Goodbye Blog

I’ve had this blog for many many years.  For the lives of most of my children.  Well, recently we have been hit with some major problems in our lives.  This has included cutting some people out.  Some of the people involved were children (or at least a child), but some were those who raised my husband.  Unfortunately this also means that I will likely not be posting on this blog anymore.  

I have had my heart broken over and over again the last few years.  Especially this last year.  This last month, though.  This last month has been brutal.  I’ve had all the sadness from previous years loss my my oldest and third child staying away across the country.  Then my second ran away and is with the people who my husband grew up with.  

My children are always my children.  They will ALWAYS be my life.  My husband and I both agree that they will always be our children and are always in our hearts and life.  I will always love them.  I may hate the actions of one, some, or all of them from time to time.  They are always loved and I’m here for them.  However, extended family doesn’t get that part of my heart.  We have recently lost several family members due to their actions.  I have always forgiven.  I have always believed that people can be good.  However, I will never allow certain people back in my or my children’s lives.  If they grow up and turn 18 they can decide to talk with those they chose to.  

Those that my husband grew up with have no part in our lives and never will.  They will not get updates.  They will not get phone calls.  Their letters will not be delivered.  Visits here would be met with a locked door and call to the Sheriff for trespassing. They have lost a son, a daughter in law, and 8 of their 11 grandchildren from us.  I’ve been hurt by them one too many times.  They tried to destroy our family, and that is the ultimate betrayal.  So, this is the end of this blog.  I’m broken that almost a decade is over here.  I will start over elsewhere.  

For now, mama bear is signing off.   

Depression sucks

Here’s the way it is. 

I’m 6 weeks 2 days postpartum.  I’m struggling.  I’m overwhelmed.  So much housework.  I have 11 kids.  9 are still home.  I clean for hours.  They “unclean” right behind me.  So much to do. 

I got to rest for 2 days after baby was born before going back to work.  Oh, I own my own restaurant, so there’s no rest for me.  I make the sides.  I do most of the cleaning.  I do all the bills and paperwork.  I wrote the checks, which means I meet up with the delivery people at 8:30 am several days a week. I also work in the kitchen and now as a server now that my daughter is at camp, as she was our main server.

I’m always tired.  I don’t sleep much at night.  I’m up a lot because I’m stressed.  I wake up almost nightly at 3am and 6:30 am.  I usually stay awake for an hour or more.  Plus I’m nursing.  Plus my 4 yr old is an escape artist, so I’m always listening for him as I sleep.  I almost never sleep deep.  

I wash my hair once a week.  I truthfully don’t remember the last time I took a shower.  I don’t know.  A couple weeks ago.  I just don’t care.  I put on deodorant.  I brush my hair every few days.  

I eat once a day.  Sometimes more.  Sometimes less.  I live on coffee and soda.  I’ve taken up drinking as my part time hobby.  Not enough to get drunk.  Just not sad anymore.  

I’m tired of crying.  I cry a lot.  I’m sad.  I’m tired of hating my life.  I’m tired of hating myself. I’m tired of being a failure.  I’m tired of pretending that I’m fine when I’m not.  I’m tired. I’m so tired.  I can’t fight on like this.  I am tired of being told to suck it up.  To get over it.  I’m tired of having nobody I can open up to because I know I’ll be judged.  Every person I’ve ever talked to has aired it in public or thrown it back at me later as a point of what a shitty person I am.  

I just have nothing left to give.  I’ll just sit at home.  With my kids offering me hugs, but not helping any with anything else.  I’ll sit and listen to my 2 littlest cry and just turn my music up a little louder until I can pull myself together enough to be a mom.  

I have no support. 

I have no way to see anyone for help. 

I’m all alone. 

Eliza Ruth - Baby 11

Eliza Ruth

I had been dealing with prodromal labor for a few weeks, starting around 37 weeks.  Off and on contractions, but nothing big.  The day I hit 40 weeks was very uneventful for my poor uterus, so we made a due date “date” with Hannah and Brigham.  We got out of the restaurant around 9:30 pm.  Then we shot off and hit up the opening weekend 11pm movie showing for The Avengers: Infinity War.  I did have a few strong contractions during the movie, and it was a bit distracting.  However, they quickly fizzled out. 

Come about Monday night, or a Tuesday morning since it was about midnight, contractions started about 15 minutes apart.  It would go on for hours, and then stall out for an hour or two.  Then pick up again, and stall again.  It was exhausting, but I was happy to get that portion done. I slept maybe 3-4 hours that night broken up.  

