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Please check out my post where I literally BEAR IT ALL to prove how important it is that we accept who we are so that our daughters don’t grow up hating their bodies just because they see us hating ours.
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I’m obviously not very good at burying the lead. There’s the spoiler right there in the title!
I warned you that I was a wreck, but I told you I would share that side of myself with you too, not just the domestic put together side. My family and friends know just how destructive I can be, so I figured I might as well share witht he rest of my readers.
I was getting ready to leave for work yesterday. As I was getting into my car Mr. F was standing next to my driver’s side door saying goodbye. He looked at me and said, “I’m ordering you a phone case tonight.” To which I responded, “No, we don’t have the money right now. I promise I’ll be super careful.” He continued on by telling me how destructive and clumsy I am. I shrugged it off.
You see, I honestly have never been one to care about the “top of the line” phones. If I could call, text, and take pictures, I was happy. I only half-jokingly always ask Mr. F if I can just get a flip phone because some of these smart phones seem just so complicated and unnecessary.
Well long story short I jumped on the iphone bandwagon about a year and a half ago and enjoyed it much more than I had anticipated I would. So when it started to fail on me last week I was pretty upset. Mostly because I thrive on social interaction and we don’t have a house phone. We went to the store, dealt with a lot of bull from ATT and ultimately switched to Sprint (you’re welcome for the positive plug Spring), and I got the much sought after Iphone 6s in rose gold.
I love it! The camera is so much better, the screen is bigger, and I honestly just love a good change no matter what kind it is.
Anyway, back to the story… I left for work and when I got there I went in to use the restroom like I always do ebfore I start my shift. Before I even had a chance to pee (thank goodness) I heard a “plop,” and realized my brand new phone had been submerged in water.
I panicked, I hurried to pick it up and dry it off. I immediately turned it off to hopefully avoid a battery surge that could ultimately occur when using a water logged phone. I placed it in front of a small fan for SIX HOURS. I went SIX HOURS without my phone. The entire time I was panicking and telling anyone who would listen about the ironic events that had transpired.
The irony of course being that RIGHT before I left for work Mr. F had STRESSED that I would likely break my phone and I had PROMISED to be soooo careful. The irony was furthered by the fact that I had never gotten a top of the line phone until now, and here I was, sitting next to a phone that I was rotating in front of a fan. I wasn’t so much panicked because I was attached to my phone, but more because I couldn’t afford to buy a new one.
When I called Mr. F he thought I was joking. Like he seriously thought I was pulling his leg. and then I heard, “Seriously Madi?!”
Luckily when I turned my phone on 6 hours later it worked and all was well. What a relief. But you should have seen me during those hours. I am clearly not as put together as people seem to think. And I clearly am as destructive as they tell me I am..
Thank you Apple for creating a phone that can even withstand me.
I know you’re thinking I’m going to talk about choosing your sexual orientation or choosing who you marry. Sorry about your luck, nothing quite that interesting.
I in fact believe that love itself is a choice. I don’t believe you choose who you fall in love with or when it happens, I do however believe that staying in love and making love work are choices that you and your partner make,.
I choose to love Mr. F. I choose to love him when he leaves the toilet seat up. I choose to love him when he forgets to throw away his trash. I even choose to love him when he forgets to buy me Christmas presents. I choose to love him because I didn’t choose to fall in love with him.
And he chooses to love me when I’m too tired to walk the dog. He chooses to love me when I complain about the extra pounds I’ve gained since the baby. He even chooses to love me when I whine because I have a simple head cold.
We choose to love through dirty diapers, spit up, and sick kids.
The choice we make every day to love each other is not simple. Its making a choice to forgive and sympathize. Its making a choice to begin every day with a kiss and to never go to bed angry. Its making a choice to surprise each other even when its something that seems small. Its giving up on battles that seem insignificant just so that the other person comes out happy.
Love is hard work. It is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Its definitely the messiest thing I’ve ever done. There are fighting words, and lost hours, hurt feelings, and eyes filled with tears. But I will continue to make the choice to love him until the day that I die, because doing life with him is worth every hardship and more.
I will continue to make this choice because even when I am upset over a fight we had, he is my person. He is my person who will pick me up and dust me off and put me right back on that shelf looking good as new.
Love is a choice, and I make the right one every single day.
This is the real “meat” of the story. The day that everything unraveled, and the day that it all went to hell. A hell that I wouldn’t trade for anything because it ended with my beautiful baby.
One year ago we arrived at the hospital between 7 and 8 am. One year ago Mr. F parked in the parking garage and we walked into the hospital doors as two, knowing we would leave as three. One year ago I stopped as we were walking because I couldn’t walk through my contractions. I then looked at my amazing boyfriend and slapped him on the back because I realized he should have dropped me off at the door! Luckily we both have a sense of humor.
Anyways, we went into the hospital and waited and waited to find out if they were even going to admit me into labor and delivery. Thank goodness they did because I was in tears at the thought of having to go home in this kind of pain and just wait it out.
They sent me upstairs to walk. So walk is what I did. Mr F, my mom, and I walked as much as I could, stopping every few minutes so I could ride out a contraction. We walked until they told us it was time to check and see if it had helped, it didn’t. So now it was time for petocin. Good lord did that speed up the contractions, and now i was really starting to feel the pain. Thats when the tears started, with every contraction came a set of crocodile tears and my good attitude was starting to get ruined.
