The Pinnacle Moment My Life Changed Forever

These past few months have been a time of self reflection. I knew I wanted to change my mindset back in January when I started this blog. I truly had no idea that I would be a completely changed person just by changing the way I thought about a couple of things. So lets go back..... Lets start with Elijah's birth story....

The pinnacle moment my life changed (without me even realizing it)....

I had an extremely trying pregnancy with Elijah. I had 3 pre-term babies before him, so I was bound and determined to stay pregnant as long as I possibly could, not matter what it took. I went on bed rest at 18weeks after a minor procedure to help me stay pregnant. Bed rest, was trying in its self... I have 4 other children so....... You can imagine how well that went over... At approximately 20 weeks I started feeling "off"... Out of breath, dizzy, tired.... You know, normal pregnancy symptoms... But it wasn't normal for me, it was very "off" for me. The Doctor, bless his heart, was reassuring that it was all normal stuff and every pregnancy was different.

Fast forward about 8 weeks.... My "normal" symptoms had become so bad that I was ceasing to function. I was so shaky and so dizzy, that I had to sit down in the shower. I had to sit on a stool to prepare dinner for the kids. I even remember a few evenings that I was so "sick" after being up cooking that I couldn't even sit up with them to eat, but walking to the living room was to far, so I laid on the floor right by the table..... I was that bad. But every time I would go into the office, my Doctor would check my blood pressure and heart beats, everything was always low but within normal limits. I was fine on my blood sugars and every other blood test they preformed came back normal..... This was not normal though..... They kept telling me that it was just the stress of having 4 other children while being on bed rest.... I knew in the pit of my stomach that they were wrong.... I just had no idea how wrong all the specialists actually were.

The day I was 36 weeks pregnant, I went into the hospital to have a minor procedure to remove the sutures that were helping me keep the baby in. In a matter of an hour, my entire world would be turned upside down. The procedure to remove the sutures went just as planned with no complications. I was wheeled into recovery to wait for my spinal block to wear off. I could feel the attack coming but I thought/was hoping it was the spinal block wearing off that was making me feel "off".....

As soon as I saw my nurses face, I knew that was not the case. My heart was crashing and I was in sustained Ventricular Tachycardia, a serious life threatening arrhythmia that can cause sudden death. All of a sudden I was caught in a whirl wind of activity. I had 4 doctors and several nurses surrounding me, attending to me, but discussing me as if I was not even there..... It was very surreal to hear the Doctors say things to each other like sudden death, flat line, heart giving out, cardio vert her (the shiny metal shocking paddles)..... I'm sitting right here... And I'm pregnant.... And you need to calm down right now.... Was what I wanted to scream.... But I couldn't find the words!! Was this really happening to me? Was I dying right here when it was supposed to be a simple thing?

I begged them to get my husband... They kept telling me he was coming, but he wasn't... It seemed like an hour before they brought him in... Although I am sure it wasn't actually that long.... I vaguely remember them telling me we had to do an emergency c-section so they could cardio-vert my heart.... If they did it while he was still inside, it would flatline him, with no way to correct him..... I don't know if I agreed, I'm sure I did, but I never signed the consent form until hours after... I remember starting to cry and thinking to myself that I couldn't because I needed to hold it together since I was still alone.... I asked one of the NICU nurses that works with my mom to call her, she told me no, that she couldn't ...

That was the moment I knew I was really in trouble....

They began to wheel me back into the OR for the emergency c-section without my husband. I begged for them to please stop and get him. About that time, they finally brought him in.... By this time, I had been in sustained V-Tach for (my guess by the chart chart records) about 30-40 minutes... I was not even in the OR for two full minutes before they had the baby out... (Thank goodness my spinal block had not worn off or they would have had to put me to sleep)... I heard him cry, just barely though, through the ringing in my ears.... I could honestly feel myself starting to pass out.... The sweet nurse brought him over to me and leaned him down so I could kiss him.... I had no idea this was the last moment I would get to see his soft skin or breath in his glorious newborn scent for 3 full days!!!! I don't remember much right after they took him. He was gone and I couldn't see him and that was all I could think of. They corrected my rhythm (for the time being) and sent me to surgical recovery as opposed OB recovery and rules say no visitors there. So Joseph must have gone out to be with the baby at that point although I don't really remember. I stayed in recovery for a couple hours where I continued to go in and out of V-Tach.

