The New Me

I want to start this by saying there will be some graphic descriptions of my miscarriage below.

Please use discretion while reading, and take this as a trigger warning for miscarriage.

Thank you.

Hi there! My name is Melody. I am happily married to the most wonderful man, and I have two adorable children, a boy and a girl. I have two dogs, and two cats. We own our home, and I am a stay-at-home-mommy for my babies. From the outside, my life is just perfect.

12 months ago, my world was rocked and my life changed forever.

On Valentine's Day, February 14th, 2014, at 2:30am, I woke up to labor pains. I could feel my uterus contract every few minutes. After already having two children, I knew what contractions felt like. I was laboring in my back as well. I figured the safest place for me to be was in the bathroom. I sat on the toilet. Watered down blood gushed out of me with every contraction. After about 30 minutes or so, I essentially gave birth. 

Everything I could get my hands on said that a fetus at that gestational age, if naturally miscarried, would come out in pieces, and would be unrecognizable to the eye. There wouldn't be "body parts" it would just look like thick uterine lining. I even looked up images to see if I could find anything to prepare myself for the inevitable. Nothing prepared me. Nothing.

My baby came out whole. I was able to pull it out of me. It was a baby. It was tiny. It was about an inch and a half long, and it fit in the palm of my hand. I worked hard to stand up and go to the sink. I carefully cleaned my baby off. In my heart of hearts, I knew it was a girl. I was able to put her hand on the tip of my pinky finger. I cried the quietest, biggest, wettest, hottest tears I've ever cried. My head was pounding, I was weak (yet still able to lean on the sink), and I couldn't fathom the why.

There likely was a medical reason for whatever happened... my hormone levels may have been off. My body was not fit to grow another life. The baby may not have attached properly. There could be any number of reasons as to why I had a miscarriage, but none of them help me feel better. I already had two very successful pregnancies, why not this one? Why?

After about 30 more minutes, I carefully put the baby on some toilet paper, gently wrapped her up, slid her in the water, and sadly, flushed the baby down the toilet.

It broke my heart. It changed me.

For the last 12 months, I've been struggling with seemingly insurmountable depression, while still needing to be the steady and constant mommy for my little ones. While still wanting to be the wife and friend I've always been. While still wishing I could be me, the me I knew, the me I always had been.

The me I always had been isn't the me I am now.

This is the new me.

The last 12 months have shaped my life, not for the better or worst. I'm still me, I'm just in a different place. I have had experiences that have changed my life. It's still my life, I still want it, and I love it.

Yes, I had a miscarriage. But I've also helped my husband rescue an adorable 7 week old kitten from our engine! My husband and I got to spend our anniversary in Beverly Hills! We took an incredible weekend trip to Palm Springs! We got to sit just a few feet away from Paul McCartney while he performed for the first time at the Dodgers Stadium in LA in 48 years. We saw the most amazing orchestral performance of Danny Elfman's Music from the Films of Tim Burton, which included Danny Elfman singing his songs from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Our son is going to be starting Kindergarten in just a few months, and my daughter was in an editorial photo shoot. We visited family in Michigan for the first time in our entire marriage! I've made so many new friends and have developed so many wonderful relationships. 

I can't dwell on the bad times, because there were so many incredible times.

The miscarriage was a terrible, horrible experience that I wouldn't wish on anyone. It put me in a club no one wants to be a part of. But I've done so many fantastic things with the people that I love...

Who knows what the next 12 months have in store for the new me?

My Heart's In Overdrive

There are a lot of things in the world that make me crazy. A lot of things that stress me out. A lot of things that make me feel like if they happen one more time I'm seriously going to explode or freak out or turn into Katie Kaboom or I don't know, just lose it. Whatever 'it' is, it will be lost.

I'm a mom of two kids not yet in school. My house is always a mess. My kitchen is tiny and I rarely get to cook. No matter how much laundry I do, there's always more. My dog sheds so much, I don't know how she still has fur. The only quiet time I get is after 11pm, after starting the day at 6:30am. I almost always have a headache. Something is always happening. Always.

My life is a roller coaster. Sometimes I'm giggling at the adrenaline rush, sometimes I'm screaming at the loops, it twists, it turns, I hold my breath and wait for it to drop again, going a million miles an hour, I just throw my hands up and go with it. It's fun, it's scary, and it's crazy. There are moments that rush you, and moments that take your breath away.

In all of this crazy I have going on constantly, there's one thing that makes my life just stand still for a second. It feels like those pictures where everything is moving except for one thing standing perfectly still... It's the one thing that makes me stop and shhh and wait. It pulls the stress away, it makes me breathe, it makes me calm. Except the thing isn't a "thing," and it isn't an "it." The one is my husband. My best friend. My world.

He is the best thing that has ever happened in my life.

