I'm Not a Zombie Today

Well, I got nearly seven hours of sleep last night, all in a row! It's been a lot harder than that lately, where I get two plus three hours, or four hours plus one or two. Getting Emma to sleep is the easy part. If she doesn't fall asleep with snuggling, I let her cry herself to sleep, so that's not the problem. It's getting those long stretches of uninterrupted sleep that's the challenge. I only have between 10pm and 6am to sleep, because I have to take care of everyone during the other times of the day. I try to get extra naps on the weekend, but that's not very consistent. I think prayer helped last night. I was thinking about how little engergy I have for my daycare kids these days, and how I wish I could be doing something else. I have a really delayed reaction to the endless, and pointless, bickering, and often wish all these people would just get out of my space. But I make good money doing daycare, so that's not going to change anytime soon. I was asking last night that something could change, either I get more energy, or miraculously find a different source of income. And guess what? Baby slept a long time last night. Hallelujah! I was so exhausted last night, that I did not cook dinner, and everyone fended for themselves. I think nearly all of us ate ice cream and popsicles for dinner. I'm such a good mom. Did I mention I'm trying to lose weight...

Also, it's confession time, I think. I'm ready to talk. I have to thank, or blame (hah, hah), Sue for her blog post on depression. It was like a long-distance, unintentional, intervention for me. I think I just got to a point where I was ready to admit that I've been miserable for over two years, and have been on a roller coaster of emotions. Most days I have been in a fog, with hardly any mental focus. And I have had crying bouts, where I hate myself intensely, wishing the kids had a better Mom, and Zen had a better wife. Don't laugh, but I even mentally picked out my replacement. It's not that I seriously contemplated suicide, I would never visit that kind of misery on Zen and the kids, but the self-loathing was just so intense. And it would just come and go, for no good reason, following by a short period of energy and enthusiasm. I'd often ask myself, "What is wrong with me?" And that would just make me feel worse, not having my act together. I hid the depression from my family (meaning Zen & the kids), not telling anyone how sad I was all the time. To me, it was more painful to try to explain myself and receive understanding, than to just keep it to myself. Although I'm sure the crankiness and anxiety were evident to everyone, the causes and related symptoms were not.

Anyway, after reading Sue's post, I just thought, "Okay, enough is enough," and I made an appointment with my doctor. I dreaded it, because I thought I would have to jump through all these hoops, and I'd face some kind of ridicule, or have to have several psychological evaluations to prove I needed some kind of medication. But it was so straightforward. He asked a bunch of questions, talking about my symptoms, and within minutes, he was satisfied with his diagnosis. It was textbook depression/anxiety. He says there has been such a stigma about depression, that the attitude has been that the patient should just suck it up, and get over it already on their own. And there's also been the problem that past medications have had a lot of side effects like grogginess. But he was saying that the medications available today are so much better, and have proven to be very helpful. He said that I should ask my family to pay attention to my feelings and attitudes, to see if they notice a change in the next four to six weeks. He says that often the patient doesn't notice much of a difference, but that the people close to them say, "Don't take them off their meds!" They notice a big difference. He also half-jokingly said that half of Rock Springs should be on meds, and that they should just them in the city water supply.

One of the symptoms that we discussed, and I had not even associated it with my feelings, is that I often have a hard time falling asleep, like my brain just won't shut up. It's this endless cascade of meaningless details that I can't shut off until nearly three or four in the morning. That is also related to depression/anxiety. And I can see now that I definitely have been getting strung out over little things, and not just since the pregnancy and birth. This isn't postpartum depression. It's been going on for several years. He told me that the sleeplessness and anxiety are from excess seratonin and melatonin(?) in my brain. He put me on Cymbalta, which is a serotonin and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor, meaning it helps to balance all these chemicals racing around in my brain.

I left the appointment feeling a huge sense of relief. I'm not crazy! And now I can be on the road to getting myself back. I've only been on Cymbalta for about 10 days now, but I've noticed that the intense self-hatred has gone away. And though I could certainly have a reoccurence of that, I know that I haven't gone this long without it in a very, very long time. My doc said it could take up to six weeks to notice a change, and while I don't feel a big turnaround in other respects, I think there's light at the end of the tunnel.

