Stitches

It was almost exactly a year ago that I started having a nervous breakdown.  Why? I found out I was having a second child.  Let me tell you that even before I took that pregnancy test, I knew it was going to be a girl.  I had flashbacks to my entire childhood of my older brother torturing me and just wept at what lay in store for me and my kids.  I felt bad for Thomas because he was going to completely lose any one on one time he might have had with me due to this new addition. I felt awful for this new baby because if Thomas was going to be anything like my brother, her life would be full of torment and teasing.  Every time people find out how close in age my two little ones are, they all say the same thing, "Oh how great that they can grow up and be so close!" I always agree, but on the inside I roll my eyes and think, yeah because my brother and I are so close I'm sure it'll be JUST like that.

This week, I finally got a glimpse of what everyone might be talking about.  Friday  morning, Thomas and Iris were playing together.  Iris (who is not 100% stable with her walking) tripped over her own feet and smacked her forehead on the leg of my coffee table.  I was about two feet away so I scooped her up in absolutely no time, but already there was blood everywhere.  Calmly I tried to clean her up and sooth her so that she'd stop crying long enough for me to determine how bad the cut was.  None of my soothing worked.  You know what got my screaming one-year-old to stop? Her brother, standing over my shoulder, making goofy faces at her.  In absolutely no time she was giggling and squirming out of my arms because she had a mission to get back to playing with Thomas. 

It wasn't long before I realized that regardless of her cheerful demeanor, she really needed to get that gash stitched up.  As I sat in the urgent care waiting room, what is my child with the gaping head wound doing? Chasing after her brother who pleads across the entire building, "'mon Iris, 'mon!" The two were inseparable.  I don't really ever want to have to go to urgent care again, but I will say that having the two of them play with each other and laugh like that made the whole experience almost fun.

Iris got her stitches and they both got Popsicles.  Thomas even made sure to thank Iris for the Popsicle as if he knew she was the reason he got to get a treat that day. 

The rest of the day was amazing.  The two of them played and laughed together.  Thomas kept making sure he gave her kisses on her boo-boo.  You can even tell the difference in Iris as to when Thomas is there and when he's not. The photo on the left, Thomas was taking a nap.  The photo on the right, Thomas was once again standing behind me trying desperately to get his baby sister to laugh. 

So, while I wish we could've avoided stitches for a few more years at least, I am so glad that this week showed me how great having two kids really can be and how much fun is in store for the next many years!

Why I've been MIA

I know it's been a while since I've blogged, been on twitter, or really done anything at all, so I figured I'd give an explanation as to why. Off and on since I was 14, I've had times where I have battled with depression (I've never fully understood that expression.  If it's a battle, I need to sign up for combat training). Anyway, one of the reasons why I work so hard to try and find the positives in life is that my natural tendency is to let life bring me down so badly that I'm often suicidal.  That's really not easy for me to admit.  However, this is what I've learned about my mental stability over the last few weeks.  I don't have to be strong on my own.  The reason I've been absent from the computer is because I've made sure I've filled my time with friends.  Real people who I can interact with. 
They're why I've survived the past month.  I'm finally being honest with these friends.  I'm no longer wearing the mask that says I'm ok while quietly going crazy on the inside.  Honestly, I've been terrified all my adult life that if people knew what I was really thinking, I would lose friends.  The most amazing thing about the friends I have: I have gotten better support than I could've even begun to dream of.  Not one of them treated me like I needed to go on meds or see a therapist.  They treated me exactly as they always have (mostly with making fun of me, drinking a few beers and laughing at ridiculous things in all of our lives).
I can't say that I'm 100% better, but I'm working with my doctor now to try and find a solution so that I'm not feeling like I'm going to crack any more. I know things are on their way up, and while I still have bad days they are getting farther and farther apart.  So for my wonderful friends (and you know who you are) thanks for keeping me sane, thanks for being you, and thanks for helping me find my way back.