But she's okay.

      These are a few pictures of my favorite girl in the whole wide world from a couple weeks ago. Looking at these pictures you wouldn't know she cries at least twice a day because her tummy hurts.
      You wouldn't know she spent the last 30 minutes sitting on the couch begging me to give her medicine (I did) and take her to the doctors (I called).
      My girl's stomach is full of gas and stool. She is literally full of sh*t.

      Warning: Poop will be mentioned a lot in this post.
     
      This all started about two months ago. Her belly looked bloated, and she didn't want to eat. Then we noticed she wasn't having normal bowel movements. We weren't too worried, because the discomfort she felt would quickly pass and she would go back to being her normal self.

      Two and a half weeks ago (has it really only been two and a half weeks?!) we took her to the doctors to get examined for the first time.

      The next day we went in for an x-ray and she was started on Myralax.

      The one and only goal of the Myralax was to bind with the stool in her stomach, soften it and let her have one solid, but soft, poop a day.

      Unfortunately, it didn't work as anticipated. While it did make her go to the bathroom, it wasn't solid. It was like sludge (I warned you about the poop talk), and some days she still didn't go.

      So they sent us to get blood work. We're still waiting for some of it to come back, but all the scariest stuff that was keeping me up at night that it could have has been ruled out.

On our way to CHKD. She was not happy.

      Then came the ultrasound. We had to be at the CHKD in Norfolk by 8 am. That meant leaving no later than 7:15 to be sure we didn't get stuck in traffic. On a normal day, Peyton doesn't wake up until 9:30, and when she is woken up she is craaaaanky. So we were not headed off to a good start. Add on top of that the cold that she came down with the day before (and still has), she was not a happy camper. Every 5-10 minutes she would break out in tears because she didn't want to be there. When she would get upset, I had to place my forearm across her legs and Nick had to hold her arms so the ultrasound tech could do their job. In case you didn't know, pinning a strong-headed two year old down when she's upset is probably the worst way to calm her down.

      Luckily as we were leaving she discovered the interactive projector on the floor and and played with it so she at least left in a happy mood.

      Waiting for her results after each test is the absolute worst feeling in the entire world. Every worst case scenario runs through your mind on repeat.

      At this point, they don't know what's wrong. It sucks. But, it is also good. That means she has no masses in her stomach. That means all the terrifying things that there are test for, she's clear of right now.

      Now we wait. She sees the specialist next month so hopefully we can get some answers.

      Right now we have to focus on the fact that overall, she is okay.

      She still plays.

      She still laughs.

      She still crawls in my bed when she wakes up for snuggles and kisses.

      She still throws tantrums and acts like a normal two year old.

      Right now, she's okay. And that's all I can focus on.

One year ago today.

One year ago today, we were on our way home from Florida. We drove over night and were exhausted when we got home. We took a nap and dropped off the rental car. Then we got ready for a little get together for my father-in-laws birthday.

One year ago today, I felt the cramps. I walked into the bathroom and saw the blood.

One year ago today, I didn't want to accept what was happening so I laid back down. I laid in bed for hours. The party went on. Nick kept on checking on me.

One year ago today, I broke down and bawled in his arms. My mom come upstairs to comfort me and I couldn't stop crying.

One year ago today, we drove to the hospital. We waited for what seemed like an eternity to get called into the back. They drew blood, ran a pelvic exam, and finally took me back to get an ultrasound.

One year ago today, I laid on the bed getting my ultrasound done and knew why they wouldn't let me see my baby on the screen. And I cried some more.

One year ago today, a doctor came in an said the words I will never forget, "well, it looks like you're not pregnant anymore."

One year ago today, my world was crushed.

Some days I'm okay. 

Some days I can't stop thinking of the baby I should be holding in my arms. The baby that would have been 5 months old right now. The baby that would have made Peyton an amazing big sister. The baby that I wasn't ready for at first, but that I wanted so bad it still hurts.

But today, I hurt.

Today, my heart aches.

Today, I wonder how much different my life would be if Baby B was here with us.

Today, I am not okay.

Today, I feel grief.

Today, I hold Peyton a little closer. I tell her I love her that much more. I cherish the moments I get to watch her grow and turn into an intelligent, witty, beautiful girl. 

Today, I pray for guidance.

