but know that in everything I do..I do it because I love you. I hope nothing but for you guys to grow up to be kind people. To love one another through everything and be there for each other, always. I pray for you that your life be full and blessed. I pray that your heart achieves all the things you want in this world. Even when time has gone, remember always that Mom loves you forever.”

MM, out!

May: Mental Health Awareness Month 

May is an observed month for Mental Health Awareness in the United States since 1949. 

 

Though I am not a citizen of America, I share the experience of Mental Illness with the whole world. And sharing my experience is an important point I’d like to advocate for on my blog. 

 

 

 

 

If you are not a follower of my blog, I want you to know that I suffer from Postpartum Depression & Anxiety, OCD that I recently just discovered. The statistics in Canada for women who reported going through postpartum depression is 7.5%. That’s not a huge number in terms of reports of women having it. I say this because, it is not an illness that women/men openly talk about, but this is a very common and unexpected illness that most new parents and parents in general experience in first few years.

Having shared my initial experience of finding out I have it, was a struggle on its own but the outpouring support from the community of bloggers have mostly mentioned how this is not a common topic talked enough about. There isn’t much light being brought to raise awareness of this illness. Just like anyone would be concerned about cancer, this too is an illness that cannot be controlled and should gain the concern it requires.

 

Its an illness that that hides inside of the person and finds itself free to attack the person at any unexpected moment. 

 

What makes it even worse is the fact that it’s a mental health illness. Just say mental health in your head again, and what comes to mind? A person with an unstable mind? A person who is capable of bad things because they’re not all there, up there? A person who cannot perform their usual duties as a citizen or an individual because their brain cannot function like a ‘normal person’? That’s the stigma talking. That’s also the stigma stuck in my head when I first thought about what it would be like to share this with others.


FEAR!

Individuals who experience some sort of Mental Illness, struggle internally to share in words that would allow the receiver to understand.  The truth is, most individuals who experience mental illness cannot always find the words to say without sounding like they are ‘crazy’. Your mind plays tricks on you. You’re not really sure why you’re thinking, what you’re thinking–why you’re irrational, emotional and absolutely out of character.  Well it’s a chemical imbalance. Your emotions are all out of whack, even though the issue is with your brain that’s mostly, usually realistic, rational, and stern; with mental illness, none of that is how it’s supposed to be.

 

Mental illness is not something anyone just fixes for the person suffering. It is not an illness that the individual can just brush off and everything returns to ‘normal’.
It is an illness that cannot be helped (I repeat this because for those who don’t know this is a common misconception). 


There are a lot of people who choose to be ignorant about mental illness. Those people who have never experienced it with someone they love or for themselves.  People who don’t care enough about the importance of why this illness matters enough to be talked about. Sure back then (40’s, 50’s, maybe early 60’s) this isn’t a thing to be sharing with the world. It means you got sent to an institution because they didn’t have a solution for this. And what they did have for it was more pain. 


“Well, here’s the thing..you have to really think outside of your ass in order to really understand this. You’re not going to find it in there. This is just as important to understand as anything else that threatens the value of life.”

 

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Mental illness doesn’t just affect the person who has it but also those dearest to their heart. It affects families. The challenges of this illness takes a tole on each individual members of a family. The tole of this illness is the very thing that makes the feeling of guilt ever so present in motherhood.



HAVING CHILDREN IS NOT THE MAIN CAUSE OF THIS ILLNESS! 

There are several factors to why an individual finds themselves with this illness. The majority of women I have been able to connect with who suffer from this illness has openly shared the traces of their sickness reaching back to before they even had children. Having children is one of the factors that contributes at a later time in life, but it is an illness that roots from past experiences. Yes it can be from the sudden change of life experiences, in motherhood but for the most part this illness is traced from what’s already happened that the individual has fought to shove in a box, in the back of their minds. It can be hereditary. Something you didn’t know runs in your family bloodline. For someone who’s not aware of her roots, this is something I cannot trace back to roots. One thing I am certain of though is that, I’ve a lot of pent up anger that roots from my childhood that I kept in an box inside, far back that has now found its way creeping in on top of all the other stressor accompanying motherhood. 


