Police

I have to admit that I am afraid. I am afraid of a lawless world. I myself am not brave enough to go into law enforcement. And with all the recent media surrounding law enforcement, I honestly can't understand why anyone is. What I can tell you is that when I was a teenager I had complete respect for the police. I would not have talked back or responded negatively. I am afraid when I hear about kids attacking a police officer. A few years ago a group of teenagers held an officer's head under water when he tried to break up a party at the lake. No, I'm not a fan of tasers and yes, I do understand the health risks of using tasers. No, I'm not okay with shooting an innocent kid holding a toy gun. But, yes I have no idea what I would have done in this situation. And I'm not brave enough to find out...which is why I'm a pharmacist and not in law enforcement.
What I do know is that two innocent officers gave their lives this week only because they chose a career to protect people. Things have become so scary out there that these officers are risking their lives every day. And I have no idea how I would respond if I thought my life was in danger. They need to make a decision in a split second. Their lives depend on it. Maybe it's not always the right decision but it's the best they could do in that moment.

Ask yourself why this is happening. Perhaps it is because the last time you were caught speeding you expressed anger of the ticket instead of appreciation that they are keeping you safe. And perhaps your children were in the car. What if they don't understand the benefits of the police and only see your disgust over the speed trap or spot check. We need to teach our children to respect law enforcement and to be thankful for all that they do. I will say thank you next time I get a speeding ticket. At least I will try.

World's Best Mom

I am the world's best mom. Well, I was. For about five minutes today. I was also one of the world's worst moms. And then back to world's best mom again. Today I spent the morning playing with my kids. I am off for the two weeks that my kids have off at Christmas (for the first time ever) and I was very happy to be with them all morning. I was still the world's best mom when I took them to see Santa even though the mall was crazy. It went downhill very fast from there. The world's worst mom took two kids to the grocery store on December 23rd. We were three of hundreds of people who oddly also thought that this was a great day to shop. The crowds...and my son's need to constantly drive over little old ladies with the cart were very trying on my patience. I was grumpy for the rest of the afternoon. I may have told the kids that Santa saw them and that they better be good until Christmas because I'm thinking they might be close to getting on the naughty list. Then world's best mom came back and played until bedtime. 

Moms are incredibly hard on themselves. My daughter is extremely picky. By the end of the meal I either feel guilty because I forced my child to gag through eating that meat. Or I feel guilty because I let her get away with not eating meat and now she's not going to be healthy. 

Motherhood began for me by adopting the most amazing baby girl. In the hospital her birth mom was better at swaddling her than I was...and so it began. That self doubt that all mothers feel. I thought it would go away when we left the hospital. Or when we got settled at home. But oddly now I think that it's just what motherhood does. 

I had postpartum depression when my son was born. There are about two months of his life that I have very little recollection of. He doesn't remember this at all. But I still beat myself up over it all the time. And even now, when I know that both my children would pick me over any other mom in a heart beat, I look at other new moms and I wonder why I couldn't have been like them. 

I have an incredibly crazy job (which I love). Often other moms will tell me that they don't know how I do it. Some are impressed with my ability to manage all this. But others are just judging. I once read a post on Facebook about moms who bring their cell phones to their kids' activities. And about how terrible they are. I think this whole judgment thing needs to go. Don't you think I'm hard enough on myself? And besides I'm actually able to make it to all of my kids' events cell phone in tow while you are off sitting in an office somewhere in your 9-5 job. That is unless I'm traveling. Then I miss everything. But I only travel once a month...right?!? My husband says it's more. 

And so it continues. Best mom bakes with kids. Worst mom has no imagination and is terrible at playing barbies. Best mom travels with her kids. Worst mom takes them out of school for a week and needs to check her priorities. 

How about we all make a New Year's resolution to stopping judging? If we can say that a kid is loved and well taken care of, maybe it doesn't matter that they came to school with jam on their face...again. Maybe it's okay we forgot to do our homework this one time. Or to not comb her hair just this once...again. 

My New Year's resolution is going to be to forgive myself. For the postpartum depression. For forgetting the mitts yesterday. For yelling in the car. And instead concentrate on the cuddles we shared this morning. And the movie we are going to watch together tonight. 

Maybe...just maybe, if we can all do this, moms everywhere will celebrate their successes. Because a Toy Story band aid and mom's magic kisses is all they really need. 

Whose Body Is This?

