Home for the holidays

Amidst my busy life, it is finally starting to hit me that we are right in the middle of the holiday season.
And with that, I am going to have to say that I am grateful for fear. It's embarrassing and a shame, that it's taken fear in order for me to truly realize how thankful and grateful I am this Thanksgiving. In the past, I've had to take a moment, and ask myself, "What am I thankful for?" To which I'd start off my list with, "hmm.. what am I thankful for..."
This year though, I find myself yearning to hold the ones dear to me. And when I do, I send a prayer of thanksgiving, and ask for safety and health for that person (dog and cat).
For the first time in my sheltered life, I have been nervous or scared, that truly... I may never see this person again. Sure, I've had moments where this thought would hit me..maybe after a movie.. or a book.. or some news article. But recently, I have been living with a pinch of continual fear.
And it has planted a realization in me, that if things were to be taken away from me, right now, I would have one too many regrets.

From before Catalina was born, I'd always pray for a "healthy, happy, beautiful, and smart baby that is a follower of Christ." Now, before I lay her down in her crib, or leave her for work, I pray, "God, please keep her safe and healthy." That's it. That's all I need. Everything else, is either trivial, or something we can work on, but her safety and health... God, I need just those two, because I need to see her again.

I don't get into politics, because I know far too little about it, and even if I read, heard, saw "everything" there is to see, I would still miss the most important parts - the stories that are untold.
All I know is, as I hold my child, my husband, my family members, and my friends in my arms, I have been praying to be able to see them again safely as I have been able to do so in that moment. And regardless of political standings, nationality or religious beliefs, I believe any innocent mother should have the right to hold her innocent child , and pray the same prayer.

This holiday season, we start off with Thanksgiving dinner at the in-laws tomorrow. We also have extended family in from Korea. There's much planned, and much to do... but truly, truly, truly, I'm just grateful for hearts still beating in our chests, and our roofs still over our heads. My heart is heavy and goes out to those that are not as fortunate as me.

Excuses.

Our baby girl is now a little over 5 months. It is beyond insane to think that she is almost half a year old! I'm sure to her... even an hour seems like a day long, but to me, a day seems like an hour long.. and I can barely handle it. 

I've been back to work for a bit over 2 months, and wanted to share and document what life has been like for me recently.
It has been busier. Much, much busier. And the few moments I allow myself to reflect on my life, it's funny and ironic to see how much I've changed. For instance, when I was pregnant, I would read articles and blogs about moms feeling guilty for putting their husband on the back burner, and I would be like, "awee.. that's sad and unfortunate... I don't see how that could or would happen with me though.. I LOVE Michael!!"...............silly silly little me. haha.. it makes me laugh.
Or, "I'm going to be able to run a 5k sub 20 by Thanksgiving!! Just to prove it, I'm going to sign up for a race on Thanksgiving!!".........ha!! I'm over here like, "Is it even worth going down for the race?"
But one of the biggest and most consistent things I have wrestled with is pumping. Since the beginning, I was pretty blessed to have Catalina latch relatively well, and for me to have a normal to very large milk supply. This blessing quickly had me cocky, and taking my blessings for granted. Even though friends and articles both told me I needed to be pumping/nursing 8-12 times a day, I didn't see the need to. Catalina was full and gaining weight from what I was producing, and she was sleeping throughout the night, so I didn't need see the point of waking me and her up to nurse. And just by pumping here and here throughout the day, I was building up such a bomb supply of frozen milk, pumping 8 ounces. So, I soon stopped pumping all together. I started to tell myself, "I'll just start pumping again when I go back to work, and it'll be fine."
I finally go back to work, and pump. Baby girl is wanting to drink at least 5 ounces, but after pumping for 30 minutes, I am only able to pump 1 ounce. ummm..what? #freakoutmoment!!!
To cut things short, for the past two months, I have battled (to say the least) with my body, my pump, my priorities, my time, my husband.
I didn't get it. "How in the world, am I able to nurse her to her content, but can barely squeeze out an ounce?!?! Why is this happening to me? It must be the pump parts. I'll buy new parts, and it'll be better."
So I bought new parts, but nothing changed.
"It must be the pump! I'll talk to a lactation consultant, and see if they'll let me rent the hospital grade pump!"
I talked to the LC, and although they said it was an option, they didn't really recommend it.
"It must be my milk supply! I'll buy tea..supplements..oatmeal..drink more water. This will fix it!!"
I took everything, and while it did increase my milk supply, I was still unable to get the milk out, which just led to plugged ducts. ouch!!
"I'll try hot compresses and massaging!!"
I did, but to no avail.
"It must be because I'm stressed, and focusing on it too much! I'll buy a pumping bra and listen to soothing music!"
While the bra made pumping easier, it didn't really help with increasing the amount of milk I was getting.
I was going crazy, obsessed, and depressed over this. I just wanted to be able to provide for my baby like I have been able to from the beginning. What is going on... why am I failing?! Why can't I get myself and my life together?!
I was at an ultimate low. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.
I finally spoke with a LLL, and she told me I was only pumping/nursing 6 times a day... when I needed to be doing so 8-12 times a day. And why was I block feeding? That is done to reduce milk production. She gave me a lot of tough love, and encouraged that things can and will get better, but I needed to have the discipline to do things a bit differently.
That was two weeks ago.
The past two weeks have been a little bit more work, but in a different way. I still get stressed and nervous that I will not have enough, but I try to calm down, and by the end of the day, I have enough to send baby girl off with 7+ounces, with 2 ounces in the fridge as emergency. This past weekend, I was able to have enough left over to freeze my first bag in months.
It is still a work in progress, but I think the one thing that helped the most, was to finally sit down, and realize that sometimes, what I do is not always in the right. My intentions were definitely there, but my actions were not right. I was doing things wrong, and I needed to realize that regardless of how hard I was working, if it is in the wrong direction, it is just as unproductive, if not more unproductive, than doing nothing at all.

