Definitely not a vacation

It was funny, the other day Cody and I were having one of those parenting days that just are so hard. Every whine, every look, every poopy diaper had us on edge. And when both of us are in the overwhelmed state we simply cannot function.

So I said in a huff “Ugh, we seriously need a vacation.” To which he replied “You will be getting one in a month” hinting to the fact that school will be out soon and my job ends until the next school year starts.

I corrected him because I actually have 2 months left and I also stated that it won’t be a vacation. It will be more work for me. I will be the only one 100% of the time responsible for all of our kids all day, all night, no breaks, it will be me. That’s it.

He just laughs and blows it off and said something to the point of how work is stressful and I said “well work for me is my break. It is not stressful it’s the chance for me to get a mom break.”

I knew he did get it though.

He doesn’t understand the demand that mothers have. He doesn’t understand that you literally have no space. That no matter what room you are in the kids will follow you there. Talking, crying, screaming, wanting always wanting.

That you’ve picked up the house way to many times that by the time the end of the day comes, you could give a flying fuck how your house looks.

He didn’t get that until I came home from work yesterday.

Now I only work 5 hours a day but when I got home I could see it in his eyes. That same look of defeat I get some days.

He was rocking Annie who seemed to not want to settle. I could hear Gunner crying through the monitor because he wanted nothing to do with a nap and Wyatt was in the other room playing video games.

And that’s when he told me. Wyatt and Gunner kept coming into every room I was in. I was trying to get Annie to sleep and right when I would, they would come running in here and start wrestling. And no matter how many times I tell them to stop and go play somewhere else they wouldn’t listen.

So she hasn’t slept all day.

Then I said “see, it’s no vacation huh?” as I snatch up Annie, who settled quickly. Walked out of the room so he could take it all in. Marinate in it.

The fact that parenthood is hard most days and most definitely not a vacation.

Alone with the baby

I was not allowed by any means to wallow in my misery after the dog bite incident. I get home after my 5 hour stay in the ER. I just received 10 stitches altogether in my arm and I chose to have no pain meds while I was in the hospital. Because one, I hate how they make me feel. Two, I could not really feel my arm/fingers anyway.

I get home, and there was my husband frazzled. Rocking the baby trying to settle her down. His mom there watching, who just got the older kids down to sleep finally. After a while she leaves and it is now him and I alone with the baby.

She’s hungry and waiting nothing more than to nurse after hours of being away from me. And he is so far beyond his stress level that he was nonfunctioning. I in a huff told him to just go to bed and hand me the crying baby.

That’s when I realized I was on my own.

There would not be anyone else that could be the mom in this family. No one else that could nurse Annie. No one else to calm down my husband. No one else to comfort the boys back to sleep the way I do. No one else that knows their special lullabies to help them feel better.

I was it.

So painfully and alone I figured out a way to hold Andalyn on my breast and pinch my nipple the certain way she likes with my nonworking fingers so she’d actually eat.

I rocked and cried, rocked and cried some more because I didn’t ask for this. I never wanted this.

An hour later, Gunner wandered down stairs crying and I call threw my tears still rocking and nursing Annie for my husband who rushes out into the living room in his half slept mind to snatch him up.

He wakes a little more to see me crying and asks what’s wrong. All I can think is I just got bit by a dog asshole and I am still up with the baby what do you think is wrong?

Instead I mumble through my tears, I just hurt.

He goes to the medicine cabinet and gets an ibuprofen and pops it into my mouth and gives me a drink of water.  

Picks up Gunner again who's still crying and starts to rock him.

I look over at him in his rocking chair and I in mine as we cuddle the kids and I knew at that moment that I am not really alone in this because he is a dad too.

The only dad this family has. 

Easter Disaster

I am currently sitting at my desk at work. I haven’t really been able to get a lot of work done today or even this week because every few minutes one of the students or teachers stops and asks what happened to my arm. Just so you don’t have to ask the same question let me tell you while I am at it.

It was Easter like any other Easter. (Cue in the dramatic music) The bunny came, we ate candy for breakfast, dyed Easter eggs for lunch and even made side dishes to go with Easter dinner at my parents’ house.  The whole time we are doing these things Wyatt cannot stop talking about how he was going to get the golden egg this year. He is so serious about it that he even writes it in his journal.

