True Confession: I Never Wanted to Breastfeed

I have confessed this once on my blog before. I did not breastfeed my daughter. I did not even try. And I am not ashamed of this fact.

That said, generally, I do not shout this off the rooftops. When I was pregnant and talking to someone and they would begin talking about "when you breastfeed," automatically assuming that I was going to, I did not correct them. I just smiled blithely and moved on to another subject. I've never wanted to get into a debate with someone over breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding, because I don't think that's necessary.

The truth is, some women want to breastfeed. Some women LOVE breastfeeding. Some hate it, but do it anyway. Some women want to breastfeed  and try and cannot, for whatever reason. Some women have to pump exclusively for whatever reason, and they do that, no matter how hard it is.

And then there are those of us, I imagine it's a VERY small minority, who have no interest in it at all.

That was me.

I just never saw myself breastfeeding. I had no desire to do it. It seemed a little weird to me. Also, I'm the person who goes into the stall to change clothes at the gym, so there was no way I was ever going to be one of those people breastfeeding in front of others, covered or not. And I wanted my husband to share fully in the feeding as he would in all the other baby-related duties.

Since I was born in the 70s, at a time women were encouraged to use formula, my mother did not breastfeed either, so I did not get any pressure to breastfeed from her. She always talked about how great it was that my dad could give me a bottle while she made the two of them dinner when he came home from work and how they would pass me around to family members to feed when they went home to visit their parents and siblings every weekend.

My mother also told me that her mother, who breastfed nine children and then did formula with baby number 10 for some reason, told her that she wished she would've been able to do that with all 10 babies--it was so much easier.

Apparently the women in my family aren't natural earth mothers. :)

Although I had no desire to breastfeed, I did consider it when I became pregnant, mostly because my husband, who is much more natural and earthy than me (I attribute this to his Canadian-ness), thought I should. I thought, okay, maybe I could do it just for the first few weeks to give my daughter all those antibodies and such they talk about and then switch to formula.

So, on one of our OB visits, I asked my doctor, who I've been going to since I was in high school and trust implicitly, about this first few weeks' idea.

"You're going back to work, right?" he asked me.

"Yes," I replied.

"Well, unless you're really going to commit to breastfeeding for at least a few months, I wouldn't recommend starting it then moving on from it so quickly...better just to do formula from the start," he replied.

I have to admit, I was pretty surprised at his answer, but since I didn't really want to breastfeed anyway, it was fine by me.

But the final nail in the coffin on any thoughts I had around potentially breastfeeding came when I researched the medicines I take and if they would be safe to take while breastfeeding.

One, my migraine pill, was not. And that was all I had to hear.

I've suffered from horrific migraines for years. Most of my migraines are triggered by hormonal changes. Without medication, I cannot function. At all. I cannot think, I have to be in dark rooms because light bothers me, and I get so nauseous I throw up.

I was not allowed to take my migraine medication while I was pregnant, and I suffered two three-day-long migraines in the first trimester, when hormones are all over the place, that were so awful and debilitating, I felt like I wanted to die. I also threw up for the first time in my pregnancy (the only other time I threw up while pregnant was when I was in labor!).

With those two awful medication-free pregnancy migraines fresh in my mind, I considered how I would fare as a new mother if I could not take my medication and was struck with a migraine while caring for my baby. And I knew I could not. I needed to be able to take my medication and have the migraine go away fairly quickly so I could be a good mom.

So that became my "good for the public" excuse for not breastfeeding. That was how I got anyone questioning my decision off my back. And it is a very valid excuse and I stand by it.

But the plain truth is, I never wanted to breastfeed anyway.

When my daughter was born, after I held and snuggled with her for a bit, they were going to take her off to the nursery for a checkup and a bath and a bottle. Since I wasn't breastfeeding, the nurses wouldn't let me give her a bottle before they took her away, they said they were going to do that in the nursery, which I have to say, seemed kind of mean--they couldn't hand me a bottle of formula? I felt like I was being punished here a little for my choice not to breastfeed.

