My Identity

Something that's sort of been on my mind for awhile now....I read a blog a couple weeks ago, it was about those going through nursing school, and how nursing students tend to find their identity in solely being just that, a nursing student. There was a lot more to it then that, but it just got me to thinking.....

When you strip it all away, all of your titles, your job, your school, your friends, your achievements, who are YOU? When I take away being a mom or a wife, or a photographer, who am I? Who is Jessica? What makes me, ME? Like if I were to be stranded on a desert island alone, do I know myself enough to be comfortable with that? I find so often that I get in this mindset of looking at myself as solely a wife and a mother. I forget that apart from being those things, I do indeed have my own identity as an individual. We all do. Now I don't know about you, but I believe in God, and I also believe that my God does NOT make any mistakes. He knit us together to be just who he wanted us to be. We are all different, and that's what's so great. Not any two of us share the same identity. There is only one of each of us in this whole entire world. No matter how much we may have in common with someone, there are always differences. You can't be them, and they can't be you. We weren't designed to be like anyone else. I wish I would of had this realization a lot sooner. I have always been the kind of person who is overly emotional. I always let things get the best of me. I lose myself in trying to please other people. I hate disappointing others, so I will push my own self aside in order to make someone else happy. Sometimes that can be a good thing, but a lot of times I've found that I lose my own happiness at the expense of it. I don't think we should ever give up our own true identity for the sake of others, no matter who it may be. I don't think we should settle either. I think that we all need to take initiative and feel free to make the best decisions to honor our identities, our true selves. I am learning that through Christ, and Christ ONLY will I find MY identity, I mean he's the one who created me after all. My life and identity not only should reflect Christ, but I should be concerned with pleasing him. Just because something may satisfy a person, doesn't mean it'll satisfy God. Don't spend your life catering to the needs of others. Life is far too short to be unhappy, and to be spent being anything but yourself. My true self is someone who is passionate. I have a lot of passion in my blood. Whether it's reading a book, singing a song, loving someone, being upset with someone. I feel so deeply, and that's just who I am. I just need to learn to direct my feelings better. The anxiety and depression that I tend to experience is not my identity, I don't find myself to be an anxious, depressed person, so I'm letting go of that. Somehow, I have to find a way to live without this constant shadow hovering over me and draining my identity. I have to find a way to be genuinely happy, and when I smile, I always want to mean it. I want to make my mark on this world. How can I do that without being me? I desire for my kids and husband to look to me to be a safe haven in the midst of the chaos this life can bring. Being scared all of the time prevents that. And being scared is not what I want to be anymore. I truly believe that once I start really chasing after my identity, claiming it, and holding onto it, I will live a more fulfilling and important life. I have been given a huge responsibility. I am taking part in raising two people. Two people who will one day go out into the world on their own. Two people who will need help finding their identities. I want to be a beacon for them, someone who they believe in, not only because I'm their Mom, but because they know just WHO their Mom really is. If I were to continue on this road of solely focusing on my worries, I would be depriving my children so much of all of the things I am able to provide otherwise. In finding myself, I'll find God's plan for my life. Then, it'll all make sense.

I know this was kind of a lot of word vomit, but I am just feeling a lot of feelings, and blogging is a really good outlet for me. I hope you can take even just a little bit from this. Just sharing my heart <3

Blessed.

I can't believe I haven't blogged since February! Whoops. Life happens I suppose....Anywho, today was one of those days when you are just ready to go to bed by noon. I didn't feel so well, and the kids were wild (as usual). While I'm mostly use to their craziness, when I am sickly, it's just hard to deal. I'm so happy that Jared was here to help out. I've said it before, and I'll say it probably five million more times before I die, I'm so blessed to have Jared in my life. He's so unlike a lot of other guys in this world. He actually cares, and makes sure that he is present in mine and the kids' lives. He's always there to pick up any slack on my end. Even when he's super wore out from work, or whatever, he still helps out as best as he can. Being a stay at home Mom is no joke. I constantly feel exhausted, and like I'm failing in more than one area at all times. It sometimes feels like no matter how much I do, there's always a million more things to achieve. I can't always get it all done, so I am thankful to have such a patient and selfless partner for this life journey of mine. Not only is he a good husband, but he's an amazing father. I pray that my kids always appreciate having such a caring Dad in their lives, and that they never take him for granted. Good Dad's seem to be hard to come by these days, so my babies are blessed. I know that no matter what we face in this life, we will get through it together. He's so strong, and is always striving to be the best Spiritual leader as he possibly can. So, so, very blessed.

