The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

Parenting. Sometimes it’s collaborative, sometimes it’s competitive.  There are times when we compare our children to others’, and still other times when we commiserate with other parents.  At times we feel really well supported, and times when we feel utterly alone.

Unfortunately, it seems that we feel most alone in our biggest fears, our greatest concerns.  Sometimes we obsess over one particular haunting thought – and that obsession alone convinces us that we’re kinda crazy and that no other parent could possibly have the same thought.  So, we stuff it down each time it surfaces, and incidentally, we alienate ourselves because we decide that we’re somehow in the minority. We allow those intimate “Do you ever?” conversations with other parents come to an end before we have the courage to address our “silly” obsession.

I have decided that 1) this shouldn’t happen because we’re all in this parenting thing together – and we should absolutely feel safe in the company of others trying to navigate through it all, too.  Just like anything else in life (which any therapist will agree), the sooner we say out loud the things that haunt us most, the sooner they miniaturize and begin to dissolve. And 2) I can guarantee that at least one other parent (if not, all parents) can totally relate to our “strange” feelings, thoughts, fears, etc.

I decided to post a challenge on Facebook to help me address this topic (which was originally going to be a long list of my weird obsession-confessions). I decided to give other parents a place to air their “questions.” It is my hope that these type of authentic “conversations” will continue – and that we can all finally release the thoughts that keep us awake at night, the thoughts that surely no one else can relate to, and finally hear those freeing words, “Me too!”

So, here’s how it started on my Facebook page:

Attn all parents – for my next Parenting on the Peninsula blog, I want to address the ways parenthood alters our thinking. I want to do a post called “I Need to Know,” in which I address all the weird and random thoughts/questions/feelings, etc that you need to know other parents wonder about, too. I’ll go first “I need to know that other parents worry about their kid getting kidnapped from their own bedroom at night.” “I need to know that other parents obsessively worry about their own death because they fear no one could ever take care of, or love, their children as they do.” And, on a lighter note, “I need to know that other parents feel a deep sense of satisfaction after clearing the boogers out of their kid’s nose.”

And here’s how you answered (the number of responses just further confirmed that there’s such a huge need for this kind of open sharing):

I need to know other parents feel defeated at mealtime due to the fact their kids are picky eaters? Can my kid really survive on yogurt mixed with bananas?

I need to know that its okay that I love my son and being a mom more than anything in this world, but miss a piece of “pre-mommy” me at moments.

Do other parents have certain news stories singed into their brains like I do? Stories of moms who just reach the end of it, and are truly suffering from a psychiatric condition. I think I worry that I could somehow get there or do that, even though I know in my heart that wouldn’t happen. I worry incessantly about it.

I need to know how other single parents handle the emerging consciousness of their young ones when they tell you they are sad that you and daddy don’t live together and love each other.

I need to know other moms, at the end of each day, go through in their mind the days events and how they could have done so much better or more for their kids.

I need to know that I am not a terrible mom for only being able to spend 1 hour with my kids at the end of each work day before their bedtime…yet I look forward to their bedtime so I can then have some time to myself (even though I didn’t see them all day). I mean, I only get 1 hour and I can’t wait for them to go to bed? What is that? And am I alone in feeling that way?

I need to know that it is ok that the laundry doesn’t get folded or the fridge doesn’t get cleaned, the dry cleaning doesn’t get picked up and the appointments aren’t kept. If my kid is needing attention that day, the day will be better if I cater to her needs and that’s ok.

I worry every time I go down the stairs with him in my arms that I am going to fall and hurt him somehow. Also, I obsessively count and keep track of each ounce he’s eaten and worry incessantly about it. Ugh

I need to know if other moms are total control freaks, like myself and want everything done their way.

“Am I over parenting?” when do u just step back and relax? Also do other parents worry that they are being judged about their parenting.

I need to know that other parents, while always loving their children, don’t always like them when they are acting like little demons. <—– the first time I had a moment where I realized I didn’t like my kid was horrifying! But then I realized that it happens with all other people, so why not your own biting, sand throwing progeny?

I need to know that the state of the world our children are growing up in scares the living day lights out of others.

I need to know that other people sometimes feel like they don’t know what they did for God to give them such an amazing gift.

I need to know that other parents alternate between being in awe of and so proud of their little blessing, to being mortified that they’ve raised a child that can act like THAT in public!