However, since we had already planned for my husband to go to the nursery with our daughter and take pictures of her first bath, I requested that they let him give her the first bottle and they did. It was pretty special for my husband to get to be the first to feed her, since I had done most of the nurturing up to this point. :)

This was my daughter's first feeding at home on the third day of her life.
My husband and I both wanted to do it!

For the first four months of her life until she went into daycare, my daughter was never sick. And I didn't keep her at home in a cocoon--we went out to eat, over to visit friends and the grandparentals, to the mall, all over. She was extremely healthy.

The end of her first week in daycare she had a cold and an ear infection. I felt extremely guilty about putting her in daycare and exposing her to all those germs. But all the babies had some cold, infection, or illness, even the babies whose mothers came and breastfed them on their lunch breaks while I was there feeding my daughter her bottle on my lunch break.

I felt more guilty about going back to work and exposing her to daycare germs than I ever did about not breastfeeding.

But, as I do on many topics, I support every woman's personal choice in this matter. If you want to breastfeed, I support you. If you pump exclusively, I support you. If you, like me, do not want to breastfeed, I support you. If you cannot breastfeed and want to get milk from a milk bank for your baby, I support you.

My husband mentioned this news story to me recently, about women going to milk banks to get milk for their babies, and was surprised when I had no problem with it. I guess since I had been pretty strident about not breastfeeding myself, I gave him the impression I thought breastfeeding was wrong. And I really don't! It just wasn't right for me.

I have friends who have breastfed their babies, and those who wanted to but have not been able to, and I did not. All of us made the right choices for ourselves and our babies. It would be nice if we could all support each other and our individual choices.

What I Wish for 2011

I'm not a huge fan of New Year's resolutions (I have two standard ones: lose a little weight, exercise a little more--that's pretty much it.)

Rather, I'd like to think ahead to what I wish for 2011.

First, I wish for good health for all my family and friends, especially my husband, who went from never having surgery to having two in one year. The first one, back in July, was more scary and potentially life-threatening, but both have been tough on him and on all of us as he tries to get back to normal. Please let him have a healthy year this coming year!

Second, I wish for more time...time for fun with my daughter, time for myself to unwind and be pampered a little, time for reconnecting as a couple with my husband, time savored with my parents, and time spent catching up with good friends.

Third, world peace. That would be pretty awesome. :)

Fourth, a few fun adventures with my family. This last year, we visited family in Florida, Canada, Alabama, and spent a week on Survivor--I mean, in Jamaica--on vacation. In February, I'm taking my daughter to Arizona to visit my two best friends from college. One is single and the other is married with four children under the age of five (guess which one we're staying with LOL), so the weekend will definitely be an adventure! We don't have anything else planned at the moment, but I'm excited to think about where 2011 can take us.

That's really it...2010 has not been a horrible year. After all, it's the year my daughter learned to spell her name, count to 15, talk in more complete sentences, give hugs and kisses, answer the phone, use a computer, and swim like a fish! It's the first year she could wear her hair in pigtails and appreciate a pretty outfit as she did tonight, saying "That's cute!"

My daughter proclaimed this outfit "Cute"! Future Glam-O-Mommy, I hope!

This is my daughter with one of her potential future husbands--my friend's son.
She's looking a little less glam after spilling juice down her shirt at dinner this evening
at our "Early New Year's Eve Party" aka "New Year's Eve With Small Children
That Ends by 10!"

Happy New Year everyone!

We Need a Little Christmas, Right This Very Minute

It's been a rough two weeks around my house.

I had a raging case of strep throat for three days last week, just as my husband was visiting an orthopedic specialist and finding out he was going to have to have surgery on the shoulder he slammed into the boards playing hockey a few weeks ago. As in, surgery RIGHT NOW. So just as I was getting over strep, I was suddenly caring for my now-completely helpless husband (because of course it's his right shoulder and he's right-handed--he's not even allowed to tie his shoes right now!) and my toddler who has also been a little under the weather with a sinus infection.

