"Spring"time malaise, and ruminations on performing in our daily lives...

Hi all! It's been an interesting week as I wrap up my grading and course-related work, and segue back into writing project mode.  It's been a refreshing change, to be sure, as I do tend to get burned out from the intensive teaching that we do for the first 10 weeks of every semester (anywhere from 8-13 sections of the same library research lab). This semester I had the lowest number I've ever had, which is 8, and while it was much more manageable in terms of preparation, grading, and email management, it still very much crushes my spirit a bit. It's draining, it's monotonous, and frankly, it can be unfulfilling. It *can* be fulfilling, depends on the class and the week, to be sure. But every semester, when we are wrapping up this portion of our duties, I breathe a sigh of relief for a break from that harried routine. It's extremely refreshing to have other tasks for a spell, to have a chance to recharge and feel inspired again to teach in the fall.

Earlier this winter, I mentioned that I was struggling quite a bit with seasonal depression. I know, though, that it was also related to what I just discussed above. I took it hard when the spring semester started in late January, and my lovely holiday break and winter quiet time turned into chaos once again. I've been working on mitigating that with some natural remedies and prayer, and it has indeed helped. With the summer approaching, I know that the break from teaching will be the most important factor of all in helping me to recover my perkiness.

But the weather? Let's just say that is decidedly NOT helping.

April is not very springy in WNY. It's a factor of living on the volatile Great Lakes, it's just part of our climate. April is a transition month, very akin to November. Following the gorgeous foliage and cozy cool temperatures of September and October, November is gray, rainy, cold and gloomy, interspersed with occasional pleasant days. So is April. And that's OK. But every once in a while, you get an April like this one. And April 2018 is gray, rainy, cold and gloomy, but interspersed with high wind warnings, pelting mixed precipitation, snow squalls, hail, winter storm watches, and regular ice dams on your windshield. It has been rather miserable, and I'm getting weary of bracing myself for the walk out to my little Honda Fit every evening after work.

Everybody has been talking about the effect this long winter has had on our emotional well-being. We're looking to bust out of this funk we've been in. :0

In other, but related, news, I have some professional dance gigs coming up, and it's caused me to realize what a dramatic turn my life has taken over the years. We went from:

(A) voted shyest in her high school senior class; to

(B) gets up in front of people daily for either public speaking or dramatic Middle Eastern dancing.

It's quite the 360, let me tell you. And the thing is, although I've gotten slightly more confident as I've aged, the reality of the situation is that both of the things mentioned in (B) still make me all:

😳😬😳

I need to psych myself up to both daily, and afterward, both leave me drained. My dance instructors are going to Egypt for nearly a month, and are passing on gigs to me while they're away. All I could think when they told me this was:

"Please God. Let them hurry back!!"

Because I may be a quivering mass of sparkles in the corner by the time they return in mid-May. Restaurants on New Year's Eve are one thing. Surprise birthday parties, with their potential for countless instances of social awkwardness, are quite another. 😱

It's interesting, but *that* is what I worry about with teaching, too. Embarrassing myself. Saying something stupid. Tripping over my own feet and collapsing in a heap at the front of the classroom. I want to do a good job, sure. But more than anything, I fear feeling incompetent and letting myself down. The shy little girl from my K-12 years hasn't totally gone away. I tamp her down a lot better then I ever have, but I don't think a person ever completely changes inherent parts of who they are.

Life takes lots of unexpected turns, to be sure. I'll take my life now over my younger self, any day. It does still have it's challenges, though.

As we await summer, I've been busily knitting some baby gifts and catching up on my reading. My current reads are Lethal Licorice (Amish Candy Shop Mystery #2), and The Tomb (Living Water series, book 3). I'm thinking we can start up our summer book club (which will be apologetics themed!) in July. Sound like a plan?

How is this spring season treating you? Has it been as spring-less for you as it has for me? ;-) Write in and regale me with details!

Ash Wednesday is approaching, and new adventures in fitness to combat the winter blues...

ooooo, Ash Wednesday is almost here! I have to say, despite Lent being a penitential season, I look forward to it every year. It's a time for contemplation and reflection, a time to refresh and grow. It also means that it's at least midish February (sometimes early March) and so spring is not so far off in the future. Lent causes me to truly appreciate the sacredness of Holy Week, the poignancy of the Triduum, the breathtaking awe of the Easter vigil, and the sweet relief of Easter morning. I love it.

