Remember that time Boogie peed on me...yeah, that was fun.

OMG! I'm such a jerkface!

I just realized it's been almost a month since my last blog post and I didn't even write it! I am le slacker.

Okay, I'm back. And I promise to be better. I have actually written about 4 blogs, or started, just haven't posted. I'll work to finish them.

Anyway, we've been busy here at Chateau Wiener Dog. We've had family in and out of town, Boogie was dedicated at church and it's going to be 115 degrees here in Phoenix. Good times.

We also purchased a fancy schmancy new camera just in time for the dedication.

If you aren't familiar with what a dedication is, let me bust some knowledge on you. It's basically a baptism only for Christians. Consider it a baptism Lite!

It was a great time. My parents were here and of course they showered that little girl with gifts and love. We always have fun with my parents.

So we go to 10:30am service with the families (except Rutherford who had to stay back and make more food because I'm not sure what part of him saying "You're not making enough, that's not going to be enough food, and I've done this a million times and I'm absolutely positive that you are not making enough food.." that I seem to not understand.)

The actual dedication was at 12. This is PERFECT timing because it's after church which is usually when we feed the munchkin and the put her down for a nap...so she's in the best mood when I'm trying to get her to sit still and be quiet for an extra hour.

Not. Happy.

When it was finally time to go up and have our little story and prayer done.

"God gave Audrey to us, turning two people into a family. And for that, we are thankful to Him everyday. She is a beautiful blessing from head to toe. We are better Christians, better partners, better family members and better people because of her."

 

It was very sweet but here's the kicker. Boogie has the worlds best timing. Seriously. When she was a wee little baby, every time I would walk into Scottsdale (affectionately known as "Snottsdale") Fashion Square, this kid would crap all over her, me, the stroller and anyone in a 5 foot radius.

Not. Kidding.

And if you know anything about the Scottsdale area, you know that it is NOT known as "family friendly." So just try to find a family bathroom, wipes, a hose, anything! I dare you.

So there we are, all cute and family like on stage, in the spotlight and I feel it.

She started to pee on me. Down my hands, down her legs, the front of my dress. Luckily, she had her woobie with her which, as you can see, I shoved under her butt and added a little extra on to the prayer. "Lord bless my child and please don't let me look down to see the front of my dress covered in her pee. Amen,"

We finished up and I darted off stage to get her changed just in time to miss the ending and most important part of the prayer, the parents prayer.

Le sigh.

The rest of the day went much better...after nap time.

Papa

Cousin Kyle

Cousin Lukey

Anyone out there have an embarrassing story about your kids? Let me know in the comments. It will make me feel better. :)

Guest Blogger!

Hi everyone! Today I have something really exciting for you. My cute-as-a-button sister-in-law is guest posting for me today. 


After the birth of her daughter, she dealt with, at times, debilitating postpartum depression. It broke all of our hearts to see her go through such a hard time when she should be beaming and enjoying everything about being a new mom. 


We all wanted to help but knew little of what we could do other than just listen. For those of us who had never experienced it, it was difficult for us to understand what she was going through.


Earlier today, I approached her about telling her story for my readers because I know there are a lot of you out there who have gone through it or know someone who has.


When you're done reading her story here, run over to her blog here and read some of her other stuff. She's hilarious, candid...and did I say HILARIOUS? 


Thank you Sarah, for sharing your story with us.

My Experience With PostPartum Depression

I debated long and hard on whether I was ready to let the world know how I was  affected by PPD. But I decided to be vulnerable in hopes of helping other moms who may be suffering from this horrible disorder, be encouraged and don't be ashamed or silent, there are better days ahead for you!

My Story:

“PostPartum Depression, what is that?” I thought to myself, while perusing a magazine in the beginning of my pregnancy. “Surely it’s something that’s been made up by women who just are just negative and can’t get themselves past the hump of the baby blues, right?! This could never happen to me.” These were my thoughts on PPD before I became victim to it. 

You may be wondering about my life before I was affected by this hellish experience, let me take a moment to introduce you to the pre-mommy version of myself. “Hi! I’m Sarah. I’m a happy go lucky girl. I am somewhat harsh and critical of others when I don’t understand their sufferings or mishaps. I mean, Come on people! Get over it! Control your thoughts! Get a grip!” I bet you want to slap the pre-momma version already. “My life is good. I am married to a wonderful man who loves God and is the Associate Pastor of our church. My biggest concerns are; where we will go on our upcoming date night, when my size 00 pants are beginning to feel snug and the stupid roots I get about 2 weeks after I get my hair done, umm yeah roots are a BIG problem of mine. I will slap myself for you now… 

I became pregnant with my daughter, when I was 23. My husband and I had just experienced a miscarriage after an eight week pregnancy. I got pregnant a second time very soon after. I had some typical anxieties concerning becoming a mother; Will I be working or staying home? Will I be able to succeed in looking after another human life that God has entrusted to me? Will I put on a lot of weight? Will the bleach at the hair salon harm my baby (haha)...You know the usual. But never in my wildest dreams did I entertain the thought that postpartum depression could be a part of my experience, never.