I had to cancel a Christmas playdate I was supposed to host for my friends and their children. I also had to miss taking my daughter to see the Nutcracker for the first time. Boo!

Already behind at work due to my own illness, I'm now getting farther behind because I have to shuttle my husband everywhere (appointments, twice-weekly physical therapy) and I have no one to share the school dropoff/pickup load. I had planned on taking all of next week off, but now plan to work at least three days to try and catch up. Boo!

So we NEED a little Christmas, right this very minute! I feel pretty unprepared for Christmas and certainly would've done more if illness hadn't felled me last week; however, I find myself really looking forward to the next two days despite my exhaustion. On Christmas Eve, we read the Christmas story, open gifts, and eat a little buffet dinner with my parents at their house, then on Christmas morning, we open Santa gifts at our house and then host Christmas dinner for my parents.

I need just a few things for it to feel like Christmas: (1) To hear "Thistlehair, the Christmas Bear" by Alabama, (2) To drink lime sherbet punch, which we have on Christmas Eve every year, and (3) To hang out with my husband, daughter, and parents. So I am sure by tomorrow night, I will feel the Christmas spirit very strongly!

What do you need for it to feel like Christmas?

I really only have one Christmas wish this year: for everyone in my family to have good health and happiness in the year to come. Especially my husband, who went from never having surgery to having two in the span of five months.

Merry, merry Christmas to all of you and your families!

Giving Hope

Recently, I posted a link to an article, Infertile couples cope with prolific Facebook friends, on my Facebook page with the comment "I have to say, I completely understand this reaction. I'm glad I wasn't on Facebook when I was battling infertility. If someone wants to hide me because of my baby pictures and updates, I would totally understand. I've been there."

This week, I got an inbox message from one of my sorority sisters. She's two years younger than me, married, and living in another state. I haven't seen her since I graduated, but keep up with her on Facebook. We were not super close in school, mainly because we only overlapped in the sorority together for about a year since she's younger than me, but I've always thought she was a very sweet person.

She wrote: "I just wanted to thank you for the post you made a little while back about fb and infertility. Although I can't really figure out why, somehow it's something you're not supposed to talk about. I was glad you mentioned it.

We've been dealing with infertility for awhile now, and it really sucks. No other way to put it. And yes, fb can be really hard when everyone I know has such beautiful children and gushes about them all the time...But I don't think I'd hide anyone for it bc I'm so glad to see these people I know so happy. Honestly, it's huge to me to know you dealt with infertility but have had such a fantastic happy ending. I've always enjoyed seeing your pics of your daughter bc she's so cute and looks like a mini-you...but now when I see your posts it also reminds me that even people who struggle with infertility can end up with a fantastic family."

This message means the world to me. I cried reading it. I do have a fantastic family and I'm so blessed. And I'm so happy that by sharing this link and my experience, I gave my friend some hope in her own infertility battle.

Infertility is nothing to be ashamed of--it's a medical condition, despite the fact that most insurance companies do not cover its treatment. I made a promise to myself after I had my daughter that I would always talk about the way she came into being honestly and share my experience in part to try to take the stigma away from infertility. I suffered mostly alone and in silence while I was going through it, feeling like a failure and angry at God. So I won't be silent about it ever again.

I wrote back to my sister and told her how much her words meant to me. I also gave her my number and told her to please call me if she ever wanted to talk and needed a sympathetic ear from someone who's been there. And I told her I'd be praying for her and her husband. I so hope they will get their miracle baby. Mine was conceived about this time three years ago via IUI...a true Christmas miracle.

"Now when I see your posts it also reminds me that even people who struggle with infertility can end up with a fantastic family." This is one of the best sentences I've ever read! I gave someone hope today. What a great feeling!