Lent also usually falls right near my birthday. As the years go by, birthdays have become more a reason for inner reflection and appreciation, rather than any outward celebration. I do miss my days of birthday parties in my parents' basement, the pictures inevitably featuring a pigtailed, glasses-wearing Yours Truly, with lots of games and homemade cake. Now, I see my birthday as a time to be grateful for how far I've come from that happy, but very insecure little girl, and to appreciate my adorable husband and kids. It's a time to be grateful to be alive. It really does tie in nicely with Lent. :0

This Lent, I am aiming to keep it simple, but meaningful. My item that I will give up is alcohol. Indeed, it is a bad habit to rely upon that as a way of winding down after work, and so this is a sacrifice that has been a long time coming. 😳 As well, I have the Magnificat Lenten Companion downloaded for Henry and I to share each evening, and the January/February/March issue of Our Daily Bread for myself to reflect on in the mornings. And therein lies the entirety of my plan.

In the past, I had more grandiose ideas, and inevitably, I'm not able to keep up with it all for the entirety of Lent. Then I feel like a failure, and by Holy Week, I'm castigating myself for yet again, being the Worst Catholic in the Known Universe. This year, I'm keeping it a little simpler. I'm curious to see how it will all turn out by the time Holy Week rolls around.

And frankly, I could use a Lenten boost, because the winter blues have hit me with a vengeance this year. I normally love the winter, but for whatever reason, this year it's affecting me differently. When the new semester approached, I assumed that, given my lovely holiday break, I would be a little down, but that I'd get back into the routine soon enough. Miss Type A over here tends to thrive in routine. Not this year.

We're on the third week of the semester, and my malaise has not let up. I dread coming to work, and I'm emotional and teary at home in the evenings. Not necessarily about work, just about...everything. It's like I don't totally understand why I feel so sad and cannot shake it. I'm normally a very upbeat person, and so this was a huge red flag for me. There is only one other time I remember feeling this way, like I couldn't control the depth of my emotions, and that was right after I had my kids. Postpartum depression. I'm obviously not postpartum now, but the basic physiology in my brain is the same: Depression. I'm thinking it's seasonal, but I suppose I don't totally know for sure. I just know that it's very unusual for me.

I decided to be proactive and get myself moving a bit more, because I know that there is a connection between physical exercise and mental health. I'm certainly not an inactive person - I go to 3 dance classes per week right now, and I take 30 minute walks at lunch when I can. But I know that dance technique classes, for all of their many benefits, are not cardiovascular or strength training exercise, so I decided to step it up. I'm participating in a free fitness class for staff here at work on Tuesdays, and in the big step I did something that I've never done before: I joined a gym.

The free class at work is called High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT), and as evidenced by the fact that I can hardly walk the next day, I suppose it's "working." To be honest, I don't really love it, because I have a weak knee that I don't want to risk injuring, and the intervals are extremely fast paced and involve lots of getting up and down. But I've tried to modify things as best I can to accommodate for that, and I adore the second half of the class, which is more traditional strength training with hand weights, working our way through specific muscle groups. Afterwards, this type of exercise makes me feel an endorphine rush, and like I could climb Mt. Everest. This is what got me thinking about a gym.

I dance for reasons other than physical health, ironically. It's a creative outlet for me. Besides short walks, and now the HIIT class, I don't really dedicate time to fitness. I decided to check out the free trial at a local Crunch gym that I drive right past on my way home from work.

Gyms intimidate me, just keeping it real. They are generally filled with people in extremely good shape, who take fitness very seriously. I know squat about fitness. After 5 minutes of discreet frowning and head scratching, I can figure out how to turn the treadmill on, but that's about the size of it for me. Those weight machines? Looking at any one of them, I can barely figure out how you would even sit on the thing, let alone what it's supposed to DO for a specific part of your body? Nefariously, some of them you DON'T EVEN SIT ON; you hang, lean or otherwise contort around them, and trying to figure that all out without getting in some other gymgoer's way makes me break into a cold sweat. Let's not even get started on the free weight area. I would rather get a root canal that go over there and deal with all the unspoken social interactions involved in that Pit of Potential Awkwardness.

So I went for my free trial. I donned my gym clothes and naturally, made my way over to the treadmill area. It did take me 5 full minutes to figure it out, don't judge :0, but I got it going, and managed a 30 minute slightly inclined walk. While I was doing so, I gym watched: how did the People In The Know use the scary torture machines? Ooooo, you put your legs THERE. Oh, oh, what are they doing now?! Ahhhh, that's a cleaner bottle thingy to wipe the machine down, good idea. That seems particularly smart for the winter. Oh I see, that's a machine to do abdominal crunches on. For reasons I cannot explain given how uncomfortable it looks, that seems like a very popular one.