If you know anyone who appears to be having a hard time emotionally, please offer to listen. Don’t judge or start diagnosing someone of what YOU THINK the problem is, but rather provide resources of different types of help they can seek professionally that may more helpful. 
There are a ton of people, communities who advocate for the awareness of this illness and mental illness in general. Please educate yourself if you’re uncertain of what mental illness is and how it affects a person. Don’t be ignorant. Don’t be judgemental because I can guarantee you, this is not my choice! No one wants to suffer emotionally and psychologically.

 

 

MM

Making Goals as SAHM : May

I made a post last month about making goals as a stay-at-home-mom for April. How this was an important component to keeping sane, and having goals that are achievable and to promotion of self-care in motherhood. 

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I have an update on my April goals, and what I would like to do in May. It seems like April came and dipped. I swear the days are going so much faster now that I’m an adult and have children, compare to when I was a child and had no care in the world about #goals.

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My Birthday  – May 2016

MAY 2017

  • Work out 4x/week —> Work out 2x/week
    I realize how much harder it is to find the motivation to work-out when you’re dealing with Postpartum Depression.
  • Write in my journal daily with affirmations, negatives to positives, memories, moments —> push yourself to write, even when it’s not much or specific.
  • Continue to say one good thing about each family member
    ..to remind them why you love them, why they are awesome, why they are important..
  • Give myself an hour each day – to write in peace —> Give myself 30 mins each day
    I don’t always want to write. I don’t always feel like doing anything. But at least, this 30 minutes is open to anything.
  • Eat healthier meals and try not to skip meals
    This has been very hard. Since there are days when I can’t find it in me to cook. A symptom of Postpartum Depression is, Lost Appetite.
  • SMOKE LESS
  • Take a break daily
  • Complete any wedding stuff on weekends
    I have done nothing else about my upcoming wedding. Next on the list is to retrieve our marriage license. 
  • Start going on walks – a.m.  (with kids) and p.m. (by yourself)
  • Spend time with each childseparately (again)
  • Encourage yourself to be more active by engaging in outdoor activities with the kids
  • CELEBRATE YOU each day this month
    This month is my birthday month, I hope to do something I love each day –even if it’s something small.

I will complete as many of these goals throughout the month of May, and whatever I don’t complete I will continue to add to the next month’s goal.

Thank you for following my journey on achieving goals. I hope you take from this, and encourage yourself to continue to work on yourself and love yourself!

Please share with me any goals you’ve achieved that are easy and to the point. Maybe I can try it as well!

MM, out!

My Open Letter to Apollo

My Sweet Baby Boy,

I have been trying to find the words to tell you how sorry I am. Sorry for this season of your life that feels so sad, cloudy and unfair. Sorry that you have to shield your emotions from me, so that it wouldn’t contribute to more thoughts that linger in my head and overwhelms me with guilt. Sorry that you feel powerless through my illness. Sorry that you’re the sponge for my ever changing moods.

In the midst of all of this, I want you to know that while in these moments it feels otherwise, I LOVE YOU. I love you always, no matter how it seems. I want you to know that when it feels like im distant, my heart knows nothing than to love you from afar. I want you to know that in the midst of the chaos that effects you the most, I will always find you and save you, the best I can even if you don’t see it or notice it. I want you to know that in the moments when you tell me your heartaches, I am fighting with you through them. I am fighting for you! I am! I want you to know that it won’t be like this, forever. I want you to know that for every inch you drift, I am holding on with all my might! I want you to know that for every hard breath I take in the moments I feel so lost, that you are my reason. I want you to know that you give me strength. I want you to know that you are what saves me! Time and time again, you save me!

Though it feels less than it should, I love you so much! Always & Forever. I will always be here for you, no matter the season, reason, instances, or moments.

Love, Mom.
MM, out!