My little Christmas miracle

This Year, I'm Thankful for...

• My adorable baby girl. When she sings along to songs in the car, concentrating very hard on getting the words right, when she tells me the elevator is sleeping and she's going to get it to "Wake up!" by pushing the button, when she leans her head in to me for a hug or kiss, when she screeches in delight at something the Backyardigans are doing or a thousand other things, my heart just melts and I feel so blessed. Thank you God for letting me be a mother to this little girl. I love her so much.
• My husband. Who always takes the early shift with baby girl because I'm not a morning person. Who is a great daddy and loves her so much and would do anything for her. Who always thinks of the perfect gadget to buy me for Christmas. (This year, a new stereo for my car so I can play my iPod directly through speakers. Last year, a notebook laptop!) Who I started dating at Thanksgiving eight years ago--happy anniversary!
• My parents. What would I ever do without them? My mom's my best friend and my daddy's my hero and one of the best people I know. They are terrific grandparents who love my baby so much! They are always happy and eager to babysit, whether it's because baby girl is sick and we need to go to work, but don't want to send her to school, or because my husband and I want to do something together, or just because. (If they haven't seen her in a week, they often ask to babysit and encourage me to find something to do LOL.) I'm so grateful I don't have to leave my daughter with a babysitter.
• My part-time job. I've been working four days a week for a little over a year now. Occasionally, I miss the extra 20 percent I was making when I was full time, and people have gotten promoted up to my level with no apparent promotion for me on the horizon, but I don't regret my decision and am thankful to have more balance in my life and a day just for me and my daughter to spend time together with no obligations.
• My girlfriends. Most, but not all of these, are my mom friends and I don't know what I'd do without them. It's nice to talk mom stuff with them, like potty training tricks and when Gymbucks start, but it's equally nice to talk about non-mom stuff, from Eva Longoria and Tony Parker divorce rumors to what happened on Glee the night before!
• My gadgets. I know this is silly, but I don't know what I'd do without my iPod, my Blackberry, my digital camera, and my notebook laptop! I like having the world at my fingertips with the ability to record my experiences on the fly and hear my favorite tunes on demand. It's amazing to me to remember that my grandmother had a "party line" when I was a little girl and my daughter will never really know the concept of a landline because we are a cell-only family.
• My memories of my grandparents. Being southern, there was nothing my paternal grandparents and my maternal grandma loved more than putting on a big spread of food, gathering their large extended families around their tables, saying a prayer, and then eating a meal together. My maternal grandma died the day after Christmas in 1997, my paternal grandma died a week before Thanksgiving in 2000 (right after she bought her turkey for the meal), and my paternal grandfather died on Thanksgiving Day in 2003 (my maternal grandfather died before I was born), and so the holidays are always a little bittersweet for me. But as the years pass, I've chosen to focus on really remembering the good times I had with them and my love for them at Thanksgiving in particular and throughout the holiday season. Especially now, when I have this cute little baby girl who they would absolutely adore (partially because she is a way better eater than I ever was!), I miss them so much.
• You. I haven't been blogging for very long, and I don't do it very regularly, but I have made some wonderful connections with people through this blog. So I thank you for reading and wish you and yours a happy Thanksgiving filled with the glamour of love and the blessings of friends and family!

Epidural: A Love Story, or Why Having a Medicated Birth Doesn't Make You Less of a Supermom

I was reading parenting.com today, as I often do, when I came across a post by Jenny Feldon, one of the Project Pregnancy bloggers. In Supermom Does Childbirth-The Natural Way?, Jenny, pregnant with Baby #2, wonders if she should opt for natural childbirth this time around vs. getting an epidural as she did with Baby #1.

Jenny writes, "Shouldn’t Supermom be able to handle natural childbirth with strength and grace? I’m fascinated by women, like my own mother, who have delivered multiple children without the benefits of anesthesia. If she could do it, shouldn’t I be able to? If I’m strong enough to be a mom, then maybe I should be strong enough to go it alone starting with that very first contraction."

