Nothing But My Version of Ordinary

I have a problem with recurring anxiety attacks. Before kids, I'd get them once in a blue moon, never with any discernable cause. Usually they involve the fight-or-flight response going into overdrive, and generally there isn't any particular trigger. They were horrible right after Grant was born because of post-partum depression, but pretty much went away with anti-depressants and time. I hadn't had one in over a year and a half, and now lately I've been getting them again.

I'm not a fan of psychotropic drugs; I took the anti-depressants for the PPD and as soon as my hormones were regulated enough for the PPD to go away, I stopped taking them. I'm a big believer in trying to solve my problems on my own first. So, I'm not going to be taking any medication for the anxiety attacks unless they become debilitating. Still, they're frustrating to deal with. They make you feel pretty bad; I managed to fall asleep last night, but usually I have insomnia from them on top of everything else.

I'm thinking it's just general stress bringing them on. I've got all of the usual stuff that comes from working a full-time job and also trying to be a mom and a wife (oh, and attempting to keep the house sanitary and enough clean laundry around to go out in public), plus this lawsuit against Lennar, plus my reflux surgery. It's a lot of stress right now, so I guess my body is handling that by randomly giving me shots of adrenaline.

The lawsuit with Lennar is finally starting to move forward. They were officially sued in our county of residence, and have until tomorrow (9/13) at 10:00am to respond. We'll see exactly what this process is going to entail pretty soon. I'm guessing it will involve a lot of legal stalling and attempts at harassment in an effort to make us shut up and go away. I'm not particularly looking forward to all of it, but we really don't have a choice other than to move forward. If we don't, we'll never be able to sell this house. If we don't manage to get Lennar to either buy the house back or completely repair the foundation, we're going to be royally screwed. The only way we'd ever be able to recover from this house in that event would be to walk away and let the bank take it, and then rent for the 5-7 years it would take to get the foreclosure off of our credit. That is obviously not an option that we like. The frustrating thing is that we really have no control over this process at all. It's all up to our lawyers and God.

My reflux surgery is scheduled for 10/18. I'm going to be losing out on 3 weeks of work. I'm hoping that won't mean a huge loss of income for me since I have short-term disability insurance, but that only pays out 66% of my salary. We'll have to come up with a hospital co-pay which isn't a huge amount, but still high enough that our finances are going to be pretty tight for a while. Aside from all of the financial worries about it, I'm scared to death about the surgery itself. It needs to be done, but the recovery looks like it will be no picnic. I'll be on a liquid diet for a week or so, and then gradually increase the thickness of my food over a month to 6 weeks until I'm eating normally again. Since they'll be wrapping the upper part of my stomach around the esophagus in this surgery, my stomach will effectively be made smaller. This might not sound like a bad thing to worry about, but I just intentionally lost 25 pounds. The doctor said that I could expect to lose another 5% of my body weight after surgery. I really don't need to lose any more weight, and I can't afford to have to go buy another work wardrobe in a smaller size. Then, there are the small side-effects like the possibility I will lose my ability to vomit. Nice.

Yep. A bit of stress. Just a little bit. It explains why I'm having the anxiety attacks, but having an explanation doesn't do much to make them go away. I think I need an on-call massage therapist, or maybe a vacation of undetermined length to a place with sand and fruity umbrella drinks.

I have a morbid fascination with fundamentalism. I went to a "Fundamental Bible Church" in high school that was largely responsible for me avoiding church like the plague for most of my adult years. My younger siblings have all been homeschooled; I'm the only one out of the bunch to have graduated from a public high school.

Having lived amongst all of that for a few years, there are varying degrees of  fundamentalists. There are those who live a relatively normal life that are just more conservative in their theology and their politics, there are those that my family has called the "long skirt brigade", and every shade in between. The "long skirt brigade" tends to be the ones in the ankle-length skirts or jumpers, long hair, no makeup, and frumpy tops. They adhere to a strict patriarchal world view. Many of them practice courtship, with some groups going so far as to say that single adult children should remain under their parent's authority until marriage. A semi-famous preacher of that school of thought is Bill Gothard of the Institute for Basic Life Principles (http://www.iblp.com/).