But tomorrow I will stand up and be strong because I know God has a plan for me. I know he blessed me with the short amount of time I held Baby B inside me for a reason. And because I know God has a plan for me, I know I'll be okay. Maybe not today, but I will be okay.

Teaching Her Confidence

         I've said it before, and I'll saying it again, being a parent is the most absolutely terrifying thing I've ever done in my entire life. Just when you think you're stating to get a hang of things something else comes along to knock you off your feet and question every decision you've ever made.

         For instance, did you know your child can run a 102+ fever for no reason other than the fact that they have "allergies"? Because I didn't. Did you also know that your child can get a sinus infection that backs up and drains through their eyes? I'm talking legit BOOGERS seeping out of their eye sockets. It's a fun time.

         But that's not even the most terrifying thing. You want to know what it? The fact that you are almost solely responsible for setting up their self esteem and how they view themselves. I mean sure, there's going to be things in the future that have a great affect on how they view themselves, but those beginning years? That's all you.

         At first I constantly worried that I was going to do something to screw my kid up. For instance, Peyton absolutely adores having her toenails painted. We generally paint them once a week or so. And so I sat there wondering, is the fact that I paint my 21 month olds toenails going to make her too concerned with her vanity? And then there's the fact that we (and everyone else) call her adorable, cute, pretty, etc all the time. Because let's face it, she is. Then you see media messages like this:

and it makes question yourself even more. Am I bad parent for telling my daughter she's pretty? But what if I don't tell her? Will she think she's ugly?

         But then I got to thinking, Peyton also loves to read. Some nights she doesn't care about taking a stuffed animal to bed with her, she just wants to take a book. Then in the morning when she wakes up she'll calmly just sit up and start "reading". She just turned 21 months old (side note, I cannot wait for her to turn 2 so we can stop counting months) and she can already repeat the alphabet after us, knows majority of it by sight, can associates the letters with thing (A for Apple, D for Dada, etc) count to ten with some assistance (she refuses to say the number three, I have no idea why), she knows most of her colors, is learning new words everyday, and can already speak in some complete and coherent sentences. She knows emotions. If you look sad she'll come up to you, grab your face, and say, "you kay?" And let me tell you, if you are sad having her look at you with concern in her eyes sure does warm up your heart.

         I guess my whole point in this is that while I still am concerned about building her self esteem, I think so far we are doing a darn good job. She not only hears that she's beautiful on a daily basis, but that she's smart, sweet and funny too. I think the best thing we can do to set her up right is to make sure she knows that beauty shouldn't be the only thing that matters to her, while still making sure she knows she's beautiful.

         Making sure she knows that being intelligent isn't the only thing that defines her, but still telling her she's smart. Letting her feel confident in telling jokes with her friends, but making sure she knows that being a class clown isn't the most important thing in her life.

         So I'll continue to paint her nails. I'll continue to let her splash in puddles. I'll continue to let her play with both princess dolls and her daddy's wrestler figurines from when he was a kid.  I'll continue to let her fall asleep with both her baby doll and her favorite book.

         All I can do is pray that I'm doing something right, and that she continues to grow more and more confident each and every day and know that she is loved by so many kind and caring people.

I need God.

          Have you ever noticed that the people who are the happiest seem to be the closest to God?

          When I was a freshman and sophomore in high school I was so incredibly on fire for God. I'm talking I was excited to get up and go to church all day Sunday, after school on Wednesdays, and any time there was anything there on any other day in the week. We would talk about how some people would claim it was hard to go to church, and that idea just blew my mind. How could going to church and loving God be hard?!

          But then life happened. I went through some tough times. I won't go into what exactly happened, because honestly I'm not ready to share that part of my story yet, but I started skipping church every once in a while. Nothing big, just a Sunday here and there. Maybe I missed two Wednesday night bible studies in a row. But I was (am) still a Christian. And just because you don't go to church regularly doesn't make me any less of a Christian. At least that's where my mind set was.

          Let me be very clear in saying that I never stopped believing in God. I always knew he was there. I never once doubted that he sent his son to die for me so that I could live. It was just like this: you know when you talk to a couple who's gotten divorced, and they say they don't really know what happened. They just grew apart. That's how I felt. I was moving on in life, and God was always there, but I was trying to do things my way, on my time, instead of doing what I should have been: relying on him.