The tone of this bothered me a bit. I mean, don't get me wrong, if you want to do natural childbirth and not have an epidural or any other kind of medical intervention, knock yourself out. I'm all for women having the freedom to make these choices and if Jenny or any other woman chooses this, that does not bother me at all.

What does bother me is the implied subtext here--that giving birth completely "natural," aka unmedicated, makes you a better mom or a stronger woman or something, and that if you choose to have an epidural, you are less of a woman or weak or a worse mother or something. I mean, if that were true, what would that say about women who end up having to have a c-section? Are they not Supermoms then because their bodies couldn't deliver their babies without major medical intervention? Of course not! Can we stop ranking the levels of our motherhood, ladies? We're all equally mothers from the moment the lines appear on the pee stick, and we're all trying to do the best we can. We're all Supermoms here!

Now all of that said, I didn't title this post "Epidural: A Love Story" without reason. I think the epidural is AWESOME. I'm all for it. And I don't think it makes me less of a Supermom or a woman because I do. I never questioned whether to have one or not to have one--I always wanted to have one, partially because of the birth story I'm most familiar with--my own.

When my mother was pregnant with me, she had gestational diabetes, and as a result of this, I was a very large baby. The military doctors my mother was seeing also allowed her to go a full three weeks past her due date with me, so I was extra large (9 lbs, 11 oz). When my mother finally went into labor, she labored hard for about 18 hours...at which point, they gave her an epidural for half an hour to give her "a chance to rest." My mother, in retelling the story, always describes the time period when she had the epidural as "THE BEST 30 MINUTES OF MY LIFE." When it wore off, she had eight more hours of hideous pain, and then the doctors realized, duh, this baby is too large to have ever been delivered vaginally AND she's stuck sideways in there, so maybe we should do a c-section before both mother and baby die.

The story ends with my mother recounting how she wasn't very happy to see me after all that (LOL) and it was a terrible experience. Now, she loves me very much, but my birth story IS pretty awful. And I think she's a Supermom for surviving all of that, especially because what she went through meant she couldn't have any more children after me, which is why I'm an only child.

When I was pregnant and thinking ahead to labor, my only thoughts were, "I want an epidural and I'd like to avoid a c-section if I can, but if we need it, I'll do it sooner rather than later. Oh, and I'd rather tear naturally than have an episiotomy." That's it. That's all I thought, and that's all I communicated to my doctor. That was the sum total of my birth plan.

As I approached my due date, I did do all sorts of things to help along the dilation process, so that with 11 days to go, I was already 2.5 cm dilated. I had a checkup with my doctor and he was concerned about how big the baby was going to be in 11 days--his estimate was over 8 pounds. How did I feel, he asked me. I don't want to go past my due date, I told him. I'm worried I'll end up like my mom with a big baby and need to have a c-section and I'd like to avoid that if I can. Since my due date was on a Saturday when he would not be on call, he suggested we induce me in exactly a week--four days before my due date.

So that was the plan. I was only a little concerned about being induced early -- I had one friend where induction didn't work for her and she ended up having a c-section, but they induced her a few weeks early, which was more likely why that was her result. Another friend has been induced twice a few days before her due date and both times, the baby was born a few hours later, no problem, so I was hoping I'd be more in that situation.

As it turns out, I didn't have to worry. A mere 12 hours later, I spontaneously went into labor 10 days early. It was 12:30 a.m. and I was on my way to bed when what I thought was my water broke. I called and they told me to come in, but no need to rush. So I took a shower, styled my hair, and applied fresh makeup--I am Glam-O-Mommy for a reason! My husband also took a shower--hey, for all we knew, I had 26 hours of labor ahead of me! While I was getting ready, my contractions started. The first one wasn't bad. Seven minutes later, the next one wasn't bad. Five minutes later, the next one still wasn't too bad. TWO MINUTES LATER, OMG BAD!! Less than two minutes later, OMG BAD!!