If I’ll be able to financially support them through college.

That they won’t appreciate things in general.

I pray he doesn’t grow up to be that bratty child that no one wants to be around.

Is my child really cute, or are people just telling me that to be nice? – lol / no joke I look at my kid and think he’s cute, but then sometimes think it might just be me and my hubby being biased.

I’m not a parent but I teach preschool and have for the last 8years….I can say that many parents come to me when they have more than one child…close in age..and they feel like they cant handle it when their husband or wife is constantly working leaving them with all the parental responsibilities…..I also find parents who are so busy that they feel guilty that they leave their child at day care all day…leaving them not wanting to enforce too many rules or restrictions on the kids when they get home….causing more damage than good in the long run….I thought I would send these thoughts your way….

What do you Need to Know?

I’m sitting in my hotel room in San Diego with my little family. We’ve had such a great week of exploring all the fun that beautiful San Diego has to offer. Of course, my husband and I want to come here every Spring Break with PJ and our “future” children. It’s hard to start making plans when I’m not sure when I will be able to get pregnant. I don’t want to live constantly trying to figure out when that will be, and yet, I want to know!

It’s funny how little conversations can be encouraging without even knowing it at the time. We were able to meet some friends and our neighbors in the Bay Area down at Sea World yesterday as they were taking advantage of their Spring Break as well. I was in line for a water ride and my friend and I were talking about the age differences between us and our siblings. I’m 6 years older than my sister and 11 years older than my brother. My friend is 13 years older than her sister. Weirdly, it encouraged me to know that there are people out there, just not me, who have years and years between their siblings. Would I want PJ to be 13 years older than her brother or sister? Probably not, but if that’s how it happens, then that is okay.

I think us Moms get caught up in trying to have our children 2-3 years a part. For some reason, it feels like the “magic number” and I must admit I’ve panicked some knowing that PJ will probably be older than 3 years from her siblings. I can’t have the perfect plan when trying to plan out my family. Each family and each situation is unique and I have to be okay with my family not fitting into the mold I always thought it would. Does it scare me not knowing if we come back to San Diego next year that I might have a baby or not? Sure. Am I going to just stop enjoying the family I’ve been given now? Absolutely not.

You’re trapped! You can’t imagine getting out of that dark place of despair and desperation. The walls are closing in. To make matters worse, people are telling you “Congratulations, you must be so happy!”  Your guilt for feeling the exact opposite silences your screams and so you just nod and say thank you. What else are you supposed to do? How can you say what you really feel?

This is what I experienced after the birth of my first child. When my son was about two weeks old, I started having intense feelings of depression and anxiety. I thought my life was over and couldn’t believe what I just done. I ruined my life. A lot of my feelings were unfairly directed at my husband. I took my anxiety, and anger out on him. I couldn’t be with him. Feeling that I had to escape my “life”, I fled my house. I took my son and moved in with my mom. I would lie awake all night with my heart pounding, my body sweating. It felt like time was standing still. The clock seemed frozen, just like me. I was in utter despair. Each minute was torture. I didn’t want to do any of the things normal people do. Taking a shower was a big deal. I took care of my son because I had to not because I wanted to. I had no maternal connection to my son, for he was the one who had gotten me into this mess.

This wasn’t my first exposure to mental illness. My identical twin sister had severe postpartum depression and anxiety after her daughter was born. Years before that my mother went through a very debilitating mental illness after my father was diagnosed with colon cancer. Even though I was witness to my mother and sisters recoveries, I truly felt my situation was different and I would never get out this. When you are in it, it doesn’t matter how many times people tell you “things will get better”.  You know, or so you think you do, the truth, “Life sucks and I am trapped.”

I remember my Mom going to her morning tennis match and thinking, “Mom, what the f*** are you doing? How can you go about your normal business? I am in crisis here.  How can you just go on as if nothing is wrong when everything is wrong?” In hindsight, my mom was just following advice she received on caring for a loved one with PPD. She was taking care of herself.

One day she made me go with her to Trader Joes. I had a huge panic attack and freaked out. I saw all these people in their daily routine and wanted to scream at the top of my lungs – STOP! Everyone stop what they are doing. Don’t you get it?