If you've heard of the Duggars, you've heard of a "Gothardite" family. The Duggars link to IBLP materials on their website, and are also a part of the Quiverfull movement. The Quiverfull movement (http://www.quiverfull.com/) is of the belief that children are a blessing from God, so therefore a couple should have as many or as few as God decides to give them. The name of the movement comes from Psalm 127 3-5, which says "Lo, children are a heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is His reward. Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them..." Birth control and fertility treatments are not to be practiced by a Quiverfull family, because to do so would take control of family size out of God's hands according to Quiverfull teachings.

Knowing about all of this, I decided to do some Googling tonight on the subject. It's very interesting to read the point of view of Quiverfull practitioners. They believe that a couple should be open to as many children as God chooses to give them. Sounds great on a surface level, doesn't it? Give control of your family size over to God, and show the ultimate faith. The Quiverfull movement neglects to address the very real spectre that until recently hung over every pregnancy and birth: that of complications, the death of mother and/or child, or birth defects.

I have strong feelings about a movement that would declare a couple sinful for choosing to stop bearing children because the health of the mother was at stake. I wonder about a theological position that would have a couple continue to concieve children even after they know that they have a high risk for repeatedly giving birth to children with fatal birth defects or degenerative diseases. I would never, ever tell a couple that they should avoid having children for those reasons, but to tell a couple that they are sinful because they choose NOT to continue having children for those reasons is reprehensible.

I have to wonder what a member of the Quiverfull movement would have to say to Jacob and I. We've decided that the next baby will most likely be our last, unless we end up with an "oopsie". Our reasoning has less to do with the number of children we want or don't want and more to do with our risk of having another heart baby. Recent studies have shown that HLHS is highly heritable; our risk of having another HLHS baby is 8%, while our risk of having another baby with an HLHS-related heart defect is a staggering 22% (http://www.news-medical.net/news/2007/10/11/31066.aspx). We've chosen to take the risk one more time so that Grant can grow up with a sibling, but we feel that more than that is like playing Russian Roulette with a four cylander revolver. After watching Kenneth go through everything he went through, the thought of doing it all over again is simply terrifying.

What would the people of the Quiverfull movement have to say to us, I wonder? Would they understand our decision, or would it be met with judgement and prayerful derision?

It would be interesting to find out.

Good news: Little Adalyn had her surgery to repair her Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia yesterday. So far she's doing well. Her biggest hurdle is her lungs. CDH makes it so all of her organs were up in her chest cavity, which restricted the amount of growth her lungs could do. Continued prayers that Ady's lungs will be able to do their job would be greatly appreciated.

I met with the voice specialist on Monday. He went over my test results with me, and they were well outside of normal limits even though I did the PH probe while still taking my reflux meds twice a day as ordered. He said that since they're not working, he wanted to refer me onward to a surgeon to have the Nissen Fundoplication done. According to http://www.umm.edu/general_surgery/nissen_fundo.htm, this is what they'll be doing:

"During the fundoplication surgery, the surgeon improves the natural barrier between the stomach and the esophagus by wrapping a part of the stomach known as the gastric fundus around the lower esophagus. This prevents the flow of acids from the stomach into the esophagus, and strengthens the valve between the esophagus and stomach, which stops acid from backing up into the esophagus as easily. This procedure is often done using a laparoscopic surgical technique. It can also be done as traditional (open) surgery."

From my reading, the surgery itself isn't the difficult part, it's eating afterwards. I'll be in the hospital for 1-3 nights depending on how things go. I'll be on a liquid diet to start and then very gradually increase the thicknessess of the foods I eat over a period of several weeks. Apparently if you try to eat normally too soon, you pay for it. Possible side effects include losing the ability to burp and losing the ability to vomit.

I'm really nervous about this, but since the meds aren't working I don't see that I have much of a choice in the matter. It's either do this and have my voice recover, or not do this and continue to have vocal damage. The voice specialist scoped my throat again on Monday and said that other than the swelling caused by the acid, my vocal cords were in perfect shape. That means that once they're no longer being bathed in acid all the time, they should recover.

As a singer, this is really a no-brainer. I'll have the surgery and protect my voice. I'm just scared about the whole process and everything that it will entail. This is going to be a permanent change to my anatomy, after all. I'm going to have to live with the results for the rest of my life. I'm not even 30 yet, so that is quite a long time to live with side effects if I end up with them.

On a professional level, things are looking good for this school year. It looks like my student teacher will be coming to me during the first half of the fall semester, which is perfect since I need to have the surgery. I also got a letter in the mail regarding a proposal that the PE teacher I work with and I put together for a session at this organization's big conference in December. Our proposal was accepted, so we'll be doing that in December. The only potential hurdle on a professional level for this year is our new administrative team, but I've been hearing good things so I'm hopeful.