How My Postpartum Depression Affects My Son

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This post is probably going to make you feel all sorts of things. It’s probably going to make you want to judge me on how cruel or mean I am as a mom. Maybe you’ll find it in your heart to understand how this is a struggle for me, something that breaks my heart on the daily, something I have felt so guilty and have cried an ocean about. But I’m going to share this with you, because I don’t think many people understand the extent or the vastness of Postpartum Depression and how it effects the actual person and the people she loves the most. 

 

My Son

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My son is eight. When I first had him, I was twenty-one. I remember the day I went into labour, and feeling afraid. Apollo being my first child, I was afraid of how it was all going to happen. If I could do it. If I was prepared to give birth to a baby. If I was prepared to have a child. All the things you’re supposed to have thought about prior, came flooding in and all I could think about was, “WHY DIDN’T I READ THOSE BABY BOOKS?!” As if I was gonna find the drugs to ease the pain from labour, or get the doctor who needs to administer the epidural out of the operation room faster, because by the time I opted for epidural I was already exhausted from the contractions.

This isn’t a birth story, so lets fast forward to after he was finally sucked out of my hoo-ha to help me get him out, because I sure was not going to have a c-section. I made sure of that, I’m pretty sure I yelled that to the doctor! “Get this baby out of my vagina, however you need to, as long as it comes out from down there and not my stomach!”

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He ended up having a fever after he came out, he didn’t even cry. Such a brave boy! I didn’t even know he was out, until my mother-in-law said, “Why are you still crying, he’s already over there!” I had felt so exhausted from it all, I couldn’t deal with how I felt about the guilt that my child ended up with a cone head because of the vacuums’ suction, or the fact that he has a fever now, because I ended up getting a fever towards the end of my delivery. How my weakness transferred to my son, and how he was going to spend the rest of his life having this bad trait from me.

Apollo Kai

“As Bright as The Sun and as Deep as The Ocean”

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The focus of this post is to share with you how my postpartum depression experience has effected Apollo the most, in comparison to his sisters who are too young to understand or to allow the effects to consume them. It isn’t to say that it hasn’t effected anyone in my house less, but I feel like my postpartum depression has effected my relationship with Apollo the most, since it began before he had any siblings.

 

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Apollo is the sweetest boy, he is kind, gentle-hearted, loving, fun, rambunctious, hyper, helpful, sensitive, and likes to keep his emotions to himself.

 

It has been super hard coping with postpartum depression, even with the medication the doctor has prescribed (It has yet to work, or not working at all), one in which I can only take when there is another adult to watch the kids because it makes me super sleepy and tired. Well I don’t ever get to use that one because I am never with another adult until around six in the evening or later. So during the day when my anxiety is high and unmanageable, I cannot take anything to help me take the edge off. We have no family and friends around to help because they are all three and a half hours away.

Before I acknowledged or even figured out something was wrong with me, I had spent the last few years feeling like I hated my son, because of the way I treated him. I was easy to anger, easy to yell, every little thing upset me. My OCD effected the way I mothered him, constantly on him for every little thing. “Pick-up your sweater!” “Stop jumping all over the place!” “Calm down!” And slowly it would make us drift.

 

“Do I not love him the same, anymore?”

 

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Slowly our relationship struggled. I was always upset with him. He was always in trouble at school from not being able to socially align his personality (he’s medically assessed to be a gifted child) with the way other children are. I was always yelling at him for everything!

I wasn’t doing any better being the way I was with him. I could recall how I would cry and stand up for him when we were having trouble at school when he was in Kindergarten. I remember I would remind him how he wasn’t the problem and that the school was. Then that shifted a bit before Arty (my second child) was born.

 

I would cry every time I lost it with him. The guilt would over power me and I would drift into this hole, that even I can’t figure a way out of. I hated myself. I hated that I wasn’t the mom I used to be. I hated that the way I loved him changed. I hate that every little thing was so hard. I hated that I could no longer connect with my son.

“I hated that I was a terrible mother!”