Even looking over at the free weight area required courage I didn't know that I possessed. Herein lies the people with gigantic muscular arms, who carefully watch their form in the mirror as they lift weights that they selected ever so carefully. There are people hanging from things and tugging on pulleys, and I cannot foresee that me and my stick arms will ever be able to do any of these things with a straight face. But I suppose our God is a God of miracles. :0

All of that being said, I did enjoy my trial. When I'm there, I'm focused on doing something healthy for my physical and mental well being. I'm in The Zone. I push myself much more than if I was taking a quick walk during my lunch break. Importantly, Crunch has a $9.95 per month option, and does not require you to sign an annual commitment. I went for it.

This is only my second week, and my big Adventurous Move was to move from the treadmill to an elliptical machine and pick a random track rather than simply setting a speed. But hey, I'm getting there! I do want to try the weight machines, and they have a 30 minute circuit that I'm itching to attempt. I feel very self-conscious because I don't know how to use anything and I don't want to be a nuisance to anybody else and/or be in their way. But I'm working my way up to it.

I actually look forward to stopping there on my way home from work a few days per week, so I'm optimistic that this will have a long term benefit for me. I'll keep you posted on how things go with my trying new things there. 😨

All right, today is Fat Tuesday, and I'm trying to perk. I'm dancing with my troupe tonight at a benefit for the SPCA, which is fun, but it's going to be a long day. I'm looking forward to Ash Wednesday tomorrow, and navigating Lent beside all of you. *heart* Starting tomorrow, I'll begin The Thief  in anticipation of our first book club post next week!

How are you prepping for Ash Wednesday? I'd love to hear from you!

Tea Time with Tiffany #46 - Introverted penguins & spiritual attacks. I promise I'll explain :0

Hello ALL! I'm so glad to have you with me for a very peaceful installment of:

Today I talk about spiritual challenges and how I'm coping with them. I tie in a story about a penguin. I promise, this makes sense in the podcast. ;-) Listen on, dear listener!





**To subscribe to the audio version of Tea Time with Tiffany, just search for it in iTunes or use this link to subscribe via Feedburner in your podcatcher of choice. Intro music is "Tea Ceremony" from PlayonLoop.com

Items mentioned in this episode:

• Tuesday's post about spiritual darkness.
• Baby Penguins Everywhere! board book. I found it, HUZZAH! *pats librarian bun*
• Next Catholic Book Club selection: Church of Spies.  If you want to buy this book rather than going the library route, it is $15.99 for Kindle, and about $20 in hardcover. The paperback version doesn't release until November, as I suspected.

What are your practical suggestions for dealing with spiritual darkness? Also, don't forget to chime in about how we should structure our Church of Spies discussion. Over one month or multiple? Melanie had a great suggestion in the comments of yesterday's post. Leave yours as well!

Spiritual setbacks during Easter season, & Holy Spirit moments...

All! I've missed you.

*hug*

I'm all emotional today, so expect lots of sappy lapses like that one. As is so often the case with situations such as this, I'm fine one minute, and struggling the next. What am I talking about? Spiritual darkness with a just a touch of depression mixed in with it. Picture me walking about, looking anxious, with a small rain cloud following me directly overhead. That sums it up really well.

This tends to happen when I'm praying 54 day rosary novenas, interestingly. And we're just past the halfway point, which seems significant, somehow. And it just...happens, you know? There isn't just one reason, it's not that I'm a weak person, it just happens sometimes. All of a sudden, ordinary things seem to be more of a struggle, and it gets me down. I always climb up out of it, but for a day or two, all I want to do is sit around and feel sorry for myself while eating Cookies 'n Cream ice cream. It happens.

So this weekend I was feeling a bit fragile. On Saturday I forgot not only to pray my rosary but to pray the St. Gianna Beretta Molla novena.

#epicfail

Then I felt guilty as well as a bit down, and oh so forgetful, and it was just a whole snowball situation. ;-)

But here's the interesting thing. Grab your tea. We're going to go on a full circle journey together.

So, Thursday I recorded Tea Time. And I was fine. I felt a bit scattered, but I was fine. That's not exactly an unusual situation for yours truly.

*halo*

Between Thursday and Friday I started to feel not so fine. I began to worry about a whole assortment of things, and my heart felt heavier. By Friday, I was definitely not fully myself, and that lasted the entire weekend.