4 more days of summer freedom, and then it's back to the grind.

There are some things I don't think I'll ever understand. A friend of mine just had a baby girl last week. Little Adalyn has a Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, meaning that there is a hole in her diaphragm that allowed her organs to all congregate in her chest cavity. When this happens, it stunts the growth of the baby's lungs. Ady is in the NICU awaiting surgery right now; at the hospital she's at, babies are in beds numbered from 1-50 something, with bed one being the most severely ill. Ady is in bed 3. She should be having surgery to repair her diaphragm and move her organs back to where they belong on either Monday or Tuesday, provided she's healthy enough. She's facing a very long road.

Her mom is a friend that I've known casually since college. She's close to a close friend of mine and is a teacher. We all went to dinner on Friday night and talked for a while, and then I came home and cried. She's pretty much in the exact same place I was in three years ago, and seeing her shell-shocked look and the fear in her eyes brought a lot back. It really sucks that someone else has to watch their baby go through hell. It really sucks that someone else has to wonder if she'll get to bring her baby home or not.

I don't understand it. Why this happens to parents who have babies that were planned for and eagerly anticipated is beyond me. I see these good people going through hell, and then I read news stories about people who abuse or kill their children, and it makes my head spin. Why are evil, abusive people able to have children that they subject to a lifetime of suffering? Why do innocent babies have to struggle for life while evil people have perfect health?

I hope that I was able to be of some help to Adalyn's mom. It's hard to know if the things you're saying are helping or making things worse. I hope that my experiences with Kenneth are able to help other people. It helps me to think that there was some sort of good purpose in all of the bad.

Alright, so it's been two weeks. So much for once a week updates! The highlights:

*I had my 24 hour esophageal PH test done last week and should have the results on the 9th. We'll see what the doctor has to say and whether I have to have surgery, more tests, or if I'm going to just stay on the meds.

*Our lawyer found some information that might be helpful in our lawsuit against Lennar, so he delayed filing until today so that he could get that information included in our suit papers. I don't want to go into the details on my blog, but I think it'll be a good thing for us. I have no idea how long it will take from this point to get a court date and all that good stuff. I'm going to guess that Lennar will do their best to stall things as much as possible and harass us legally however they can, but that's to be expected. If they admit that there's a problem or are forced by the courts to admit that there's a problem, the other people in the neighborhood that are having issues will then have a very good precedent already established so that they can get their homes fixed. Since the repairs are going to be in the $50,000-100,000 range, I can understand why Lennar would want to do their best to avoid honoring the warranty.

*I go back to work in a little over a week. I'm glad to get back into a routine, but I'm going to miss being home with Grant. If anyone wants to send a winning lottery ticket my way, I won't object!

I think I might have found a church. It feels strange to say that. I haven't wanted to go to church in a very long time. I want Grant to be raised going to church, to know the hymns and the traditions and yes, the beliefs. I just don't want him to go through what I went through at churches as a kid.

The church that I've been to twice now is a Missouri Synod Lutheran church. I went to a MS Lutheran church when I was in middle school and for my freshman year of high school, and I was confirmed as a Lutheran. The liturgy at the church I've been visiting is the same as the one I went to in HS. It's very comforting. Lutherans sing quite a bit during their services, and the music is traditional. For this classically trained singer, singing that sort of music feels very good. I've always felt like I worshipped best through music.

My old voice teacher from college is the choir director there. The music is good. He invited me to sing with the church choir, which I think I'm going to do just so that I can sing music that isn't designed for the elementary school crowd. This church just feels right. I'm going to drag Jacob with me next Sunday when he's got a day off; hopefully he'll like it.

I still struggle with feelings of being let down by God, and being angry with God, but I'm trying. I'm finally at a point in my journey where I can say, "I don't understand why you took my baby away, and I'm angry about it, but I'm willing to try to mend the relationship".

Here's to trying.

I took a long blogging break without really meaning to. Life just seems to have gotten in the way, and I've not really been feeling like blogging until tonight.