 I had my beautiful daughter Joya Isabella July 9, 2009. She was stunning. Tiny nose, perfect lips and big bright eyes.. I labored for over 12 hours, pushed for nearly 3 (ouch, I think I may have broken some sort of hospital record for that) and I lost quite a bit of blood, to the point where my nurse told me the morning after delivering Joya that if my hemoglobin levels didn’t rise, I’d be getting a blood transfusion. But they did rise, and I went home day 2 after delivery. I was exhausted, which they told me I would be since I had lost so much blood and in turn was very anemic.

Baby Joya was up a lot at first, so I wasn’t sleeping too well and on top of my already weak body this made matters much worse. The first Sunday morning being home from the hospital I woke up to a house that consisted of me and Joya. My husband and mother in law were off to church and I awoke to a crying baby. In rising to my feet to go to my crying baby girl, I felt a strange sensation come over me. I was sweating, dizzy and experiencing a rapid heartbeat. “I am dying, I am having a heart attack and I am going to die,” I thought to myself as I lay back down in my bed and closed my eyes. I had my phone in hand ready to call 911 and started to pray. The symptoms gradually did subside, but left me shaken up for a remainder of the day.

 For the weeks to come I would experience panic attacks multiple times a day, accompanied by horrible thoughts that I could not shake. I wish not to share all of them, but a lot of them involved dying and many were how I didn’t know how to be a mom, and how I wished life would go back to the old way, just my husband and I. Writing this now seems SO foreign to me because I would take a bullet for my daughter. She is by far the greatest gift ever given to my husband and I. I hated myself for these thoughts. I really did, I even told my husband numerous times to please admit me to a psychiatric ward. I wanted to be away from these people that I loved, I did not want to ruin their lives. I knew that these thoughts were not me, but rather something that had over taken me. A sickness it seemed. I found myself in a war that I was not prepared for. Life in and of itself overwhelmed me. The teensiest thing would cause me great stress; examples being, something as simple as feeding my daughter or going to the grocery store would cause a panic attack. I was a prisoner of fear and panic and I was in a living hell.

My background is that of a Word of Faith Christian, which has been a blessing in many ways, but if misinterpreted as it was in my case, caused great shame and questioning. I felt like something was wrong with my faith, after all I should be able to tackle this by the name of Jesus right?! I should be able to speak to this mountain and see it moved. I was not a weak person who needed meds, I had the Lord. He is the great physician I would tell myself, you will be belittling God’s ability if you seek out anti depressants. Boy was I wrong. Was I wrong about God having died to give me the victory? No. I am confident that he did. Was I wrong about my faith being broken and this being the reason I was experiencing PPD? Yes. Was I going through a battle that God would one day use for His glory? Yes! He had a victory plan for me. Healing doesn’t always manifest itself over night, in my case it has been one day at a time, one step at a time.

I finally sought the help of medical professionals, who got me on the right path with antidepressants and anxiety medication. At first I didn’t see a change but over the course of a month I saw some great results. My mind was calmer so I could control my thoughts more. I was bonding more with my precious daughter, feeling all the warm and fuzzy feelings new moms get. I could now go to the store, out with friends etc, I was able to be in the word of God and concentrate on it to better equip myself for the battle I was in. Medication in my case was a necessary means to healing. As were many other things, such as a having a good support system. Praise God that I have an amazing husband family and friends who were there to encourage me and hold me up when I couldn’t stand. I have God who I know will never leave me or forsake me, who when I am down will whisper 2 Timothy 1:7- That I have not been given a spirit of fear, but one of power, love and a sound mind, or Joshua 1:9 (this is getting lengthy so look that one up.)

Another battle I faced was getting past the opinions of others. It’s rare to come across people who truly understand PPD, so naturally people would make hurtful observations about me as a mother. All of you momma bears can relate to the fact that you can criticize and belittle me in many ways, but don’t you dare attack my character as a mom. I had to tackle so many feelings of shame due to hurtful words that were said, I learned quickly to disregard these comments. I said  before I was very critical of those that depended on antidepressants so of course I felt guilty every night that I took my pill before going to bed. But then I thought how can I feel shameful when this is part of the equation right now that makes me a better mom to Joya, a better wife to Tai, a better friend or family member. After all I would seek professional help for cancer? Just because PPD is not as prominent of a problem and you can’t see it in an x-ray doesn’t mean it should not be tended to on a medical level.

I can honestly say that there is a light at the end of this tunnel. Some days I didn’t believe it, and I couldn’t muster up enough energy to walk towards it. I continue to walk towards that light, and I can feel the warmth of it on my skin. It’s all just one foot in front of the other and one day at a time. I have seen tremendous progress over the past year and a half. Today I am a mom who has a story that I am no longer ashamed of. A circumstance that could have ended me turned into a story that could enable me to better equip those facing similar issues. That is how God does things. I know I’m continuously being molded into the “ME” he had in mind when he made me. It’s a process, and in the mean time if my story can help to encourage one person to seek the help they deserve I know that I haven’t suffered in vein.  

If any of you have any questions or are battling with something similar feel free to message me at sarah.navares@yahoo.com.

Well said, Sarah.  

Feel free to comment her some encouragement or tell your story!