          Then I lost Baby B. And I was angry. I couldn't understand why God would give me this baby that I didn't want in the first place, only to take it away from me when I was finally excited about it. I couldn't understand why I had to lose my baby when there were women having abortions and throwing away their babies lives. It wasn't fair. And I was angry for a while. I tried telling myself, and every one around me, that I trusted God. That I knew he had a plan. But even a couple months ago, I didn't. I cursed God. I hated that he had chosen to put me through so much pain.

          The something happened. Losing Baby B made me take a pause. It made me realize that even though I never stopped believing in God, I had managed to place him on the back burner of my life, only pulling him forward when I thought it convenient. When I needed something. I had stopped praying every night. I had stopped giving thanks to him for all the blessings in my life. I had closed the line of communication on my side. Then it hit me, the sudden realization of how much I desperately needed to bring God back to being my first priority. Not only for me, but for my daughter.

          I honestly believe God works in mysterious ways. The other night after I had put Peyton to bed, I was watching House on Netflix (shh...don't tell my husband I was watching it without him...) but it was an episode where a nun ends up in the hospital and Dr. House does what he normally does whenever the topic of religion is discussed on the show, he immediately starts to discredit it. But in the episode, Chase is talking to the nun and she asks him what his favorite bible verse is, and he replies  1 Peter 1:7 (hang on! I'm gonna tell you what it says). And it just struck me in the heart. I realized that is exactly what God had done by blessing me with the 11 short weeks I was able to grow Baby B in my womb, and then calling him home to heaven. It was a way for God to shake me up, and test my faith and reel me back in to his eternal love and glory. So now I am making a conscious effort to get my heart back to where it should be. I'm praying every night. I'm thanking God for everything he has done in my life, the good and the bad. I've even noticed how just by reopening that line of communication, I am already starting to feel happier.

Progression.

Often time you can't see how far you've come unless you look back at where you've been.

           Photography is an ever changing and evolving art. Like anything that involves technology, you buy a brand new piece of equipment, and six months later they come out with a newer and better model. 

           I honestly don't remember when I really got into photography. Two weeks after my sweet sixteen, I bought what I thought was a "professional" camera. It was nothing too fancy, but it was a step up from the little point-and-shoot cameras I had in the past. I started just taking pictures of my pets, random objects, and of course selfies with my boyfriend.

           Then my brother-in-law joined a band and they needed pictured to go on a poster for a concert. So I ended up snapping a few shots, and realizing they weren't half bad. That's when I started really thinking I could turn this hobby into something serious. I stuck with my "professional" camera until my second semester of college. With my little Nikon L100 I actually did a few shoots. Nothing big, just a few sessions for friends here and there. And of course, they were all for free.

Oct. 2012 vs Sept. 20

           I dove head first into an industry that I had no idea about it's inner workings. There's a lot of misconceptions when it comes to photography, and I had about every single one of them. I imagined I would spend majority of my time shooting, with a little bit of editing here and there, and the clients would just pour in.

           Boy was I wrong.

           Rather than explaining separately, I mad these two handy dandy pie charts! (I would like to point out the fact that in my mind I said that in the tune that Steve from Blue's Clues pulls out his notebook...)

           Much to my surprise, and let's be honest, my disappointment, very little of my "working" time is spent actually doing the shoot. For a full session, I typically spend from 45 minutes to and hour actually taking photographs at the session. Then comes the fun part. 

           I have a system, and not all photographers work this way, but it works for me. I move the photos from my camera and onto my computer and manually flag every picture I think I might want to edit. After I've gone through the entire session, I go through all the flagged photos. I pick my favorites from each pose, and I edit those.

           An average I spend anywhere from 4-8 hours editing pictures.

           Then I still have to spend time marketing, communicating with clients, reading other photographers blogs and watching numerous YouTube tutorials so I can better my art.

           And while I do all this I have to entertain a toddler. So while I spend 4-8 hours actually editing, in reality it can take me up to two full weeks to finish a session.

Jan. 2012 vs Nov 2013

           There is a heck of a lot of self doubt when it comes to being a photographer. Am I doing this right? Will the client like this pose? Will someone think I'm trying to copy another photographers style? Is this pose too cliche? 

           One of the hardest things, in my opinion, about being a photographer is developing your own style. When you look at another photographers work, it is immediately apparent what their style. It's exponentially harder to see your own. I used to constantly worry whether or not I would ever develop my own style. I felt like I was always striving to be like someone else. I wonder look at pictures I had done and seriously wonder if there was anything distinctive about them that made people know that they were mine. 