Finally, they decided to move me to ICU.... Here I was, thinking I was going to get to have the baby come in my room for a bit.... But once in ICU I had a new round of nurses who were truly panicking over the state of my heart.... They would come RUNNING in every few minutes to watch me while my heart went in and out of V-Tach... They gave me various medicines to try and correct it, one that even stopped my heart and then would allow it to restart, in hopes that it would restart in the right rhythm. That was one of the most bizarre feelings. I could actually feel my heart stop beating, pause, and then restart again.... I would not recommend that to anyone, ever....

This went on for the next day and a half... They wouldn't let me go down to see the baby for obvious reasons, but they wouldn't let anyone bring the baby up to me either, which was honestly killing me. By the end of the second day, my Doctor agreed to move me to a Telemetry Monitoring Unit, so I could go see the baby while still being on the heart monitors. I actually got excited that I would get to go see him. Little did I know, the deplorable nature of the nurses on the new unit. This group of nurses were the worst bunch of nurses I have ever been exposed to in my entire life. I can't even begin to tell you everything but it ranged from waiting well over an hour to help me get out of bed and walk to the bathroom for the first time since 2 days before when I went in for the first procedure (I ended up getting up myself and crying because the pain was so bad, without them coming to check on me) to them refusing to let me go to see my baby. They claimed my heart was to stressed to sit in a wheelchair and be pushed to the NICU, yet they "let" me get up on my own for the first time.... It ended with me screaming, not just yelling, but screaming at the nurses and calling them incompetent. The other patients could hear, Heck, I'm pretty sure other floors could hear me. My Cardiologist told me I could go see my baby, yet my nurses were claiming I wasn't allowed to... Mama Bear instincts kicked in....Aaaannnndddddd someone may or may not have ordered me anti anxiety meds (that I never took.... I didn't have anxiety, I was just pissed!!!)

My Doctor had decided to fly me out to another hospital to have a heart surgery that our hospital could not perform. It was the end of the 3rd day and I still had not even seen my baby, except that swift kiss in the middle of a sterile OR.... I sat on the edge of the bed and proclaimed that I would refuse to get on the transport unless I got to go see my baby right that minute... (In my head I was afraid for him, afraid I would die, afraid he would never know me, except for that fleeting moment we shared in the OR that he would never remember..... ) The pain I was feeling was suffocating and I was so terrified to admit that I was afraid I would die.... I had a brand new baby and 4 other children (who I also had not been allowed to see since I went in for that 'minor' procedure 3 days earlier..... Finally, the lame nurses agreed to let me go to see my baby, but I was only allowed 20 minutes... Hearing my time restriction was soul crushing... I honestly was terrified of dying on the table during surgery and they were telling me that I only had 20 minutes with my baby!

I drank up every second of that 20 minutes..... And once the 20 minute mark passed, I didn't rush to hurry back to the incompetent nurses, I just waited for them to call for me to come back. I waited until me last possible second to leave him, because I was stricken with fear that this was all he would know of me. I left the hospital an hour later, alone and scared to face a heart surgery with a three day old baby and 4 other children depending on me.

I decided right there in the transport, that I would make every minute count. I would make every day an important day. I didn't know how...but I would be a better Mom because of this. I was going to fight with all my love to get my heart right.

So here we are! Because of that one day, one horrible, awful, painful, soul searching, life changing, world tipping day.... I am here, I am better person. A better wife. And a better mother....

Because at that moment, my life changed forever!!!

Movie Date... To real for my own good!!!!

So I read the Nicolas Sparks book, Safe Haven and loved it! In fact, I was amazed by it. The author has a way with his words, sending you right to the spot, making you feel all the feelings.... I am mesmerized when an author can do this....