For those who know me, you know I am very busy. Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I love it that way. I love my family and all their activities. I love my job and all it entails. And I recently started a masters degree because I had a few extra minutes to fill. I just started a new diet and have been going to the gym more often because I am aging and realize that to continue all that I do I need to be healthy. 

But I had no idea how much everything I do depends on my body. Four weeks ago while on the treadmill doing what I had been doing for weeks I felt too weak to continue. I am not a lover of exercise so while on the treadmill my body often tells me it has had enough. But this was different. I knew if I continued I was going to hurt myself. I proceeded to try weights but couldn't lift anything. So I headed home. As the week progressed I had fevers and chills and sweats and was exhausted. But in typical Lindsay style I continued to work, have Lily's birthday party, walk through a corn maze, etc...

And then the rash. I woke up to a few spots. As the day went on the spots covered my whole body and became painful to the touch. I couldn't hug my kids or my husband. I couldn't sleep comfortably or eat. My spleen, liver, gall bladder, and pancreas were affected and angry. I would fall asleep for hours and no one could wake me up.  The doctors tested me for a bunch of viruses. While we knew it was a virus because of how it was acting we couldn't pinpoint what virus. The pain from the rash began to subside only to be replaced by arthritis pain and swelling in ankles, knees, hands, and wrists. And the exhaustion made everything impossible. 

I woke up today knowing that I am going to be okay. My kids need my attention as they are feeling neglected. My husband needs my help as he has been doing everything at our house. My work has suffered. I feel like I missed four weeks of my life. I want to jump back in and get things done but I know that if I don't take it easy, I will just be back asleep. 

But I have learned so much from this. Cherish everyday. Respect your body. Thank those who help you. Know that you don't know what is going on with someone else. Don't judge. Offer help. Don't stare (if you can help it). Enjoy your health. Love life. 

Post Partum Depression

As I am laying on a bed in my hotel room while on vacation with the world's best family I am crying inside for a woman that I don't know and her two beautiful children. There was a time in my life when I truly believed that moments like this would never happen. That I would never be happy again.  I didn't want to get up in the morning and believed that I had ruined my perfect family by adding a son that I just could not handle. With the help of my husband, my mom, and some really wonderful friends I got through the fog into the sunshine and realized that I am the luckiest mom on the planet. But I often wonder where I would have been without all those people who knew that something wasn't quite right. I do not think for a second that I could have harmed my children but really what mother does think so?  I did not have the psychosis part of post partum depression but in comparison to the many people I have met since that diagnosis my depression was diagnosed very early. I had the support of family and friends until the meds kicked in and I became myself again. So I try not to think about what could have happened but moments like this make me fearful. Obviously we are missing something in the process of post partum depression. Yes we get those pamphlets that tell you all about it but we need to do more. Every caregiver, family member, and friend should be on the look out for moms who are hurting. And we need to stop the stigma so that moms can ask for the help that they need. Let's stop this heartbreaking illness and protect all the moms and their children. My thoughts are with the family of Lisa Gibson. She was a pharmacist with a toddler daughter and a newborn son. She was a woman who sounds a lot like me. I'm so sorry that this has happened to you and your family. 

With hope, the odds don't matter

Life is filled with statistics.  And Scott and I talk about statistics all the time.  He works with cancer patients on a regular basis, I have a health care background, and we spent a lot of time trying to make life decisions based on statistics provided by fertility specialist.  And what we have come up with is that statistics don't really matter if you are on the other side.  If they give you a 99% success rate and you are the 1% who does not succeed, what did that statistic really mean to you?

When I started writing this blog, people would always comment that I shouldn't share such personal information so publicly.  So, for a while, I tried to write my blog but change names or places to create anonymity.  You never know who is going to read it...you know.  But I can't write it if it doesn't come from my heart.  And it can't come from my heart if I am pretending to be someone else.

Today I was contacted by a complete stranger who read my blog.  It happens more than you would think.  But this time I am happy to say that I have written from my heart and that something in my blog stood out enough for this person to contact me.  And she shared her personal experience with me.  And that experience hit home.  It made me cry.  And it filled me with hope. 

I hope you feel the same.  Thank you Heather!!!  

Please check out this link:

With hope, the odds don't matter

Hugs on Mother's Day

On my fifth "real" Mother's Day I am being spoiled by my amazing family. I am awaiting my breakfast in bed made by chefs Scoff and Lily while enjoying some Little Einsteins and cuddling with Jack. I no longer require KFC on Mother's Day. I guess I have finally moved forward from my desperate need for that chicken when watching those commercials throughout my many painful years as an infertile and childless woman. I think Scott was surprised when I didn't ask for our annual KFC celebration and instead requested his masterpiece French onion soup. 