We get to my parents have dinner and then it was time. Time for the Easter egg hunt. The men hide the eggs in my parent’s backyard making sure to hide the prize GOLDEN EGG in just the right spot as all the kids waited patiently in the playroom.

Once all the eggs were hidden we open the back door and the kids rush outside to find the eggs.

Now my parents have a good size yard sitting up a top of a hill connecting onto their backyard neighbor’s yard who’s below only separated by a fence and my parent’s wood pile. 

Now these neighbors always have had dogs who’s been a little aggressive so we’ve just come accustom to it.

I was with Gunner finding eggs and taking pictures of him, Andalyn was with Cody closer to my parents’ house and Wyatt was running in all directions to find the Prize Golden Egg.

He runs over to me 5 minutes into the hunt, and rushes to tell me that he knows that the golden egg is in the wood pile and asks me to go over there with him to find it. Of course I go, I mean it is the Golden egg after all!

I walk over there with him as Gunner follows me behind.

Wyatt is in front of me closer to my parent’s side digging in the pile. I am behind him semi turned to the back fence line. I am holding my camera and raise it to take a picture of Wyatt.

Just as I do, I see in the corner of my eye a big brown dog charge up the hill. Now, this is “normal” behavior that these dogs do so I don’t think anything of it.

I continue to raise my arm to take a picture and then all of a sudden, the next thing I know the dog grabbed my arm and bit hard down on it tugging and pulling me, trying to pull me over the fence.

I just remember looking down at my arm and being so pissed that this dog has bit me. I didn’t feel the bite, I just clearly remember saying in my head, “What the fuck, this dog has bit me.”

I could feel him pulling my arm trying to get me over the fence and I said again in my head again Fuck you dog, you will not pull me over.

I somehow, get my body to bend down and turn it to give me the momentum to rip my arm from the dog’s mouth, and I run away.

Again, I am still do not feel pain. My mind is telling me clearly that I need to run, hold up your arm, wave it around, you are screaming, they will hear you. I only see a top punctured wound on my arm at this time.

According to my mom, I run right to her and show her my arm. She asks me what happened and that is when I say, “The dog, the dog bit me.” And then I drop to the ground.

She’s screaming at my dad who’s a Director of Nursing. My two sisters run over who are surgical technicians. They are screaming commands out, get a towel, and do this, that, hold here, call 911.

I just remember yelling out to my husband “there is breast milk in the freezer there is breast milk in the freezer.”

The next thing I know I am floating out of the backyard with my sister holding and pressing down a towel on my arm to stop the bleeding. I clearing remember looking at my husband who is holding my 1 month old and telling him sternly to get the kids and that there is break milk in the freezer.

I am pushed into my sister’s car and we rush off to the hospital. My dad is in the car my two sisters and Mike my other sister’s husband is following us in another car.

My sisters and dad are on speaker phone to my other siblings and I am in the back seat of the car with my sister holding hard onto my arm.They are telling my siblings where we are going and what to do next and I just remember screaming out (at this point I am in and out of shock) Wyatt better get a damn golden egg!

                                             (be prepared to see graphic pictures below)

And then my mind starts to inform me, that I cannot feel my arm. Nothing, I cannot move my fingers, my hand and I freak out. And I start to scream even more and yell I can’t feel my arm I can’t feel my arm

We finally get to the ER and it’s like in the movies. We zoom up to the front and they throw me out and my sisters run me inside while my dad parks the car.

We get inside and I am screaming and bleeding and screaming and yelling about how I get bit by a dog.

They run up to us and look at my arm. Now remember I’ve only seen a top punctured wound on my arm at this point.

They remove the towel and turn my arm over and I see it. A big, a huge bite hole in my arm. And I freak out.

My sister Alisha grabs my head and has me look at her and she repeats. You are fine Audrey, you are fine. Over and over.

They take me into a triage room (I am still screaming) and when I get into the room the doctor or whoever yells at me to stop crying and I am pissed that he yelled that at me and clearly think I cannot physically stop crying. I cannot make my body stop.

He starts to touch my fingers and asks if I can feel them and I cry even hard because I say no. I have never been so scared then at that moment in my life.

He tries the other fingers. He pinches them and I still can’t.

He moves me out of the triage room and puts me in the waiting room and we wait for hours to be seen by a doctor (not even kidding, lesson learned we will always call an ambulance so we can get straight into a doctor.)