The little kids were out of town, being over-indulged by their "Disneyland Dad", and Preston wanted to go to the movies... We had already missed the start of his movie, so we went to see Safe Haven! I was thrilled!!!! Honestly, I was so excited to see this movie because it really hit home with me on the Domestic Violence issue....

What happened next I was absolutely not expecting....(and luckily Preston was so engrossed in his popcorn and candy that he didn't notice!)...  I have been out of my situation for 6.5 years and happily married for 3 years next month, now that is not to say the abuse stopped 6.5 years ago, but I removed myself from the house then. I had read the book, read the abuse, knew the pain and the fear, the shear terror the character was going to face.... I was prepared for it! Little did I know, that seeing the images of real live people in these situations as opposed to words on a page, would send me into panic attacks.... Full blow panic attack right there in the theater, even though I knew it would all end ok. I couldn't breath, my chest was tight, my hands were sweating.... I couldn't believe I was reacting like this after so long...

After we were home, something set me off; a smell, a sound.... I am not sure what it was but I had a flashback and was terrified that he was here to hurt me, even though I knew full well he was out of town with my children...

Flashbacks and panic attacks are very common among victims of trauma or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder victims. Flashback is described as a sudden and disturbing vivid memory of an event in the past, typically as the result of a psychological trauma.



I was shaking, felt like I was spinning, I was starting to slip for the reality that was right in front of me, that I was safe in my own house, without "him"..... I felt like I had no control over it....

During my abuse, I told no one. I put a wall around me and I didn't allow anyone in to see my reality, my pain, my horror I was enduring every day. To survive, I shut that part of my feelings off, I locked them away, because to get through the day, I had to "pretend" or tell myself everything was ok... After I had moved out but long before the emotional abuse and stalking ended, I began having flashbacks. Vivid surreal visions of everything happening all over again.




Since then, I have began to heal.... Actually I have come a long way in the healing process... I "usually" no longer have flashbacks (this movie being the exception....) I don't have panic attacks anymore, although I do get very stressed if I have to do a visitation exchange alone with "him"....

Here are some tips to help with Flashbacks/Panic Attacks

~Tell yourself this isn't happening, that you are having a flashback

~Tell yourself that you already survived this! These are memories and although bad, you are past it and you are no longer in that situation! Celebrate that you are free from this!

~Ground Yourself. Remind yourself you are in the Present, not the Past Memory. Stomp your feet, splash water on your face, step outside.... Try to bring yourself back to the now... You freed yourself from the abuser!!!

~Breathe!!!!! Take some good, deep, cleansing breaths!!! As a result of stress we tend to hold our breath. Panic sets in from lack of oxygen. Pounding head, dizziness, sweating, faint feeling and shakiness are symptoms of lack of oxygen but add to the panic feeling....

~ See you are safe. Look around the room. Notice the pictures, the colors, the textures. See that your abuser is not there, that you are safe.

~Give your self a boundary. This will help you to feel like your not crawling out of your skin. Put on a hoody, wrap yourself in a blanket, sit in a smaller space, let yourself feel protected from the outside.

~Get Support. Even if you want/need to be alone, it's important to let people close to you know what you are going through so they can help you with the process. You can ask them to be with you or to give you some space, but either way, don't keep it bottled up.

~Take some time to recover.... Take a bath, lay down, have some hot tea..... Take some time to relax, what you just felt was traumatic and exhausting.

~Celebrate that YOU SURVIVED this horrible experience! You are strong!!!!

~Be patient with yourself. It takes time to heal. What you have gone through was horrific. Take care of yourself, of your feelings!!!

We'll call it Spring Cleaning I guess....

So I will spare you the details, but I spent a majority of the last few days disinfecting our home from the flu virus. We all came down with it.... Carry your hand sanitizer folks, that's all I can say, it was not fun!!!!