 

I love him more than anything in this world! This, I know! This, I feel. But it feels like however Postpartum Depression is effecting me, it’s making my love for Apollo weak. Weak enough, that I am not the mom he used to adore! I am no longer the mom that would give him the benefit of the doubt first, who would never second-guess him, who never had an ounce of distrust! I stood up for him, no matter what! I cried for him, when he was sad, and he felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

 

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NOW…
It feels like, he’s drifted from me. It feels like he doesn’t have to talk to me about anything at all because I won’t listen, or I’m always too busy, or I’m always upset. He no longer sits with me and cuddles me, because he feels like I’m so cold to him. He no longer hugs me with sincerity because he feels I’ve changed. He no longer gives me kisses, because kisses mean you have a connection.

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Postpartum Depression is the worst thing I have ever experienced as a mother. It effects every bit of you. You cannot control it. You cannot just make it go away. AS MUCH, as you tell yourself to get yourself together and stop it, YOU CAN’T! It effects you emotionally and physically. It effects the people you love the most. It effects your decision making, it effects your mood, it effects your happiness, IT EFFECTS WHO YOU ARE! I don’t know how else to explain how Postpartum Depression has changed me. Or how much it has effected my family, especially my son. 

But, What I do know is this…
I will get through this. Postpartum Depression will not have me, forever. Postpartum Depression will not take me away from my son, no matter how much it tears me apart. Postpartum Depression will not break my relationship(s) to point, where I cannot get them back. I will fight with all of me, to get better and beat this thing! I will do whatever it takes to fix my relationship with my son, with so much love, that this thing cannot find a loop hole in. I will fight this! I will take my soul back!

 

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I.LOVE.YOU. MORE THAN IT SEEMS, MORE THAN IT WEIGHS, MORE THAN MY LIFE.  I WILL GET US BACK!

 

 

 

MM, out!

On the Daily w. Mars

As I sit here and try and conjure up a list of things I do throughout the day, as to why I’m so exhausted all the time, I realized the importance of LITTLE THINGS. You see a day in the life of any moms, a stay at home one at that is often misconceived for doing absolutely nothing. So I thought I’d share with you what I do on the daily.

4:15 a.m. 

My alarm goes off to encourage J to get up and not miss his alarm set for fifteen minutes later. While J, usually gets himself up with or without my alarm (though sometimes from exhaustion, he misses his two set time). But as a wife, these are the small things we do for them. In the last few weeks, from being super tired due to being up throughout the night to feed my now one year old, Cassiopeia who still cries for milk at least twice during the night. Lately, Artemis has also been whining for milk at least once during the night. I don’t know why Artemis has started with this, because after she was born she only spent a few months doing this. Then as soon as she learned to sleep through, she was great. Perhaps, more and more as a two year old, her sleep gets disturbed by her baby sisters cries and the only way she knows to get back to sleep is the soothing coolness of milk. With that said, when you go to be past 12 a.m. most nights, and rarely due to the kids, and more because of your brain being incredibly annoying and keeping you up with unbearable thoughts of everything and nothing at the hours of rest-it proves the theory of moms being sleep deprived.

7:10 a.m. 

This is my second alarm for Apollo, the now eight year old who is by law required to go to school like most children. I’ve started giving him the responsibility of waking up with an alarm and helping himself get ready and fix a breakfast he’d rather enjoy. I’ve accepted that my versions of breakfast, as half-fancy as they are, is not something he likes and almost, always, would rather suggest to me what’s better than what I’ve got. Usually Nutella wins. Because nuts aren’t ever allowed these days to school, I often allow it for his once a day intake of all that hazel-nutty goodness. I used to have it for lunch at times as a child. There are tons of good lunches I used to have as a child and not necessarily healthy for you but with the times we live in, everyone is either organic based foods, or something But that’s not really for me to elaborate on, as each parent is entitled to those choices for their family.