I am extremely grateful for my supportive husband. This wasn't easy for me, but I can definitely see this having been harder on him. We approach and solve things differently. We have different tolerance levels. We are two different people. But he supported me and remained by my side, even if he didn't necessarily understand/agree/enjoy everything.

Just when I start to think things are getting easier and more predictable, God reminds me that I am nothing but a mere human, and puts me back in my place. It's humbling, but I'm grateful for that reminder...and would absolutely have it no other way.

I am not in a state to run a 5k by Thanksgiving, heck, I'm still in maternity clothes.
I am still working hard to have enough milk for my child when we are apart from each other.
I am learning and re-learning how to love my husband, and be that wife I vowed to be last October every single day.
I am indeed a mess..a wreck...but so, so thankful for my life..especially my little baby girl who has come and flipped my world upside down.

The Relativity of Best.

I created this blog several days after Catalina was born. In hopes of documenting our days and weeks together; much like I had done with and for her while I was pregnant. I obviously have not gotten far if my first post is several days after her becoming 3 months old.

And with that begins the subject at hand. Which was best for me to do? Document all of our moments and milestones, or spend that time snuggling and playing with her? As much as I wanted to write, I chose the latter.

For the past three months.. six months.. nine months, I have thought and prayed and thought and fought with myself with what we would be doing with our Catalina and my job once she arrived.

Did you know I become exponentially more indecisive as the stakes become higher?

Initially, I told myself I could get back to work in 3-4 weeks. After speaking with several wide-eyed people, I changed that to 2 months, then I changed that to 1 year..2 years...3 months...3 months and my mom would stay with her...3 months and we'd send her off to daycare... 5 years. And before Michael and I knew it, Catalina was in our arms, and we both told our jobs I would leave for 3 months, and send her to daycare. Many friends, family, colleagues, and daycare coordinators (one who is my husband's direct boss) all witnessed our indecisiveness. And as difficult as we were with sticking to a decision, everyone was so supportive and patient as we tried our best to do what's best for our daughter and our growing family.

Month One came by, and there were moments I wished I could admit her into daycare that minute, but also days and weeks I wanted to hold her in my arms forever. And so, some days, I did just that.

Month Two came by, and much like the previous month, I went back and forth.. just less sleepily. With it being the peak of summer, I yearned to do the "summer" things I've always done. Festivals, parks, beaches, vacations, lakes, sun, cute outfits, good music, cool drinks, grill outs. And so I quickly became very antsy. I wanted my body back, I wanted my life back. I started to push our schedules to incorporate long walks and work outs. What was best?
I realized it wasn't fair for her to sit in the swing - sometimes content, sometimes irritated- as I tried to squeeze in workouts for myself. So, we tried a compromise - Michael and I decided to enroll Catalina into daycare for a couple of weeks part time so we can all start to get into the gist of things, and I could get some "me" time. I think back to those days of decision making, and ask myself, "Was that for the best"?
I soon realized I was never going to get my life or body back. Everything is forever and ever changed and different with Catalina in our lives. I needed to embrace that and accept that. And so, I decided I could work out next month, year, decade. But Catalina was never going to be this small again. Not tomorrow and definitely not next month. So the day before, the day of, and several days after our part time daycare days began, I cried myself to sleep..feeling guilty I had chosen my needs and wants over her.

Month Three is now here, and for the past two weeks or so, I have felt a sudden sense of desperation. What have I done? My time has come and gone, and I have not been able to do anything for her...not nearly enough as I should have or wanted to do. The times I chose myself over her... was it worth it?
What have I done by agreeing to allow other people to raise her for the majority of the day? How can I make it fiscally possible for me to stay home with her? Maybe we won't need two cars.. I'll be home with her all day, and Michael will only be a mile from us. Maybe I can do something from home. Maybe we'll drastically change our lifestyles.. we've always been so blessed.. it's not like we've ever actually known what it's like to be poor anyway. Maybe maybe maybe. My brain has been flooded with the most ridiculous thoughts as I tried to think of ways to do what is "best" for our family.

Last night, Michael and I had a conversation that for once, made everything very clear to me... at least for the time being. We talked about our childhoods and of those growing up around us. We talked about those with vacation homes, extravagant vacations, showstopper cars. We are trying to make things work right now... how are we going to make things work once Catalina gets older, and her friends experience and own these things? How can we provide her the lifestyle and upbringing so that she doesn't feel like the total oddball on campus? How can we ensure she feels comfortable enough in her skin to be comfortable with not being able to afford 5-star vacations, but are blessed enough to be able to spend quality time together as a family? How do we let her know that while she does not need a $70,000 car as a 16 year old, mommy and daddy have worked and planned well enough to provide her a safe vehicle to get to her from point A to point B? How to we provide a home that may not have a movie theater, pool, hot tub, extravagant mill work, but is fun and comfortable enough for her to invite her friends over for sleepovers? By staying home with her, will the benefits really outweigh the sacrifices we will make - not just the short term sacrifices, but also the long term ones? Ten, fifteen years from now, will we commend ourselves for having me stay home until she is old enough to start school, or blame our foolishness for not saving and planning for our future, for the sake of 4-5 years?

I don't know all the answers to these and so many other questions bubbling in my head. It may indeed be better for me to have stayed at home with Catalina for x months or x years. But for now, given our circumstances, I find peace in knowing that as I return to work tomorrow, teary eyed or not, I am doing what is best for my family. My family meaning, my husband, my daughter, my four rambunctious animals, and myself.