Come evening, I headed to the restaurant and worked on cleaning over there.  I needed to move and get my mind on something else, but also needed some space from my kids.  As much as I love them around, they were also part of the reason things kept stalling.  

When I went to bed that night contractions started up again at 11pm.  I had 2 or 3 at 15 minutes apart.  Then one that was 10 and then 8 minutes apart.  After those I stayed at 1-2 minutes apart for the duration of the labor. 

I labored in bed for a while.  I found leaning back, staying propped up with my arms behind me and tilting my pelvis forward made thing bearable.  After several bathroom trips though, I decided to just stay in there.  I spent the rest of the night going between sitting on the toilet, standing and rocking my hips, hands and knees on a bath towel on the floor, and leaning over the sink and rocking my hips.  At a point, I was so exhausted and fell asleep on the toilet as well as when I was laying on the bathroom sink.  It was only for that minute or two, but I grabbed what I could.  I also ended up laying on the towel on the floor a couple times and dozing off for a moment at a time.  The exhaustion was overwhelming. 

I was tired of the constant laboring.  The close contractions for hours and hours.  I started pushing, breathing baby down,  and trying to focus on visualizing my cervix opening through each contraction to try to help dilate my cervix more.  I was going by my mucus plug loss, and it started going more at that point.  Sometime around 4am I felt the beginnings of the bag bulging.  Just a small part, but what a huge encouragement!  I don’t check my cervix, but I will reach in far enough to feel for the sac or baby. Feeling the sac was wonderful!  Not too long!

Brent woke up around 5am and made his way into the bathroom.  Seeing how the toilet was occupied, and knowing I wasn’t budging for his bathroom run, he left for a moment and then came back.  

As he was gone, I felt a large mass coming out of me as I labored on the toilet.  I held my hand there as it came out, and then it burst!  My water had broken, and the sac was definitely a strong one.  It was really an amazing thing to experience.  I was almost sure it was a baby with how it felt in my hand.  That was at 5:10am, as I checked my phone to see the time.  

Brent made it back within a minute, but going by my noises, he went and woke up Hannah to help.  Unfortunately I was zero help with where I had stashed my tinctures.  I had moved to the towel on floor and my communication was mostly waving him with my hand.  In the end, we ended up without the tinctures, twine for the cord, or cord scissors for the birth. 

Brent came back in from looking for my birth stuff, and saw me on my hands and knees but facing the door.  He asked if there was any way I could turn around (we had been through this issue before with Z).  I kind of laughed and managed to turn so he could help catch baby.  

A moment later I felt baby’s head coming down.  I couldn’t say anything at that point, so I just held my hand down and felt the head.  I wanted another moment to prepare and relax, so I more held baby’s head inside me just to prevent too much more stretching.  After the contraction I told Brent that the head was coming.   

Although I’m pretty sure what I said was “Head, baby’s head, head...”. 

The next contraction I gently pushed, but more just let things move on their own while holding baby’s head to keep it slow.  As the head got about halfway out, I wanted to be done, and have a little push to finish up.  The head was out!  I started saying over and over “That feels so much better!”.  

It felt soooo much better!

Brent said “He’s just looking at me”.  The reassurance that baby looked good was amazing.  

I’m not sure if I waited for another contraction or not, but I pushed and baby shot out!  Brent caught baby and then said that baby was a girl!!!  I was wrong!  I was thinking boy the whole time!  

I was so happy!  I was done, baby was here!!!  I turned myself around and sat on the towel then held baby as they got towels for her.  

Everything was relatively easy, and my recovery has been amazing.  Minimal after birth pains, minimal bleeding after the first day, and I’m not sore.  Baby is healthy and just perfect.  Her latch is not good.  She has a lip tie making nursing almost unbearable at times.  However it’s getting better.  Especially now that my milk came in.  She’s a sweetie though.  If she’s upset I can just talk to her and she calms down.  

Eliza Ruth

Born May 2, 2018

40w 4d

5:20am

9lb 1oz

What I struggle with most as a parent

This July I will have been a parent for 19 years.  

19 YEARS

I am 37 years old.  Over half my life I have been a mother and a wife.  I have been adjusting to this whole idea of raising small humans into large humans for 19 years.  Although it's been hard, I'm thinking I'm starting to learn.  

I have found that I have one part of life as a mother that is so much harder than any other parts.  

It's not taking care of babies, or lack of sleep for years on end.  

It's not being limited to what I can do because of a nursing baby. 

It's not worrying over sick kids. 

It's not homeschooling my hoard of minions. 

It's not even the endless chores or cleaning and laundry.  

No.  My biggest struggle?  It's allowing my kids to help me in the kitchen.  I have always struggled to let them cook with me.  

I can do it faster.  

