Since 2015…

I’ve told you a tiny bit about me and our love story.

Now I want to talk about our life together.

After getting married in August of 2015, we found out a mere 8 weeks later we were expecting our first baby. We spent our first month of marriage not even living together. I had just moved into the townhouse after John’s 2 other roommates moved out. We had maybe $500 in our savings account, making 50k/yr combined. We had no idea what we were going to do.

Emotions were all over the place. First; excited. OF COURSE. I’ve never wanted to be anything more than a mother. Second; terrified. I was barely an adult, how would I be able to care for another human being? We lived our lives carefree and that was set to expire in 8 short months.

Operation: Get ready.
We tore the house apart and redid the entire first floor. We painted, put in new floors, made a kitchen island and painted the cabinets. We bought a couch and some throw pillows, and put up curtains. We grabbed my moms old kitchen table and chairs and bought some throw pillows and an area rug. Our house slowly started to become our home.

By the time we got all of that done, we had a couple months to paint our baby boy’s room. Lots of Pinterest, trips to Ace hardware, and decorating ideas filled our remaining months. Furnish with a beautiful dresser and crib gifted by my parents, some homemade book shelves, and a closet full of clothes with tags, all we had left to do was wait.

Owen Daniel made his grand enterance into this world on June 15, 2016 at 2:27am. He was 7lbs 3oz & 21.5in long of pure perfection. There is no possible way to describe looking at your first child for the first time. A whirlwind of love, fear, and awe washed over me. I cried. Hard.

We brought him home and life was great. He was the best baby. I never got the breastfeeding thing to work, but I was an oversupply pumper and he took a bottle with ease. He slept even better than he ate. A true mild-tempered Earth-Angel. All the fear of being responsible for keeping this tiny being alive faded with each passing day.

I spent my maternity leave taking naps, eating turkey sandwiches and cheese balls, and watching The Office with my new best friend. The time came to go back to work, but I was ready. After 7 weeks, I put a bra on for the first time in what felt like a century, packed up my pump and accessories, dropped my sweet boy off at daycare, and started my new role as a “working mom.”

I won’t lie – and I feel bad saying it – but it came easy. I didn’t mind leaving my son in the trusted hands of our daycare provider to go to work. Sure, I cried the first couple days, but after I got into the swing of things, I felt purposeful again. I missed the days of couch naps and junk food, but I had my “to-do list” and a reason to put on make-up again. I got back a small piece of my sense of worth upon returning to my job.

After that, life honestly went on fairly uneventful with “big stuff.” John and I both went to work Monday through Friday, week after week. We celebrated birthdays, holidays, and took a quick family vacation to Ocean City. Owen grew month by month and up and up in diaper and clothing sizes. He learned to roll, sit and crawl. His babbling turned to words. He took his first steps. Gerber Puffs and bottles no longer substantiated his appetite and we began sharing our food. Before we knew it, a year and a half had passed.

The summer Owen turned 1, I took a new job with a substantial pay raise. It was the first time we really didn’t live paycheck to paycheck. Within 6 months of being at that job, I was offered a different job closer to home. It was more of an administrative office position and would be a bit of a pay-cut, but the flexibility, commute time being cut to a third, and relaxed environment far outweighed the missing money. I accepted and started in December.

I got pregnant in February with our second. By March, this job I took was starting to go downhill. I missed my old job, consistency, and structure. This family-owned business of blue-collar work was not panning out to be a good fit. I didn’t seem to be a good fit for them, and them for I.

My mental health became to deteriorate. That piece of self-worth I got from work became non-existent. I spent weekdays frustrated, upset, and crying at my desk. I stand firm to the truth I was treated to be shown I wasn’t wanted there. Attempting to be “pushed out.” That may be true, but my threshold for criticism could have also began to shrink. Either way – the bigger my belly got, the more broken my headspace became.

In My Story I talk a little bit about my pregnancy with Quinn. It was bad… So bad, it deserves its own time and post. Basically, I had to go to part time, working only 3 days a week. I started going to therapy because medication can be unsafe during pregnancy. John started working a night job and I became lonely, stressed, and even more depressed. It was just Owen and I, eating chicken nuggets, Velveeta Mac n Cheese, and ice cream sandwiches. I loved my time with him. It was a blessing in disguise that I got two extra days every week to spend with him before our family of 3 turned into 4. We both got to enjoy each other’s undivided attention, which would soon be disrupted and new chances few and far between.

We welcomed Quinn Jean on November 19, 2018 at sometime in the late evening. She was a tiny little 6lb7oz 19in bundle with these gray closed eyes and JET BLACK HAIR. I mean seriously… we were like “who’s baby is this?”

We brought her home and the real trouble started. Remember all those amazing, easy, effortless things about Owen as a baby? Cross it all out and write in the opposite. She did not sleep. She did not eat. She had a dairy intolerance, which meant I had to have a dairy free diet. With all the will I could give, we still couldn’t get breastfeeding to work, so back to the pump I went.

I went back to work in January at the job I was at before the last year and what a relief it was. I was back in an environment I loved and we got through those first 3 miserable newborn months. Life got easier. Raising two was hard, dividing time was hard, but it was getting easier. Well, doable – let’s use the word doable. John also started a new job in January and days for him began to get longer. We juggled pick ups and drop offs, managing a home cooked meal once very few weeks. We were surviving.

In June we put our townhouse on the market and it sold within a week. July we settled on our new house, moved, and started to make it our home. Then once again, days, weeks, and months went by. Some big changes happening, some little changes happening, but always something going on. Never a dull moment.

Until 2020, we have been going, going, going. If you haven’t grasped that from this very long post, just know I also excluded a LOT out. Scary, right? In 5 years; marriage, 2 children, a dog, 2 homes, 4 jobs, 1 new car, and whole lot in between has happened.

The last 5 years have had their ups and definitely their downs, like any other year, but 2019 was the most challenging. We’ve been through a lot of change, challenge and heartbreak. Things I haven’t mentioned and things few know. Things I might share on and things I might keep unwritten in my mind.

Our goal for the next few years is serenity and consistency. Life will always have other plans, tossing us things to test us and make us stronger. I have no doubt in my mind that whatever we are put up against, we will get through in one piece.