unfinished

The truth is I've struggled a lot with mental health and my relationship with alcohol in my adult life. Those relationships have waned and waxed like the moon from the time I had to come home from Texas Tech when my dad was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver throughout motherhood to today. I hold a lot of things that I've made public knowledge and much I haven't even admitted to myself, I'm sure. When I lost Holland, I was told so often I was an inspiration. I never felt that myself, but I wanted to be. Before even losing her, I drank often...sometimes just a bit, sometimes to the point of blackout, on any given day. I drank to relieve stress, to celebrate, to cope, to forget, to laugh, to feel less anxious in general and especially socially. for the longest time, alcohol was my confidant, my pat on the back, my brave voice, my secret keeper, my boredom solution, my only friend. I didn't need a reason to hang out with alcohol. I never really thought or accepted that it was excessive, even though my first therapist in 2016 who diagnosed me with extreme depression and anxiety, told me I was on the verge of alcoholism. I was gobsmacked--I didn't drink during the day hardly ever or have to have it to function, or have any of the side effects alcoholics have NOT drinking so I shook my head and ignored that shit. So after losing Holland, of course this magnified. I stuff a lot of feelings down inside, so I drank more to FEEL. I actually like to feel, but on my own terms. I was still waiting til normal non-addicted people started drinking so I still didn't have a problem, right?! I'd justify that if the clock was anywhere between normal business hours, the booze wasn't flowing so it was all good...well unless it was a holiday, I was excessively stressed, Taylor happened to crack one open or something to that effect. 2019 was the year it all magnified and intensified and I was drinking daily and it was second nature. I stayed home and inside more and more. I socialized less and less. I justified things more and more. Excuses were like opinions on Facebook....free-flowing and mostly delusional. I'd switched from mostly beer, to wine in boxes and began liquor store trips weekly to biweekly. Taylor and I fed off each other and he holds in how he feels OFTEN and is unconfrontational so he was usually doing the buying aka enabling.

My consistent friend was a downer though, while she brought along "FEELS" and sometimes laughter, mostly she brought along shame, deeper depression and inconsistency. The camel's back should had broken by the hundreds of instances over the years I'd embarrassed myself, did something I shouldn't have, said something I didn't mean, heard from close friends and family who only knew a piece of it how I needed to chill and so much more. The camel's back was piled higher than a skyscraper with straws that should have broken it but denial and inaction are strong mother fuckers. My dad made Jessica promise on his death bed to get my issue figured out, he didn't want me going through what he did....he'd told me long before that it wasn't worth it. Still, I drank. My kids knowing they couldn't drink after me without asking if it was wine, should have sent a sign, but still I drank. My sister sending her daughter to Kansas when she needed a vacation babysitter instead of asking me, should have sent a sign...and her finally admitting she couldn't trust me with the constant alcohol even if I waited til Spencer was asleep, should have sent a sign..but I thought I could just chill if asked to babysit, not considering the lack of chill in general was what she meant on never asking.

I can't pinpoint when I realized I actually had a huge problem but I wanted help and knew I couldn't do it alone sometime since Tucker started school. I didn't know how to do it and I didn't have the will to figure it out. I wanted someone to reach out and save me....but as I later found out, all my closest people were afraid of taking action for fear of me cutting them off and getting worse. I'm not a petty person by any means, but the consensus between family and close friends was that I'd cut them off. I was tired of spending time not feeling good, tired of going to the fridge, tired of knowing I wasn't proud of the person looking back at me in the mirror... tired of waking up to delete another thing I shouldn't have said or done from my phone and memory. I wanted to be done but I kept on because helplessness and fear. The Taurus in me despises change and surprises. It got so bad that if I didn't have something to drink in the house that would get me through a day or so, I'd plan a backup so I never had to be out. I may have gone through 2 boxes of wine a week, or 2 bottles of whatever, 3 if Taylor was participating which he mostly did.

The amount of time I spent thinking of death at any given time is proof of my strength because I'm still breathing. I'm a stubborn Taurean bull, remember?! I commit and commit hard to things like self destruction and things I can't change LOL. I'd

losing

Have you ever held something in, maybe a lie..maybe a truth...maybe an entire story and it felt like it was eating at you? It feels like a gigantic cancer eating at your insides and you want to get it out but don't know how? Like a cyst growing inside you removing any working organs and replacing it with itself.....? YOU are not the cancer or cyst. The untold story. I've spilled certain beans, I've mentioned things but this untold story is that growth I would like to minimize. I hope this helps me breathe, to do you justice, to feel better....for myself and for our family.


I don't really know how to start this but I guess everyone knows it doesn't end well. This is a story that doesn't have a happy ending or give you warm fuzzies and replenish your faith in the world. or.....i guess it could if you've got your rose colored glasses on and its not YOUR baby, your home or your life. Good things HAVE happened, people have shown up and I really try not to be negative, I swear, I JUST HATE THIS.

The story is divided into two parts because I guess I am divided into two parts: before and after. A certain me will never be who I was, no matter how much I pray, hope, medicate, relive, avoid or any attempt to be old me. Old me gave birth to a sweet baby February 21, 2018. It was the most glorious birthing situation one could imagine. Her birth was even featured on babycenter with her photos. I felt like I was killin it in the mom game just in general for the first months. We didn't know if the baby was going to be a boy or girl, we'd already had one of each so the surprise was pretty fun. I can honestly say I soaked her in. I didn't get upset when she didn't sleep, only when I couldn't fix it. I didn't feel slighted, or bitter or traumatized like I did after Tucker. By now I was used to mommin' and I felt BLESSED. so many 2 am or 4 am photos where I was just soaking you in, not self deprecating humor about my bad luck or whatever it is I do when I'm tired of the older kids. LOL

We could feel the walls closing in on us in that house on Honeysuckle. It was small. I'd worked at getting Tucker and Quinn to share a room months before I gave birth so we'd have a nursery. We bought a triple bunk bed for TTQ sleepovers, but legitimtately every night was just a sleepover but the kind where no one sleeps. Husband working 5-6 hours away, 2-3 kids every day, pregnant, this did not fly. We started looking for a new house and fell in love with one in Joshua. The neighborhood seemed safe, we wanted more space, we wanted to expand. I packed an entire house nearly alone so late June and early July I was always BUSY. You were not being soaked in as much as I previously had. You were satiated so I could get my to do list checked off. I propped bottles to pack boxes and I REGRET THAT. I should have stared into your eyes more, stroked your hair, patted your butt...should have taken deep whiffs of you....but I forgot how important that was those weeks. I get my priorities mixed up because I want to do it all. I try to do it all. I can't do it all. You and your siblings should have been it all. Nothing bad happened yet, I just truly regret those few weeks at Honeysuckle where I was too busy to be better to you. You grew, you thrived, you got bigger, you enjoyed your life. I was your person. Your 2nd favorite person was Tucker.

September 24, grandpa got to watch you alone for the very first time. He volunteered so we could take the kids to the indoor water park for Tucker's birthday. Grandpa and I agreed on a lot of things, disagreed on just as many.... but I am a control freak and wanted to make absolute certain you'd be okay. You were. He enjoyed it. He'd already had a relationship with Tucker, Quinn, and Teagan. He wanted the chance for a relationship with you, too. I relenquished my perfectionism, the thought that we couldn't go somewhere if Granna wasn't watching ya'll. We had a fun time. I chewed my nails a bit relenquishing some control and leaving you for the first time, especially with my dad. He felt important, happy, needed, lucky, joyful watching you. You were you, afterall. We all felt that way in your presence, and that's not just something I say lightly, I'm aware we martyr the deceased..forget the bad. You were just GOOD.

I still keep the text conversation from my dad and the way it went....because the spectrum of good to bad is right there in one screenshot. "how's the baby?" I sent a picture of the fun we were having. He said you were just fine. We got home, grandpa left. Normal life. The next text from Grandpa was 4 days later..... "I'm so sorry I WISH I could take away your pain."

So
I spent the day you died doing normal things. Normal things like celebrating your brothers birthday, making meals, decorating for fall. These normal things I now brace myself for. I brace myself for every day. I am so tired of getting used to the day. I'm so tired. You wouldn't want any of this. You wouldn't want everyone's life revolving around how sad your mom is. You wouldn't like who I am now...the "after" me. I'm trying, I promise. But I'm not anyone to look toward, anyone to follow. I can fill my days with a million things, but none of them are you, so sometimes I give up. I give in. I sleep, I drink, I eat. I walk and talk but everywhere I go and every thing I do is full of you, the moments that make me tear up and feel like you're close....and the ones where I stare blankly til I can process a sentence, or the ones where I reach for a bag to throw up into because something zoomed me back to that horrible night. Flashing lights. Sirens. The mention of CPR. Cords and wires. September. Decorating. I just carry it all.