They get underfoot. 

They don't do it exactly how I want. 

I have to stop what I'm doing and instruct them. 

It takes me three times longer. 

So tonight, as I'm making pork stew, my 7 year old daughter asked to help.  I immediately said no, thanks for asking, and to go on out.  

I stopped and thought.  It's Sunday dinner.  I'm in no hurry.  I ask her to peel the carrots.  When she's done I show her how to cut the carrots.  

**Yes, I let her use a knife.  They do cook, but not while I'm cooking.**

One that's done, she washes and cuts the celery. 

She had a ton of fun, and it actually saved me time.  I was flouting and browning the pork in batches as she did the veggies.  

My son got the stick down for me, opened the jars, and added them to the pot.  

My other daughter peeled potatoes for me.  

My 2, 4, 5, 7, and 8 year old kids all snapped green beans. 

It was a family event, and it all turned out perfect.  

The true meaning of happiness

It's amazing what you can accomplish when you think positive.  After Mila was born I kind of fell into a depressed state.  Things were dark in my mind.  I cried a lot.  I didn't want to do anything but snuggle my baby girl.  She was my all at that point.  I still got up and did my mom stuff.  I cooked.  I cleaned.  I don't want to though.  

Then, I decided to start focusing on positive energy.  I needed to put the negative away.  It was hurting me.  Today, I put it away.  It took a while.  Sometimes I dwell in it.  It's familiar.  However, it's not a friend.  

I love my family so much.  They are amazing.  My kids are awesome people and make me smile so many times daily.  My hubby tells me how great and beautiful I am.  I love them.  They show me the true meaning of happiness. 

Baby 10 is 10 weeks old today

Baby girl.  Baby Peanut.  Baby No Name.  Baby Sasha. Potato Girl. 

She's known by many names.  Today, my little Peanut, baby 10, is 10 weeks old.  

10 weeks?  Is that right??  I actually had to think about that for a few seconds.  Didn't she just join our family?  Isn't she still super tiny?  

10 weeks

She is absolutely the sweetest baby ever.  She hardly ever fusses.  Well, except for yesterday.  Poor baby was stuck with a tummy ache because mean mom ate a ton of ham an beans the night before.  I had to manage holding her and awkwardly wrap her to me.  It was an ugly wrap job, but she fell asleep. My sweet baby girl. 

She's full of smiles.  She laughs and talks to us all the time.  She's so strong and amazing.  The kids absolutely love her. 

She's passed about constantly.  She's loved so much.  I can't imagine her not in our lives.  What an amazing little family I have.  

Coffee, a Book, and Diaper Cream

That's what I'm looking at right now.  

I'm a mother.  It's true that I get a moment to ponder much, as I stay at home and homeschool 9 of my 10 kids.  I'm busy from the moment I get woken up at sunrise, to the time they go to bed around 9 or 10pm.  During my quiet time between them going to bed and me going to bed, I'm still nursing a baby and doing random stuff about the house.  

Today, as I sit on the couch nursing baby, I'm listening to the kids play upstairs.  There's no bickering.  There's noise and stomping.  There's yelling and excitement.  However, all seems quiet.  

I look across from me and see the coffee table.  This is my life.  A cup of coffee.  A book.  A bottle of diaper cream.  

My coffee is my daily "I need energy to keep going" drink.  I enjoy drinking it.  It's warm (or cold depending on how long it takes to drink it).  Usually I'm stuck finishing up a very cold cup, as I rarely drink it all while warm still.  

My book is what I've been reading to the kids.  One of the boys said the other day that "reading is boring".  GASP!!!  Noooo, you totally did not say that to me!  Reading is imagination run amok!  Reading is watching the movie in your head, only also knowing so much more about thoughts, feelings, and what's going on!  So I have them all sit down and Mon-Fri they listen to me read to them for an hour (or until my voice gives out) of the Narnia books. They love it, and I'm really looking forward to getting to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that they are familiar with.  I hope this is bringing an interest in reading for the younger ones. 

The diaper cream.  My babies.  There is always a piece of my babies lying around somewhere near me.  A diaper, cream, blanket, spare change of clothes, burp rag... Something close at hand.  It is a piece of me, and this reminds of my life as a mom.  

The picture is unedited.  I usually crop it to crop out any mess or craziness.  I left it.  There's ash on the floor that wasn't swept up.  The rug is askew.  The floor needs swept and vacuumed.  The tool bag is out, waiting to follow hubby to work tomorrow.  The wood stove is cold and won't be lit until dusk.  The ash pot is partially filled and next to the stove. It's all there.  It's my life.  Unedited and full of happiness.