A Little (Workout) Update

Because I am not very good at math and (apparently) not very good at paying attention, I was surprised this morning when the Bikini Body Mommy announced that I was officially half way through the 90 day challenge.  That’s right, I’ve completed 45 days of workouts!

I know a lot more about the program now than when I started and it’s been even more doable than I first thought.  The weekly routine includes three cardio days and three workout days and a rest day.  Since Kimberly and I walk every Sunday that the weather and our schedules cooperate, and because Thursday for some reason is my most tired morning of the week, most weeks I’ve rested on Thursday.  When I started, I did the cardio video almost every time.  She suggests a 20-25 minute high intensity interval training (HIIT) workout on cardio days and has a nice little video of five exercises to repeat twice, resting in between each set. I even got crazy one day and, while pushing Layla in the stroller, alternated running and walking for 25 minutes.  Recently, I’ve gotten a little lax on cardio days and just done a fast walk pushing the stroller for 45 minutes.  I could tell this morning during the “fit test” that my cardio needs to be dialed up a notch.  But, my times and reps were much improved on each exercise from the first day, so that’s something. 

The longest workout day video has been just over 25 minutes, so I really have no excuse for not getting up and getting it over with. The only perk I’ve found to this horrendous bell new schedule that puts me home to Layla at 4:30PM every day is that I can sleep until 6AM and still get a workout in, nurse the baby, shower, and get to school on time.  After the sleepless weekend I’d had with Amoura, I slept right through the workout on Monday morning for the first time since I started the challenge.  That evening when I put Layla to bed, I grabbed my tennis shoes and completed Day 43.  I was glad to stay on pace, but was reminded that prefer getting it out of the way in the morning. 

I guess the big question is, am I seeing any changes, and I think I am.  Drastic changes, no, but you can’t expect that much from 15-25 minutes a day.  I lost about six pounds the first month I was back in school.  I was doing the online Dietbet and really watching what I ate (and inadvertently tanking my milk supply in the process).  Now that the bet is over and I am in full on damage control mode with my milk production, I am trying to maintain my weight.  The BBM challenge is helping with that.  I eat a really sensible breakfast and lunch and eat normal person size portion of whatever I want for dinner.  I usually cook, so it’s usually healthy.  But like to night when Sonic blasts were ½ price, I devoured one in record time and I don’t even feel guilty for it.  I have always been great at gaining weight, pretty good at losing it, and terrible at maintaining it.  I do best in starvation diet mode or “get out of my way or I’m going to eat you with a side of ice cream” mode.  Balancing eating to fuel my body and treating myself because you only live once is hard for me.  Exercising regularly helps because I don’t want to ruin my hard work (at least not every day) with a 700 calorie dessert an hour before bed. 

So, that’s how my workouts are going.  If I keep it up, I’ll complete this first challenge on November 14^th.  Now that I’m half way there, I think I might just finish the whole darn thing!

The Best Rainy Weekend Ever

A little over eight months ago, Skip took Amoura out on our front porch and they waved at me as I drove away to work.  When I got home that afternoon, she was gone.  She’d been here virtually every day for 10 months and she was gone almost as quickly as she’d come.  I remember the night we realized she would definitely be leaving us.  I hadn’t cried that hard since we came home from the hospital without Levi.  I just could not imagine our lives without her in them.  And yet, we survived.  We moved on, pouring into the rainbow baby God had granted us and trying to remember how good He’d been to us. Emily offered lots of words of encouragement (she knew I blamed her for the circumstances surrounding Amoura’s leaving) and at the time, they made me mad.  I remember her saying that night and many times over that she was praying “God would redeem this situation and use it for His glory.”  When we pulled up to the apartments Friday afternoon in the pouring down rain to pick up our first baby girl, those words echoed over and over in my head.

Mom and I got to visit Amoura at her home in South Carolina a little over three months after she’d left us.  Skip wasn’t invited because he had not “made up” with her mom at that time.  It was a baby step and full of awkwardness, but we were back in her life and filled with hope for more visits to come.  In June, Amoura and her baby sister and their mom came and spent two nights with us.  It was the first time I’d really seen her mom parent her, and it was a relief.  Although she doesn’t have a good role model in her own mother and didn’t finish the 8^th grade, she wasn’t half bad at it.  We saw them again for a quick visit at Amoura’s birthday party, but I left feeling kind of cheated- the time was short and everyone was vying for her attention.  When they stopped by on their way back from a Labor Day visit, I got up the nerve to ask about a weekend visit.  Her mom said that would be fine and asked me to text her some dates that would work.  A few days later, we had a tentative plan and I spent the next three weeks trying desperately not to get my hopes up.  I’d made plans to see her once since they moved back to Winston and they’d fallen through.  On Friday morning when her mom texted me their address, I finally let myself get excited.

Although it rained ALL WEEKEND, we had a great time with that sweet little girl.  It took her a little while to warm up to us, but once we stopped at Chick-fila and started eating, she came alive.  I know I’ve said this before, but she and Layla have this unique affection for one another. She wanted to hold and hug Layla from the second we got out of the car.  She’s talking a lot now, so she also had no problem telling Layla “no” when Layla took a toy she was playing with or tried to stand up by pulling on her clothes.  She has been sharing a room either with another toddler or her mom and sister since she left us, so sleeping at night was pretty miserable.  The first night she and I slept up stairs and for half the night we were in our own twin beds with room to roll over should the urge strike.  The next night, however, she would not sleep without practically laying ON TOP of me and even then was restless.  After Skip came in from shooting a wedding and she heard him, she announced she wanted to sleep with “Sip.”  I lugged her, Layla’s monitor, my phone, both chargers, and our pillows downstairs and climbed into my own bed.  At 1:45AM, she finally sacked out for the night and at 1:50AM, Layla woke up for her early morning feeding.  It was my turn to provide breakfast for life group, so I got up a little after 7AM to start cooking. Thanks to a little help from my mama, I got all three of us to church on time.  It was wonderful to have Amoura back at our church.  SO, SO, SO many of our friends and church family prayed us through our time with her and the days following her leaving us; it was great to share her with them again. 