September 28, 2018 We'd been in our new pretty house for about 2 months. I had been wishy washy on how I wanted everyone's rooms, projects to do to make it how we wanted it, if Tucker was mature enough to have his own bathroom, etc so you were still in a pack n play in our room. You had just outgrown the rock n play since you started sitting up. Taylor spent the morning mowing. I was decorating for fall this day and the night before because I love holidays and I love decorating, I love Dollar Tree and I love Pinterest, I LOVE CREATING. (LOVED, I guess. I'm speaking of the old me.) My in-laws came by around noon to bring belated birthday gifts for Quinn and Tucker. It was a Friday. I dressed you in a pink footy pajama outfit with a pink headwrap bow for the visit with granna and pawpaw. You were happy. I showed granna how if I sat you in your bouncer and you could hear my voice from anywhere in the room, you'd follow my voice. I was your person, remember? I was your home. We laughed. The kids played with their new toys. They fought a bit over who and what was cooler. At 1 something, granna and paw paw left, daddy was leaving for work at 1:30 and you were starting to get frustrated with the overstimulation of noise and being passed around so I started to change the bedding in the pack and play. We knew you were just about to break that tooth, too. Daddy made your bottle. You could hold it, and you'd fall asleep. You hadn't spit up for months. We had this under control. The night before you died, dad wanted to watch tv so he rolled your "bed" into our bathroom. That wasn't your first unconventional sleeping arrangement. We'd just had friends come in from out of state and 7 kids in one house gets loud, so you slept in the massive closet...the closet I was so proud of with so much storage and connected to the laundry room and my bathroom. I always wanted that. This day, since your bed was already in the bathroom, we just kept you in there. You were fussing and it seemed faster if we just got you a full belly, warm bed & sleep. So we tag teamed this nap, like we so often did. We were a pretty good team we thought. Dad kissed you, he left. I started back on my decorations while Tucker and Quinn went wild with their toys. I kept having to shush them into the play room....but they never lasted long in there. Tucker was his sisters keeper and you were not allowed to make a peep before officer Tucker reported a noise. You didnt make any. Getting teeth and socializing are tiring. I checked on you at some point during the afternoon, we were loud, you were fine. I decorated. Kids did their thing, you did your thing. I made a bottle again around 5 pm. You took it, I closed the door. You werent wearing the bow like you were at noon, just the pink jammies. This was the 2nd time as a bigger infant that you'd worn footy warm jammies. It was chilly, like fall should be. I made dinner. I let the big kids have leftover birthday cake because they behaved. As they were finishing up, I thought I'd get you up. I secretly wanted to give you a taste of cake to see your expression, but you were still processing the flavor of avocado and banana & I wanted to do things the "right" way for you to grow up with a love of vegetables and fruit like I attempted with your siblings. It was dark in the bathroom, I really didn't wanna wake you if you didn't wanna be woken but I figured I'd just go back and check, shine the light. Oh I should mention, every single time Holland woke up she would smile, look straight into my eyes and just be pumped up for life. When I shined my phone's flashlight into the pack and play I could not see her. I panicked internally but knew it would be okay. I couldn't find her. I found her after a few seconds wrapped up and warm. I thought "oh my gosh, scary. shes okay." But the way you woke up every single time was not happening. you were limp, that meant you were just sleeping good. I patted you, said your name as I rushed into the living room to see better, repeating your name louder. I shook you just a bit so you would come to, because you were just sleeping. Teething and socializing are hard, ya know? You were limp but You were warm. Tucker knew something was wrong. I did too . I laid you on the couch and started doing infant cpr. So about 1 minute from going to wake to cpr. After 15 seconds I knew this wasn't okay. The couch had too much give, I remembered what I'd learned in the class we took after Quinn's NICU stay for meningitis.... so I moved you to the entryway front door rug as I called 911 on speaker so I could see them when they pulled up. Well before I sat you on the rug, I ran outside screaming for someone to help me, anyone. People walk their dogs, work out, whatever, someone just help me. Tucker was screaming. I was trying to talk to 911. I thought it would be okay, I really really did. This would be another story to tell years from now on how we'd been through so much but it was okay. I was doing what I knew. I briefly remember worrying about pushing too hard, but a broken rib would have been preferable if you just freaking gasped for breath. Please. come on. COME ON HOLLAND. BREATHE. You didn't. Blood began to come out of your mouth and nose as I put my mouth over them....they didn't teach this in the class....... I spit the blood on the rug, desperately going back for another breath each time. The kids were screaming. I was waiting for those flashing lights and once I could see them approaching and hear the sirens I sprinted with you and slid on my knees in the grass to the first responder who was also in the same kind of hurry and handed you over as he tried. I unzipped your cute pink outfit but I wasn't fast enough so they cut it. Tucker was still screaming. He asked if she was going to be okay and I lied. I still kind of did think it would be okay, I wasn't fully lying at the time. I grabbed Tucker on the lawn with my newly skinned up knees as multiple people in uniform bustled. I have prayed that hard 2 other times, for my sister's baby Parker to be okay in 2015 and for my friend's baby to be okay a month ago. The kind of desperate, sell your soul, do anything, begging type of prayer. I opened my eyes to a blonde lady walking her dog just staring at the whole scene. AWESOME, HELLO NEW NEIGHBOR. GO AWAY. They took her by ambulance to Huguely. I called my inlaws and they raced over. The police came in. They talked to my kids and calmed them down. They talked to me about our day. I called the hotline to reach taylor because he can't have a phone at work. I said I didn't know if she was okay but she wasn't breathing. I was shaking. I couldn't get my hands to work to sign stuff. I just wanted to fucking GO. I couldn't drive myself because I couldn't even sign a form or form a thought. My in laws called my dad. Someone had to watch the kids. I don't know what took him so long......Taylor beat us to the hospital. I had a terrible feeling after recounting the story to police so I googled "blood coming out of nose and mouth baby not breathing" and thats when I realized she was already gone when I was attempting to save her. I couldn't listen to my mother in law tell me that it was going to be okay anymore because I knew it wasn't. I told them she was dead and I think I snapped at her just trying to be calming. I cannot stand being lied to and I can't stand not knowing everything about everything at all times. I should have let the doctors break it, should have kept ignorant, but false hope isn't something comforting for me. I ran in to find taylor with the chaplain in a room. I already knew... but I couldn't look at him. I kept my back to the doctor, taylor, and chaplain as they told us they could not get a heartbeat. Since I googled it, I knew there was not a chance she'd come back like pulling the plug in another situation wouldn't be wise until its certain. I'd have demanded in other situations to keep going... but I just knew. .......so we gave permission for them stop working on her.
Then we saw her. We held her. Her hands, her face, her hair. From the time they took her and I was praying on the lawn, I was not in my body. I was up above watching it all. I wasn't there. Her diaper was a little dirty. I used my bare hands to clean her little butt. I had baby wipes but I used my hands. She got cold as we held her...but we kept her wrapped in a blanket. Like that would warm her up. I wasn't there as I recounted again and again for detectives the timeline and the story. I wasn't there as her body turned so cold and colorless. I have never felt so alien and empty as I watched everyone come in and out...like I was an outsider and I was not present, it wasn't real anyway..just a bad dream...this wouldn't happen. I watched my family sobbing and I did not cry. I got annoyed with my husband and family being blubbering messes while I heard the words from the doctor, the chaplain, the investigators. I walked around a little while I let someone else hold her. I knew this was beyond fucked up, but shock is a weird weird thing. Of course I was upset. I didn't even know WTF was going on so I just watched as a spectator, somebody who wasn't involved, whos baby was still alive, whos husband wasn't screaming, whos family wasn't showing up little by little with those "I'm sorry" faces. I didn't know any of them. I didn't even recognize a nurse who had been my best friend during middle and high school. We got a clip of her hair. I offered whatever organs that would be helpful.I remember thinking what Jessica wished she'd have known after she lost Parker. I like to be prepared, I like to know it all. The medical examiner came. He waited quite awhile while we said goodbye. I was ready to get the F out of there, away from the sadness, the looks, the scariness, the bad dream. They carried her out in their arms in the blanket instead of a body bag around midnight. I rode home with Jessica and Hannah. Brent ordered us pizza, I couldn't eat. Caitlin had relieved my dad of watching the kids so he could go to the hospital earlier and she cleaned my house. I felt bad because she was pregnant cleaning someone elses house but I was grateful...I didn't know who else we'd get visited by I googled tips on how to tell your child about death. I just kinda sat there scrolling. As I made my way through my house, I still wasn't here. The pack n play, the blankets, the rug I spit on was gone and taken for evidence. We pulled Tucker aside and had the talk with him. She was his girl, his dream, his favorite. He wanted a baby sister from the day I got pregnant with her. He always wanted sisters. He was her protector from day 1. I knew what I was telling him, the words coming out, but I didn't even know them for myself. Again, shock.... We laid with the kids in bed as Tucker screamed that he'd never be happy again and had terrible night terrors screaming but fully asleep. It was scary. At 4 am, since I couldn't sleep anyway I scrolled my phone and the doorbell camera notified me someone was there. 4 FREAKING AM. Child Protective Services. I recounted the story again. Showed them everyones rooms. Woke the kids up. Got interviewed separately from Taylor.