On my road to recovery, one of the first things I did, with my mother’s help, was contact a psychiatrist. Not only was professional help crucial but the support of my friends and family was invaluable. I had the benefit of two people, my mom and sister, who loved me dearly and who knew first-hand what I was going through. I also had the benefit of a very loving, supportive, and forgiving husband; otherwise I don’t know if my marriage would have survived. I had girlfriends that I could really talk to – to whom I could tell my deepest, darkest secrets.

My message to you is this – Don’t be silent. Ask for and accept help. Don’t be shy about telling people your story – don’t let fear or guilt stand in the way. While you have to do work to get better, you can’t “do” your life alone. Surround yourself with people in your life who will push you to take that shower, go to the gym, and take a walk outside, even if you hate them for it in the moment.

My family pushed me to do the things I needed to do to get better. For example, exercise has always been important in keeping me grounded. During this time, my family insisted I go to the gym each day. I remember the feeling of resistance I had. Simple things were just too much for me. But there was a glimmer of a feeling, deep inside myself, that I needed to go.

In addition to professional help and an invaluable support system, medication was part of my recovery. Yes, the “M” word. Not only is there the stigma, but also the concern, of taking medication. Does it mean I can’t breastfeed? If I don’t breastfeed, am I bad mother? With the support of my family and the advice of my doctor, I chose to breastfeed while on the medication. Not only that but I continued taking it through my second pregnancy. Deep down it was the necessary choice for me. I feel fortunate that my body responded well to the medication.

I would say it was a full year of recovery. The silver lining is that after the birth of my second child I remained healthy and was able to experience that first year of life in such a different way. I cherished each moment and lived in pure gratitude.

I will be ever grateful if, by telling my story, I have helped another Mother. I am inspired by the growth in available resources, and the increasing knowledge and acceptance of mental illness associated with postpartum.

A few resources you might find useful are:

Maternal Outreach Mood Services at El Camino Hospital

SVPPD – an email group for those affected by a postpartum mood disorder

http://www.jennyslight.org/

And remember, speak out!

Stacey Holmes grew up on the peninsula and lives in San Carlos with her husband and two children. A year ago she started a parenting newsletter for her son’s school and is enjoying writing about her Mommy experiences. She finds writing cathartic. Currently a stay-at-home mom she knows her work “outside the home” is by no means done. She believes in the power of mantras and the importance of breathing.

As we approached the security line at SFO, the butterflies in my tummy were all a flutter. I’ve flown many many times without batting an eye, but on this day, I had my almost 3 year old with me who has never set foot in an airport or on an airplane. Allie knew we were going to “fly like a birdie” to Seattle, but of course had very little concept of what that actually meant. Allie was already throwing a little fit as we approached the security line and I was finding myself wondering why I thought it was a good idea to book this trip. A few months ago I decided we needed to go to Seattle to visit our family. I hadn’t been up there since I was pregnant and it was a regular yearly trip before then. I thought it would be great to take a vacation right after my job at the hospital would be ending, take some time to decompress, just hang out with family and take Allie on this fabulous adventure with her first plane ride! Then here I was standing at the entrance to the security line thinking I must have been out of my mind! What had I gotten myself into?

Okay, I totally get our national security issues and appreciate the measures that are in place ~ but poor Allie doesn’t understand any of it, let alone why they had to take Pooh Bear from her AND I had to take off her shoes. This is a girl who ALWAYS takes of her shoes when I don’t want her too… but of course all hell broke loose when I took them off combined with losing Pooh Bear for a minute. Within seconds we were in full meltdown mode and I couldn’t fold the stroller up enough to fit through the scanner… while trying to get one of the agents to help me, I’ve got Allie in tears, totally confused by all the activity around her. Fortunately, I’d realized that I serendipitously landed in the Family and Extra Assistance security line. The family behind me was having the same difficulty and the folks getting assistance in wheelchairs looked at me with compassion and patience. I had no clue this line even existed and I totally stumbled into it! I took a deep breath, got everything through the conveyer, made up a story about Pooh Bear needing extra attention to be able to get on the plane with us, walked us through the metal detector together and just like that passed a major milestone in my life… getting through airport security with a toddler for the first time. WE DID IT!