If someone had told me eight months ago that our relationship with Amoura’s mom would be what it is today, I wouldn’t have believed them.  There’s been so many times in the past year and a half that I’ve honestly thought I hated her.  I don’t think I’ve ever been hurt by another person as much as she’s hurt me.  I tried so hard when we had Amoura to wish her mother out of the equation.  When I would pray in that way, God would remind me every stinking time that He loves her just as much as He loves me.  She’s had a far rougher life than I can imagine and yet, she is a pretty positive person.  The things she does that drive me the most bananas really come down to the experiences and opportunities in life that I’ve been afforded and she has not.  And most importantly, in the best way she knows how, she loves Amoura just as much as I do.  So, we’re working on loving her, too.  She’s never learned to drive, so next week, we’re going to get her and both girls and bring them here for Skip’s School of Driving.  I’ll be sure to write about how it goes.  For now, I’ll leave you with some of my favorite pictures of our girls from this weekend. 

Isn't she just beautiful?

Bedtime sugars with Nanny.  

I LOVE Layla's little grin in this photo!

Amoura pushed Layla all over the house on her little cart.

Daddy's girls.

Two Years

The first Sunday School lesson I remember at Charity was about the Ebenezer stone.  Tara talked about what the stone represented and how it seemed not to be a tiny stone, but actually a big rock or boulder.  She told us how it was placed to serve as a reminder of the Lord’s deliverance.  She encouraged us to think of some times that God had delivered us and helped us through a dark time.  She passed out little stones for us to take with us. As I held mine, I thought about the miscarriage I had suffered through the previous month while my husband was a continent away and I’d slept over at my mama’s for support. I thought about my Nanny’s battle with cancer and the wreck that nearly claimed my cousin Brooke’s life when we were 19.  I took that little stone home and put it in my kitchen window.  I’ve looked at it probably a hundred times since that Sunday morning, and I looked at it a good, long time this morning while I was fixing Layla’s breakfast.

My firstborn should’ve been two years old this weekend.  We should have been planning a birthday party to outdo his first birthday party and scolding Nanny for buying too many presents.   I should know what it feels like to run my fingers through sweaty blonde toddler hair after he’s been playing outside with his daddy.  The terrible twos should be wreaking havoc on my house and my nerves.  Two years ago, that’s exactly how I envisioned this weekend would be. Two years and I still don’t understand why things didn’t happen the way we’d imagined them. 

What I do know is that life moved on from that hollow gut, abject misery that was September of 2013.   Slowly but surely the fog lifted.  I kept getting up and getting dressed and getting loved on by my husband and family and friends and one Saturday (I can’t remember which one but I know it was after the 27^th one at least) I stopped counting the weeks since his delivery.   My blogger friend/baby loss mom/ idol Brooke said she cried every day for an entire year after her baby, Eliza, died.  That wasn’t the case for me.  Oh, I cried plenty, mostly on the beautiful back roads to and from West Rowan High School. It wasn’t that I wasn’t sad for a year because I was, it was just that I was so busy with good things.  Good things that did not replace Levi, but softened my sadness and slowly began to replace my mourning with dancing. 

Fourteen months after I delivered Levi, I delivered Layla.  With one glaring exception, my delivery experiences were very similar.  I was induced early on Tuesday morning with Layla.  Dr. Bower delivered them both, Levi at 12:10PM and Layla at 12:16PM.  Skip was on one side and Megan was on the other for both deliveries and Mom was standing just behind Megan crying both times. Oddly enough, I remember a lot more about Levi’s delivery than I do Layla’s.  Maybe it’s because the only memories I have of Levi took place in that delivery room, and Layla makes new, lasting impressions on my memory (and my heart) every single day.  Maybe it’s because Levi’s delivery was my first experience; I’m not sure.  I’m grateful that, given the circumstances, my experience was as positive as it could be. 

And I am more than grateful for the opportunity to be Levi’s sister’s mama.  I don’t imagine that he would’ve been much like Layla.  I don’t know that I would be the same kind of mama I am to her if he hadn’t come first.  I realized a few months ago that I’d only prayed one prayer for Layla since she’s been born.  Every night before I laid her down in her crib, I held her close and I prayed to God that she would out live us.  And that was it.  For the first months of her life, the only request I made on her behalf was not really on her behalf at all, but a totally selfish petition.   While I was pregnant with Levi, I envisioned so many things for his life- what he’d enjoy, who he would act like.  Those things were hard to let go of when we couldn’t bring him home, so I spent my entire pregnancy with Layla trying not to do that and just praying she would survive.   And although I now have many hope and dreams and visions for her life, outliving me still seems like a pretty big priority, which I suppose is normal for all mamas and not just baby loss mamas like me.

For a while after we lost Levi, one of the things that made me the saddest was the feeling that I was forever going to be known as a baby loss mom.  I didn’t feel guilty or responsible for what happened, I just didn’t want to be pitied everywhere I went.  Two years later, I don’t think I am. What I hope I am for those that know me best is an Ebenezer stone of sorts. The Lord delivered us from the darkest days of our lives and put a new song in our hearts.  He loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, and you all know how much I love new clothes.   I hope I never forget to give Him praise for all He’s done for me.