almost one year

September 19, 2019

In 9 days it will have been one year since Holland died. Nothing has changed. nothing. I'm still just as confused, just as sad, just as stuck. I really hoped I'd be running some sort of foundation for SIDS babies or making a difference somehow but I'm not. I'm still just stuck. This makes me sad. It makes me sad its been an entire year but somehow .....we're all just the same. Kids are still hurting, marriage still hurting, individually still hurting. I guess that is normal. I guess I'm not as strong as I thought I was. I guess nothing is quite okay. Is anything ever okay? Is that a universal truth that things should be okay? Who knows? How am I 32 years old and I don't know what is normal and what is okay? ...........
....................................
Its been almost a year. Its been a fucking year.......... that is not okay. its not okay. I haven't felt her soul, felt her laugh, felt her touch in almost a year. She was my baby, my youngest, my most miracle birthing experience.. my home.. my joy. I didn't do her enough justice while she was here because I was so busy moving and so busy. SO BUSY. how am i still feeling like I'm always so busy when I know what "SO BUSY" does? "So busy" takes away from what really matters. So busy takes away from moments, feelings, nourishing, loving, experiencing.
fuck so busy honestly.

youre never too busy for your kids. never. it makes me sick to think about.
it makes me sick to think about how literally nothing has changed although i know these truths. i still get too busy. tucker is so sensitive. quinn is so desperate for attention bc when teagan's not getting it, tucker is, when they are, shes not. is this just mom guilt? is this just how it goes? i always feel guilt in some sort of way; i'm always shorting someone. Quinn quoted me the other day and I was kind of proud... I don't have enough of me to go around so I often say, "I'm not an octopus, I only have 2 arms" LOL. so now she says it.


I'm still just confused on how I've buried my baby. How its been a year since I've done so. The strength most people witnessed and mentioned was just a form of shock I was in. I am not strong...I'm actually very, very weak. I succumb to just about every form of temptation or challenge. I wanted to be stronger by now. I wanted to be someone to follow. I wanted to be an inspiration but I'm not. I'm not any form of inspirational. I'm just weak. I'm sad. I want better but I am stuck. I don't know if losing my dad has attributed to the stuck-ness....I'm not sure if its just because I'm a weak bitch. I am not sure. I really wanted to do better in Holland's name, in my name, in my living kids' names...but I am not there.

I just don't know.. I'm trying. I am trying. I promise I'm trying. So hard. I am failing. I wish I weren't but I am...

I guess I just keep trying. Just keep trying. Claw my happy ass to the surface as far as I can.

I just wish I knew what was normal. What means I'm failing? What means I'm winning? What means anything?! I guess its subjective. For myself, I am failing. My kids are mostly happy. Thriving. Okay. I just don't know. Why do I feel like I am just stuck? AM I THE PROBLEM? I'm a mother afterall even if I am the problem.........................a mother doesn't just forget. not after you've seen what i have. Praying has gotten easier at least.

Random life thoughts

I think above all things, the most important thing to be is a good person. To like wake up and say how can I contribute today? But then actually act on it. To check on the people who need checked on and follow through. Isn't it a weird thing to think about people and know some people need things and not check on them? Like to spend your fingers to type "I'm praying for you" and not actually pray? No one forced you to type that if you have no inclination to send one up. I am not a perfect person or parent; in fact I fail daily ....I'm sure i've failed you at some point. For that I am sorry but please know I try and I juggle constantly and always come up short of fulfilling my goals but please don't stop reaching out. I never wanted anything more in my life than to be a wife and mom. As long as I can remember. I didnt even care about a wedding...I just wanted to be married and have kids...just went to college to pass the time I guess because I was smart. I know it seems so mediocre to some people, but we all have different goals and thats perfectly cool with me if I never have a career.... But I've been told that my heart is going to show itself to be a tool God uses me for but I'm not sure how unless one of my kids does something life changing for others... or unless i stumble upon something that helps. maybe just who i am daily is enough. maybe. deep down I feel like sometimes im too much for this world. I'm not sure why. I don't want to die or anything, in fact I feel more mentally sane than I have in a long while. I find joy in serving others, in doing kind deeds, in seeing people smile, in knowing i'm living right and modeling kindness and empathy to my kids to help them become more kind and empathetic. So i guess even doing good deeds can be selfish because I find joy in them...but if it feels right...its right..right? I apologize too much because I never have intentions on offending ANYONE. I try so hard to imagine how i'd feel going through whatever anyone i know is going through or has been through. I do know I can't be everything to everyone & I've gotten a lot better about stretching myself too thin. This summer has been difficult with that..trying to be everything to everyone and constantly coming up short.... I go through a lot too but I'll never stop trying to make that little difference in someone's day because its so easy to do so but I can learn to say no or not take on SO much.


I've always felt like I was a little off, a little too much, a little too weird. I think its because of my deep seeded need to help and it just never quits. Even in high school when everyone thought I was some huge bitch, I was the one who spent time out of school with the girl everyone made fun of and got to know her parents, etc..I was the one who watched those cooooool kids dump water on the floor so innocent people would fall and told on them because how F'D UP honestly and mortified one girl and I can still see her face and the ketchup flying and the whole cafeteria laughing.....horrible. Can't say I never acted selfishly then or now...that i'd rather feed my kids non organic frozen waffles than cook a freshly made meal bc i'm tired or that i never was harsh to someone for no good reason but I believe some people never change.

I over explain because i need to be understood...once i was just told "no one is just nice for no reason." But yes, they are. I don't want anything back. I've been shown major kindness from friends and strangers in my life and while I don't know all of the intentions, I believe the majority of people want to help and have good intentions. I believe that there is evil and the world and sometimes its overwhelming because the good is hard to find every now and again..but if you can't see the good, then BE the good. I'm well aware of my faults, trust me... BEFORE YOU CAN POINT THEM OUT TO ME I'VE ALREADY CRITICIZED MYSELF. I'm self aware to a fault& I analyze what each person thinks in every interaction. Every snap or post I make I realize every angle you could have a negative thought about me and some I can live with and some I delete before too many see it and judge my random musing. I'm not saying this is life bliss being like that but we all want to be understood...there is RARELY an instance where I have a bad intention, just bad follow through at times due to circumstances. Like most the time my kids sleep through the night.....but theyve woken 10 times tonight hence why I am not asleep. If I had a bad intention, trust me you'd know it because I am not silent when I am on a tangent or when I'm returning what was given to me. But 99.9% of the time, I choose forgiveness and honesty and doing what is right because I can't fathom doing something different. I've felt for awhile now my heart is too much for the world. Its not that I don't think I belong...well actually it is that. Its just not that I want to die...I dont feel like I belong anywhere. I thought forever that it was normal to pull over on a hot day and offer the person walking either a ride or a bottle of water but I guess it isn't. I'm learning in my 31st year of life as a mother of 3 that not everyone has the same intentions. I mean I've known, but its just so more apparent now and I have zero time for games, fakeness, mean girl BS that surrounded my 20s. Why hurt someone if you have the chance to just NOT?! To actually quote mean girls, "calling someone fat doesn't make you any skinnier." Sometimes I will randomly bullshit as a way to make convo but I try my absolute hardest to not bring names or specifics into anything if you opened up to me. If you ask me not to, I won't tell Taylor but I do share most things with him and I know he doesn't tell anyone but I specifically won't if its too secret. Sometimes I avoid people that I know are negative. Sometimes I find myself being a follower just to connect with people who are special to me because their intentions arent excellent and I know this .......... like sending a screenshot of a mugshot to have the juicy gossip. Its annoying to bank on other people's misery although I'm aware some people deserve what is coming to them or what has.