Once I finished disinfecting, I figured I would go ahead and start purging the closets for spring.  This is a real sore spot for me.  I love, Love, LOVE organized closets.... But, I have an obsessive urge to keep every article of clothing.  I have a weird fear of not having enough clothes for the kids. Not that we didn't have clothes as a child, we absolutely never went without, but we only had a few... My Mom did the washing every single day and we just rotated what we had. I am fairly thrifty and rarely buy new clothes, although I do at Back to School time... Most of my shopping is done at second hand stores or is from friends as hand me downs... But, in all honesty, my children could have probably gone an entire month with me washing anything but socks and skivvies..... You can imagine what my closets/dressers looked like.... If there is a magic number of outfits that each child should have, please let me know!!!! I cut down drastically and I am sooooooo happy with what I have done! For the boys, I planned on keeping 7 pair of pants, 7 pair of shorts, a handful of nice shirts and approximately 15 tee-shirts....  For the girls I had to add for skirts and dresses and sweaters and camis, but you get the drift....

So here is my plan, I took all the hangers and turned them to face out.  When fall comes, if the hanger is still facing out, it needs to be donated because it was never worn. I have been doing this in my own closet for years, but never thought to use this in my children's. I am the one who puts away the majority of their clothes, especially the "hang ups" as my kiddos call it....

So here is Leigham's side of the closet (since the boys share)... In here he has (some were still in the wash) 4 short sleeve polo shirts, 2 short sleeve button downs and 1 long sleeve dress shirt, 3 long sleeve flannel shirts (his obsession right now), 10 pair of jeans-khakis-dress pants,  5 hoodies........

And here is everything I have pulled out of all our (mine included) closets/dressers!!!!!

Now, in my defense, 2 full bags are Elijah's clothes that he just grew out of (He just jumped 3.5lbs over night!), 1.5 bags are Charlie Anne's she has finally grown out of (She was still wearing size 12mth in most stuff), and 1 bag is all newborn things (burp rags, receiving blankets, Ect....)

Later today, I will be take all of these bags to the Women's Refuge. Many women leave their Domestic Violence situation with just the clothes on their backs.  When I left my DV abuser, I only had 2 laundry baskets of essentials for my 3 babies and myself.   If this can help out a handful of Moms and their children, I would rather that happen than have my drawers overflowing. If you have things you are wanting to donate, please take them to Shasta Family Justice Center at the Downtown Mall. (And yes, I sorted all of the washed, purged clothes by size and gender as well... more to make it easier for the Refuge to give out than for my own OCD, but sorting it still felt great!!)

And, last but not least.... My daily reminder of my New Year~New Me Resolution.  This is in my entry hall. We see it every time we come and go. We see if any time we have guests. I can even see it from my rocking chair in the living room :) Make yourself a reminder to slow down, savor your babies while they are babies, love your Littles while they are truly little.

And always remember...

Cherish the little things...

Pay Attention and do not miss the Simple Joys in Life!!!!

A Case of the Morning Grumpies.......

I am not a morning person, by nature... (also by nurture I guess, because my Mom is not a morning person either)  So I am not really surprised that my children are not morning people either, unless its a weekend or I just got the baby to sleep after a colicky night, then they are awake at first light.... And by not morning people, I really mean, monstrous beast children for the first hour or so they are awake. 

I do not do mornings with grace. I dread the second my alarm is set to go off. I loath having to go wake sweet cuddly sleeping children from their warm cocoon of a covers. But we have 3 school-agers in our house, so crazy weekday school mornings are just a part of life in our home.  We have come up with a plan that alleviates as much of the Grumpies as possible though. We have our children prepare as much as they can the night before. We choose outfits and jackets and lay them out on the floor. We place our homework and reading books inside our bags, then put all the bags by the front door. Everyone showers at night, so that saves us precious minutes in the morning. My husband and I pack the lunches and put them in the fridge. I get out bowls or plates or whatever implement needed to serve their breakfast on and place a banana by each setting. 

Even with all this preparedness, we still wake with yucky moods and grumpy attitudes...

This morning was especially brutal, although the monkeys all went to sleep on time, I was up all night with our 9mth old who caught the flu. I also forgot to purchase coffee creamer yesterday, so I was a little slow on the coffee uptake. No one liked the clothes that were laid out, even though they picked them.  "This feels funny, That is rubbing my skin, My pants are falling off (due to not paying attention to who's stack of clothes the 7yr old was putting on and picking up his older brothers instead)".... Oh and the fighting, fighting, fighting!!!!! I truly do not remember fighting with my brothers before school... Although, I am sure we did, as most siblings do. 