Mother's Day is truly a well deserved holiday. Mothers are amazing creatures. They have magic kisses and eyes in the back of their heads. They have the ability to find something in the closet after everyone else has already looked. This day is truly deserved. Happy Mother's Day to all the truly amazing mothers in my life. 

You may have noticed that I started this blog saying that this was my fifth "real" Mother's Day. My first Mother's Day was two days after my first embryo transfer. On that day I spent a lot of time with my hand on my belly begging the powers that be to let that baby grow so that Mother's Day would count. Unfortunately it was not to be. The sting of that memory and many other heart breaking Mother's days helps me to remember all the amazing women who have not yet had the opportunity to sprout those eyes on the back of their heads. I am positive that they too have magic kisses but have not had the opportunity to test them out yet. 

Through my choice to share these personal and painful experiences I have been able to surround myself with women who have had similar experiences. I know moms who have lost their newborns. Moms who are celebrating their very first Mother's Day at this moment. Moms who used donor eggs. And donor sperm. Moms who found out through experience that you don't have to give birth to a baby to love them. Moms who are pregnant with their first today. Moms who have lost babies. A mom who finally completed her fertility journey to find herself fighting a cancer diagnosis. And one mom who had an embryo transfer yesterday and is the exact reason I felt the need to write this blog. I am so fortunate to have my family and I think about that every single day. But I work hard to remember the journey in hopes that it wasn't for nothing. And in hopes that my experiences can help those experiencing unimaginable pain on this day. 

Happy Mother's Day to all current mothers. And future mothers. Hugs to everyone feeling the sting of childlessness today. May your journey be close to the end. And may you find yourself joy and peace. 

A life well lived

How many times have you seen the quote, "Live life to the fullest"?  I know we all try to follow it, but sometimes actual life gets in the way.  I do know one man who truly lived life to the fullest.  A man who filled a spot in my heart that became empty with the loss of my own father and grandfathers.  For everyone, living life to the fullest means something different.  But to Papa it meant loving, learning, and embracing.  I think I learned more from this man in our visits than I did in my whole university career.  His stories were like life lessons that were put into my very soul without having to learn them on my own.  Whether it was the story of how he met his soul mate and how it changed his life.  Or what to tell the contractor that was working on our basement. Or his view point on a war in which the white men were scalped by the native people...and how we really have to examine events like that because even though scalping is cruel and dramatic, it meant so much more to the people who were doing it.  And maybe those being scalped shouldn't have been there even though it shaped our current society.  He taught me to examine both sides of history and to actually feel what it would have been like to be on either side.  And when we had our many talks about my new job and how scary it was to once again be jumping into an entirely new role, he had tons of pieces of advice on how to address each part right down to my favorite, "Wear a low cut dress to that meeting.  A beauty like you will really get their attention."  Or his love of the Western Development Museum.  A place I had been a hundred times before.  It became a completely different adventure learning about it from the perspective of someone who had seen many of those things with his own very eyes.  And he didn't just tell those stories.  He spoke with such passion that I often feel like I lived his stories as well.  When we named our son Jack, Papa was so excited.  When Scott told him the news on the phone, I could hear him from across the hospital room.  I am so glad that we were able to give him that moment.  And every time he was around the kids, he would tell everyone in sight that Jack was named after  him.  He would show off both of our kids to anyone who would listen. Papa loved.  He loved life.  He loved family.  He loved a good story.  Granny made his eyes sparkle in a way that every woman wants to be adored.  He lost that sparkle on the day that she died.  It became a bit of my own personal vendetta to bring that sparkle back even if it was just for moments in time. I saw that sparkle while he watched the owl at the zoo.  I teased him that I could take him to a real sod house and I saw that sparkle when he saw that house at the museum.  But seeing our kids brought that sparkle to his eyes each and every time.  I am so happy that our kids got to know this wonderful man.  No matter what kind of day he had or how he was feeling, he would always want a giant bear hug from our kids. He touched their hearts like he touched mine.  I am so happy that I had the opportunity to know Papa.  And I can't wait until my own Jack is older so I can share with him all the reasons why we chose his name.
Letting go of someone so wonderful is a challenge.  But it gives me a sense of peace to know it was a life well lived.