I had received so much advice about traveling with Allie. I brought a well charged iphone, a portable DVD player, crayons, paper, books and snacks… and benadryl, just in case. She was having a grand old time on the plane, so much so that she was TOO excited and not using her inside voice (not even close). I had envisioned a crying Allie, but not an wound up, excited, screaming Allie. I know that the method I chose to handle this may be somewhat frowned upon, but I’d received the “Benadryl” advice from so many people that I felt comfortable giving her a small dose. Only problem is, we were already 45 minutes into the flight. By the time we landed she’d only been asleep for 45 minutes and was totally groggy. I felt like such a bad mommy! She was so upset and let everyone know… the tears flowed as we exited the plane… Parenting sure is a guessing game sometimes. I don’t like that I felt I had to turn to Benadryl and I know some people frown on this, but I’m learning.

Fast forward a week to our return flight. Sea-Tac also has a family line, yahoo! I felt much more efficient in my ability to get through ~ gave Allie the Pooh Bear pep talk ahead of time and she placed him in the bin Made it onto the plane without incident, but again she immediately got over excited and started screaming (loudly). This time she also started throwing her crayons, paper and books onto the floor. I made the decision to give her Benadryl again (I know, I know), but this time right before take-off. She slept the entire flight and woke up rested and not cranky like the first time. She was out of it a little, but was okay. I still do question whether the Benadryl thing is the right thing to do. I hope that all future flights she will be a perfect angel… like next year when we fly to (gulp…) New Zealand. o_O

Happy Travels to all you rockstar parents that fly with your little ones this summer!

In preparation for today’s blog post, I have been obsessively contemplating between two topics.  One is light and airy, and feel-goody all around – while the other is basically an admission of insanity.  I keep asking myself what I want my readers to think of me, and then I remember that I gave up caring!  In a recent email exchange with a friend of mine, I realized that the two go hand-in-hand – so lucky you, today you get two for the price of one.

Our previous house, which was the one we brought DJ home from the hospital to, was situated on a corner.  Her bedroom had a very large window that peered out onto the intersecting streets.  Our front yard didn’t have a fence.  I used to lay awake at night worrying that a drunk driver would come barreling over the sidewalk, across our grass and smack through DJ’s window toward her crib.  I asked my husband countless times if we could switch bedrooms with DJ, but never gave him a good enough reason (I omitted the disturbing vision that I just laid out above for the whole world to read). At this point, I understand that you’re either laughing in horror or disbelief, or you’re seriously worrying about my well-being. I get it.  It sounds so totally irrational when I say it out loud – but worries like these are completely and truly a part of my life.

I worry that DJ will wriggle free from my arms as I’m crossing the street and get plowed over by a semi truck.  I worry that she’ll drown in our toilet in the middle of the night (despite our child safety lock, and the fact that she can’t even reach her door knob to let herself out of her bedroom).  I worry that someone will break into our home, again, despite our alarm system, and somehow manage to snatch her from her bed while I am sleeping.  I worry that she’ll stop breathing.  I worry, worry, worry, about the most random and far-fetched scenarios.

This is the “admission of insanity” topic.  This is the topic that I’ve wanted to share week after week after week after week – but it just felt too glum to put into writing.  I’ve wanted to ask if any of you can relate, and I’ve wanted to say to anyone else who is haunted by such fears, “You’re not alone.”

I don’t worry about germs.  I don’t worry about illness.  I don’t worry about her choking on a grape.  I don’t worry about her happiness.  I don’t worry about her going hungry, or having her heart broken, or getting picked on in school.  I don’t worry that she’ll grow into adulthood confused about what she wants or who she is.  I just worry about the weird stuff.

Gosh, it feels so good to release all of that.  BLAH…..

Now, the feel-good part….I am madly, deeply, and profoundly in love with my daughter.  I have just made it through another storm (of tantrums), and am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel (if only temporarily, as I know the tantrums will last for years, decades, lifetimes to come).  I am seeing the sweeter side of DJ’s temperament, and am truly enjoying every second of her company.  I anxiously await each day together, excited about what new words she’ll use, what facial expression she’ll try out, and what new discovery she’ll make in her world.  I’m actually just in absolute awe of her….such a little person making such a huge impact.  I find no greater joy than watching people light up as they interact with her.  She’s truly a special girl.

I think it’s been the job.  That part time job that I took on about six weeks ago has helped me gain perspective on things that I’ve been struggling with for almost two years now.  You know, the “Who am I if I’m not working?” query.  Now that I am directing my attention away from DJ 15 hours a week, I am allowing myself to accept that being a full time stay-at-home mom is a pretty damn important job.  I am finally wrapping my head around the blessing, and pleasure, it is to have so much time with my girl.  And, I am accepting that I am a really cool chick – job outside of the home or not….I rock.