Pulling out of the school from dropping the last child off, I breathed in the silence that now filled my SUV... I braved another morning, Momma 1 - Kiddos 0... Now I can start my day, I thought to myself!!!

As I turned out of the driveway and headed west, I took a deep breath. Looking out the window, the streets and buildings had yet to be warmed by the glow of the sun. The sun had only reached it fingerlings of warmth on Buckhorn Summit. Its snow covered peaks were bathed in warm yellow light. The hills truly glistened in the rays. I was in awe of just how majestic a simple mountain could be if painted with just the right light and viewed with hearts and souls bared.

It took a trying morning to make my soul raw and open to remind me how beautiful everything can be if looked at with heart. Divine Intervention 1 - Momma 0....





I recently purchased some antique Ball mason jars at a neat store in Salem, Oregon. (My great-grand father used to work for Ball making mason jars and glasses so they have a special place in my heart.) The clerk told me these particular jars were from 1910's although I have done no research on these jars since I made my purchase over the Holiday Season.... I was not to sure what to do with them when I saw Pin for a Thankful Jar on Pinterest... I decided at the start of this journey I would turn one of my jars into a Simple Joys Jar...



Whenever any member of our family sees a Simply Joy, we tear off a piece of paper and write it down with the date, fold it and toss it in. We will continue to collect these little notes through out the year, as yet another way to document our Simply Joys. On New Years Eve, between Champagne  and Sparkling Cider, Chips and Pizzas, Board Games and Balls Dropping, we will each take turns reading a slip of paper to our family. We will all be able to relish in all the Simple Joys we cherished on each of the days all over again. Just sneaking a peak at some of the slips the kids have already put in made me realize just how truly blessed we are.

The next of my New Year~New Me purchases was just a simple canvas sign from TJ Maxx for $16.99 (Man, I love that store!!!)  It lists very easy, common sense Family Rules... But these are the type of rules that are quickly forgotten in the hustle bustle of a very large, very busy family....well, in any busy family for that matter... 

I put this up on my wall in the dining room, where its easily seen during  at least two meals a day. My kiddos even take turns reading the "Family Rules" at the dinner table every few days.





My kids loved this sign so much and worked so hard to abide by all of these "Rules" I had to purchase this next sign when I saw it. We have epic food stand offs at the dinner table in our home... It is very possible that I house THE WORLDS PICKIEST EATERS..... Have you ever met a child who cant stand pizza?? Well, He is 11 and lives under my roof.... We have another that can only eat Peanut Butter Toast and a Banana for breakfast. Every. Single. Morning.....  

If they begin to protest, I simply point to the sign and say "This is it Folks, Take it or Leave it!" It has actually really helped matters. And I found it at Orchard Supply & Hardware, of all places!!!!

Cherish the little things...
Drink in the smell of baby hair...
Pay Attention and do not miss the Simple Joys in Life!!!!

Little Girls, Tutus & Ballet Slippers

There is something magical about teeny tiny ballet slippers.  Are these not THE cutest, tiniest pair you have ever seen? My littlest lady weighs all of 21lbs at 2 1/2 years old. She can still fit into 12-18mth clothes, so finding her dance attire for her new dance class was a challenge... She was born very premature, weighing in at her lowest 3lbs 6oz, and has struggled to keep up, developmentally, with her peers. We have been told that dance will help her tremendously with her high muscle tone, caused from how teeny she was when she  arrived.

She was very slow to warm up to the class, but what 2 1/2year old would not be. But once she did, she fell in love.  She danced around and practiced her turns just as the teacher instructed her.



My littlest lady pretended to be a butterfly with all the other little girls. For once, I forgot just how early she was as she kept pace with the other gilrs. Although she is markedly smaller than the rest of the girls in her class, she did just as well as anyone!  I was so proud of my lady!  As a girl who loved dance as much as I did growing up, seeing this smile on her face warmed my heart to no end!!! Absolutely precious!! 