           It wasn't wasn't until the last few weeks that I realized yes, I do have my own style. I was so excited after I had posted pictures from a recent shoot and my client had used one of the photos from her session as her profile picture. The picture didn't have a watermark on it, but my best friend shot me a text saying, "so you know its a good thing when u see a picture without a watermark on it but you say that looks like carolyns pictures.....well thats what I said when I saw [clients name]'s picture."

           That single message had me ecstatically happy because it meant that I had finally made a distinguishable style for myself.

July 2012 vs Sept 2013

           Being an introvert and a photographer is an exceedingly difficult combination. My session dialog goes a lot like this: "if you wanted to you guys could maybe sit here..." "ummmm, would you possibly like to try standing like this?" "if you wanted, you could maybe kiss..." "you can just stand however you're comfortable..."

           Because of my introvertness (is that even a word?), I want to publicly thank whoever came up the concept of Pinterest. Because it has allowed my to gather inspiration from other photographers. And when I'm really in a bind at a session and can't think of how else I want to pose I am able to whip out my phone for a few seconds and be completely re-inspired. And if I can't think of how to explain to clients how I want them to pose, I can show them a picture.

           At the same time, I would like to publicly curse whoever came up with the concept of Pinterest. I love the fact that clients are able to get inspiration for their sessions from it because it helps me to see their personality. But I absolutely hate when clients decide they must have a specific pose. Because when I'm forced to replicate another photographers work, it is stifling that personal style I have worked so hard to develop. But alas, because I am a super introvert, unless I absolutely do not feel comfortable with a pose, I generally do it anyways because I can literally not say no. 

Aug 2011 vs Oct 2013

           Finally, I would like to state why I do not deliver clients all the images from their session using this beautiful example I found on Google:

I honestly cannot find this picture using the reverse look up, so I don't know who to credit for it.

But where did all my friends go?!

This crazy thing happens when you have a baby. You're friends start to disappear.

Before getting pregnant I had countless people I could call or text last minute and they would be right over to hang out. Now I have only a handful of good friends. It's not like I had a big falling out with any of them, it's just when you are about to bring a new life into the world, you suddenly have next to nothing in common with your old friends.

At first it was really hard to get used to the sense of loneliness I felt once my friends had dwindled to being able to count them on just a few fingers, but then I realized something: though I may not have as many friends as I used to, the quality of the friends I do have is absolutely amazing. The friends I do have are willing to drop almost anything they're doing if Nick, Peyton or I need something.

The first couple weeks after I had Peyton people were constantly in and out of our house. Everybody wanted to meet her. I was so grateful that I was surrounded by so much love. People would stop in just because they wanted to see how Peyton and I were doing. But this crazy thing happened once she turned about 2 months old: nobody came by. My phone went silent. The awe of the new baby had worn off. It's like when a kid gets a new puppy. The first couple days and weeks they are so excited because it's new, and it's cute. But then the reality starts to set in. I have to take care of this thing? You want me to clean it's poop? You can't make it be quiet?!

Okay, maybe that's a little too far. I never expected anyone to clean her poop. But I had "friends" who would call me and ask to hang out. Which was awesome because I needed adult contact. But they would act shocked when they realized that would mean my baby would have to come with me. It was like they expected me to just pawn my child off on someone else. Like she was a little toy I could just smile and take selfies with, then pass off to her grandparents and go about my business like before I had her. Let's face it, nobody really wants to be those people in the restaurant or movie theater with the screaming child.

But you want to know something amazing? My true friends didn't care. They understood that there might be times when I had to leave because baby was just too fussy. They understood that if we went to the movies with the baby, that there was a very good chance I would have to take her out into the lobby with me half way through the movie because she got restless. They understood that there is no way I could give them 100% of my attention when we were out to dinner because I had to focus on making sure my daughter didn't throw half her dinner on the floor or pick up the steak knife.

So to these friends, I say thank you. Thank you for playing a part in my daughter's life. Thank you for being an example to her of how true friendship should be. Thank you for being willing to trade in going out to see the latest Captain America movie to having a Frozen sing along night where we have to listen the song "Let It Go" on repeat because that's all that Peyton wants to listen to. Thank you for being patient when she want to "play" games with us, and actually ends up dumping our game board/cards on the floor. Thank you for loving her like she is a part of your family.

