I'm Doing It. Now.

This is not a pity party, a sob story, or sympathy grab.  This is honesty.  This is written by a person who just can't open up.

Trust is a big problem for me.  I have had very few people in my life that I truly can trust.  Sadly, many of these untrustworthy people have been family members, which makes it so much harder.  I've had crappy friends, but that doesn't make me unique.  Join the club, right?  When it's your family though, your close family, then how do you accept strangers?  How do you put your trust in people that you don't know well, when your own relatives have proven to not have your best interests at heart?

Therefore I have let my friendships fall away.  It's not that I don't have any - I just don't hold on like other people do.  There have been quite a few one-sided friendships in my past, and I also despise Face(less)book.  So I just don't keep up like others do.  But it got worse.  I retreated pretty badly.  Now I'm going to talk about it.

My PPD was the most devastating event of my life, yet so unbelievably important and helped me become who I am today.  I pulled myself out of the mud to be a much better person.  However, in the midst of a serious depression, I went through a life-changing event.  While it seems minor, it not only set back my recovery from depression, but also completely ruined my ability to trust.

My relatives and I threw a party for another relative, in conjunction with her "friends."  Frankly, if my friends behaved toward my family the way they acted towards us, I'd be beside myself.  Not only were we made to feel unwelcome and like a burden, one woman in particular, who I call Thurl, humiliated me in front of all of the guests.  She snapped at me for asking for assistance with a party game in front of everyone, and repeatedly gave snippy answers to questions regarding the party itself.  Thurl had no regard for anyone in the family; she even chewed out another family member over a missing party favor.  Alright, we all meet shitty people.  There are real assholes out there.  The problem is that the guest of honor did nothing afterwards.  She did not apologize.  She did not even acknowledge that it happened.  I don't know what my relative was thinking.  Sorry, she wasn't thinking.

Why was this all so infuriating?  Because I had Thurl's daughter over to my home during my husband's birthday celebration and treated her like a member of my family.  Such unbelievable disrespect.  But there was no recourse.  My relative wasn't sorry.  And it completely fucked me up for over a year.  I would not let anyone new into my life.  I did not want to have any friends, because how could I trust them?  If I couldn't rely on my own family to back me up, then what about a friend?  My family member hurt me.  I now know we were never friends, but man did that sting.

So what got me out of it?  Time.  The realization that there are simply shitty people in this world.  Love for my daughter.  Not wanting to be alone anymore.  It seems so small.  But that's the problem:  Small incidents for a person with trust issues seem so huge.  If someone wrongs you once, they WILL do it again.  That's just how my mind works, and I hate it.  I want to be normal.  I want to have good, trusted friends.  But there are days when I question whether I can do it or not.  Today is one of those days.

That's the Way I've Always Heard It Should Be

Growing up, I really hated my Mom.  As awful as it sounds, it's unfortunately true.  I viewed her as a supremely unhappy person; a woman who had the opportunity to have an independent and exciting life, but chose to get married and be a SAHM.  All I could see was someone who gave up on her life.  It never once occurred to me the feelings that she had for us.  Even though she was unhappy with certain aspects of her life, that didn't necessarily translate into her feelings toward us.  On my end, all I could see was a woman that had no life.  Therefore, for many years I didn't want to have children.  I had this notion that if I did, I'd lose myself.

Once I hit my thirties, though, I had a change of heart.  Since I truly love my husband, I thought it would be totally wrong NOT to have a family.  My mom is a different person; I wouldn't give up all the things that she did.  Throughout my pregnancy I insisted I'd be back at work within six weeks of her birth . . . and then she was born.  The kid wouldn't breastfeed; she lost too much weight after birth, and we struggled to have her put the weight on.  Then, at 2 1/2 weeks came the colic.  Now, I freely admit that it was a textbook case, and ended six weeks later, but the person was utterly miserable most of the day during that time.  Simultaneously she was breastfeeding - or not breastfeeding - and barely gaining weight.  Those six weeks turned into two months, and into six months, and into today.  And I sit here crying because she's asleep and I miss her.

Life is so short.  Your children are only little once, and you never know what tomorrow may bring.  I sit here on the couch, and look all around my house and see her, and am constantly reminded of how every moment counts.  She'll never be a "Chunk Monk" again.  She'll never be curled up asleep in a posed picture again.