So, how do the morbid and the merry topics relate?  Well, I think that because I am so ridiculously in love with DJ, I have become consumed by thoughts of things outside of my control.  Why I choose to agonize over the absurd scenarios that I do is beyond me…..except that, I have a lot of confidence in the things that I can control – like meeting DJ’s needs.  It’s the things that could happen to harm her that make me nuts.  It’s like running through a fire drill – if I am prepared (by way of pondering), then we can potentially avert the ramifications.

Truth be told though, I know there are more things out of my control than within it.  I know that worrying won’t change the outcome of anything.  I know that wasting my energy on such horrific thoughts is only harmful to myself – and my daughter.  I also know that loving someone as unconditionally as I love my daughter comes with a huge responsibility to keep her safe and protected.  I know that I am doing the best that I can.  And, I know that she never ever ever needs to hear my irrational fears said out loud.

This is motherhood.  It’s beautiful, and it’s terrifying.  It’s bliss, and it’s angst.  It’s trust, and it’s doubt.  It’s control, and it’s surrender.  It is a perpetual internal struggle, and yet it’s the most gratifying and transformational experience in the world.  And I am grateful.

DJ had her 18 month check up last week – and it was awful.  I wish I could say that the shots were the worst part, but they weren’t.  Well, not to me anyway. I am certain that if DJ could talk in sentences, she’d fight that one to the bone!  I do have to say though, that for some reason, this round of vaccinations were traumatic for her.  She cried – wait, she wailed, for what seemed like hours.  She also took full advantage of the situation and is STILL (3 days later) making me kiss her “knee” – the only word she knows for the anatomy of her leg.

So, what could have possibly been worse than the giant needles jammed into her innocent skin?  THOSE DAMN PERCENTILE CHARTS.  Damn those wicked, debilitating, fear-mongering percentile charts.

DJ has always been small.  She was 6 lbs 7 oz when she was born, and while always healthy, has just never grown exponentially.  When I look at her, I see perfection of course – and it’s only when her pediatrician mentions her ranking against “other kids” that I begin to panic.  Can someone tell me who these other kids are?

Leading up to DJ’s appointment, I was feeling incredibly confident.  I had suspected that she had gained weight, and had even been getting taller.  Because I have always been slightly obsessed with her size because she’s always been ranked below the tenth percentile, and because people always comment on how petite she is – there was a lot, in my mind, weighing (no pun intended) on the numbers from this doctor’s visit.  I was telling myself that I would finally put this obsession to rest when the doctor was able to reassure me that DJ’s numbers went up.

“Well, she’s actually lost weight since her last visit 4 weeks ago.”  Wait, what?  I felt my whole body tense up, and I froze.  Well, everything except my mouth froze – and I began rattling off how this couldn’t be, and what did it mean, and how worried this all made me.  DJ’s doctor told me that she wasn’t concerned for a number of reasons – because DJ was going to be petite based on genetics (my husband and I are both shorties!), because developmentally DJ was ahead of the gang, and because she “looked wonderful.”

We left that appointment with another check-up scheduled in 2 LONG months (yes, I will be obsessing over this for the next 2 months…..daily) – and with me on the very edge.  I was so snappy with my poor husband – and later had to apologize, then admit that I was just so, so stressed out.  I had never prepared myself for news other than that DJ was soaring UP the growth charts.

I took DJ to the park when we got home.  I was texting my good friend (and fellow worrier) while I was watching DJ walk up the playground stairs and slide down the big kid slide.  I was desperate to find comfort, encouragement, support – even if just through a simple text.  While my friend was amazing, and said all the right words, I still vomited this story all over the first mom who even looked my way.

“She just had her 18 month check up.  She’s in the first percentile for weight.  I’m devastated.”  This poor mom was probably thinking, “Get a grip, psycho – and stop airing your dirty laundry.”  However, the really amazing thing about her was that she poured out all these candy-coated words of wisdom and assurance, and sprinkled them in with a little humor, “At least she’s not short and obese – that’s a yucky combo.”