Most of the time, Apollo misses his alarm, or will get up, turn it off, turn the lights on in the bathroom, and run the faucet. It racks up my bill for water and hydro by the way, because he’s actually gone to bed to go back to sleep when he does this. Ugh, it makes me so mad. I’d always find myself up there waking him up, and upset at the fact that he’s wasting so much energy and water. But really, it’s because my 8 year old who was just seven before Saturday that just passed, managed to trick me! He’ll spend about 20 minutes brushing his teeth, in between playing and staring at himself in the mirror. He’ll receive another reminder to hurry and that’s usually when he decides to finish pretending to brush his teeth. He’ll then take another 10 minutes getting dress, in between playing with toys or reading a book, because when your kids have no concept of time, or care for time, this is usually how the drill goes. He’ll finally make it downstairs, where his breakfast is waiting, a Nutella sandwich, with a cup of milk, 2 gummy vitamins, and a 1/4 cup of vitamin c. On the off chance that I get him to eat anything else, I’ll offer him, waffles, cereal, or muffins (you probably think how unhealthy). Well that’s all he’d really say yes to, unless i had about two hours to fight him throughout the whole meal time on eating and forcing him to eat what I view as healthy. He’d be late for school, or never make it!

8:45 a.m. 

We leave the house, considering I’ve strapped on Cassi in her car seat, had the middle one dressed in outdoor gear, and we’re moving along out the door, without any fuss. Most morning, the idea of going out the door, into the car is a good thing for my kids. So it’s not always tears, and fighting, and screaming. We get to his school in 3-4 minutes driving to, but if we had to walk like we did last summer, it takes about 25 minutes to get to, and from. So there goes almost an hour of exercise you say.

8:55 a.m. 

We’ve usually returned from dropping off Apollo to school.
I rarely take the girls with me for any types of errands, because it’s either I didn’t have enough time to take with me a diaper bag, or I’d rather feed them breakfast at home and having to get ready again to go out and run errands is just too greatly in exhaustion. I’ve accepted I’m weak, alone, during mornings. That I don’t have the patience to get through the crying, or the need to run around the grocery store chasing a two year old with a baby in a double-stroller. Trust me, I’ve tried the giving them responsibilities and including them in the process. But why?! Why can’t I just grocery in peace. Thus, mos of the time I wait on J to get home from work to do all the errands I require to do. Aside from doctor appointments, or anything else that needs me to do it in the day.

I make the usual eggs, and spam (ham), for Artemis. She’s not a picky eater. She’ll usually want to opt for a Nutella sandwich like her brother, but I’m usually at good at redirecting her wants through voice changes (haha-winning). She’ll have a choice of oatmeal, eggs and spam, or something of left overs she’s filipino enough to have without overthinking the idea of it’s breakfast, these are not breakfast foods.

I then clean up.
I sweep the floor, wash the dishes from the morning, the bottles from the night before, and put away dishes.

9:15 a.m.

The girls take some time to play.
They do this, while I multitask on social media. Whether that means, I check notifications, emails, comments, write, or just browse.

10:30 – 11:30 a.m.

I get the girls to nap. Usually it takes only 15 minutes to get them to sleep, on a good day. If not, it does take the hour to.

11:30 a.m.

I continue finishing up my stuff. Blogs, emails, etc..
I usually tidy up the house, take some time for myself, if I didn’t end up napping with the girls.

1:30 p.m.

Lunch. Clean-up, sweep, and ready to get their older brother from school.

2:30 p.m. 

We head to the school to wait for about an hour, because parking by the fence is easier with the girls without having to take them out of the car to get him from the confinement of the school. It’s hard to get parking by the fence, if you’ve come past 3 p.m.

3:30 p.m.

Apollo is out. We head home and they have snack. Apollo does homework. Nap for the girls.

4:00 p.m. – 5:30 p.m.

I begin making dinner. Prep, cook, and feed the kids. Apollo showers.

5:30 p.m. 

We relax. Well the kids relax.

6:30 p.m. – bedtime

J gets home, and he has dinner. Then it’s time with their dad. If I need to go run errands, I leave after everyone has eaten dinner and is just taking some time to relax. It could be a hockey game watching time, while the girls play, while Apollo gets an hour of screen time. by 7:30 p.m. he gets ready for bed. By 8:00 p.m. he’s in bed. This may be time for tag in terms of him coming out of his room, going back, until he finally falls asleep.

After getting back, I usually do all the dishes that were left after cooking, and eating. I put away any groceries I might have bought. I put a load or two in the wash. I tidy up the kitchen, the play area, get the girls ready for bed and all the bottles ready for the night.