My husband asked me what an old friend was up to and although I could choose to talk shit and dim her accomplishments. I gave him a glowing review because although I am insecure with my body and current accomplishments, why should I not celebrate hers? There is always someone that will be better, smarter, prettier, more fit, more together, etc than ME. I choose to believe that the people who are around, are around for a reason especially my husband so dimming another woman's shine to make mine seem brighter is unfair all around. When I fuck up I do my best to make reparations and fix my mistakes... I kind of don't mind being naive because it seems better than being cynical because cynical means I've kinda given up hope. I'm not trying to make myself seem like some kind of saint but I still feel somehow different ........ once I started doing more research on my deep empath personality I think it was amplified. I feel physical and mental pain when others are hurting and it keeps me up at night. I know that isn't "normal" per se ...not all common but not completely psychopath. My skeletons are 100% out there with my husband...he knows every thing about me that I could possibly fathom so theres nothing SO bad I guess he doesn't want to still be around. Right now this blog is a little shallow, surface value, venting style but I'd like to delve deeper into writing but I have no avenue to share it with people who would even get what I want to say. I can think of a few off the top of my head who have deep meaningful thoughts but it seems like the world has gone shallow & its a little more rare to read poetry or do like random kind deeds just to make people smile even if it turns out to be a minor inconvenience...a good deed is literally not about me or you its about them.idkkkkkkkkkkk im going crazy. i don't feel depressed I just struggle with trying to find out who is real in the world; people's intentions. fool me once, fine but I just don't honestly want to waste my time with shitty wolves in sheep's clothing if I can find the sheep faster to avoid problems. I do not think I am fully a people pleaser because I have no problem admitting when I think something is fucked...I just guess I don't want things to be fucked.

Why does it seem like the world is more depressed these days? Like almost everyone I know has been or is going through some sort of mental health issue and while it helps me better relate to their struggle, its weird to me that its so rampant yet so stigmatized still. It is probably not a "these days" type of issue because lets face it every group has been down at one point somehow. I was going to say everyone except white middle class men but in a way i feel sorry for men because of the macho bravado forced upon them since birth. I'm guilty of telling Quinn not to cry because if I didn't she would cry 45 times a day about damn near everything from socks to the sun peeking in the blinds...but I do try to be encouraging for her to be a strong independent woman who don't need no man. I try to be sensitive to the male plight with Taylor and Tucker so theyre both encouraged to show emotion and that is honestly something I super appreciate about Taylor because his sensitivity is something that makes him both unique and ideal. I cant stand apathy or coldness...been there done that..keep it movin.

Holland's Pregnancy & Birth Story

Disclaimers: If you have me on social media or read Quinn’s birth story, you know I am a long winded story teller…..I want to remember all the little details. I'm random and tend to go off on a tangent from time to time. I overuse the ellipsis so my punctuation will never be perfect. Birth stories will always be TMI.. you’ve been warned! Also, nothing in this post is meant as an insult to women who prefer epidurals/inductions,etc, nor do I judge people who do things differently. I wholeheartedly want all women to just feel empowered and informed with every part of bringing their baby into the world, whatever the avenue is. ANY QUESTIONS, JUST ASK!

When we found out we were pregnant with baby number 3, it was quite a surprise that took awhile to set in. I was honestly a little terrified because Taylor traveled so much for work, Tucker was a full blown three-nager, and Quinn was beginning to get big opinions on just about everything. As it goes with any life-changing piece of news, all you can do is buckle up for the ride! We knew we’d want to go the midwife route for the birth and have another VBAC, but I really wanted to have a water birth. My last group of midwives who delivered Quinn were so amazing, but their hospital in Fort Worth doesn’t allow VBAC patients to attempt a water birth. As disappointed as I was to switch from their practice, I decided to get a consultation at Texas Health Cleburne with a newer doctor/midwife team at Grace OBGYN who I kept hearing great things about. Having to haul 2 kids to all my baby appointments only 4 minutes away made more sense at the time too since we are habitually late to every place we go. When I met my new midwife and doctor, it was relieving to hear that they were so supportive of everything I wanted and actually encouraged it, compared with stories I hear from other women’s birthing experiences where they have to fight tooth and nail to get what they want. Taylor and I played everything by ear pretty much and didn’t end up preparing nearly as much this time as we did for Quinn’s birth with things like hiring a doula, going to the chiropractor weekly, or taking birth bootcamp classes because I knew now that I was able to have a med-free VBAC and felt comfortable having him as my only support at birth knowing that Cleburne hospital and the dr/midwife were already so supportive of how I wanted things to go.

Taylor suggested pretty early on that we not find out the sex of the baby and if you know me, I despise surprises… like, DESPISE. I consider myself a planner and I research everything but somehow I made it through the 9 months not knowing! There were difficult-ish parts of not finding out like having to refer to the baby as “it” and having 20 minute long conversations with strangers at Wal-Mart about how I was definitely having a _____ because their daughter/sister/pastor’s wife carried JUUUUST like me and they had a_____too! We had some leftover baby stuff from both Tucker and Quinn but there are certain things each baby needs like a coming home outfit or even just a NAME that made not knowing kind of hard. This baby didn’t get a Pinteresty nursery like the other the other two did. We tried to have Tucker and Quinn share a room so that the extra room would be the new nursery but those two becoming roomies has been a work in progress... mostly dependent on how often the not-tired one would bug the other one until mean mom has to show her face and separate them back into their old rooms for sleep and sanity. Also, did I mention Quinn is the #DIAPERS4LYFE spokesgirl? I was reallyyy hoping to only have one in diapers this go ‘round but apparently she isn't interested in my hopes and dreams. Basically this pregnancy was a lot of survival mode with Taylor working out of town more often than not for a week or so at a time. The pregnancy apps had to keep up with how far along I was because ...LIFE=CHAOS. There weren’t weekly bumpdates comparing baby with a fruit or vegetable but every month or so when I threw myself together & looked more like a human being than a zombie, I’d milk it and take a belly picture. The chaos honestly helped my pregnancy fly by though so that was awesome!

Similarly to Quinn’s birth, I was walking around dilated to a 4 for weeks with regular contractions but not close enough or painful enough to actually mean something. With Quinn, I had cholestasis (which can cause stillborn babies) so we just induced by breaking my water and she was born fast and furious in a little under 3 hours. As we got closer to my due date and symptoms of labor were getting more frequent, I was legit concerned I'd give birth alone on my bathroom floor mistaking contractions for poop pains while Taylor was a hundred miles away. *FUN FACT: My mom nearly had me in a toilet at Chili’s for this very same reason and ended up getting wheeled out of there by EMTs* At my 39 week appointment, with Taylor at home, I talked to my midwife about being nervous about him being gone, having childcare set up, etc if I went into spontaneous labor. Because my cervix was so favorable, and the way this labor was seemingly deja vu from Quinn’s we decided to set up a time to break my water the next day. She went ahead and stripped my membranes too, because we were both hoping to get it going naturally. The fear was in the back of my head that I’d go in to get my water broken and NOTHING would play out as expected. Once the water is broken, it can be dangerous for infection, etc if the labor is not progressing which can result in interventions like pitocin to cause contractions, which leads to the need for an epidural...just lots of things I didn’t want. I hate being hooked up to a bed and I hate IV needles.

I talked to Taylor about it at lunch (at Chili's of all places) and he shared those fears too, so he called and cancelled the appointment to break my water and we pretty much did everything we could to try and go into labor on my own. I walked so much, ate spicy food, picked up some clary sage essential oil (which can bring/strengthen contractions), used a breast pump to bring contractions, drank the teas, sat on a birthing ball to open up my pelvis, ETCCC ...and in the true desperate spirit of getting this kid out did the act that got us here in the first place... which at 9 months pregnant is about as appealing as some kind of slow tortured death but hey, team work makes the dream work, right?!

(In related and completely non-bitter news, isn’t it crazy how much a woman’s body goes through to grow, birth, and nourish a human life while a man’s contribution to reproduction is a fraction of a second doing the one thing they think about 24/7 anyway?!)

Okay so, after literally doing everything in the world to bring contractions, they were getting more and more regular and more intense. We sent the kids off to my in-laws and I tried to sleep but couldn’t so I cleaned the house instead, hoping to keep my mojo going. We decided pretty late at night that labor clearly wasn’t far off anyway so we’d go ahead and go in the morning to break my water. My photographer had a scheduled csection that morning so my midwife was on board with waiting until she was en route to break my water. They told us to go get breakfast and come back when it was closer to go time. Knowing the ladies in charge of my birth were actually encouraging me to eat before labor was awesome and generally unheard of in a hospital birth! I went ahead and packed high-energy snacks though like granola, almonds, and honey sticks just in case it was a long labor.