Finally I see a doctor they clean it out, stitch it up and I go home 5 hours later still unable to move my fingers or feel my arm.

The next morning Wyatt woke me up, worried and feeling like this was all his fault and I looked at him straight in the face and said "Wyatt, in life you have to get an epic scar at least once. And this one is mine and not yours. I will wear it proud and loud because I now know, that I can stand my ground and not let anything ever pull me in a direction that I do not want to go."

And I truly believe that. I could choose to let this get me down, I could keep freaking out about not being able to move my fingers or I can get up, work hard (type this one handed) and know that I will do anything and everything to not let this accident be more than just that. Because I am a strong women who refused to let that dog pull me over.

*Come next week to read about the ridiculous animal control officers, what happened to the dog and why we had to get a lawyer.*

The end of the night

The house grew quite pretty quick as all the boys were tucked in bed and sung their last song for the night. I handed off the baby to dad and stood at the kitchen sink.

I have never been the one that liked doing the dishes or even really cared for picking up the house at the end of the night. But somehow after having Andalyn I turned into a mom that couldn’t wait to accomplish all those mundane tasks.

Here I was listening to my 2 year old snore through the monitor I had placed on the counter and felt the heat hit my hands as I started to grab the dishes to clean off the food. That somehow was prepared that evening even though I had a clingy baby attached to my hip.

How’d we get here?

How was it possible that I was my mom in this moment? I don’t remember becoming her but I slowly did. Here I was in a kitchen like hers in a quite house with my kids asleep after a long day doing what she’s done.

I thought about that each time my hands hit the water. I scrubbed another dish, placed it into the dishwasher and paused just for a moment to hear my baby whimper but quickly calm in her daddy arms.

Did he think the same thing as me? Did he wonder how he became his dad so quickly and naturally?

I finished the dishes and found myself picking up toy cars and bouncy balls and helping them find their way back into their toy bins. When I finally sat down the baby fussed and was tossed back into my arms where I nursed rocked her back to sleep.

I sat there silent next to Cody who was watching basketball and thought about all the things that will need to be done the next day. But this time it was different, I wasn’t mad that I wouldn’t be getting all well-deserved me time that before I would crave. Instead I was happy at the thought of it all.

I couldn’t wait to tackle the library with all the kids in tow and was excited at the thought of them running down the dirt road as we’d take the dog on a walk. I even felt good about folding the laundry again.

These tasks although I have done them every week for a good 12 years felt new because I was doing them now, like how I remember my mom doing them.

I pictured my young kids looking at me as I gracefully pick up this toy here, throw a load of laundry in there. Laugh with me like I did when I was young with my mom as we have a dance party in the kitchen while dinner was cooking.

I accomplished a lot this week. My house has been cleaner than ever before. I even scrubbed the toilets.

The dog and kids have been out of the house more than once, I cooked food, real food. I uploaded all my pictures off my camera card and even got some ready to print. I got all the errands done and paid bills and I have a DVR filled with shows yet to be watched.

These tasks are my tasks now that I will only get for so long before they will become my kids tasks and their kids tasks.

There is comfort in that.

Knowing that we start off life in such a small little way and end it bigger and more important regardless if it just putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher at the end of the night like your mom did before you.

In Pictures: Andalyn’s first bath

and then she came

Everything went wrong when you surprise us that you were coming.

My pregnancy was not at all easy like it was with your brothers. I was sick a lot, food was not something I wanted to eat (unless it was roast beef sandwiches from Arbys.) I broke out in rashes that covered me from head to toe, my liver started shutting down and my doctor was a jerk.

We had a scare that something was wrong with your heart so they had us redo your ultra sound. Which we never did find out for sure that it wasn’t because well, my doctor was a jerk. So we took it just as no news is good news.  You would also kick me all the time and had never ending hiccups.

You tried to come early a few times and I had to go to the hospital and stop you from doing so because you were still so tiny and I don’t dilate.

And then the day arrived that we picked out February 1^st, 2016.

Your birthday.

Your dad and I excitedly packed the last few things in our bags that morning, dropped off your brothers to school and grandmas before we drove up to the hospital.

They took us back to our room where the nurses checked you and tried to give me my IV more than once. Which wasn’t that successful. I had to hold my hand a certain way or it wouldn’t drip the meds I needed and they even had to bring in another nurse to get that in.

But we didn’t think about that, we thought about you.