When I met him, he was the 4th person I had been tossed to that day. We were at work, customer service for Arbonne International. It was my first day on the job with actual real-life training, but every person before hadn't been on the right time schedule, so they kept moving me around. I remember seeing him that morning and thinking he was kinda cute, but by the time I got to him, I was annoyed, snarky, and sarcastic. He was still cute, and also shy and sweet. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne, he wore clothes that were too big for him, and he had slicked back hair that sometimes fell in his eyes. He was calm and talked low, and he was so kind to the little old ladies on the phone... I can't tell you how many of them wanted to introduce their granddaughters to him.

I said something once that made him laugh... oh that laugh. That smile. The way he covered his mouth and leaned in to the laugh, holding his stomach... his eyes sparkled. It was the greatest thing I'd ever seen, and it hit me hard. I knew, even if "nothing happened," we'd always be a part of each other's lives.

After a couple days of training, early morning start times, smoke breaks (he would smoke, I just pretended), lunch hours, and overtime, I got my own desk and computer. He was down the aisle one over from me, and I had to look way over my shoulder to see him. I missed him already. I didn't know how he felt, but I'd pretty much fallen for him. I didn't know what to do, so I sent him an email. One line. No subject.

"You know you miss me :)"

I heard his quiet laugh right after I sent it, and I looked over my shoulder to see him looking up at me smiling...

We were married 3 months later, July 8, 2006.

We've struggled together, survived together, had fun together, and have grown up together. We have experienced loss and life. Friends have come and gone. Babies, pets, jobs, cars, and living situations.

For the last 8 years, this man has been making me laugh with his one liners, cry over his sincerity, fight with heart, and love with every ounce of my being. With just one look, one smile, one hug, one kiss, him holding my hand, just being with me... everything that could ever stress me out or make me crazy just melts away.

I sooooooooooo love my husband, you guys. I love him more than Dr. Pepper, Classic Barbies, photography, and coffee ice cream. I love him more than sandwiches and Disneyland and the Wedge. I love him more than red lipstick, classic cars, and tattoos.

I love him...

...k, gonna go cuddle him now.

What A Stressful Day... (Has Taught Me)

I'm sitting here in front of the computer in a Melatonin-induced calm after vocally exploding for the (exaggerated) 100th time today. My 3-year-old told me no, again, whined and cried "for no reason," and my 1-year-old bit me while I was nursing her to sleep, after she tried to practically scalp me. After a day like the day I just had, these were the last straws. I freaked out. I cried. I lost my proverbial shit. I was done. Done with the Mommy-job, done with the kids, done with the day. Really, done with the last two weeks. I stormed out in a hot mess of angry tears, and ended up here. And here I go...

Who knew a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old could cause so much stress and frustration to a relatively patient and calm, 27-year-old woman? My babies, my hearts, my all and my everything... they're the source of my inevitable destruction.

I'm not a bad mom. I'm not a perfect mom, and I don't even think I'm a great mom... but I'm a good mom. My kids are taken care of. They are loved. They KNOW they are loved, and they love me. We smile, we laugh, we have tickle fights. We go to Disneyland pretty regularly. We really do have a good time together. I get to stay home with my babies, and I get to teach them and watch them grow every single day. Every single day they amaze me with something new. Even today, one of the worst days I've had in a while, I watched my 3-year-old play a game on my husband's phone that I'm pretty sure I couldn't figure out (and I'm pretty good with video games!). I saw my 1-year-old make up a new little dance sequence. They're adorable, and they're killing me.

I don't know where I went "wrong" in all this. Not a friggin' clue. Back when I said I'm a good mom, I meant it. That means I tell them "no" and I exercise patience, as well as teach it to them. There is discipline in this family. I'm not afraid of them hating me for 5 seconds when I tell them they can't have this or that. I love them and they are really good kids, but somewhere in the last, oh, I don't know... month or so? Somewhere they found a loophole and, together, have figured out how to walk all over me.

I don't want to have an explosive personality. I don't want to yell or scream. I don't want them to expect that from me. I don't want that at all. So how do I keep it from happening?

You know when you're out in a restaurant and that one kid just goes ballistic? Just completely inconsolable, and their parents are sitting there mortified, either paralyzed from embarrassment or doing everything they can to calm their kid down before inevitably making the rounds outside, leaving the other parent to sit there looking around, going, "I swear my kid has never done this before! S/he's usually so great, I have no idea what's going on!" While every other patron is sitting there thinking, "yeah, RIGHT." I totally get that. I completely, 100% understand that. I am that mom now. Me and my husband, we're those parents. That kid, those are my babies. It's literally like a switch just flipped, and I can't for the life of me figure out how to switch it back.