When we returned from breakfast, the charge nurse brought us into our room and I went to offer her my birth plan but she had already gotten a copy from my midwife and familiarized herself with our wishes for the birth! It was like the theme song to Cheers suddenly started playing! "Where everyyybodyyy knows your naameeee" She said that the direction we were wanting everything to go aligned with how the hospital already practices... basically evidence-based, hands-off unless an emergency, & family-centered. That was another great feeling, knowing we wouldn't have to advocate for or repeat ourselves during labor. I kept it short and sweet on one page so it wasn’t like I was trying to be the Mariah Carey diva of L&D with a huge list of unwavering demands. Flexibility is super important since there are many variables with all aspects of labor & birth but I've always felt it is good to be informed enough to know and ask for my preferences with decisions involving my body and baby. It is one of the most important days of a woman's life, after all!! You wouldn't just show up to your wedding and put on whatever dress your officiant picked out or serve whatever cake the baker already had made so why not have preferences for birth as well?! Anyway, I am big on comfort and feeling empowered in vulnerable situations so most of my choices in childbirth relate to that. I labored in my own clothes: a maxi skirt, sports bra and tank top and listened to my own music with the freedom to move around during labor/delivery with whatever felt natural to me thanks to the use of a portable, waterproof monitor. Taylor would be the only person to know if I seriously wanted pain relief based on my behavior and how things were progressing, so I asked to not be offered any pain medication by staff members. In the event that I did reach a vulnerable state where I lost focus and succumbed to whatever they offered, I’d be seriously irritated afterward with myself and whoever was peddling epidurals around all willy nilly. Having a plan can help keep you chuggin along ON the wagon since everyone is on the same page. :) The one thing I wanted the most (besides a healthy baby & vaginal birth) that I put on the birth plan was having Taylor or me be the one to announce whether baby was a boy or girl. With Quinn’s birth I dreamed sooo long of being able to say “I did it!” to my natural VBAC, to receive a healing experience that would redeem everything from Tucker’s. This time, my whole pregnancy I kept dreaming of the moment we'd meet our surprise baby and it being a beautiful triumphant experience announcing ourselves whether it was a girl or boy! Neither one of us had a preference toward one gender, but since I had nothing much to go on with this baby’s identity beyond being super active at night and giving me horrific heartburn 24/7, I was super excited to finally put a face with our blind date baby!!


While waiting for my photographer, Ashley, to finish up at her first birth of the day, I sat on the birthing ball doing my hair and makeup and filling in some of the baby book. I’d never met Ashley but we had a lot in common and hit it off online right away so I wasn't nervous at all with a stranger seeing me in all my glory. When she got there, I told her first thing that I am not particularly modest or shy and to make herself at home in whatever way she needed to. My midwife, Jenn, came in around 12:45 to break my water and basically confirmed that my “bag of steel” was all that was keeping me pregnant. I was feeling a little more relieved that coming in was not a mistake and hopefully things would progress soon. Having your water broken and feeling it….is so so bizarre. I felt gross because after the initial gush...when I’d move in a new way or stand up etc...more gushing. Luckily I had one of those fancy gigantic postpartum pads and mesh undies to prevent any social faux pas I could commit at housekeeping’s expense.

And so it begins!

There are sweet songs from my wedding I'll cherish forever, feel-good songs driving around with my kids in the summertime with the windows down, & songs for my inner superstar that I belt out in the shower... For me, music sets so much of every life story so I definitely had some labor playlists to set the upcoming moods accordingly. One was upbeat stuff to move & dance in active labor with such bangers as Me & U by Cassie and Dirrty by Christina Aguilera. The mellow playlist was for once I needed to focus inwardly for strength with a super random sprinkling of comforting, meaningful music like Counting Crows and Guster. Taylor and I walked the halls of the hospital taking “IT’S GO TIME” pictures & listening to my upbeat playlist with mixed nervousness and excitement. We have a super goofy relationship and I was dancing around, attempting karate kicks and lunges with my massive belly while waiting for things to get going. As we made more laps around the hospital “Toxic” by Britney came on...If you know me, its clear that some choreography still stored in my memory from high school was sadly attempted. The urge to joke quickly turned serious when I kept having to stop and breathe through contractions. I felt this distinct sharp pain that I recognized from both Tucker and Quinn’s birth when the contractions came closer combined with no padding left from my water, which I can only describe as someone branding me with a sharp fire poker from inside my lady business. I immediately felt a sense of dread...it was way too early to be feeling such noticeable pain. We both got worried either I was feeling super delicate (I have a pretty high pain tolerance) orrrr it was going to be ROUGH from the get go. We prayed that if it was rough it would just be a sprint, not a marathon. I’m lucky my husband is the type of guy who took a true interest during all the birthing classes so he knew by the changes in my disposition that this was moving from active labor to transition and FAST!! We came back to the room and I tried to get back on the birthing ball but as those contractions got harsher and closer together I could not find a way to get comfortable. I tried to breathe through them, we tried heating packs on my back, resting my weight on him while swaying, he did compressions on my back, etc but it was still pretty difficult to get through. I did my best to tell myself to open up to the pain; to breathe and accept it and then relax until the next wave hit but the breaks were not long. It had just been a little over an hour since my water had been broken and I was starting to become more vocal. In my other 2 births, I can recall actively avoiding making any noises, feeling like it was weird, but honestly somehow this low, deep, hummmmmm helped to release extra tension from my body. I thought for a half second to feel self-conscious of whatever barnyard kumbaya noises I was making but quickly realized SCREW THAT...because it was helping me ride the waves instead of anticipating them and tensing up.

The plan was to start filling up the tub when I was dilated to a 7 or so but pretty soon--sooner than ANY of us imagined, I started feeling the urge to push. It is soo undeniable. I yelled out “I cannot stop it!” and my nurse ran out of my room to get ahold of my midwife. A minute or 2 passed and again I was feeling the unmistakable urge to bear down and was telling Taylor I could not stop the feeling. My body was literally pushing my baby out without anyone telling me to, or even ME actively trying to push. I can’t explain how crazy it was, feeling my body at work. During the 3rd “push” I let out a little toot and Taylor freaked out and ran flailing out of the room like "OHHHH GOD SOMEONE HELP!!" We are still cracking up about how this was the moment when he knew SHIT WAS SERIOUS. I was immediately greeted with a wheelchair and several nurses ready to wheel me down to the birthing tub room, but my stubbornness and I walked there instead.

Once in the birthing tub room, I was leaning over the bed with pillows supporting my elbows. The one thing I hate about birth, and as hands-off as my providers were, I had to have a hep-lock in case I needed IV fluids. I am a freak about needles and I couldn’t find a comfortable position for my wrists to rest bearing all my weight knowing it was in there so I rested on my elbows and tried to sway. I was basically pushing at this point through each contraction. The tub wasn’t all the way full because everything was progressing so quickly and we hadn’t even had a chance to check for my dilation but it was pretty certain my body needed no checks to know what time it was. It was semi blurry because I was so inwardly focused, but in the background my amazing nurse, Toni, was doing everything in her power to help me get my water birth and had all hands on deck running with buckets and pitchers to other rooms filling up the tub. I wanted to get down on my knees because the urge to crouch or bend at the knees became uncomfortable while standing. We quickly took my skirt off and I moved onto all fours with my elbows on a stool and my knees on the floor. The low humming noises I'd been making during contractions earlier were replaced with some sort of guttural cavewoman grunts with every push. I know Jenn and Taylor were right there rubbing my back, encouraging me but I was seriously in my own world...what I’d describe as like a fully uninhibited, almost animalistic state. Every boy I've ever had a crush on, including all 3 Hanson brothers, could have entered the room & I'd still be doin' my thang, no cares given, not even noticing their presence. If I’d have been self conscious in any way I really think it would have slowed things down. Jenn offered to let me get in the tub but since it wasn’t quite full and babies need to born completely submerged, I would have had to change positions into more of a squat in the tub. Since I was already comfortable where I was and didn't want to change positions at the moment, I opted to stay put. I briefly remember Taylor asking since he was already in his swim trunks, if he got in there with me, would the water level raise to allow me to be on all fours like I was... but at that point our baby was sooo close to coming, it was best if I stayed put. He was just trying to make sure everything happened like I wanted so I thought him even coming up with this science-y water displacement solution in a crucial time was soo sweet and SOO TAYLOR...that is how his brain always works! Even though he was tuned in to me and doing his best, at some point I accidentally snapped at him while he was rubbing my back. I guess his anxiousness had him rubbing a little harder and faster than necessary, causing me to blurt out "ARE YOU TRYING TO START A FIRE!? STOP RUBBING ME!" OOPS, lol, poor guy but it was freaking hot and I was probably minutes away from getting legit friction burns with the overzealous "comfort" he was providing. His normal everyday back rubs are also terrible & if you're a fan of the show FRIENDS, we've always joked that he's like Monica and gives the "best bad massages."