Postpartum Depression

The link below is the story of a Mom who lost the battle of Postpartum Depression. Below the link is my story. Thanks for taking the time to read, and feel free to share. The goal is to reach others who may be suffering from the same problem.

http://www.foreverymom.com/she-took-her-life-after-suffering-from-postpartum-depression-in-silence-now-her-family-is-speaking-out-to-help-others/


I haven't been very open about my experience with Postpartum Depression. Most of you probably didn't even know I had it. After reading this story about Allison, I felt like I had an obligation to share my story....I'm sad for her, that she wasn't able to get through it, but unfortunately, I completely understand why. I just wish her outcome was better. I'll be praying for her daughter, as well as the rest of her family. This can't be easy for any of them.

This is absolutely going to be the hardest blog I've ever written, but if it can help even one Mom, then it'll be worth it.
My battle began February 16, 2013 at 9:36 pm. I had been in labor for more than 15 hours. I finally reached the finish line after pushing for 2 hours. I heard a cry. Emerie was born. I saw Jared's face and my Mom's, and they were so joyful. They were looking at me, probably expecting to see happiness all over me. Why wouldn't they? That's the normal reaction. I was kind of in a state of shock. I don't remember what anyone was saying, just the looks on everyone's faces. The room was filled with so much cheery vibes, yet the feeling stopped at me. Why was I not smiling, or crying, or anything? I was numb. They put Emerie on my chest. It's not that I didn't love her, because at that moment I knew I would stop at nothing to protect her, and be there for her. I just didn't feel that motherly connection that everyone talks about. I wasn't excited. I wasn't overjoyed. I was very anxious. I was nervous. I couldn't shake this feeling like something bad was going to happen to her. Every time the nurses had to take her out of the room I panicked. I didn't want to let anyone (not even Jared) hold her. I hated every second of someone else holding her. Not just because I wanted to be the one to hold her, but because I was scared something was going to happen to her. Someone was going to drop her, or she'd choke, or she would stop breathing. I didn't tell anyone how I was feeling at the hospital, I should have, but I didn't. I kind of assumed I'd feel better once we got home. That was the farthest thing from the truth. Emerie was a month early, and very small, so I figured that was probably why I was feeling this way. She'd had jaundice and lost quite a bit of weight in the hospital, so I was just paranoid for those reasons. Once we got Emerie home, things just got worse for me, and her. She had colic really bad. I was trying to breastfeed, because I was told that was what I was suppose to do. I felt like I would be considered a bad Mom if I quit. So I continued to try and breastfeed her. She screamed 24/7. She rarely latched. She didn't sleep. I didn't sleep. She cried. And cried. And cried. I cried, and screamed into pillows a lot. Why was it not working???? So Jared and I agreed that we should start her on formula. We did that and I just felt so bad. She didn't like the formula, so then I felt like I made a huge mistake by quitting breastfeeding, so I started pumping again. I hated it. But I hated her being on formula even more. Even drinking breast milk, she still cried constantly. We finally found a formula that she could tolerate, therefore I quit breastfeeding completely. I cried constantly. Jared assured me that it was okay to not breastfeed, but that wasn't even all that I was upset about. I didn't even know what was wrong half the time. The housework fell far behind. Laundry piled up. I rarely showered, wore makeup, brushed my hair or teeth. Yeah, gross. But to be honest, I didn't even have the energy to care about any of it. The little energy I did have went into taking care of Emerie. She was always clean and fed. My whole entire life was falling apart. I missed Church more than I attended. I lost touch with pretty much all of my friends. I didn't want to hang out or go anywhere. I dreaded having to leave the house. I had migraines all of the time. I slept a lot. I just had the heaviest feeling no matter what I did. I prayed a lot, but eventually my prayers almost felt pointless, so I just stopped all together. Anytime I tried to do a devotion or anything, I would quit because I just couldn't summon the energy to get anything out of it. My relationship with Jared was pretty much non existent. Not from anything he did or didn't do. I just pushed him away. He never treated me any