Lazy Summer Evening

I hate the summer heat, but love the cooler summer evenings. Zen and I had our first date last night, in who-knows-how-long. We went and worked out at the gym. It kicked my rear end a little more than it used to, but I was glad to be back on the elliptical. I'm only about five pounds away from where I was before I got pregnant, and I'm determined to keep going, so that I can drop below 200 by Christmas. I'm pretty sure that would take me out of the "big girl" plus sizes department, and back into the regular sizes department. The high end of the sizes, yes, but still, the clothes are cuter and cheaper there, generally. Santa might bring me clothes for Christmas this year, and I might actually appreciate it! A girl can dream...

Anyway, after the workout and back home for a shower, Zen and I went and got ice cream at Cold Stone. I guess that kind of negated the benefit of the workout, but I guess it's the workout that let me go eat ice cream! Muy yummy! I love the Oatmeal Cookie flavor. Add caramel and nuts, ohhh it's heavenly! Did I mention I'm trying to lose weight? Oh, well...

Between the workout and the ice cream, the kids and I sat around on our front porch and watched Connor run in the sprinkler. Gil was asking me the other day, what his favorite thing to do was when he was little like Connor, and I said, "Play computer." Still true. Connor's favorite thing is to play in the water. He loves to stand at the sink and just pour water back and forth, dunk his cars in cups of water, and make waterfalls with the faucet and cups. If I were to sum up his fascination with water, I would say he most loves "water flow." I still get a kick out of looking at pictures of Lagoon last year, where he looks like he's going to die of boredom on all the kiddie rides, but he was in heaven running back and forth in the interactive water fountain near the entrance, where it shoots out water arcs in time to music. He had a blast!


Happiness is...




I love this picture. Gil took it for me last night. He has good instincts, si'?

Catch Me If You Can

Gas shmas. Emma is on the verge of smiling at people, and meaning it! I caught her smiling here when she had just fallen asleep, a feat she often performs after she's had a bottle and is feeling drowsy. Just as she falls asleep, she smiles! She'll even giggle a little. It's so cute! I talk to her a lot when we snuggle and you can see her thinking, and wanting to mimic what I do. It won't be long before she's smiling like crazy. Do you see her double chin? She just looks so much healthier these days than she did at a few weeks old after losing nearly a pound with my lame breastmilk. Scroll down and compare the pictures. I bet she's eight pounds now.

One-Month-Old Fat Bunny

Here's cutie pie, exactly one month old today. And she's officially a Fat Bunny now. I took her in to get a weight check a few days ago, and she now weighs 7lb. 5oz., a big improvement from the last week, at 6lb. 2 oz. Formula is doing its job.
Her face is really starting to fill out.

Getting a little chunkiness in the thighs, there. It's the only stage in life where fat thighs are a good thing.

Sorry, I had to ruin the mood with a goofy pic, but babies unintentionally make the silliest faces. I had to post this one. Insert your own caption.

Road Trip to Sheridan - Part 2

More Sheridan pics:

Aaaah... nothin' like like bummin' around at the hotel pool.
Kids in hotel rooms only lead to jumping sessions.
The steak was great, but kids were still tired!
Sheridan Rodeo - Crow races. I kept wondering how much pain those guys were in racing around bareback, if you know what I mean. Although, I'm sure the Native Americans figured out how to ride bareback without injury hundreds of years ago.
Classic Bronc Riding!
Sheridan Parade Friday morning. I just love that people were watching the parade from the balcony. Sheridan downtown was so lively, unlike the main street in many small towns.

Amazingly, Emma slept through the whole noisy thing, even the gunshots from the cowboys!
Hey, even the Scotts made it to the Sheridan parade!
Random - someday, I want to own a car this color. I love it!
One group was handing out balloon shapes, but Connor's sword didn't even last a minute before he popped it.
Ginormous playground at Kendrick Park.
Four spring/summer babies in 2008. What will 2009 bring?
This was the best one. Could I get some cooperation, here?
Classic Sheridan experience - ice cream in the park. What was your favorite flavor?

Road Trip to Sheridan

If you only go 375 miles, is it really a road trip? Random thought. Road trip just sounds like a really, really, really long trip that takes more than one day. Although, only seven hours in the car with kids feels like a really, really long time, too.