As a Momma Bear of many NICU Babies, (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) I love to see them thriving and achieving goals. My oldest little lady has over come so very much.  She was also a preemie but was a very very sick girl.  While in the NICU she fully coded (needed chest compressions and  all life saving measures) five...5...FIVE times.... There were many times when I had little hope I would ever get to see her out on the dance floor, clad in her ballet slippers and leg warmers... 

                             

She has learned to be a fighter with all she has been through. But she has also learned grace. She has learned to do the best you can with what you are given. This little girl, who has had to fight to breath more times throughout her 8yrs than most people ever have to their whole lives, can dance. She is learning to be beautiful on the dance floor and is loving every minute of it.  

These young ladies have a quality most adults have lost long ago. These girls dance with a passion in their heart and do not worry about what other people think of them. They have both fought hard to be here and they do not think twice about what their love looks like. My ladies know they love something and they pour their whole heart into it.  Why, as a society, can we not come together and celebrate life the way these girls do? 

They are what true love and ambition is!! 

My heart is out there on the floor, dancing their big hearts away!!!!

I am thoroughly enjoying and cherishing these SIMPLE JOYS!!!

The Real Ugly Stuff.... Not a Flowery Fun Post

This is not a pretty post... but this is my life. This is what I lived. Please read with my heart in mind. This is my first time sharing my story, even with most of my family....


                                                  

You know, you would think having a fever the morning of your shitty wedding would be a sign as to the atrocities that would ensue over the next two years… but naïve me… I thought I could make it work anyway. I knew walking down the stairs to get into the limo what a stupid mistake I was making but I just kept walking. I could kick myself for that in retrospect!!!! I stood there through the generic ceremony, wishing I could crawl in a hole. I was standing up for this supposed monumental day to profess my love for this man, who I already could hardly stand, in front of all my family and friends and all I remember thinking was that the minister would hurry up and get to the end so my friends and family would stop judging me. Peyton was crying, no wait, screaming so hard that she couldn’t even catch her breath. This little baby, all of 3 months old, knew enough to protest this wedding to her own father and I couldn’t bring myself to let those words come out of my mouth. We were getting married for the shear reason that this little girl shared both our sets of DNA. What a moronic reason to legally bind yourself to another human being.  I walked down the dusty rocky path to no music, with no father at my side, trying to talk myself out of what I was doing with no avail.  The façade of a wedding was over after approximately ten minutes.  I can’t even recall actually saying the dreaded cliché words “I do” or anything vaguely reassembling the phrase. To the best of my recollection, the minister said a Native Indian prayer, turned and looked at the dreadful thing that was about to become my spouse, and said “You may kiss the bride.” It was over. There was no turning back now. I was legally bound to this disgusting puke that called himself a man.  You see, I had already been with this idiot for a year by this point. I was under no disillusion of what he really was now. The pretty polish had chipped and cracked off. What was now my reality was a worn, callused, dried up piece of wood. You know how a weathered deck looks after 30 plus years… the boards are warped and separated. There are large gaps between the boards and rusty rings around the old nails holding it down. If you stepped out on it barefoot you would be sure to have a large splinter embedded in the sole of your foot. The wood is so rough and jagged that slivers were everywhere. This was now my reality. This was the thing I was now married to.

Everyone came up to pay their respects as if they were at a wake for a dear friend. Little did I know at the time how frighteningly close I actually was to come to this. We all had dinner and way too much alcohol. For the most part the guests enjoyed themselves, although I can only speculate at the horrid thoughts that were actually going through their minds at the time. The party fizzled down, the guests left. I clung to the last few guests as if they were my life preservers and I was stranded in the Pacific Ocean, while he and his mother circled around me like Great White Sharks, waiting for my grasp to slip just a little, looking for a second of vulnerability, so they could swarm in and make their kill.  Could this really be it? Did I really settle for this?