My laughter must’ve been the green light for a playground dad to interject.  He told me that two of his three children were always under the tenth percentile for height and weight – and that by the time they both turned 5, they had caught up.  He was so sweet, and helped me reason through some of the inaccuracies associated with a percentile chart.   He even made it a point to comment on how much more advanced DJ was then either of his daughters were at her age – and even compared his 16 month old son with DJ, noting how she seemed leaps and bounds beyond his capabilities.  I was super touched that for a moment, this dad was willing to say that I had the smarter, more agile kid, because he knew how desperately I needed to hear it.

When I got back home, not only was I in a better mood – but, I was ever so slightly less anxious about the appointment.  I also remembered that DJ was in all of her clothes, shoes, and most likely pee-filled diaper at her last appointment.  This was an important detail to me because I remember briefly celebrating her weight last month, only to think “Oh, well, she is wearing a few pounds of clothes.”  So, really, I don’t think DJ lost weight from her last appointment – which was my greatest concern.

I can’t pretend that I haven’t been tossing “failure to thrive” around in my mind every other hour these past few days, but I am feeling more and more confident in DJ’s individuality.  She is never going to be a big person – there are no big people in either my or my husband’s family (by that, I seriously mean no one over 5’7”).  So, really, what do I expect?  If the doctor isn’t worried, why am I?

I will keep buying every toddler recipe book that I see, will keep up the butter-on-everything approach, will keep my cookie cutters readily available to make sandwiches and fruit more attractive, and will continue allowing a scoop of whole milk ice cream here and there in combination with all the rest of the uber-healthy food that I prepare fresh for DJ everyday – oh, and will keep surrendering my fears.  In my gut, I know she’s fine.

My baby girl is perfect – and I am so, so grateful for the strangers in the park a few days ago who were selfless enough to let me have the most perfect kid on the playground that evening.

P.S. I stayed awake until 2:00 this morning making food charts, lists of calorie-rich foods, and even new snack recipes.  Whether or not there’s something to worry about, taking control makes me feel like a better mom.

This week has went by well. I haven’t even thought about my period, about trying to conceive, or not ovulating. It felt so good to not worry and I think that I am on the right path. My psychologist told me that I need to work on my insomnia and anxiety. My form of anxiety is related to fast thoughts and thinking too much, which is contributing to my lack of sleep at night. These racing thoughts that just come up and I can’t even help it. They can be about my current situation; on me not being able to conceive, work, money, friends, family, and just things that have happened in the past. I am opting to go the natural route and not take any meds. Meds have caused me too much drama.

So far, so good. My psychologist recommended a few cool tips:

1. On a sheet of paper, divide it between two sections – worry and answer. On the left side, write down the racing thoughts that are going through your mind that are causing “worry.” On the right side, jot down the “answer” to those worrying issues. When you start worrying again, look at that sheet of paper.

2. Listen to white noise. These can help you to stop the racing thoughts and get your mind to focus on the sounds.

4. Breathing techniques-meditation. Be at a neutral position that is most comfortable for you (e.g., laying down, sitting completely still and free, sitting cross legged, etc).  Close your eyes and relax.  Let go of everything..forget about anything you have to do before this and after this very moment.  Start from the head all the way down.  Relax each muscle and take a deep breath.  Focus on the breath.

With these tips and being busy at work, I’ve been able to free my myself from anxiety.  I am very optimistic and I feel good about what is ahead of me.

With that, I noticed that my discharge has been a lot heavier.  I am more tired.  I’m craving carbs.  I should be having my period by next week..are these finally “natural” symptoms of a period?  I really feel close to being there….

I’m feelin like a pretty big girl right about now.  I did it.  I faced my biggest parenting fear tonight – peanut butter.  Yes, peanut butter.  Somehow, some way, the creamy goodness became my nemesis, and I (oddly enough) battled with the idea of it almost daily.

I don’t have any food allergies.  My husband doesn’t have any food allergies.  Neither do our parents – or even their parents.  And still, I became obsessed with anaphylactic shock.  I actually never realized that hives were a much more common symptom of a nut allergy than full blow anaphylaxis was until tonight, when my husband walked me through the “procedure.”

Prior to tonight, I had it all figured out.  DJ’s first taste of peanut butter would be in the car, which I was going to strategically park near Kaiser’s Emergency Room entrance.  That way, if DJ became short of breath, broke out in a crazy rash, started having seizures, etc. – I would be close enough to professional help (I don’t blame you for thinking that I’m the real one in need of professional help, and while that may be true – it’s another blog).