Since I'm with my babies 24/7, I've figured out a sequence in their learning. First, they learn to eat and then they learn very basic communication (waaaaahhh!). Then they learn that different sounds mean different things. Sounds get more complex. They learn to control their arms and legs and head, and they learn to get around. Wiggle, crawl, stand, walk, run... They push themselves past their boundaries to the next milestone. We, as parents, cheer them on, encourage them, teach them, and keep them moving forward. They hurl themselves to the next boundary, the next milestone... "Mama, Dada, Hi, ByeBye!" and we're there throwing mini parties. Then they locate their independence... "No, don't touch that." "No, put that back." "No, come over here." "No, don't do that." "Here, take this." "Look at this!" Distractions. Tell them no. Play keep away. They want to get to the next boundary and push past it. They don't understand limits. There are no limits. It is literally their job, their only job, to find their boundaries, push their boundaries, and discover their limits. And it is our job, as parents, to put those boundaries in place and be there to enforce the limits. It is our job to tell them no and point them, coach them, in the right direction. My kids might only be 1 and 3, but I *know* that this sequence and these jobs will really never stop. Ever. You don't ever stop being a parent. I'm a married, 27-year-old mother of two, homeowner, and I still get coached in the right direction by my parents. (Mom, Dad, I appreciate the hell out of you guys. Thank you for always being there for me.)

Here's the thing, I want my kids to WANT to do the right thing. I don't want to have to sit here going, no, no, no, No, NO, NO! That sucks. I just want them to know not to do whatever it is they are thinking of doing. How do I make that happen? I have to enforce rules and boundaries. I have to teach them. I have to coach them.

Everyone needs a reminder now and then. Even I need reminders... They don't know what I know. I can't expect them to know what I know. But I can teach them what I know, and I can be there when they don't listen. I will be there when they experience the things I know. I know what it's like to be told no. I know what it's like to get burnt by the stove. I know what it's like to taste cocoa powder (I really wish I listened to my mom when she told me not to taste it...). 

So, this stressful day of stress and frustration and stress and STRESS has actually been beneficial to my career choice, and I guess somewhat therapeutic for me. I need to remember that my babies are just that... my babies. I love them more than anything I have ever loved in my entire life. There are no words to describe the love I have for them. I want the best for them, and right now, I am the best for them. I need to keep being the best for them, so I need to be the best me I can be. I need to remember that they are little. They are learning. They are learning more now than they'll ever learn in the future. They can push my buttons and they can (try!) to walk all over me, so I have to get ready. And anyways, who am I trying to kid? If I can't handle them now, what the hell am I going to do when they're teenagers?! 

Babies, Mommy is back. With patience, kindness, and unwavering love.

Mommy is here. 

I'm ready.

You Finally Made It!

Today I took my sister and her boyfriend to the airport, so they could do the Vegas getaway. While I was there, I saw something so incredibly sweet. Maybe it was just sweet to me, maybe I was reading too much into it, but I loved it and it made me think a little.

There was a little old lady, tiny frame, skinny, short haircut, looked rather frail, had to have been in her 70s or 80s. This lady was walking in front of the airport terminals searching for someone. She was holding a sign that was equally as big as she was, you can tell she made it all by herself. In big red letters, the sign said:

"Welcome Caroline! You FINALLY made it to California!!!"

She painted a bright yellow sun in the top left corner, and a bunch of blue waves at the bottom. (I wish I got a picture!)

Like I said, she was walking around searching for, I'm assuming, Caroline. And again, assuming, Caroline must be one of her old friends who always vowed she'd make it to sunny California some day, and today was that day.

It made me think a little more about where I live and how lucky I am to be here. To be born and raised in one of the most beautiful and sought after places in the world. I'm less than an hour away from Hollywood, about an hour from San Diego, in the heart of Orange County, 10 minutes from Disneyland, and another 10 from Newport Beach. I grew up going to places a lot of kids dream about. Songs were written about the beaches where I made sand castles with my sister. People from all over the world dream about and want to go to California. It is, after all, the Golden State!

So many people I knew growing up were dying to get out of here, only left wishing they could come home once they were gone. I, too, have made the outrageous claims to want to leave here... but then I realize how silly it is. Of course I want to leave here, everyone wants to leave their home now and again; that's what kids have a desire to do. I want to travel, I want to visit new places and say I've been "somewhere," but I really don't think I want to live anywhere else in the world. Granted, I haven't been to very many places, but I do know that I've never been anywhere I'd like to live, more than my hometown.

I know this isn't the place for everyone... I know so many people who absolutely love where they live, and I think that's fantastic! I know there is good and bad in every city, in every county, but to find the beauty where you live is something you hold in your heart. I grew up here, my parents and grandparents grew up here or moved here with their children. My parents went to the schools I went to. I met my husband here and had our babies in the same hospital my mother was born. That's something really special! It's history, MY history, the history of my family and our family, right here... we don't have to go looking for it. I love that.

I really do love where I live, and now that we've had our babies here and I know we'll be raising our family here, I feel like I really have FINALLY made it!

It's good to be home, and I know there's no place like it.

Stay Golden, California!