Anyway--I’d been going full force, completely following my body this entire time, but there was a moment I was scared to push anymore because I thought I was going to rip BAD! Jenn told me to try to breathe through it and give myself the chance to stretch a little more instead of pushing again. That feeling is terrifying-- like, "can I temporarily stop my body aka 'the force of nature on a mission' in order to save my innocent vagina's whole future?! Stay tuned!!!" I did my best to distract myself and stifle the urge to push, taking breaths, before it felt safe to continue. With Quinn’s birth, during the “ring of fire” I had the overwhelming need to pinch something and since he was forced to love me forever, I reached out and pinched Taylor's stomach HAAARDDD with all my might. Thankfully this time my urge was the complete opposite and I breathlessly yelled out “KISS ME!!” His face was so sweet and full of love in that moment... everyone in the room let out a resounding “AWWWW!” as our baby was crowning and we were kissing. I surely didn’t plan it, but when I replay it in my mind...the look on his face and our sweet baby seconds away from coming into the world surrounded by so much love and support was super special.

Once the baby's head was out, all the pain was gone. The fear of ripping was gone. I literally said with relief “OKAY... I’M DONE!” and everyone’s like... “no girlfriend you still have to push the rest of the baby out…” LOL like I totally knew that but for some reason instead of saying “all the pain is gone, woohoo!” I made it seem like I was just gonna take off like a mama giraffe, walking around all nonchalantly with a baby head sticking out from behind. I got teased a few times for that one! From there, I think it took one more good push to get the body through and my midwife fed the baby to me between my legs so I could be the first to look and announce boy or girl. Pulling her through and up toward me was seriously indescribable; the most exhilarating, empowering, natural experience I’ve ever had. I sat back to look, and announced “ITS A GIRL!!! I DID IT!! ITS A GIRL!!” The moment was identical to what I pictured and dreamed of throughout my entire pregnancy! I held her to me and instantly felt such a deep connection I was brought to tears. It was perfect. She was perfect. Any pain I felt just minutes before was nonexistent and our baby girl was earthside and we were both healthy. She was the cheesiest, most vernix covered baby I have ever seen!! I loved it! I held her and walked over to the bed with her cord still attached and we waited for it to stop pulsing before Taylor got to cut it. The fact I walked across the room with a baby still attached to me via umbilical cord seconds after giving birth is a pretty amazing testament to what a woman's body is capable of and I was on a true high that lasted for days. I feel like the joy, awe, and love between us all was palpable and the instant fierce love we had for our blind date baby was so relieving. I’d been nervous that since I didn’t get all those moments in utero buying and planning for a certain child that I’d have trouble bonding but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

I loved that they didn’t whisk her away to assess her; they did it right on my chest. The kids got to come right away to meet her before she even got weighed or measured. It was all so family centered. Tucker and Quinn were decked out in their "big bro" and "big sis" shirts and walked in all giggly and excited. Since we found out I was pregnant, Tucker has maintained with 100% consistency that he wanted a baby sister & his reaction to meeting her was exactly what I expected...utter pride & awe at her tiny cuteness! I think they were convinced the last month that the baby was never going to come out of my belly, so finally meeting her was the coolest thing ever! Ashley took more pictures of the kids' reaction to meeting her and us all holding her!

To add more joy...my bleeding was minimal, I didn’t tear at all (HALLELUJAH PRAISE THE LORD), and I was up walking again within 20-30 minutes feeling great. We took the most amazingly relaxing herbal bath following the birth where she latched perfectly for the first time. I seriously loved that the herbal bath was not just offered, but fully encouraged and prepared for us. Everything from start to finish, despite not making it into the tub was an amazing, wonderful experience and I have zero regrets. She was born at 2:42 pm so literally just short of 2 hours from breaking my water to being born. She weighed 7lbs 9oz! I find it crazy that both of my VBAC babies were by far bigger than my csection baby and I was told back then my body just couldn't birth naturally because my hips weren't wide enough. Apparently my hips dont lie but that doctor did, repeatedly! (Sorry I had to!)

Taylor has said over and over how amazed he was about the whole process and that he was even more attracted to me after seeing me in such a raw, maternal setting with my body doing its thing. He said the way I delivered her was so awesome, like doing what felt natural to me. Seriously-- I kept catching him looking at me a certain way in the hospital and I'd ask why and he'd just be like "Danggggggg! You're hot!" LOL. I guess his primal caveman instincts were also ignited that day..."ME LIKE PRETTY WIFE LADY. HER HAVE BABY GOOD. TAYLOR VERY HAPPY."

The baby was without a name the entire pregnancy since we didn't know the gender and we couldn't make a final decision without "knowing" her. We had one gender-neutral name that we were pretty close to being settled on, no middle names, and a list I made from when we first found out I was pregnant. Now that we knew she was a girl, even though we loved the gender neutral name, we scanned the list of girl names to see if something stuck out. The name Holland stuck out to both of us and we quickly agreed on it and went to bed. The next morning bright and early, the birth certificate lady asked if we had decided anything. We still needed a middle name so we asked her to come back in a few hours. In those few hours, I slept and he ran some errands, so when she returned... we looked at each other like "WELL CRAP." We asked for just a little more time, and quickly scanned a list of middle names.....he picked Brynn & I agreed. Holland Brynn Berry. Even though it was a quick decision, seeing it on her hearing screen certificate reiterated for both of us that it was absolutely perfect! We couldn’t have asked for a better experience with everything from our actual birth to our wonderful care providers and I am truly glad we had everyone we did assisting us with bringing Holland into the world!

to my mom

October 16, 2016

I haven’t always been the best at expressing my gratitude for you. I am not around as much as I should be. I’m sure sometimes you don’t feel like you are important to me and I’m sorry for that. I wrote this because one night I was thinking about how good you were to us and started jotting down memories.
These are memories, thoughts I’ve had or things i simply never thanked you for so you know how much you mean to me.

(In no particular order)

I remember riding bikes with you as a kid around the neighborhood.
I remember you coming to all the pep rallies with camera in hand.
I remember you letting me skip school in 5th grade so we could stay in a hotel and go to the Hanson concert. One of the coolest memories of my childhood.
I remember yelling “MOM COME WIPE MY BUTT!” at age 4 and you would come help me.
I remember you driving me to the movies in high school to bust my “best friend” who was on a date with the boy who just broke my heart. You were just as eager to get to the bottom of it as I was.
I remember home cooked meals almost every night. I never had TV dinners until college and still don’t like them. I still love goulash.
You make the best chicken noodle soup.
You give the best back rubs EVER! “Tight squeeze, light breeze..”
I remember singing “Delta Dawn” with you and grandma.
THANK YOU for rubbing my feet during pregnancy.
Thank you for getting me into scrapbooking. It opened up my creative side. I remember going to a class with you at some woman’s house and splurging on things to get me started. That stuff was not cheap, so thank you.
Thank you for always making our birthdays special.
I remember you taking me to Kansas for an American Girl doll tea party and fashion show. I was in 4th grade and I still remember what I was wearing because it was super special to me.
I remember you taking an interest and helping me find stuff when I was interested in collecting things from the Victorian Era.
Thank you for practically raising my friends throughout middle school and some of high school. You fed way more people than you had to and toted us around constantly.
I remember going to the drive-in and you let us jump out at red lights and run around the car and jump back in when it turned green.
I remember going to Wendy’s when it was on Main Street and you called it “goin’ 99 centin’” and we would all get a couple things off the dollar menu. We didn’t have to spend a lot to have fun.
I remember playing games and listening to the radio on Christmas Eve to hear Santa’s location and if he was close. We always opened a present on Christmas Eve.
I remember even when we didn’t have a lot of money you would create costumes for us, like grapes, a hobo, etc with what we had and the costumes were always awesome!
I remember going to Texas Tech for my orientation in 2005 and you stayed in the dorms and went to all the parent events. You took notes and asked questions and insisted I join a sorority.
I still have cards you sent when I lived in Lubbock saying how proud you were and happy everything was working out.
I remember when you went around and tried to get businesses to donate to the cheerleading squad.
I remember you praying in front of us, doing Bible study, and highlighting/making notes in your Bible.
I remember our house always being clean. I have no idea how you managed to do that.
I appreciate you always taking an interest in whatever I was into at the time even if it wasn’t interesting to you.
I remember once when I was 16 you slapped me because I was majorly disrespectful and ridiculously ungrateful toward you. I was shocked at the time but totally deserved it and I’m glad you stood up for yourself.
Thank you for encouraging and complimenting my crafts and chalkboards. You always seem so blown away of my “talent” which is always nice to hear even if I don’t see it like you do.
I will always remember your love for Richard Gere. Even Julia Roberts reminds me of you because of Pretty Woman.
I remember your favorite song is Elton John’s “Your Song” and I love it too.
I always remember you collecting something.
I remember we had an ENTIRE room dedicated to your Coca Cola antique collection.
I remember going to antique stores with you a lot. I honestly think you have a knack for decorating and have an eye for finding unique items to decorate with. I wish I had that talent.
I remember the time you went on a Coca-Cola drinking strike and drank root beer instead. It was weird because you always drank Coke my whole life.
Growing up you loved chocolate and Blue Bell ice cream.
I remember you always being there for everything. So many other parents were always at work but you were there. I loved having a mom who could pick me up from everything and attend all my games and try outs. Even if I didn’t show it, I knew even then I was blessed to have you.
I remember once in 2nd grade my friend slept over and said the next morning, “I think your mom shaved her head last night!” I told her you didn’t have hair, no big deal. I have never ever been embarrassed about your hair or wigs. It was always a part of life. It is what makes YOU, YOU.
You never wore a bit of makeup that I can ever remember but I have always thought you were beautiful and I think its a compliment when people say I look like you.
I was always proud that you never went down a bad path in your younger days like everyone else around you.
I have no idea how you managed to always have nice boobs and no stretch marks or cellulite after 4 kids. You didn’t pass that on to me unfortunately.
I will never know how you found time to have major hobbies like gardening, collecting, and scrapbooking with everything else you did for all of us. I can’t do just basics correctly.
I remember a fun game we played when I was little where you timed how fast I could get ready for school in the morning. Now I know that was just a way for me to get ready quickly without fussing but it was fun and totally genius as a parent.
I am proud of what you overcame in life.
I know you went without things you needed a lot, and you went through hard times, for us girls. You always made sure we had everything we needed and tried hard to give us everything we wanted too.
Thank you for teaching Teagan so much of what she knows.
You are a remarkable woman. You are so strong, even if you don’t feel like it. You’ve shown us how to be strong. You’ve shown us how to keep going when things are tough.
I love you for giving me your honest attention, for letting me shine, for believing in me no matter what. I know you were always on my side even when I was wrong.
I respect everything you have done for us. Every choice you made was one you thought was best for us and done with our well-being in mind. Thank you.
Thank you for loving my kids the way you do.
Thank you for loving Taylor. He loves you back.
I was never mad at you for leaving and going to Arkansas. There was a time when I felt upset with the situation or a little deserted in a way because a girl always needs her mom but I was never angry with YOU. Any emotion I showed otherwise was out of my own selfishness; I knew you were doing what you had to do for your own mental health and I’m glad you did.
I am so proud to have you as my mom and I will always remember these things and more. Thank you for always being there and helping to shape me into who I am. Thank you for loving us all unconditionally. I love you.