Your dad and I talked calmly about what it will be like to welcome you into the world. We chatted about how it was when we were here years ago getting ready to welcome your brothers.

We talked about how you were going to be our last little one. The last to do all the firsts and for us that felt like how it was supposed to be.

It turned 1pm, the time we were supposed to be moved into the surgery room but our doctor was late. Then when he did arrived he checked on his other patients before getting to us so we waited again. We finally got back to the room a half an hour later where we were greeted by the anesthesiologist.

He was to input my epidural which wasn’t successful and he tried for a good 20 minutes or so stabbing me in my back trying to get it too work. Finally after the moved me around a few times they got it in but I was left with a really bruised back.

Our doctor finally arrived and started the surgery to get you to us.

He started the cut but ran into some scar tissue from your brothers so he had to make the cut longer. And when they finally got to you, you were so far down that you got stuck. So stuck that I had 2 nurses jumping and pushing on my belly to try to remove you.

I could do nothing but laugh.

They finally got you out and we heard nothing.

No cry, nothing.

Your dad exactly walks over to where the nurses were cleaning you but they sent him away so they could get you to breath.

You were in such shock to be out into this world that it took a good few minutes for you to choose to breath.

But you did.

Then you cried.

Hard and loud which made me cry because I was so happy to have you here.

They were finishing removing my tubes but my IV wasn’t administrating the meds so I wasn’t clotting like I was suppose too. I started to get sick and could hear the doctors rushing to figure out what was happening all the while your dad was taking pictures of you and being with you.

After a few minutes they figured out that it was indeed my IV causing the issues and corrected.

They closed me up.

They moved us into our room and I finally got to hold you.

There you were, so tiny with a lot of dark brown hair and light eyes.

I couldn’t help but beamed with joy to finally officially get to met you. You launched on my breast with no issues and we spent the next hours there together with your dad by our side. It was the most amazing moment of my life. To see you, my daughter a girl I’d dreamt about but never knew I would actually get to met.

Anadalyn Joy Christensen

You were born into our family on February 1^st, 2016 at 2:12pm weighing in at 6 pounds 13 ounces 20 inches long.

All though your arrival was a surprise and full of twist you were the most magnificent little girl we have  ever met.

Welcome to our family.

I’m 30 and I no longer feel trapped.

This time last year I was struggle with where I wanted to land in life. I felt like I needed change, movement. I felt trapped in motherhood, in my job, in my marriage. I blamed a lot of my issues on my husband and took no reasonability. Until one day, I woke up looked myself in the mirror and faced the hard truths.

I was making the choices to live life trapped. I chose to stay in a job that surrounded me in hate and drama. I chose to feel trapped by the reasonability's of motherhood and not look pass the mundane and see the joy of it. I chose to see the bad in my husband because I didn’t want to see my wrong doings. I also allowed others to influence me about the bad he held more then the good he did for me everyday.

I did those things until I said to myself no more.

Here is the promise I stated to myself last year on my blog.

“I am going to purge the unnecessary and decrease the clutter physically, materialistically and emotionality. I will hug the ones I love, find the best in them and in others and show others the best in me. I will learn to be okay with doing things on my own and not let the stop me from having the adventures I crave. I will stop talking bad about the people I love the most. This year I will push myself out of my comfort zone. Try new things and be okay with making a mistake in the process.”

Can I say that I have come out of it all with new clarity and that I didn’t resort back to my old ways? No. But what I can say is that I made changes in my life and I no longer feel trapped. 

I got a new job, that I love. A job that allows me to have more time with my kids which helped me love motherhood more. I started to look at my husband in a new light and see how hard he actually works for me, I started to write down in a personal journal the little things he’d do for me everyday. Which brought back the love I knew I had for him.

I stopped listening to those who told me that he wasn’t worth my love and saw for myself that he in fact was. I also stopped telling myself that I wasn’t good enough.

Although this year has been a tuff one for me as I deal with my toddler being diagnosed with apraxia  and possibly autism. The death of my Father in law and also the surprise pregnancy that has had its own medical issues. I can say that if I didn’t change my path this time last year I would not have made it through this year like I have.

On the 11th I turned the BIG 30 and I can honestly say that with out a doubt I am better then I ever been and I can not wait to continue on this journey surrounded by my kids and my loving adoring selfless husband who chooses me to stand with him and not against him.