different, but I could tell he was worried. He worked, did the housework, laundry, everything. The only thing I did was take care of Emerie. Sometimes I was so tired of taking care of her 24/7 that I just wanted to go somewhere by myself for awhile. Jared offered a lot for me to go, and him to watch her, but I didn't want to leave her. I couldn't leave her. I was her Mom, I had to be there for every second of every day. The depression got so bad at one point that I wanted to take my own life. I thought about it a lot. I even planned how I would execute it. Jared's gun was right there up in the closet. One bullet is all it would take to end the suffering for good. I could have my Mom come get Emerie, just tell her I needed a break. Leave a goodbye note explaining why I couldn't handle it anymore. Jared would probably do a better job without me in the picture anyway. I was just bringing him down. As Emerie would grow older, I'd drag her down too. I'd be holding my whole family back. It wasn't fair of me to put them through this any longer. Not to mention, I didn't want to go through it anymore either. I was exhausted. There was nothing left in me anymore. This planning and thought process went on for over a month. Finally, I just told Jared exactly what I was feeling. And that I knew that wasn't normal, and that I wanted to get help. We scheduled an appointment with my Doctor. She prescribed me an anti depressant. To be honest, it didn't help at all. If anything, it only made it worse. So I quit taking them. I think talking to Jared about it, and making him aware of what was going on, is what truly helped me. Had I not brought this to his attention, and had him to help me through this, I would have for sure taken my life. I'm not going to lie and say it went away, because it didn't go away for a long time. I just slowly started learning to deal with it. I wish now that I would have gotten extensive help, God knows I needed it. I wish I would have skipped the whole medication part and just went to a rehab or something. I was in way too deep. When Emerie was a year and a half, and we found out we were pregnant with Oliver is when I really started to blossom again. I felt like myself, finally. Oliver's labor and deliver, and postpartum was 100X better. I cried when he was born. I was so happy. I have an amazing connection with Emerie as well now. I trust that God has a plan and is in control. I still battle depression as well as anxiety, but it is a lot easier to manage now. My advice to anyone who ever feels the way I did after having a baby, seek help immediately! Do not ever wait even a day for it to get better. Depression will never just go away on it's own. Especially Postpartum Depression. It is a dangerous thing to have, and requires specialized help. Depression will just manifest itself in you, slowly but surely getting worse and worse. There will be days when you think it'll get better, but I promise you, it won't. Not without help. Don't ever take a chance. No one will think you are a bad Mom because you are suffering from Postpartum Depression. Your family will thank you for opening up about it and seeking help. Please don't make the mistake of trying to do it on your own. My story ended fine, but Allison's and many others, didn't. I seriously wish I would of been honest from that very first moment I knew something wasn't right. I wish I wouldn't have held it in for so long. I wish I could of enjoyed Emerie's first year without a haunted mind and spirit. I can't change it now, but I want to urge anyone feeling this way to let someone know. Anyone. Don't do this alone, I'm begging you. And don't ever feed into the lies. That's what depression does, it lies to you. It makes you feel worthless. Like nobody cares about you. Like you are alone in the world. The very moment you sense it, just tell someone right then. Tell someone before it has the chance to suck you in anymore. It can always get worse, and it will. Unless you make the choice to open up to someone and seek help. I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but it's important. Depression isn't a joke. Take it seriously. If you sense that someone else is going through it, get them help! Too many lives are ended because of this horrible illness. But there is hope.



*The picture to the left is my postpartum photo after having Emerie. The photo on the right is after having Oliver. I had makeup on in both pictures. You can see the depression so much in my eyes in the one after Emerie. The other picture, you can see the joy and happiness all over my face. It makes me sad to see myself the way I look in the left one, but it also is helpful to see how far I've come, and how much I've grown.