Quinn's birth story

WARNING: SUPER LONG...I DONT WANT TO FORGET DETAILS OF THE DAY I BECAME A MOM AGAIN!
Disclaimer: Nothing in this post is meant as an insult to people who get/prefer csections or epidurals orrr get induced or whatever your outcome was...this is MY experience and MY feelings toward MY births.. It has nothing to do with others'choices or experiences. In no way do I judge people who do things differently.



Monday, July 13, at 36 weeks I was having some intense pain in my belly. It felt like round ligament pain, but RADIATING all over my entire belly and not letting up. I could not move or get comfortable no matter what I tried. I have a pretty high pain tolerance and try to avoid medicine if I can so it takes a lot for me to even take ibuprofen but I totally did and it didn't help at all. I laid in bed and after 5 hours, I was crying in pain and frustration. The mom of a toddler cannot lay in bed for 5 hours... plus we had so much left to get done in Quinn's nursery and around the house! Taylor and I finally decided to go to L&D to try and figure out why I was in so much pain. They admitted me and kept me over night because I was running fever and dehydrated. But the pain wouldn't let up, I couldn't even stand up on my own to walk to the restroom. Turns out I was having contractions every 2-3 minutes but the overwhelming belly pain wasn't allowing me to even feel the contractions. I really just wanted to get help with the pain, not come home with a baby just yet. Taylor & I were shocked when they said I was dilated to a 4 and completely effaced!! Our nurse said "wow, you are in labor!" and no one was expecting that! I wasn't packed, I hadn't showered that day so I felt gross, my in-laws weren't prepared to keep Tucker yet, plus I despise being hooked up to an IV... so I beggedddddd to go home. I had also ordered these super cute custom matching gowns for me and Quinn but they were still in transit so I still needed those to arrive!! This was just not how I wanted my birth to start out! Finally when my fever broke Tuesday morning, my contractions had also slowed and I was cleared to leave. I immediately went to my chiropractor because she is so helpful and knowledgeable on pain, pregnancy, and getting baby in the optimal position for delivery; I wanted to be prepared since I was so progressed. Over the next week, that horrible belly pain came and went, but mostly stayed. Taylor had to help me use the restroom like I was a 100 years old. Talk about getting close with your spouse!!

I hired a photographer to capture my birth and she had to go out of town for the weekend. She begged me to try and keep Quinn in until she got back, but had a photographer friend who would cover for her in case I ended up in labor. I continued having contractions and they were getting closer and closer together so we decided to go to maternal observation on Saturday just to see what the deal was. I was 37 weeks at that point and this time I was dilated to a 5. My midwife had me walk the halls for 2 hours in hopes of speeding things up...it was SO awful. After she rechecked me but there was no change in dilation. My contractions were 7 minutes apart, but still not close enough to be admitted so they sent me home again. We were still trying to avoid inducing because I desperately wanted a VBAC. Once interventions like pitocin are started, it can result in a cascade of other interventions which raises a chance for c-section. I knew from Tucker's birth that pitocin contractions are so horrible that I wouldn't be able to last without an epidural, again not what I wanted for my birth. I spent the next few days partly trying to induce labor with natural methods, partly feeling guilty over wanting to get her out so badly when I wasn't yet 40 weeks. It was so exciting timing contractions and just waiting for something more to happen! Not scheduling an induction made things much more spontaneous! We went and got spicy wings from Wing Stop which resulted in losing my mucous plug and strengthening contractions. Then things tapered off AGAIN!!

On Tuesday, July 21st I had an 4 pm appointment with the midwives. I knew I was already dilated to a 5 and was having contractions pretty regularly, but I was trying not to get my hopes up that anything was going to come from it. Of course I knew that Quinn needed to cook as long as possible to be healthy, but after a week of nonstop pain, I was pretty ready to go into labor. My midwife, Katie, asked how I was feeling and I mentioned being uncontrollably itchy, especially the bottoms of my feet. She asked if it gets worse at night and I realized it totally did, to the point of staying awake SCRATCHING all night (along with the crazy unexplained belly pain)! We discussed a few other symptoms I was having, and before she excused herself to call the high risk doctor, she said "We might be having a baby today!" Taylor and I looked at each other like, "oh sh*t son!" They took blood to be tested and sent me over to maternal observation to wait and see. Apparently, I looked like a "text book case" of cholestasis so without even getting my blood test results back, the high risk doctor thought it would be best to get the baby out as soon as possible. Cholestasis of pregnancy impairs the flow of bile from the liver. The cause is unclear but eventually, the buildup of bile in the liver allows bile acids to enter the blood stream. It causes no harm to the mother, but it can cause babies to be stillborn which is why it was so important to get her out. The midwives consulted each other and since my cervix was so favorable, we were going to try and just break my water, hopefully sending me into labor so we could try to leave all the drugs out of it. The matching gowns I ordered had arrived and our bags were packed. We'd left some last minute stuff at home since we weren't expecting to stay so Taylor booked it 30 minutes home on the tollway to go grab phone chargers, electronics, and my curling wand! I had been keeping my doula, Megan, and photographer, Cassandra, on high alert since that first hospital visit and luckily Cassandra was back from her trip. The stars were seemingly aligning for this to go as planned.

A bit before 10 pm, the midwife Hannah broke my water; such a bizarre feeling! I had an awesome nurse who was very accommodating and wanted me to get birth I wanted so badly. She went out of her way to hunt down and set up the ONE portable monitor the hospital had so I could move around to control my labor pain because I didn't want to be stuck in the bed. I texted the doula and photog that it was go time, but told them not to rush because it could take awhile for the real action to start. It took me almost no time to find out I was WRONGGGG about that! I cranked up the Britney Spears Pandora station to get me pumped up. Pretty corny but I also jammed out to "Fight Song" by Rachel Platten to empower me for a hopefully healing birth. Soon I was contracting pretty intensely and they were right on top of each other. I was alone still; walking and breathing through the contractions while updating my mom group with labor selfies! Shoutout to #MOMTOURAGE!