Growing up I couldn't separate the destination from the journey.  I couldn't see my mom as someone who was travelling along with us.  After the past 21 months I can see that this Little Person has given me more that I could ever have imagined.  I've seen her hug her BFF, try so hard to count along with Jake, and even call me Mommy for the first time.  And I don't feel in the least bit that I've lost an ounce of myself or given any part of myself up that didn't become fulfilled in some other fashion.  We all have the power to control our own destiny.  The choices that we make in life shape who we are and our futures.  I'll never get the last 21 months back.  And I wouldn't have it any other way - it's once in a lifetime.

Winning the Name Game

This little nugget came out yesterday:

http://nameberry.com/blog/popular-names-2012

The story behind my daughter's name is that she is named after a song that I coincidentally kept hearing early in my pregnancy.  I felt it was a sign that I was having a girl.  As luck would have it, it's a traditional name that has been surpassed by such gems as Trinity and Destiny.  Yep, 143rd baby!  There were more little girls born in 2012 named Serenity.  Now, my beef is not with the names themselves - just because I don't like it means that it's bad in some way (except for Espn - no pass for that one).  It's just that our society has gotten so wrapped up in "originality" that there isn't any at this point.  We seem to have forgotten what originality is.  There were no little girls named Madison when I was growing up, and now there's Madison, Madisen, Maddisen, Maddison, Madisyn . . . . want me to keep going?  No matter how you spell it, it's still the same name.

Case in point:  When my niece was born a dozen years ago, her parents gave her a name that has since become quite common, but with a "different" spelling.  Lo and behold, she gets to school, in her tiny little town, and there is a girl with the exact same name and spelling.  Congratulations on your originality!  Madison, you're the new Jennifer.  So, to all you Phil Collins fans out there that want to name your daughter Genesis, it's the 56th most popular name of 2012 . . . and moving on up!

Nicknames, Or, What's Her Name Again?

Two days in a row!  This must be a record.  Well, the Little Person is still sleeping, so I get to enjoy some caffeine and a little Jim Croce on the Pandora.  So, we gave our daughter a beautiful name.  It's traditional without being old-fashioned, normal without being common.  A great deal of love and thought was put into her name . . . and I have about 1,000,000 nicknames that I use more often than her actual name.  Typically I use her first name (and often her middle name as well) only when I'm scolding her about worming her way into the pantry or standing up on the recliner.  And the nicknames change all the time.  

It started with Bear.  This one came about before she was born, and yes, she typifies a growly, surly Bear.  Who knew?  That then morphed into Bear-Bear.  And now I'm getting fuzzy.  Really, there have been so many, and ones that were fleeting, that I don't know them all anymore.  S.  Essie Mae (her evil alter ego).  Stinky.  Stink Tink.  Stinky Tinkerbell.  Princess Face.  Ooh, Smelly Butt, just remembered that one.  A few actually have stuck, like Peaches, which compliments her Aunt's nickname, Naneril (it means banana, and I don't really remember where that came from).  There's also Face (derivatives include Facie and Facers) because of her expressive and quite beautiful face. 

Disclaimer:  I'm her Mom, I'm allowed to gush over her, and I sincerely only do that around my family.  

I guess this is a Mom thing.  She's my first and only baby.  What concerns me is that she has so many ridiculous nicknames that it may lose that special quality.  What is her special, unique baby name?  Should she just have one?  Am I going overboard like I always do (hello, Hypermom)?!  Does it make her seem even more spoiled than she already is?

Welcome to the life of the Hypermom.  What don't we worry about?

Let's Try This Again

I made an attempt almost two years ago now to start a blog about my life as a new Mom, and it was a moderate fail.  New Mom Lesson #1:  Best Laid Plans!  

Baba and I went into parenting with the best of intentions.  We didn't think it would be easy, but we didn't think it would be bordering on impossible either.  First she didn't want to breastfeed.  Then, when we switched to formula, she pushed away the bottle, and Mommy was the only person she would take it from.  Overnight sleep training was manageable, but naps were (are) another story.  The little person does not sleep with any regularity.  

Then there was that whole post-partum/baby blues deal, and a devastating loss, that made 
the first year the most difficult year of my life.  The second year, thus far, has been an unbelievable surprise.  I opened myself up, and found a whole new life for myself and the little person.  I guess this is the product of that.  This is the story of Hypermom and her Little Person.