Everyone on most nights is in bed and asleep by 11:00p.m. I take the time after to shower, read through contents online to influence or help me with my blog. I either write, or email back, or anything else I want to do for myself.

12:30 a.m. or 1:00 a.m. 

When I go to sleep.

 

In between these times, there are obviously diaper changes. Somebody at some point was sick. Someone at some point, exploded out of their diapers and I’m washing them up, their pooped-on clothes, and everything in between. There’s the constant fighting, tugging between each other for toys, and everything you can imagine above all the needs and have to’s. 16299789_10154809117160619_2981849759241851080_o

 

 

tomorrows sunshine

For the sake of memories. For the sake of being able to scream, and daily, confess the love for the blessings of being a mom.

For as long as I can remember, I wasn’t a celebrated child. I didn’t have birthday parties, every year, nor had one because I meant a lot to someone. I had a couple that i recall; for the sake of photos that’ll eventually find its way to my adopted father, elsewhere in the world. I wasn’t treasured, the way you treasure someone, with tangible memories like photographs, or letters, or daily blogs of confessions about how much they are loved and cared for.

I wasn’t fussed over. I wasn’t valued. I wasn’t worth enough, for anyone to claim me. I wasn’t enough, for someone to ‘keep’ me. No one cried for me. No one hurt for me. No one would have given their life for me, the way you do when you love someone so much.

Because of this…

I am one of those individuals, who flood your Facebook news feed, instagram, twitter, and tumblr, of photographs, status’, notes, and shared articles about my children; about having children; about being a mom; about the struggle of being a parent; about the chaos of marriage, and everything in between. I AM THAT INDIVIDUAL, because I want to be able to look back at the memories I’ve built with my family. I want my children to be able to find these memories when they’ve grown, and one day they’ll wonder what, who, how, why, they are who they are. It isn’t merely for the sake of bombarding others, or attempting to show I’m better than anyone, or that my family values are better than yours. I do this for me. I do this for the legacy of my family . I do this so that my children will remember to value what is most important in our family, each other. I do this so that they remember what it means to fight for those you love, to always give heart, to always be humble, to find meaning in real life, and so much more.

One day my children will have questions. One day they’ll wonder about all sorts, one day these memories will become reminders, it may bring us together when time is distant, or when our minds have found heart elsewhere. It will rekindle deeper appreciation for one another when that is lost or forgotten, it may be a light that helps redefine relationships in each of our lives, maybe it’ll help recall values, or find comfort, bring smiles, provide happy tears, but one thing for certain, it will always bind us together, always and forever.

 

xo, MM

 

Repost from Tumblr – December 23, 2015

AKMH2

I remember the first time I held you. I cried. I cried because I was so scared, my body wasn’t strong enough to keep you safe and healthy.

I had been sick a week before I had you with the worst flu. I was in the hospital on New Years Eve, alone because your Dad had to stay with your brother. No one could watch him, because everyone had been sick.

I laid in that bed, missing your Dad, and brother on the night of a new year. But I wasn’t alone, because you were there with meYour heart was slowing down, because my fever had been so high. They had to keep me over night, so they could monitor you.

The day of your birth, the contractions effected your heart rate. They had to deliver you with help. You had a cone head, sorry. I thought the pain would never end, I felt all of it, for a much longer period of time, than with your brother. I was brainlessly not pressing the button to administer more drugs to numb my bottom half so the pain wouldn’t be so crazy. But when you came out…

The world had stopped. The tears began to fall. What I had feared, has arrived. I was afraid to have you. To have a girl. Because, everything that I am took buckets of tears, and long, lonely nights. I never wanted you to feel an ounce of it. I never want to see your heart break, because as girls, we feel more. I didn’t want to see your disappointments, because we have a harder time accepting them. I didn’t want to ever see tears fall from your eyes, because when they do, it tends to hurt more. But you were here, and I was going to have to do whatever it takes to help you become stronger than I am, help you through the toughest moments in life, because I am, your mother.

 

xo, MM

 

Repost from Tumblr -December 5, 2015

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