"What did you even do today?"

             I've been wanting to do this blog post for a while now, but I have had a teething toddler who popped two new teeth and is getting in another set molars so I've basically been wanting to throw myself off a bridge the last two weeks. Jk. Kind of.

             Before I get into this actual post, I want to start by saying how completely appalled I am by the way stay at home moms and working moms act towards each other. I mean seriously. I was looking up those little e-card things to add into this for a little humor, and some of them were just plain RUDE. I've been a stay at home mom for 95% of the time that Peyton has been alive. I worked a temporary part-time job for a total of 12 weeks over the summer then fall, but couldn't go back for the spring because of scheduling conflicts with Nick's job. (Basically I didn't want to be working solely to be able to afford the money it would cost to put Peyton in child care just so I could work). I'm not saying one is easier than the other. I feel blessed that we are in a situation where I am able to stay home and take care of the baby. And it is by no means easy (but I will be getting into that in a moment...). At the same time I don't believe it is right in any way shape or form for one mother to put down another mother because she chooses/has to work or stay home.  Being a parent is hard enough without having to worry about other parents judging you. But that's just my 2 cents.

some examples of the rudeness.

             There are some days when Nick will get home from work and ask me, "so babe what did you do today?" And I will just stare at him with a blank look on my face. I feel like I did a lot. I'm exhausted. But I honestly could not name off on single thing that I actually did during the day. It's like my mind just blanked. Completely. That's what being a stay at home mom is like.

             I like to joke with Nick and tell him "You either get an amazing mom, or a good wife. You can't have both in the same day." And he knows which one he gets the second he walks through the door. If he walks in and baby is laughing or quiet, chances are the house is a wreck. Because we probably had a dance party. Or played the drums with pots and pans. Or we finger painted/colored. Or we took a walk around the block. Or we just watched movies and are both still in our pajamas. The list goes on and on, because on these days I am an amazing mom.

             But if he comes home to a clean house, chances are that baby is crying and mommy will be rocking back and forth in the corner about to pull her hair out. That's how these last couple weeks with teething have been. I love her dearly, and I know it's not her fault that she's in pain and upset, but once you're 6 days in to teething were your child has screamed a minimum of 5 hours a day, on top of waking up every 45-90 minutes screaming every night, you understand the need for hashtags like "#mommyneedsadrank".

             I feel like people who aren't parents just assume that being a stay at home mom is easy. But believe me, it's not. And it's not that being a stay home is an excessively physically demanding job, but it is an extremely emotionally demanding one. I can go a week at a time without leaving the house. Besides little breaks when I have photo sessions (which have been sparing since the first of the year, so you kind people need to change that ;)), I am with the baby 24-7. If I want to go out, I essentially have to move mountains. First I have to make sure I have a car since my husband and I share one, or bum a ride. And then I have to make sure I remember to take the car seat out of the car if I have to catch a ride. And then if I want to go out without the baby, I have to find a baby sitter (and to be honest the thought of leaving her with somebody other than her grandparents gives me super bad anxiety). And yes, we do live with my in-laws currently who are genuinely more than happy to watch the baby whenever they can, I don't like pawning her off. But, I digress.

              The best way to keep a baby happy during the day, is for you to be happy (or at least pretend to be). If you're upset, baby can sense it and they will be upset too. This is where a lot of the emotional strain comes in.

             Then you constantly wonder if you're doing everything right. What should I make the baby for lunch? I could do hot dogs. But she's already had hot dogs twice this week. But if I actually cook cook then I'll have more dishes to clean... Is eating this many hot dogs going to make her sick?! I should really make sure she eats more fruits and vegetables. She eats at least one apple a day though, so that's okay, right? And I'm pretty sure she ate some green beans at dinner last night. I think. She's already had two sippys of juice today. Maybe I should give her some plain water. Or should I give her milk?! The doctor said she's only suppose to have two servings of milk a day, so if I give her some now I can't give her any at bed time. Oh god. I think her sippy of milk from last night is still in her crib! I hope she hasn't drank it! I would know if she had, right?! I hope she doesn't get sick! Which reminds me, I need to call the doctor and make an appointment about her rash... and so on and so on.

             I'm probably going to write a part two to this post eventually, but currently I am suffering from mommy and cannot remember what else I had intended to write in this...........

So The End.

(for now)

I seriously died laughing when I saw this lol.