Epidural! I am in no way going to apologize for getting an epidural, they are magical. I have a high pain threshold but not high enough to do a natural birth. Although, the events that transpired over the next twelve hours meant that I didn’t have the pleasure of enjoying a pain free child birth even with the epidural.
For several hours I was happy. I joked with Mr F, my mom, my sister in laws, and my mother in law. I was snarky and sarcastic and hilarious as I always am. 🙂
Those several hours were the calm before the storm. I remember a few of my friends showing up, and as I attempted to speak to them I began screaming in pain. All of a sudden I had severe pain in my back, terrible nausea, and horrid hot and and cold spells. It came out of no where, but it came on bad.
I remember that my fever kept fluctuating but at one point it was above a 104. They were having issues finding her heart beat on and off. I was so disoriented from the fever that I barely understood what was happening. I remember waking up (sort of) from a nap and hearing my mom telling everyone that they should all leave the room, that Mr. F and I needed to be alone. Thats when I started to get scared. I looked at Mr. F and begged him not to leave my side no matter what. Then I fell back asleep.
This time when I woke up I saw Mr. F walking back into the room. He had left?? But he promised! Something wasn’t right.
I looked over at him and I said “I’m sorry for making you worried.” And he replied, “I’m not worried.” I could tell that that was a lie. Something in his eyes said different, but I was dozing out again.
I later found out that it was at this point that he had been told that they weren’t sure what was going to happen. I had a bad infection and that infection had transferred to the baby and she was going to the NICU.
The next time I woke up my nurses were telling me that it was time for a second epidural. “But wait, you said if I have a second epidural I won’t be able to push,” I cried. Their response, “We will check you one more time.” By some miracle after 25 hours of labor I was finally at 10 centimeters and that’s when they revealed that the plan was to give me an emergency c-section. “This baby needs to come out now,” they told me. So I started pushing while they had someone else call my doctor.
So in came the NICU team.
As I’m sure is completely normal I started panicking. I told Mr. F I couldn’t do it, to which he replied, “Madi you don’t have much of a choice at this point.” He held my hand, my mom held my leg, and his mom held my other leg, while my sister in laws stood at the end of the bed and watched the miracle that is child birth.
P came at 12:20am on October 8th. The nurses lied about my temperature and the infection on my paper work to try and keep P from going to the NICU. I thought that they were doing me a favor but since we ended up back in the NICU the day after we left the hospital, I wish that they would have told the truth. The infection was a result of the way and the time that they had broken my water, and then they lied about it on the paperwork.
P went to the nursery instead because they were calling her heartbeat irregular. But she was back in my arms only hours later.
She was fine.
Like I said she ended up in the NICU later and that was terrifying, but that’s a post for another time, and the whole time once she was out we knew that she would be ok, we knew that we were lucky.
On this day one year ago I went to work. It was a normal day, but towards the end of my shift something felt weird. I couldn’t put my finger on it, I wasn’t having pain, but something was off. So I went home, but first I stopped to get some ice cream. When I got home at about 10:30 in the evening I sat down to eat my ice cream I began having pains in my lower abdomen, I immediately texted my boyfriend who rushed home from the gym. What does this mean? Should we go to the hospital?
Did I forget to mention that I was nine months pregnant?
My contractions started at about 15 minutes apart, so of course we were in no rush. We had all the normal questions, “Is it false labor?” “is it even worth going to the hospital?” We weren’t sure what to do so we decided to try and sleep and reevaluate in the morning. I was trying not to get my hopes up because I had felt like she was never coming out. Well, the contractions were too painful and I couldn’t sleep, but still being 10 minutes apart I decided to just get up and go into B’s room so that I could watch some TV and not disrupt Mr. F.
I came back into our bedroom about a half hour later and told Mr. F that I couldn’t sleep. His response was, “Babe I love you but we are probably going to the hospital in the morning so I really need to try and get some sleep.” I’m not going to lie I was slightly irritated by that comment but I knew it was the sleep deprivation talking so I shut the door and went back to attempting to restlessly watch Grey’s Anatomy and count the hours until morning.
I was anxious, and terrified, and excited, but still trying not to get my hopes too far up. I became more restless than I can really explain. I started cleaning the house and got in the shower so that I could shave before I went to the hospital (something I had been really worried about). I called the doctor and she told me to come on in. So at about 6:30 in the morning I woke Kenny up and watched him frantically double check that we had everything in the diaper bag (which of course we didn’t), and then it was off to the hospital.
Giving birth to Paisley was a three day event (in total 26 hours of labor). So I will be sharing the story a little each day, until Thursday which will be the first birthday of my most precious gift.
I am emotional already, oh brother.
One winter we made paints for the bathroom walls! It seemed like the perfect winter craft. The kids get to wear swim suits and play when it was too cold to go outside.
To do this we used shaving cream and food coloring... supplies that most people have on hand at all times. It was a blast! It washes right off the tiles and you can mix the paints together to work on learning primary and secondary colors.
Now here is the fail part… while it washed right off of the walls and tub, it stained the grout and our hands!
My advice is to DEFINITELY try this with your kids, but keep it in the tub and use gloves or a brush to do the painting. I recommend using rubber gloves because painting with brushes is way less fun. IF you’re brave you can just use your fingers, it will eventually come off, but definitely keep it off the grout!
This was one of the most fun family crafts we’ve done by far, but as I’ve learned many times… it doesn’t always turn out like the pictures on pinterest.