The medication the doctor has me taking for the reflux can't be taken during pregnancy, so we're putting off trying for another baby until the reflux stuff is resolved. There's a chance I'll be having a surgery called a Nissen Fundoplication, but I won't know for sure until they run some more tests. The meds, weight loss, and diet changes haven't really made much of a difference, so I'm guessing I'll be having the surgery. The whole thing has been stressing me out, but when it comes down to it, I'll do just about anything to preserve my singing voice. I'm a bit bummed out about waiting for another baby, but at the same time I'm relieved. Pregnancy is stressful for anybody, and even more so for us with a history of a child with a severe congenital heart defect and a mommy with pre-term labor. I have the baby bug BAD, but at least I can put off some of the fear that another pregnancy will bring with it.

Professionally, things are moving in a positive direction. I'm getting a student teacher in the fall-- my first one ever. I'm looking forward to it. Not to toot my own horn too too much, but I think I'll be a good cooperating teacher. Hopefully the student teacher feels the same way! I also found out recently that a local university offers a Master of Music Education with a concentration in Choral Conducting, and they have it structured so that the bulk of the coursework is during the summer. I'm excited that there's a possibility for me to go back to school without either quitting my job (not so financially feasable) or killing myself by teaching full-time while going to school in the evenings/on the weekends, all while also being a wife and mommy. Summers would be perfect! I'd lose out on my days of lazy freedom for a few summers, but then I'd have the tools and the degree to move my career in the direction I want it to go in.

The house...ahhhh, the house. We got the suit papers from our lawyer earlier this week, and it should be filed with the county by the end of the week. With any luck we'll have some resolution on that front soon.

On a completely different topic altogether, I'm working on trying to get back into church. It's hard. I find myself angry with God over a lot of different things-- the way I've been treated by Christians in the past and losing Kenneth being top on the list. I went to a Lutheran church here in town last week and it was nice. I went to a Lutheran church for several years as a kid and was confirmed Lutheran, so the service was very familiar and comforting. The person who was my voice teacher in college happens to lead the choir there, so that would give me an opportunity to sing outside of what I do with my kids at work. I'm really hoping that it's a place that I can bring Grant to. I want him to be brought up in church, but I don't want him to experience the hypocracy that I did. I want to be able to have the faith I used to have, without all of the doubts that I've had over the past few years.

There's the long and short of the past few months. My goal is to try to force myself to update this blog once a week at the least. Let's see if I can stick with it.


*pictures used with permission from http://www.freefoto.com/

Three years ago today, my first baby went to Heaven without me.

In the past three years, we've learned to cope with the empty place left behind when Kenneth died, but it's still there. I'm still surprised by grief at random moments. It will probably always be this way.

Grant and I were at Quizno's for lunch today. Grant was looking out of the window at the cars passing by, and when he saw a big red F-150, he said "Whoa!" and got excited. The first thought in my mind was, "I wonder if Kenneth would have liked big trucks too", and I teared up in public. It's all of the unknowns-- would he have been a cuddler like Grant is? Would he have liked to play on the slide at the park? Would he have loved books? What would it have been like to hear him call me "Mommy"? What kind of man would he have grown to be?

I'm selfish. I want him to be here with me. Part of my soul is buried 6 feet under the dirt in a tiny little box in the Texas Hill Country, and I feel the loss constantly.

For days now I've been going back and forth about whether or not I should blog about all of the family stuff that's been going on around here, and I've decided that I will, at least to a certain extent. There was some drama over us missing my nephew's birthday party a few weeks ago that was stirred up by my SIL thinking that I yelled at her and hung up on her over the phone, neither of which I did. I could go into the whole mess, but I don't think that I will because that's not the point of this blog today.

To make it short, SIL has the whole family mad at me. My mom, who wasn't there for the conversation, has believed SIL's version of events and not mine. I've been trying to be the grown-up in this situation and just let it drop, but that's been interpreted by my mother as confirmation that SIL is the one telling the truth. I've tried directly telling my mother what happened, but she still believes SIL over me. She believes that I lashed out at SIL because of grief over Kenneth, since Kenneth's birthday was the 14th. While this time of year is hard on me, the drama with SIL had absolutely nothing to do with any of that. I've told mom that, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

It bothers me quite a bit that rather than believe me, my mom insists on believing that I'm telling her a warped version of events because I'm grief-stricken over my son. It's been 3 years, and while I still miss Kenneth greatly, it hasn't clouded my judgement in a very long time. It seems like she believes I'm so psychologically damaged that I can't possibly be telling her the truth, and that really bothers me. She said that I'm over-protective of Grant to the point of being pathological (except I do things like let him go down slides at the playground head-first.....), and that also bothers me immensely. How do I not get bothered by my mother thinking that I'm borderline mentally ill?