But it's what ELSE happened this weekend, in the midst of all of this, that I find interesting. On Friday afternoon, I received a package containing the gift I'd ordered for a First Communion gift. It's a St. Gabriel the archangel saint doll:

He looks very stoic, yes?

As you might expect, I was very pleased to see him. :) I pulled him out of his wrappings for a little photo shoot, and Anne wanders in. She becomes entranced with him:

"Mommy, he has WINGS!"

Wings ;-)

"Yes Honey, he's an angel."

"I want wings too, Mommy. Can I keep him?"

"No darling, he's a gift."

This was most disappointing to her, so she retreated to her room to pull out her own saint doll collection, which had been languishing for a time having fallen under her bed. She does not yet have any wooden dolls, but she has a plethora of felt dolls. All of a sudden, Anne's tiny body disappears beneath her bed, and out comes St. Therese, St. Kateri, St. Blaise, Our Lady Star of the Sea, and Our Lady of Lourdes. I could see her examining each carefully, becoming re-acquainted with them. She begins toting them around the house with her.

On Saturday, I find this on the dining room table:

Apparently St. Therese and St. Kateri are down with the sledding

She had become so enamored with her new saint friends that it was like a whole new relationship blossoming with them:

"Mommy. Can you...make me a saint? Like, can I dress like them?"

I mean...

*heart!*

So this is what we came up with:

Future saint ;-)

Yes, those are butterfly wings, inspired by our archangel friends. But she picked out a head covering, and carried that crucifix and a pair of plastic rosary beads around with her for the entire weekend. I even heard her in her bed praying a Hail Mary Saturday night.

*collapses from the cuteness*

So Anne is on this saint kick, and Sunday morning the kids and I head to Mass with me still not feeling myself. We get out to the car in the garage, and what do you suppose happens?

The car won't start.

I was about to go into the house to fetch Mike's kind assistance, but I gave myself a few tries and gave the car a little gas. It started.

My car is ancient, so this isn't exactly a shock for it to act this way, and in the past it's always been fine afterward, so we press onward. We are now running late, but away we go. When we arrive at our parish, our usual spot on the far right side of the sanctuary was full, due to us getting there later than usual. I tell Henry to choose a new spot, and he picks an area in the middle of the church, just past center.

On we proceed, and Anne goes up for Children's Liturgy of the Word. During the homily, Father devoted part of the time to a nun who came to speak about an appeal for her missionary order of sisters. Part of her discussion was about vocations, and she indicated that some of the children in the parish could be future priests, bishops, nuns and/or saints. She brought the young altar servers in as examples. :)

"And that young boy over there!" *points* "He could be the pope someday!"

I turn to see that she is pointing directly at Henry, and that he is weakly raising his hand to acknowledge her. If we hadn't sat where we did, she never would have seen him. And we wouldn't have sat where we did if we weren't running late due to the car not starting and me being in a general funk. It just seemed terribly fortuitous.

This is not to say that I'm taking this as a sign that Henry will be pope. ;-) It just warmed my heart to see my children engaged in their faith, and at a time when I really needed the boost. The Holy Spirit is always alive and well, even when things seem a bit more difficult than usual.

After Mass, I felt a little better. We took the kids on an afternoon hike after lunch, and Anne tripped, fell and skinned her knee about 2 and a half minutes into the walk. *long suffering sigh* We had to take turns carrying her for a spell. But I felt a little better still. I've been improving ever since. I'm going to try and get to confession this week.

Does this happen to you all as well? Spiritual dryness or darkness or however you want to term it? How do you handle it? I would love to discuss it with you in the comments.

Tomorrow is book club day! If you read Divine Mercy for Moms or are otherwise interested to learn more about it, stop in to chat with us then. :)

A weekend that made me reflect on weekends, & a brief note about the blogging schedule...

St. Kateri brightens every day, yes?

Hi all! Before I get started, a quick note of housekeeping. The spring semester has officially started for me at work.

*insert groan here*

Yes, that's right, not only can I no longer swing my knitting bag without hitting a half dozen students walking aimlessly through the halls while checking their phones, but I arrived at the parking lot at 8:27 am and got THE LAST SPOT. That $#@! is messed up. :0 It'll die down, but in the meantime, I'm feeling mighty sorry for myself over here. I so enjoyed the holiday and winter break, and going back into the fray of the semester is not appealing to me right now. At all. Plus I have to start teaching again. I do like teaching, don't get me wrong, but once I get out of the routine, I get all rusty and anxious about it. :) So here I sit, rusty and anxious, and I have to teach in an hour.