My Labor Story, For Oliver..

This is terribly sad, but I am JUST now getting around to posting about my labor and delivery with Oliver (who turns 1 in a month). When it was only Emerie, It seemed like I had so much more time to do things, and my Mom brain was less messy, now I'm a full time Mombie....Anyway, here's how my labor and delivery went with my favorite little guy...Proceed with caution, this is going to be graphic to some.....


So at 37 weeks I began having my membranes stripped (worst pain ever, after contractions of course). I started walking a lot, and doing things to get my labor going. I had went to the ER a couple times, but it was all false alarms (which made me so so sad). With Emerie I had been induced at 36 weeks, so I didn't really know what it was like to "go into  labor". I didn't know what to expect or anything. I had a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions, which were annoying, but not painful. On Monday May 11th I went to the doctor, and told her this time I didn't want to have her strip my membranes, because it was too painful and it seemed to be ineffective. So she skipped that part. I had thinned out quite a bit, but was only dilated to a 2. We scheduled my induction for the following Wednesday (should he not come before then). I asked her what all I could do to get my labor going faster, and she suggested bouncing on an exercise ball, sex, raspberry leaf tea, baths, and walking. So Jared and I went home and did it all hahahaha. It was around 5 PM and I was bouncing on the ball while continuously drinking the raspberry leaf tea and watching Dancing With The Stars, I started getting painful cramps, so I went and took a bath to get comfortable (I kept drinking the tea though). Then I went and laid down to get some rest. I was having contractions, and had been timing them on my phone. They were 8 minutes apart or so, and painful, but bearable. Pretty soon they were hurting worse, so I took another bath. I laid down again. Kept timing. Pretty soon it got to wear I couldn't time them myself anymore, and I was screaming in pain in the fetal position....Jared asked me if it was time to go to the hospital, and I was being stubborn because I was afraid it was another false alarm....When they were 3 minutes apart, he made me get up and loaded Emerie and me up into the car and we hit the road. The pain was sooooooooooooooooooooooo bad. It was constant by this point, not letting up at all. Jared dropped Emerie off with Greg and Cheri, then stopped at Mom's to pick her up, and then to the hospital we flew. When we got there they put me in a wheel chair. I was so irritated because I had to keep answering questions while contracting, I'm a Christian woman, but I wanted to punch a couple people. Finally they took me up to L&D. When I was all hooked up to everything they noticed the contractions weren't showing up on the thingy....I would be practically screaming in pain, and it wouldn't budge! One of the nurses told me that it's possible that I just have a UTI, and that I'm not actually in labor.....EXCUSE MEEE?! I cried, oh I cried. I was like "if this isn't labor, then please oh please just put me out of my misery!"....They were pretty much a minute apart by now, but was only dilated to a 4. They decided to move me to an actual delivery room, and gave me some stadol (magical goodness). That made me feel a lot better. It didn't get rid of the pain, but it made it a little more bearable. The contractions actually showed up on that machine (thank goodness). We had to wait for the anesthesiologist to get there to give me my epidural. Once he got there, I got the even better potion, and felt so much better....Jared, Mom and I all went to sleep....Come morning I was feeling excellent. One of the nurses checked me for dilation, and accidentally broke my water in the process, so I started dilating even quicker from that point on. It was 1115, and Jared decided to leave to get a drink. He joked and said they'd probably come in to deliver as soon as he left. Oh irony. The doctor and her student came in not even a minute after he left. We waited for him though. As soon as Jared got in there we got to pushing. I pushed for less than 10 minutes, and he was here! It went so perfectly. He came out so beautiful. while he was laying on me and they were cleaning him, he grabbed onto my shirt. When they tried to pull him away to weigh him, he wouldn't let go of his Momma....One of the best moments of my entire life. He was born Tuesday May 12 2015 at 11:26 AM. He had a lot of dark brown hair and weighed in at 11 lbs 6 oz and was 21 inches long. Oliver Allen was the most perfect baby boy I'd ever seen. I even felt good after having him. No post partum depression or anything. I love being a Mommy to such a sweet, beautiful, loving baby boy. So there ya have it :).