My mom and I don't think alike, and really we never have. We're both very strong women, and both of us have a stubborn streak. I was pretty much raised by my mom and only my mom, so it cuts me pretty deeply when it's so very obvious that she thinks poorly of me. She disagrees with a lot of the choices that I've made over the years, and will usually let me know in plain words when she thinks I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing. Disagreement I can handle, but with her it's never just disagreement: it's usually a defect in me, not "we don't see eye to eye on this". It's hard to know how to handle that.

I want to stick up for myself and my choices, and I want her to understand why I make decisions the way that I do even if she doesn't agree with them. It never happens that way though. When I had to go back to work before I wanted to after Grant was born (when he was 8 weeks old instead of 12 weeks old-- I'd been out on maternity leave for longer than the FMLA-allowed 12 weeks because of bedrest, and 8 weeks after delivery was the longest leave I could take and still keep my job), I was pretty upset because I wanted to be home longer. Rather than support me, her response was that I should quit my teaching job mid-semester and just be a stay-at-home mom. When I told her that I would love to, but finances wouldn't permit it and I couldn't quit a teaching job mid year like that if I ever wanted to get another teaching job, she didn't understand it at all. I was being selfish and putting our material comfort above the needs of my son. Nevermind that I'd put years of work and thousands of dollars into earning the teaching degree that she wanted me to throw away, nevermind that staying home would mean we couldn't pay our bills or have health insurance-- working was the selfish choice.

I think this situation is a lot like that one. I make a decision that seems perfectly rational to me, and it gets twisted around in her mind to mean that there is some deep defect in my psyche. It's very hurtful and I don't know how I can change that. Most likely, I can't change it. So, I'm faced with the choice of continuing to be closely involved with my family and knowing that inevitably I'll be hurt like this again somewhere down the line, or backing off and getting them all even more upset with me. I'm not sure what the right answer is, or even if there is a right answer.

Mother-daughter relationships can get interesting sometimes, can't they?

Please say a prayer for my friend Amanda and her husband. They found out this week that the baby they are expecting in July has Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, which is a pretty serious birth defect. They're in pretty much the same position we were in when we found out about Kenneth's heart. They could really use a lot of prayer as they navigate all of the ups and downs of this situation.

I don't know what my problem has been, but I haven't updated this thing in ages. I feel like I have a lot to say and nothing to say all at the same time. Maybe I just have a lot of nothing to say? Ha ha. Anyway, the highlights...

We got a new puppy about a month ago to keep our other dog, Moose, company. As I was just sitting down to describe her, the brat looked straight at me and peed on my living room floor. Agh! She's learned to sit and stay, but she just doesn't seem to be getting the concept of potty training. I've never had a dog take this long to housebreak. Grr. Anyway, she's a black mouth cur mixed with who knows what, and her basic disposition is very good. Really, her only major character flaw is the housebreaking issue. I'm hoping we can get this straightened out soon. I spanked her nose and put her outside by herself when she peed on the floor, and now she's at the back door howling like her little puppy heart is breaking. Sigh.

The house stuff is moving along, just very, very slowly. I'm going to guess that we'll be heading to arbitration at some point, but when that will be is anyone's guess. I love this house, so I really hope that it gets fixed correctly so that we can stay and I can do all of the landscaping and painting that I've been wanting to do but can't. I really want to put in a vegetable garden, plant some roses, and add some flowering trees to the front yard. We were thinking we'd put in a flowering plum, a magnolia, and possibly some crape myrtles, but I don't want to spend the money on new trees if a foundation repair crew is going to come in and rip them up to get the work done, so all projects are on hold.

Jacob is back on the day shift at work. That has been wonderful beyond words. I get to see him every day, even if it's just for a few minutes in the morning and a half-hour or so before bed. He's not nearly as cranky, because he actually gets enough sleep at night and he doesn't have to flip-flop his body clock every few days in order to be able to see Grant. It was really hard on us to keep our marriage in good shape when he was working nights-- how do you run a household when you go days on end without seeing one another? I know that plenty of couples manage it, but it was getting rough for us. Having him back on days has been a huge improvement.