*sigh*

Oh! But I got off track, didn't I? The whole reason I mentioned any of this is that my blogging schedule will shift just the itsiest of bits, and I wanted to let you know. Still plan on 3 posts per week, one of which will be Tea Time with Tiffany. But I usually post on Mondays, and this semester I'm just not going to be able to do that. Mondays are...*shudder* We'll just say that there is no blogging time and leave it at that. :) So I'll definitely post on Tuesday and Thursday, and then also on either Wednesday or Friday, depending on which of those works out better in a given week.

I just like to keep you posted on such things. :) And I have fun stuff to talk about this week (we need a bright spot this week, for sure). Downton Abbey mystery crafting-along! Adventures with new fitness classes! Plans for Lent! It's all coming up.

As for today, I'm just thinking about my weekend. And it was *glorious*. That's part of why I'm so sad to be back to the grind at work. *sniffle*

We didn't do anything out of the ordinary. Let's see...I had dance class and rehearsal on Friday. And can I say HOW MUCH I MISSED IT?! *4 weeks had gone by since I last attended class, just given the way the holidays fell and then the funeral and our anniversary trip. AND we're learning a new group sword choreography, so many good blog-worthy stories to come, just you wait dear reader!! You should have SEEN how pleased Sword was when I pulled him out and took him to class with me. He was just about bursting with pride to accompany me while Veil stayed home stuffed into a bag with my performance shoes. :0 And Sword certainly gave my arms a good workout, I'll tell you that, ouch! But I digress, as I am wont to do. Saturday we took the kids out for breakfast and later I made a slammin' new dinner recipe of quinoa and sausage stuffed peppers. Sunday we went to Mass, ran a few errands and had friends over to watch the NFL conference championship games. All fun stuff, to be sure.

So this morning I was feeling extra melancholy. Not only am I going back to battling it out for parking spaces and ability to breathe in the hallways, but I was sad to leave Mike and the kids and part from our lovely time together.

This is all contemplation fodder for me because I remember a much different time back when Henry was 2 years old. To set the scene, we did not yet have Anne in our lives, and Mike and I had only been married for 3 years and were still fairly new to the whole parenting thing. Henry was going through the Terrible Two's, and Mike had a demanding job that he really wasn't loving (and I couldn't blame him AT ALL), and can I be honest about something? I always aim to keep it real here on Life of a Catholic Librarian. ;-) During that dark stretch of time, I would *dread* the weekends. Henry would throw epic temper tantrums that left me exhausted, we had to do ALL of the housework on the weekends because neither of us had time during the week due to work, the piles of laundry overwhelmed me just to LOOK at them, and I just felt like crying all weekend long. It was like that for quite a while. I had experienced some postpartum depression after I had Henry and I swear I didn't really go back to normal for years afterward. It was not an easy time.

Now, our kids are older and we don't have the temper tantrum issue anymore. Much. ;-) (Anne still has her moments sometimes...) I enjoy the company of my children now. I don't have that black shroud of depression hanging over my head anymore. Mike's job situation has improved immensely, and not only does he love what he does now (he's an adjunct professor of philosophy), but the flexibility of being an adjunct means that he's home during the day a lot to take care of housework, do the grocery shopping and pick up the kids, etc. Our daily "grind" isn't much of a grind anymore. And our weekends are a pleasure.

I really appreciate that now all the more given our past experience. I really, really do. It's not to say that challenges don't still come up, because of course they do, that's just part of life. But I treasure the good things that I have more now.

How about you, dear reader? Have any of you ever struggled with depression or getting through a particularly difficult time in your life? I'd love to hear about how your experience.

Tomorrow we'll be talking crafts, so if you're doing the Downton Abbey MKAL or MCAL, be ready with an update! :-)

A tale of much spit-up

Well, as I'm sure you could tell from Friday's post, I wasn't in the best of spirits going into the weekend. And unfortunately, the weekend bore up that early prediction. It was a rough one.

We had two really bad nights in a row, and I was in that sleep deprived newborn haze of seeing pacifers and burb rags strewn over every available surface in my house and walking around with dried spit-up covering my blouse and in my hair. In our "TMI alert" for the day, my nipples were killing me and I felt teary and trapped. Saturday night was particularly bad. The baby was extra fussy and seemed in some clear discomfort and was up every 20-30 minutes throughout the night. I was a basket case by Sunday morning.