The next two months went rather smoothly in comparison.  I should have seen it coming though. It was just the calm before the storm. Every weather man or storm chaser knows there is a huge lull right before a huge tornado blows through.  I was sitting directly in the storms path.  Just on the horizon I could see it start churning and growing dark. I grew cautious of my actions. I was beginning to not have a clue as to what would set him off.  One day it could be that I forgot to get paper towels at the store, the next day it could be that my tires were not parallel with the frame of my car when I parked. I know these don’t sound like monumental issues but you put the power of a tornado behind them and anything seems big. Each day the small things seemed bigger and bigger until I couldn’t see anymore. He was causing me to have distorted vision. I was seeing everything as a potential major issue.

And then it happened. I didn’t actually even see it coming. It was a Thursday in the end of September. We were standing in the kitchen and his Dad was sitting in my living room.  He was mad that he had to watch the baby so I could go to back to school night.  It was his baby for goodness sake! I turned to grab my keys off the counter when it crashed into my cheek like a thousand bees all stinging me at the same time. He had backhand slapped me across the face.  “What the fuck was that for??” came flying out of my mouth before my cautious mind could stop it…. And the next thing I knew, this miserable piece of work had his hands around my neck. He was choking me so hard that I could feel his fingernails breaking through the skin on my neck. I was praying a child would not walk around the corner and that his dad would. He kept squeezing and squeezing….my ears were ringing… I needed a deep breath but I couldn’t get one… It was starting to get a little hazy around the edges….fading into black…. I could hear the TV but it sounded like it was in a tunnel…. Blacker…Hazier…..  And then I hit the floor, it all went black……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………   Was someone crying, I had to open my eyes and see where the baby was? She sounded hurt, funny but hurt. I lay there, on the floor for a minute more, just listening to her crying, and then I realized it wasn’t her crying. I was listening to myself cry.  How crazy and surreal it was to lay there on my own kitchen floor gasping for breath, fighting the tight pain in my throat, and listen to myself cry. I managed to sit up when the tight pain grew into more of an immense fire. I glanced around to survey the room. Had this all really just happened? Had my husband just laid his hands on me while his dad listened from the other room without an objection?  The anxiety attack that was growing in my chest told me that it did. I managed to pull myself to my feet after a few more minutes. My head was screaming by this point. My brain was threatening to pop out of my ears and my eyeballs, the pressure was intense. I was having a hard time getting air into my lungs because I was afraid he waiting around the corner to come at me again. Had he just tried to kill me or was he just roughing me up? I was reeling in the moment of all of this.  I managed to walk to the back bedroom without him seeing me. In fact I had no idea where he was. I locked the bedroom door and listened for a second for a sign he had heard the twist of the cylinder keeping him on the other side of the door from me. I heard nothing.  I finally a deep breath raged but deep breath. I turned around to face a tear stained beat-up little girl in the mirror.  Honestly I didn’t even recognize myself. I was still the same 23yr old that I was when I sat in front that same mirror 12hrs prior to get ready for the day. But I couldn’t see myself in that beat-up little girl. I looked at the outline of a handprint in red across my cheek. I ran my fingers across the welts. They were hot to the touch. Burned in my memory forever. My fingers slid down my cheek, across my jawbone, to the raw open gashes that were now etched in my neck. I had four clean gashes in my neck from his fingernails. My neck would later bruise with the clear imprint of his hand, four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other, eerily seeming to still squeeze my trachea.   

How was I going to hide these marks? I was I going to hide this horrid part of my life from everyone I love? How could I pull this off? I had to be at the school in thirty minutes. I quickly washed my face in icy water in hopes to cool the tendrils of fiery sting his slap had left across my cheek.  I covered up the remains with makeup. As for my neck, there would be no way to cover it up with makeup, it was raw and bleeding. I went to the closet to pull out my winter clothes. I had to find a turtle neck to conceal what was now my life.  I slipped a black and grey sweater over my head and onto my ripped open neck. With searing pain I slid the neck part into place. I pulled my hair out of the ponytail and fluffed it over my shoulders. I grabbed a pair of sunglasses out of the cabinet and pushed them on.