Perhaps this sounds insane (it might be).  Or maybe it even sounds insensitive for those who have experienced a serious allergic reaction (it’s not intentional).  However, it is the truth.  I was scared of peanut butter.  I was terrified that peanut butter would be the “thing” to make me say, “I just knew this was too good to be true.”  And that, my friends, is insane.

DJ has been an easy kid.  While she is 14 months old, and is experimenting with all that comes along with this age (as you know from last week, tantrums are still topping the list), her temperament is sweet and her quirks have been minimal.  I find myself wondering when the other shoe will drop more often than I celebrate how blessed we are to have had such a gloriously uneventful experience as parents thus far.  Somewhere along the line, while other moms were worrying about head injuries and kidnapping – I began worrying about peanut butter.

So, tonight became the night.  While standing in the kitchen with my husband and coming up short on ideas for snacks for DJ – we cut up an apple and I said, sheepishly, “Maybe we should try peanut butter.”  My husband reached for the jar almost immediately, but was kind enough to hear my hesitations and refer to Google for answers.  In that moment, I decided that I was tired of being controlled by my fears, and that I would prefer to triumph over this obsession with DJ, rather than to find out later she had a good ol PB&J while in someone else’s care.

“Peanut butter is number 8 on the list of top 10 allergies.  Milk and eggs are way above it.  She’s most likely to get hives, if anything. She’s unlikely to have an allergy if neither of us do.”  My husband read convincingly from About.com.  OK, DJ was already fine with eggs, fine with milk, and I knew that I was tough enough to handle hives.  As my husband grabbed a spoon, I grabbed the telephone (seriously, in case I needed to dial 9-1-1).  A little dollop on a slice of Fuji apple, and over to DJ’s salivating mouth it went.

It was completely uneventful.  She liked it – a lot.  However, she was more interested in watching our goldfish swim than she was in her newest delicacy.  I watched her like a hawk for several minutes following, before I realized what a complete whack job I was.

Now that the whole experience is over, and life in our home remains allergy free – I am trying to forgive myself for being insane, while also trying to put it all into perspective.  Listen, I am a mom.  I only want the best for my child, and if I think there’s potential for anything at all to hurt her, chances are, I’m going to fear it and try to steer DJ clear of it.

More than that though, I am a new mom.  I’ve never done this job before.  Fears and anxieties are going to manifest themselves in the strangest of ways.  Today, it was peanut butter – but God knows tomorrow it will be something else.  I am OK with that, so long as I don’t allow my fears to hinder DJ from trying new things.  Within reason, of course.

“Honey, while you’re at it, can you Google the health benefits of red wine again?”  I think I might need some positive affirmation tonight after facing my fears.

Since last week post period, we began to try. Of course, trying is always fun, but then in the back of your head you are always thinking. Thoughts that run through my mind:

- We have to make sure that my legs are in the air, so that the sperm can stay in.
- Am I ovulating?
- What if I fail again?
- Will this be the one?

I know it’s kind of silly to think these thoughts but they do run through my mind. Especially, coming from someone who has had a mild anxiety attack a year prior to starting to try. I remember when sex was just fun and exciting. Lately, it still is, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like there is more pressure, which is probably why I get such thoughts. I know that these things are just going to hurt me in the end. Everyone keeps telling me that I have to stop worrying or thinking about it. Believe me, I am trying, but it is damn hard.

I had lunch the other day with my friend. She told me that she and her husband both ran pre-natal tests and both had no problems, whereas in my situation, my brain is not telling me to ovulate. It took them at least a year to try, too, and she was perfectly fine. As soon as they stopped thinking about it, ta-dah! baby! I swear, everyone keeps telling me this..I mean how do you just stop thinking about it?

Luckily, I started seeing a psychologist. Gawd, I thought I’d never see one, not that they are bad or anything, but just that whole thing about seeing a shrink! The real reason for my visits is to help my insomnia and my anxiety. I am enrolling in an insomnia class, which is online. It’s 6 weeks. Folks have very high results, so I am very curious to see how this goes. For anxiety, my doc gave me some exercises to try. Mostly mind exercises to help slow my thoughts. I always pictured people laying on a couch and spilling their life to their shrinks but this was different, maybe because it was Kaiser? Anyways, I am hoping that this will help me clear my thoughts and thus, have a healthier mind. Who knows, maybe I am prego now..how awesome would that be? Let me now get ahead of myself here…until next week.