Yesterday, I had an epiphany: I think Anne has, to some degree, acid reflux. The sheer volume that she spits up is comparable only to a geyser. I did a little research, and come to find out, *all* newborns have some acid reflux. Their esophoguses are immature and they all spit up for the first 6 to 12 months of their lives. Anne's might be a bit more advanced than some, so I considered calling the pediatrician. But I read a bit about home remedies, and apparently if you incline them after eating, and while sleeping, this can help. I did that yesterday, and lo and behold, we had an excellent night last night and a much better day today.

Last night, I was able to put Anne down by 8:30 pm, and she slept for 4.5 hours. That's the most sleep I've gotten since she was born. After that, she slept for 3 hours, and then was up at 6 am for the morning to nurse again. That's excellent for a newborn.

This morning, I feel like a new woman. Getting some rest does wonders for ones physical and emotional health. We decided to observe her for at least a few more days before calling the pediatrician. She hasn't spit up nearly so much today, and I credit the inclining after feeding. Her bassinette is also slightly inclined, and that must be why she prefers to sleep in there. Side lying nursing is a total disaster for her. She gets all kicky and archy, and seems to have a hard time breathing well in that position, so I never feed her in that position anymore. I always have to sit up to nurse her.

So, I'm feeling better. I've also taken a gigantic amount of pressure off of myself with breastfeeding. With Hank, I never used formula. I didn't even know how to mix it until about a week ago. Feeding Anne has been so much more of a production, and my emotions (and poor, poor nipples) have taken a real beating. We've given her a few bottles of formula, and I feel SO much better knowing the pressure isn't always on me to feed her, sore nipples and all. A little formula isn't going to hurt her, and I'm just feeling BETTER.

I know supplementing can affect my milk supply, but, well. This time, I have a different perspective. My mental and physical health is not less important than Anne being exclusively breastfed. She's getting plenty of breastmilk (she's gained nearly 2 pounds since she's been born, up past 9 lbs, little chunker!) and receiving the nutrition that she needs. That's all that is important.

So, this morning, I'm feeling grateful for the hope that I feel today. That everything is going to be ok.

Officially inaugurated as mother of a newborn

What would that sign be?

Wait for it...

Evenings are tough right now. With Anne now just over 2 weeks old, she's getting into that "evening fussy phase," which I remember vividly from Hank, and well, it can be a bit of a nightmare.

Last night, she was wailing as I walked her around the house, trying to soothe her. Mike was upstairs giving Hank a bath. I had her kind of sitting in my arms, facing forward. Suddenly, I heard that ominous squirting sound. All of you parents know precisely what I'm talking about. Mike could hear it even from upstairs. What's worse, I *feel* something touch my hand. Uh oh.

That's right, poo on the floor. And on my hand. Our first official 'poosplosion'. You heard it coined here first.

Her diapers have generally been much, much easier to handle than Hank's. With boys, pee gets everywhere. Up in an arc over to the adjourning piece of furniture. Up their back. Down onto the changing pad and their legs. Possibly up onto your face. And Hank always had explosive poo diapers. You know it's a bad one when not only does the baby need a fresh outfit, but *you* do too.

Anne usually keeps to her diaper. Until last night. I guess everyone falls prey to it sometimes.

I cried last night for only the second time since bringing the baby home. I consider that a victory. With Hank, I cried everyday. I just felt overwhelmed for a spell. Which is totally normal with a new baby. I miss having some time to myself and not feeling so anxious all the time. I miss my routine. I miss my friends and my dance class. I wish my life felt like "mine" again. But, as with all things, this too shall pass. I'm just going to try and keep hanging in there.

The things that go on in the night...

Did I say yesterday that Anne gets up about 3 times per night? That would be 4 or 5 times. :) The sleeplessness is making me lose basic math skills. But I'm hanging in there. And at least this time, I know how quickly this stage passes. I keep telling myself that it's not that much worse than the sleepless nights of late pregnancy. All told, I'm probably up a comparable amount.

Because Anne prefers her bassinette to our bed, I sleep much more deeply between her wakings. This is mostly good, but I am much more disoriented when she wakes me. The other night, I heard a baby crying in my dream. Oh right, that's not a dream, that would be my current life. :) But wait! How can the baby be crying from next to the bed when I have her in my arms? Oh. That's not Anne. That's Muffin, the stuffed dog I sleep with to tuck under my arm. He sleeps through the night just fine.