Man, I could blog about this trip to Sheridan for days, so instead of giving a blow-by-blow account, I just want to throw out some highlights here. I shot about 800 pictures, and today deleted about 300 of them as just junk. That still leaves me with about 500. That's more pictures than I have taken of Emma's birth and beyond. Is that messed up? I can't decide. Anyway, here goes:

We headed down the road Wednesday morning, and about noon we were just driving down the road, and lo and behold, we pass Martin's Cove. Holy Cow! I had no idea we would be anywhere near this historical site. So, we stopped for a few minutes to look around at the visitor's center. Kudos to Sue for taking her little family to the Cove Saturday afternoon and actually doing a little trek. I had enough mutiny on my hands from my teenager with the 30-minute detour Wednesday. I cannot imagine having to talk the kids into doing a trek on the spur of the moment, but perhaps with some preparation, they might be willing... Sue, it reminds me of all the times Dad stopped on the side of the road to take pictures of flowers and scenery, and how much belly-aching he had to put up with from us. Karma has come around and bitten me on the butt. Now, I when I take detours, my kids are giving me heck.



We stopped by the riverbank and listened to a little 10-minute history of the handcart pioneers. It's a miracle any of those people lived, and I cannot imagine having their courage, especially as those they loved died around them. Heartbreaking and uplifting all at once.

Thursday morning, at the Sheridan cemetery, to have the memorial service for Gram.


Everyone wore a little tartan plaid ribbon. Emma was the cutest in our family, although I had to laugh at Connor because he refused to wear his, and Zen secretly pinned it to the back of his collar.
A landmark, of sorts, at the cemetery. Does this have a story, anyone?

Darn it, Blogger quit loading pictures, so I'll post this for now, and either edit this post to add more pics tomorrow, or just add another post. Good night.

The Beginning of the End

Not a perky blog post title, I know, but I feel a little melancholy today. I took Emma in for her two-week checkup (although really almost three weeks now), and she is just not gaining weight. She was 6lb. 9.9 oz. at birth, 6lb 1oz. when she left the hospital, 5lb. 15oz. at one week, and only 6lb. 2oz today. Which means that although she really enjoys nursing, and so do I, the quality of my breastmilk is poor and she isn't thriving. So, here comes the formula. I kind of want to cry, not wail in despair, mind you, but I feel sad that nursing just doesn't work for me. But at kid number four, it doesn't come as much of a surprise. After all, nursing didn't work very well for the first three, why should it make much of a difference this time? But I was hopeful, due in no small part to the fact that Emma's a champion nurser, had it down pat from the first time just hours after she was born, and she loves to nurse. I could tell that she wasn't getting enough, though, because at night, she just nurses and nurses for hours, practically nonstop, like she just can't get enough. I've been keeping a little log, so I could track her nursing and sleeping patterns, and I decided, based on this super-hungry time and the fact that I knew she wasn't gaining weight, to go ahead and give her formula at this time of night.

So, today's weight check just reaffirmed what I already knew: it's time to go to formula. I'll probably still nurse her three or four times a day, but it's mainly going to be formula now, instead of breastmilk. Why "The Beginning of the End"? Because the reality is that she will probably give up the nursing sooner rather than later. It's just a guess, but it's very likely what will happen, because as she learns that formula is more satisfying, she'll grow impatient with the nursing. I know, I know, I should just be happy doing what's best for her, instead of what I want, but I'm just taking a minute here and letting go of the nursing commitment. I'll miss our special time, when we could just sit and be together, without interruption, as I nurse her sitting quietly and stroking her head. Sigh... And I know that bottle-feeding her is going to change that, because we'll sit together less, and I'll wind up giving her to other people more, as I extract myself from my "nursing couch" and try to get more stuff done for other people (Zen & my kids, daycare kids, endless chores like dinner, bills, & laundry). When I got back from my appointment this afternoon and told Zen that I've got to feed Emma more formula, he said, "Well, it's about time!" He's not very much amused by the time-consuming nature of nursing. He wants his wife back.

P.S. Sitting in the hospital, I was thinking, "I'm going to blog almost every day, and put up lots of cute pictures of Emma!" Boy, did that go out the window. Maybe the switch to formula will bring a positive benefit in that respect: more time for blogging. Anyway, although today is mostly wordy, here are a few pics of Emma:

28 June 2008 She's so small! And way too skinny. Here comes the formula!

Emma at two weeks old on July 1st. My sweet pea. Emma's nicknames: "Bunny Bunny" "Snuggle Bunny" "Baby Bunny" or just "Bunny"