Meanwhile, Taylor was trying to rush back; I'll never forget when I told him how intense my contractions were, he replied "hurrying!! I'm approximately 27 minutes away!!" LOL. 27 eh? Good to know! It was getting hard to focus on texting Megan and Cassandra that they actually should rush, but I got it done and everyone was en route! Approximately 27 minutes later, Taylor burst through the doors ready to put our Birth Bootcamp skills to the test. The only techniques we ended up using were deep breathing, heating pads on my lower back while he applied counter pressure, and I leaned on him to sway. I was trying so hard to focus, I didn't notice anyone else in the room. I thought I might be self conscious laboring with a photographer there, especially someone I've known since high school, but she blended in and I was soo comfortable around her. My nurse checked my cervix sometime around 11 because I was positive that I had made progress and wanted to know how much...I was dilated to a 7.5.

By now, I was wanting something mellow and comforting to listen to, and the 90's alternative Pandora station delivered as usual! Counting Crows, Pearl Jam, GooGoo Dolls, and Matchbox 20...heck yeah! There was a moment during the strongest contractions when I told Taylor, "I don't know if I can do this!!" meaning without pain medication of some sort but he encouraged me and assured me that I could totally do it... So glad that deep down he knew my wishes and didn't just buzz for an epidural during a moment of weakness! It sounds kind of corny, but I kept telling myself that any pain I felt was bringing me closer to meeting my little girl, that it served a purpose and my body was made to birth my baby. I think I also kept telling myself something about my cervix opening up like a flower blooming and a baby would come out?! LOL CRAZY BIRTH AFFIRMATIONS!! Don't judge me!!

30 minutes after being estimated to be 7.5cm dilated, I started feeling the urge to push. I can remember being kinda frantic about it, like maybe Quinn was just going to fall out any second. lol. My nurse ran to grab the midwife. I had been laboring in a sports bra and maxi skirt and literally ripped the skirt off like I was on fire and needed to stop, drop, and roll! There was NO denying that feeling! I'm sure my good ol family photographer will forever have these images of me in all my glory burned into her retinas! Modesty went all out the window! Sorry! I don't even remember checking to make sure I was fully dilated, not sure if we did; I guess we just knew.

Pushing gave me a mixture of feelings...It was not painful but it was strenuous... WEIRD, I liked it, but wanted it over at the same time. We tried a few different positions to push in. Everyone was SO motivating and supportive. Megan and Taylor kept reassuring me that I was making progress. They were both amazing to have as my support. I had a cold wet washcloth covering my entire face because I was certain I looked hideous and did not want anyone seeing my "pushing a baby out" face ....Even though every other part of my body was exposed, makes sense right!? They got a mirror for me to look down there because I was desperately needing reassurance that I was making progress. With Tucker, I was in labor for 10-11 hours total, 6 of them on pitocin with no meds, then pushed for 2 hours. You could see his head full of dark hair but he just wouldn't come any further so then came the dreaded c-section. Fast forward to now...When Taylor said "I see her head full of dark hair!!", I was excited but also felt a terrifying sense of deja vu because I heard those words before, but the outcome was devastating the first time. Also in the back of my head was the cholestasis and the potential of having a stillborn child...so I guess you could say I was a spastic loony bin in a glass case of emotion! I wanted my baby in my arms as soon as I possibly could so everything would be okay. When I started being able to really feel her close to crowning, I was more at ease...but for the first bit I was anxious and desperate in a way where you want something so badly and it is so close!

Somewhere in the middle of pushing, someone in the room announced what an awesome playlist I had going! Everyone was laughing and agreeing...and then we went back to business! It was so nice being surrounded by good vibes and just following my body's instinct to know when to push, not having someone tell me to because I was numb from drugs. I could control my exhaustion by taking a break between pushes if I needed to..but I mostly went full force. There WAS a point (and I have no clue why since I wasn't in a crazy amount of pain or anything) where I absolutely NEEDED to pinch something LOL. On my right was Megan, on my left was Taylor. I made a quick decision that my hubby is forced to love me no matter what so I screeched "I NEED TO PINCH SOMETHING!" and grabbed his stomach with my whole hand and squeeeeeezed! He was a trooper about it! :)

When Quinn started to crown, there was a point where I really felt like my lady business was about to rip straight UP (eek!) and I told Hannah thats what it felt like. She told me to try to hold off pushing for a second if I could while she did some massage/wiggling magical fairy voodoo technique that made Quinn in a better position to prevent tearing! The final 2 pushes were the best thing ever, I felt like I was at the top of a rollercoaster right before you drop... or the last inning of the World Series game 7 where everyone is cheering and on the edge of their seat. The excitement was palpable and I KNEW my Quinn was about to make her debut!!! When she came out, it was surreal! Any fear or uncomfortable feeling vanished. 7 pounds and 15 ounces of chunky baby came right to my chest covered in all the good gooey birth stuff and I loved it!! She was alive and I got the birth I had been wanting since I got pregnant with Tucker. I held her and told everyone "I DID IT!!! I GOT MY VBAC!!"

Victory!

We all talked and stared at Quinn while waiting for the umbilical cord to stop pulsing and Taylor got to cut it. Come to find out, the cord was wrapped around her neck when she came out, but I think since I was so desperate for everything to go well that my midwife didn't want me to worry unnecessarily at the time. Taylor and I didn't even notice. Afterward, we all talked and laughed about EVERYTHING, mostly in disbelief about how freaking fast and furious everything went down (2.5 hours after breaking my water)! Megan ordered me a sandwich and even fed it to me like the birthing goddess I am (JK), which was awesome because I was ravished. Taylor kept saying how proud he was of me and how he was totally in awe of the birthing process, my body and strength. You can see the love in his eyes in almost every picture! I love how present and genuine he is in every experience...not to mention supportive of the things I am passionate about.

Quinn looked totally different than Tucker did since she had to squish all her chub through the birthing canal so I kept saying she looked like a potato. LOL. I sound awful, of course I thought she was amazing and beautiful but she was just so...round and squishy!

Literally the WORST, most painful part of EVERYTHING from start to finish was the nurse pushing on my belly every 15 minutes after delivery!! WHY GOD, WHY!? Have you ever seen the 40 Year Old Virgin where Steve Carrell gets his chest waxed and yells out strange things in the midst of his pain? Thats how I felt ..."aaaagh KELLYCLARKSON!!" Like I said, super sweet nurse but I wanted to seriously Ronda Rousey her face every time she pushed down! UGH.

It may not seem like much to other people but having a vaginal birth after a cesarean (and hunting for someone who would let me even attempt it) was probably one of the most rewarding things I have ever done! I didn't advertise on my personal Facebook that I was attempting a VBAC, much less a natural one mainly because there's always the chatty Cathys condescendingly smirking while saying "trust me, honey you'll be begging for an epidural!" or spouting false outdated information on how dangerous VBACs are over a repeat Csection. Also, If something didn't go as planned, and my body truly couldn't birth a baby (like I was made to believe the first time around) I didn't want to hear "told ya so" or "E for effort champ, a healthy baby is all that matters." Can I just say ...YES, a healthy baby matters OF COURSE, but women deserve to have positive birthing experiences. It's one moment a mother will always remember, I think we should shoot for giving them a better experience than just making it out alive!! Finding providers who actually listen to your concerns and make every attempt at honoring your wishes really makes all the difference! I find it funny that Tucker was 7lbs 2 oz yet Quinn was one ounce short of 8 lbs with a bigger head. Also, I was up walking within a few hours which is the opposite of my other experience.

The next day, my midwife Katie checked my blood work results and it showed that I did, indeed, have cholestasis. The high risk doctor was spot on with wanting to get Quinn out ASAP and Katie very likely saved my daughters life by taking my itchy feet comment seriously!! I am not an alarmist so I didnt plan on bringing the feet thing up at all, it just kinda came out like word vomit. Honestly, I think it was a God thing! God provided me with the right words to say to the right person at the right time! Wowza!

I am so extremely grateful for every person involved in making Quinn's birthday absolutely perfect. And you better believe I sho' did announce my unmedicated VBAC on social media afterward...LOUD AND PROUD (and probably a bit irritating if we're being honest)!! Aside from the disappointment, lengthy recovery time, and postpartum depression I experienced following Tucker's birth, one big reason I wanted to have a successful VBAC was to educate and empower other women who have felt like I did and to share that there are options out there! So many people receive information that its "once a csection, always a csection" and I've already heard from moms wanting more information about the UNT Midwives, doulas, and VBACS! Woohoo!!

**I will do a follow up post this week on Quinn's 21 day NICU stay after being diagnosed with bacterial meningitis.