While in the hospital, and up much, much more than I am now, I saw all kinds of interesting infomercials that play throughout all hours of the night. My favorite was for "Pajama Jeans" (pronounced "pa-jah-ma jeans") the comfortable slip on pants that look just like real designer jeans! All yours for just $39.95. There is also a revolutionary new cat litter insert on the market, designed specifically to scoop up the poo for you when you pull on this mesh that hangs over the edge. Or, those pant cuff clips so that you can wear your pants with either flats or heels? You can double your order for free if you call now.

Lately, the night feedings are a bit of a haze, but I think I'm going to invest in a book light so that I can read while I feed her. I will say that she falls back to sleep beautifully when I nurse her in the night and transfers to her bassinette like a dream. You would have thought we'd detonated a bomb in the bedroom when we tried to put Henry in his bassinette 5 and a half years ago. So, we're just doing the best we can with it.

Anne was at the pediatrician this morning, and she's not only surpassed her birth weight, she weighs a whole pound more than when she left the hospital. So, she's thriving. :)

As for me, I'm definitely still in that bluesy place of mourning my pre-postpartum life, but I'm doing so, so much better than after Henry's birth. I understand this time that having the baby blues does not mean that there is anything abnormal or wrong with me, or that I am a "bad mother." It's a physiological reaction that has nothing to do with me personally. It's the postpartum hormone changes wrecking havoc with my emotional state. And it's temporary. And I can mitigate it, which I've been taking steps to do this time. These first couple of weeks are the toughest part, and already I'm over 1 week in. I hope to start dancing again (at home) next week, and return to class within 4-5 weeks. I've been out walking and getting fresh air, which has been doing me a world of good.

Somehow, it's going to be ok. And I won't be able to remember my life without Anne in it. We'll get there. Every day, I feel a tad bit better.

Crying over the grocery list? The depression post

So, I had a bit of a setback this weekend. :) To be perfectly honest (and blunt) I think it can be summed up as this:

Hormones are a bitch.

In this blog, I always strive to be funny, but most of all, I strive to be honest and straightforward. Writing about life's journey is only interesting to other people if it's *real.* And the real truth is that this usually very happy-go-lucky girl, who never suffered from depression a day in her life, struggled mightily with postpartum depression after the birth of my son 5 years ago. For about a year, I felt like a heavy blanket was over my head, and despite my strong desire, I simply couldn't shake it off. It's a humbling and frustrating feeling. Since then, it's been a lot better, but every so often I go back to that dark place, and I hate it so much I can't fully articulate it. I'm better at coping with it now. I do not take anti-depressants (don't feel that I need them, although I know a number of people who benefit strongly from them), but I know that physical exercise, keeping myself distracted, and not isolating myself are key natural remedies to dealing with this horrible malady. Those things always work, but sometimes it takes a day or two to fully pull myself up out of the morass. As you can imagine, pregnancy or postpartum hormones can really exacerbate this problem.

So, Friday evening, I started feeling a bit "off." A number of things could have contributed to this. As you may have saw from my post on Friday, I was starting to feel panicky about the coming discomfort of the third trimester of pregnancy. I was trying to downplay it a bit, but it was a very strong feeling of fear. I had a bit of a rough time of it in that part of my pregnancy with Henry, and naturally I'm bracing myself for the same type of experience. Lately, I'm feeling very visibly pregnant and vulnerable. I miss my "old self." Plus, (and this is going to sound ridiculous, but that's just how I am sometimes :) ) I noticed that I'd lost a blog follower (as well as a few in Google Reader) and for whatever reason that nearly brought tears to my eyes. What was that? Right, hormones. Anyway, I take a lot of pride in my blog, so naturally I fretted about how maybe I'd lost my blogging mojo and wasn't engaging my readers anymore. I see this blog as a personal form of ministry for me, and it means a lot to me.

So, I got home from dance class Friday in a bit of a funk. Feeling preetttyyy darn sorry for myself. I didn't sleep well (also deadly to the depression issue), and finally dragged myself out of bed Saturday morning. And that's when it hit me. Even though I had just blogged happily about how my sciatica wasn't nearly as bad this time, I noticed that suddenly, my entire butt ACHED. I did some stretching, and that helped. I hoped it was just a temporary flare up. Well, that would be a negative. My sciatica is officially back, and it's angry. Especially as the evening rolls around, anytime I get up from sitting for any length of time, I'm feeling it BAD. That was sort of the straw that broke the camel's back. I was officially miserable. Well, I'd also gained 2 lbs overnight. That hadn't helped either. It's not merely a vanity issue; more weight means worse sciatica.

