Dropping the cup.

Today I had one of those moments.  You know the embarrassing moment that turns out to mean so much after the incident that you do not even remember the embarrassment?
Well, today, I dropped my cup.  My full cup.  In a restaurant.  At the register.  Normally I would have jumped to clean it up but today I was left practically powerless.  I did, of course, try to clean up the mess by picking up the ice but I had nothing.  No napkins, no kleenex, certainly no mop.  I had made a mess and brought down my friend and an innocent bystander with me, as their legs were equally as covered with Diet Coke as mine.  After being told numerous times to not worry about it that they would clean it up, we all had a laugh, thankfully, and after I got off the floor picking up ice, I was rewarded with a new Diet Coke and we headed on our way.
Driving down the road I just kind of laughed to myself.  How many times have I made a mess in my life and tried to clean it up by myself when clearly I didn't have the tools to do so?  How many times has the Lord done what He has always done by telling me to just let Him clean it up.  To allow HIM to help me?  How many times have I told him, "I've got this, really"?  How many times have I had to "spill my cup" with no paper towels before I allow Him to clean up the mess?  To show me that had I been paying attention or allowed Him to take control in the first place that the mess never would have happend, my feet would not be wet and my jeans sticky with Diet Coke?
I feel like so often in our lives we reach this point.  We reach the point where we drop our cups, try to clean up the mess ourselves and it just gets bigger and stickier.  Why do we always think we can do it ourselves?  Because we are born sinful and full of pride.  I am not different and I do not claim to be.  There are many days where I "just handle it" or try to.  On those days I end up anxious, angry and short-tempered taking out friends, family and innocent bystanders in my path.  I need to remember daily to let the Lord in.  To allow him to help me hold my cup.  Two hands are better than one.  

I found this quote today on Pinterest and felt like it was a great illustration of my lesson learned today.  Thing is, if I allow the Lord to be a consistent in my life and I let go of my proverbial cup, his hand is there not letting it drop even when I let go.  Because I am weak and He is my strength.  Nothing is too heavy for Him.

Just going through the motions.

Remember when I was pregnant I wrote about being concerned about bonding with Kyra?  Worrying about just going through the motions and not connecting with her emotionally?  Worrying about resenting her a little because our normal would change so drastically?  Worrying about not having enough time with Teagan because I was tending to a newborn? All of that happened, just like I worried about.  All of that happened until yesterday.  Yesterday, it finally clicked.  (Honestly, this is going to play out like a scene from cheesey Hallmark movie but pour you a glass of your favorite beverage and bare with me.)
Until yesterday there were many times through the day where I would get emotionally frustrated at Kyra and have to take a deep breath.  Knowing I had to do what I was doing to care for her.  Only being there for her physically though, not emotionally.  Sure, there were probably more times when I was talking to her and loving on her then I can recall but the ones where I was emotionally absent are the ones that stick out in my mind.  I would get frustrated and feel shut off from family and friends when I had to go to another room to breastfeed.  Partly because I'm still not comfortable breastfeeding under that stupid udder cover and partly because Kyra gets distracted easily when she's eating.  I would go and sit in another room by myself and just stew thinking of all I was missing.  Not realizing I was missing a whole lot more by not really paying attention to Kyra.  Getting upset when Teagan wanted me and I couldn't do anything about it because I had to feed Kyra or calm her down.  Thinking Kyra was getting in the way of my relationship with Teagan. Putting on a brave face for everybody because I knew I should feel and act blessed even when I felt more burdened at times.  Knowing people would understand if I asked for help but being too full of pride to ask for it.  Even from my husband most days.  I was just going through the motions. 
Then yesterday happened.  I was working with maybe 3 good hours of sleep from the night before.  I was exhausted and just running on adrenaline.  I didn't even have caffeine to put in my system and I was so desperate I almost put Kyra in her car seat and ran out to get some.  Anyway, I was on the verge of tears.  Kyra had been kinda fussy and nursing hadn't gone as well as I'd liked it to even though she had a full belly I had a full left boob.  I decided to slow down.  I leaned over Kyra, who was on our bed, and she smiled at me.  Full on gummy and bright eyed smile.  After the way I'd been most of her life, just doing what I felt like I had to do as a mom, just going through the motions, she still loved me in spite of myself.  She loves her mommy and I am her mommy.  I lost it.  I started sobbing.  All I could do was cry and pick her up and tell her how much I loved her.  That I was sorry I'd been kinda crappy the last month and that I would do better.  I told her I loved her and how sorry I was over and over again.
Have I been struggling with postpartum depression? Maybe? I don't think it was a constant thing.  So I think I had more of severe baby blues then full on depression.  I've struggled in the past with depression and so Josh watched me like a hawk but I'm even so good sometimes that I can fool him.  Thankfully, I think the hormones have finally started to regulate themselves and I'm feeling more happy and emotionally available to both my girls now.  I didn't have to go through it alone and I shouldn't have.  Being the prideful human that I am I did.  If you feel similar to the way I did don't go through it alone.  It's hell but it's an avoidable hell.  Talk to somebody.  Ask for help.  Shoot me an e-mail if you need to. 

Figuring out that I´m pregnant.

There was so much to see and do and experience at BlogHer11.  At home there is always something to be done. Change diapers, give baths, work, fix dinner, occasionally get a shower in.  My body hasn´t really had time to figure out that it´s pregnant.  Until this weekend when it couldn´t take it anymore.  My body decided to remind me just how pregnant I am.  My body reminded me, at BlogHer11, that in about 10 weeks a baby is coming out of my body.  I learned my lesson the hard way.  A few times. 
Saturday I did a lot of walking and rushing and didn´t get a lot of sleep the night before.  I also was not drinking enough water so my body was a little dehydrated.  I started cramping, getting short of breath and my heart started racing.  I headed toward the medic to get my blood pressure checked.  Luckily it was fine, barely high, but he told me I was over doing it and needed to sit down and take it easy.  So, I did, for a little while.  There were sessions to go to and people to meet and see.  I rested long enough to be okay for a little while.  By the end of the night I was having small contractions. I called Josh, called the nurse and she told me to go to bed and call if they got worse in the hour.  All was well after I laid down. I knew I had over done it. 
Sunday was a different story.  I had no choice but to run around like a chicken with it´s head cut off.  I had to wait forever in line to check in at the airport, the guy tried to send me to flippin´ Washington instead of Charlotte and I literally had to run to my gate.  RUN.  At 30 weeks pregnant.  Carrying 3 bags loaded down with goodies.  That meant no breakfast and a 3 hour flight.  I tried to find one of those little carts to take me but nobody seemed to be manning their´s.  There were just a lot sitting around unmanned.  I started having small contractions that finally went away after boarding the plane.  Then the plane landed late and I had to run across the Houston airport and take the tram to get to my plane on time.  Luckily I had time to grab a sandwich and some juice but that didn´t stop the contractions from starting over again.  Thankfully they subsided once I was able to get on the plane.  But by then I was completely uncomfortable.  My hips and butt and legs were hurting and so sore and there was no moving around or getting comfortable.  The flight home was pretty much miserable.
This last week was a not so gentle reminder that I am very much pregnant.  That I need to slow down.  That it is okay to take a break once in a while.  That there are people around me who will help when I am trying to do it all.  That I need to let myself ask for that help.  And that Baby Bear will be here in less then 10 weeks. Holy flippin' cow.