Out the door I went. I was ashamed of every event that had just taken place. I really wanted to bury my head in the sand and not face the world right then, but as a mother you still have obligations you must meet even when you are a battered wife. I should have driven straight to the police station. To this day I have no idea why I didn’t other than just being so humiliated by the whole repulsive night, and wanting to maintain some little sense of normalcy for my sake and my childrens. I pulled up to the school. The sun was going down so I had to lose the glasses. The other moms were sure to see I had been crying but oh well. Not much else I could do at that point.  I sat through the whole presentation, afraid to move and be noticed by the other moms, afraid to go home.  

Sad to say, but this was only the FIRST time of hundreds I would find my self in this horrid situation created by the repulsive man over the next 700 plus days I stayed in this volatile situation.... 

But I eventually found my voice.  I stood up for myself, I stood up for my children. I waited for the perfect time. And then I RAN... I took my babies and a couple laundry baskets of clothes for them and I RAN with all of $20.00 in my pocket. But I was free of his grasp.... so I thought...

I later turned to Shasta Women's Refuge for help. I obtained a Restraining Order against him, but even his uneducated self found a way to slither around the restrictions of the RO and the wording the Police Department could enforce. He stalked me, threatened me and continuously uses my sweet babies as bargaining chips...He is now harassing me with the court system. Any time I rub him the wrong way or annoy him, he files paperwork against me (that is always dismissed but causes me to great inconvenience to continuously show up to these ludicrous court dates) If you are needing help, here is the website for the Refuge.... 
http://www.shastawomensrefuge.org/index.php

I am much stronger now, though. I have started working towards helping other women find their strength and their voice.
http://www.shastafjc.org/Shasta_Family_Justice_Center/VOICES_Against_Family_Violence_Committee.html


I was recently interviewed for an article that appeared in The Redding Record Searchlight regarding Domestic Violence. Here is a link to the articles that were printed today..... 

http://www.redding.com/news/2013/jan/05/violence-often-escalates-in-domestic-cases/

http://www.redding.com/news/2013/jan/05/shasta-county-organizations-target-areas-high/

Unbridled Creativity

So today was the day we started the "Deck Re-Do" as my kiddos call it. I needed to find something to do with my kids that would keep them away from the power tools and keep them entertained long enough to give the guys enough time to work. So off to lunch we went with some dear friends. Two Moms and seven kids.... Can anyone say controlled chaos.....

After lunch we decided to treat all the wild animals to a day at All Fired Up, a local ceramics painting joint. This is always a fun outing but gets very expensive very fast with as many children as I have.

After spending way more time than necessary arguing over who got to paint the very last owl bank, they finally chose their very favorite, most perfect piece... (We can just pretend everyone was happy with the piece they each picked and I may or may not have ended up paying more than I wanted for a particular piece just to settle the argument).... Have you seen Finding Nemo? They were behaving like the Seagulls from the movie... "Mine, Mine, Mine!!!!!!"

Then we finally found the calm. As I squirted paint into each of their little trays, a silence fell over the crowd...(Ahhhhhhh Happy Mommas!!!!!) The big kids vigorously painted away, tongues sticking out in deep concentration... They whispered proclamations like 'I am going to be a great artist when I grow up' and 'Yours is so beautiful, I bet you could put it in a museum'..... This made my heart sing!!!! Society today has become so "Techy" with our video games, iPads and iPhones, (Yes, mine included.  My 2 year old can find, open and play most games on my iPhone) that we sometimes forget to foster their imagination and their innocent creativity. If you catch children young enough, they don't have the fear of what others will think of their work, they can truly create what their heart wants. It really is a beautiful thing!  

The staff at All Fired Up were amazing!!!! They did not even mind that the 2 year old may have applied more paint to the table than her ceramic... They did not even blink that between our children, we used every single paint brush at the table... They were not flustered when we repeatedly had every drying station in use at the same time.... My nerves were fried by the end of the outing (juggling an 8 mth old who wants to eat everything and a 2 yr old who wants to paint everything, 8 mth old included does that to you!!!) but it was nothing an afternoon latte and a couple of babies down for a nap couldn't fix... A Happy Momma I am today!!!