Early Saturday afternoon, after a lengthy trip to the grocery store to fill up on supplies for the week, I went into the cupboard to get something. Mike found me, about 5 minutes later, weeping at the kitchen table.

"What's wrong?!"

"It's...it's... the ZIPLOC BAGS!!!!!!!"

Yes, I was THAT devastated about plastic sandwich bags. Remember the hormones?

"We forgot the Ziploc bags, and I've had them on the grocery list for WEEKS! I need them for lunches, and then at the store, I didn't have the list in front of me *hiccup* and I forgot, and..."

Well, it wasn't a happy scene. I knew the dark feeling, and it was hanging over me like a rain cloud with a real mean-looking face. It scared me a little. I'm going to be home all summer with a newborn, a 5 year old, and my postpartum hormones. I need to be able to cope better.

All day, I dragged my pathetic self around. I couldn't even pray my daily rosary. I was constantly on the brink of tears. They spilled over only 1 additional time, when Henry finished a poo resisting effort on the potty and I needed to do butt wiping duty. Mike and I often joke about when the day will come that we will not have to wipe anybody's butt but our own. I think that day is officially a LONG way off.

Yesterday, I felt a smidgen less horrible, but still not great. Going to Mass helped. We also kept ourselves busy with cleaning out the storage and getting Henry some much needed new clothes. I made one of Mike's favorite dinners, which kept me busy in the kitchen for a time. And later, I read my new birthing book and we watched Nature on PBS. Lately, they've had several shows about animals with their young. This is a real soft spot with me right now.

" I feel such a kinship with that mule deer/grizzly bear/whatever mammal is featured that week!"

I really do enjoy watching how some wild animals instinctively birth and care for their young. We, after all, are mammals too, just like them. Unfortunately, their motherly instinct does not extend to *other* animal's young. They'd stalk and eat somebody else's cub in a heartbeat. Not so pleasant.

Anyway, this morning on my way to work, I was listening to The Catholics Next Door with Greg and Jennifer Willits (the podcast version) which was about emotional hurt and healing. I'm definitely feeling a bit better today, and the topic of this show really resonated with me and gave me some ideas.

First, I need to stop focusing on the negatives and focus more on the positives. This is not a physically comfortable time, but whining about it is not going to help me one iota. It's quite selfish and vain, truly. I'm going to try to do better. I'm not beating myself up over it, I'm human too and there are areas in which I am weak. This is one of them. The primary positive is that my baby is healthy and well. After that, my pregnancy is 2/3 completed, and only the home stretch is before me. 12 weeks will pass quickly, and to the extent I can, I'm going to try and enjoy them. At 36 years old, I don't know if I'll have another pregnancy. Of course, it's entirely possible, but it's not a given. Why rush this precious time? Feeling my baby move inside me; expectantly awaiting that time in 3 short months when I'll be meeting this new person for the first time; knowing how amazing that first moment is when you see their little face:

So it was *you* who was growing under my heart for all these months!

I'm certain that next year, when I'm feeling much more back to myself, I'll be all weepy because I'm *not* pregnant. Hormones.

Second, when I'm weak, I need to not rely on *myself* to try and fix everything. I'm going to get down sometimes, or feel overwhelmed, both physically and emotionally, and I need to realize that only God can fix that. And, it's *good* to be weak sometimes to allow God to work in us and teach us new things. For quite some time now, I've focused my life on God and tried to be open to let Him work in me. But I know that I often fail, and that I try to shoulder everything myself, all the while telling myself that I'm "letting go and letting God." Lately, I have not been. That wasn't my intention, but that's in fact what I was doing.

With Lent approaching, now is the perfect time to focus more on my spiritual life and let God take care of my emotional life. How are things going to go this summer? Will Mike get a job? What will happen in the fall when I need to come back to work? I have absolutely no idea. And that's absolutely fine. We'll do our part. Me, by keeping up with the small, natural remedies that I know contribute to a healthier mental outlook. Mike, by applying for jobs and working on his resume and cover letter, as he's already begun doing. But the rest is up to God. Worrying about it ahead of time is not going to benefit any of us.

Besides keeping up with my daily rosary, I can incorporate some new spiritual practices in for Lent (and hopefully, beyond). Some short daily prayer time, some time in adoration when possible. Attend daily Mass more. I have some specific ideas, which I'll blog about this week. But I feel better now that I have a plan. And that plan is letting God take the wheel.