We're planning a vacation for June to celebrate 5 years of being married. Our anniversary is in July, but July is inventory at Jacob's store, so no vacation time for anyone in July. We decided we'd just go celebrate in June instead. Our flight and hotel are already booked, and now we just have to figure out what we want to do once we get there. We're going to go without Grant, which will be good and difficult all at the same time. My mom has agreed to watch him for me, so he'll be fine, but I still have that bit of mommy guilt for planning to leave him.

Those are the major happenings for now. I have my spring break next week, so I'm just trying to make it through one more week of work. I'll try to think of a good blog topic between now and then so that I update more frequently!

I did something that I've said that I'd never do this weekend: I flew into Flint, Michigan.

To understand why I said I'd never go back, you have to understand that my father (aka my sperm donor) is in the psychotic homicidal end of the crazy spectrum. The last time I was here, I was 8 years old and we drove out in the middle of the night so my father wouldn't know we were leaving. I don't exactly have good memories of this town, and I swore up and down that I'd never be back.

I had every intention of sticking to that idea, but my Grandpa and my Uncle still live here and my Grandpa wound up in the ICU this weekend, so I got on a plane Friday and I'm sitting in the airport to go home right now. Yay for free WiFi. Grandpa was admitted last Sunday night with a GI bleed. The GI doctor removed a colon polyp on Wednesday and we all thought that was that, but on Thursday Grandpa started hemmorhaging again so they took him back for emergency surgery. It turned out that he had diverticulosis that had turned most of his colon necrotic, so the surgeron took out most of his colon. Grandpa scared all of us half to death on Friday. He was still on the ventilator when we got to the hospital and looked like death warmed over. He was able to come off the vent on Saturday and has been making steady progress since then. He'll have a colostomy for a while, but the surgeon thinks he can reattach things in a few months. Grandpa should be moved into a regular room today, so I felt like it was safe to get on a plane home.

You really don't know the definition of "depression" until you visit Flint. The town is economically very depressed, since its economy was largely based on General Motors plants that have shut down one by one over the years. When you drive through the town, at least every third house is boarded up and vacant. In some areas, there will be one occupied house on an entire block. People don't smile in the stores, and you don't see kids playing outside. Aside from the economic depression, it feels like a cloud of bad feelings come over you when you touch down in the Flint airport. Some of it is just me and my negative associations with this town, but some of it is just this place.

I just might kiss the dirt when my plane lands in San Antonio later this afternoon.

We had a staff meeting at work this week like we do most Wednesdays. Staff meetings usually make me wish I was anywhere but there, and this week was no exception to the rule. The topic this week was "Wellness". There's a big push in corporate America right now to encourage physical fitness amongst employees in order to create healthier and therefore less costly workers. School districts are no exception.

My assistant principal announced that they'd be offering a circuit training class for faculty twice a week for those that were interested in participating. I'm all in favor of something like that when it's on a voluntary level, but my AP crossed the line. She announced that once a month would be "Wellness Wednesday" and that everyone would go out to the gym to work out.

I have no intention of working out with my co-workers. While I tend to project confidence, in reality I'm anything but, especially when it comes to my body. I'm uncomfortable working out in front of my husband, and he's the father of my children, so why on earth would I want to subject myself to sweating and jiggling in front of the people I try my best to maintain a level of professionalism with?


We drill this into the subconscious of our girls from a very early age. I can remember being in middle school and being at an after school practice for the middle school dance team that I was on. The dance teacher sat all of us down and passed out a packet on ways to lose weight. I was 12 and hadn't hit puberty yet. I was a little chunky because I was getting ready to grow, and like a lot of kids I tended to pack on a few extra pounds and then shoot up. Why on Earth was that acceptable to do to young girls?

On one hand, women are expected to be thin and in shape, but on the other hand, we're expected to work a full time job and also be perfect moms and wives. We're expected to give 100% to everyone all the time, and we're expected to do it all in heels and perfect attire. Most working moms spend so much time taking care of everyone else that they have very little time to take care of themselves, and then we wonder why nutrition and exercise take a backseat to being able to just sit still for a few moments. Which responsibility gets sacrificed so that meals that are healthy and homecooked make it on to the table? Work? Children? Husband? Do you sacrifice sleep to get a workout in? Do you just leave your child in the care of someone else so you can do it all?

It would be nice to open a magazine and not see something like "The Return of Curves"  applied to a size 4 model. It'd be nice to not feel like you're under constant scrutiny because of your figure. If I feel this way at a healthy weight, I can only imagine what it's like for people that struggle with weight.