At this point, it was 1:40 a.m. and we were on the way to the hospital. My husband wasn't speeding or anything crazy, although I urged him to, because the contractions were less than two minutes apart, OMG BAD!

We parked at the hospital, walked down LITERALLY the longest hallway ever, with me having to stop every few feet because OMG BAD! OMG BAD! and finally entered Labor and Delivery. I walked right up to the nurse at the desk and said, and I quote, "If you need to wake up the anesthesiologist, please call and do so NOW because I want an epidural as soon as possible." Seriously.

They checked me out in triage and I was 4.5 cm, my water hadn't broken yet (apparently, it was the plug), but they were definitely checking me in. They asked me what seemed like a thousand questions, got me into a Labor and Delivery room, put IVs in me (I was positive for Group B Strep so I had to have an IV), and then asked me a thousand more questions. (I got asked my height over and over--still have no clue why!) The whole time I was OMG BAD! OMG BAD! less than a minute apart and in the less than 60 seconds between contractions I was all, "WHERE'S THE ANESTHESIOLOGIST?! WHERE'S MY EPIDURAL?!"

Because y'all, contractions HURT LIKE HELL. I had mine up front AND in my back and the back ones hurt way worse than anything I've ever felt in my life. They kept saying the anesthesiologist was on his way and would be there any minute and I should just focus on breathing and all I felt was OMG BAD! OMG BAD! OMG BAD! And it wasn't like how they described contractions in my childbirth class, where they said you would have a BREAK between contractions where you could REST. I did not have that! As soon as one contraction was ending, I could literally feel the next one revving up. I couldn't catch my breath, my blood pressure was sky high (gee, I have no idea why! OMG BAD! OMG BAD!), and I just wanted my epidural.

Then, the pain became so intense, I threw up. Twice. OMG BAD! OMG BAD! And then I heard the magic words, "The anesthesiologist is coming."

Dr. Johnson arrived and I was so happy to see him. I was also worried, because I didn't think I could hold still for him to get the needle in my back because the contractions were so intense I was shaking all over. No problem, he told me. He got the needle in and in seconds, I felt blissfully numb from the bump down. No more OMG BAD!

"Dr. Johnson, I could kiss you!" I told him. "If you hadn't just thrown up, I'd take you up on that," he replied. Favorite. Doctor. EVER!

It was now 3:30 a.m. I had endured two straight hours of OMG BAD! contractions less than a minute or two apart. They checked me and I was 7 cm. My parents had just arrived at the hospital, so everyone cleared out of the room and my husband brought them back to hang out with us. For the next three and a half hours, I zoomed from 7 cm to 10 cm dilated without feeling a thing but BLISS. I was relaxed, savoring my last moments of pregnancy, talking with parents and my husband, taking little cat naps, and eagerly anticipating meeting my daughter.

I pushed for an hour and 15 minutes with no pain but enough pressure to guide me in my pushing and out my daughter came, screaming loudly, pink and healthy and beautiful, a mere eight hours after the whole thing started. She was 8 lbs and 6 oz, which is what my doctor thought she would weigh on my due date, so it's good she didn't wait till then. I did tear in two places, probably on the last big push that got her out. I felt amazed at myself and my body and my baby. I felt like Supermom. I felt like I could do anything, including scale Mt. Everest! It was an awesome feeling--an amazing high!

So that's my love story with the epidural, and that's why I think having a medicated birth doesn't make you less of a Supermom. Truthfully, I don't even describe my daughter's birth as medicated. Given the OMG BAD! OMG BAD! contractions I endured, I had natural childbirth! I experienced both sides, unmedicated and medicated. For me, the epidural was the way to go. I have absolutely no doubt I could've gone on without it, but I'm so glad I didn't have to.

And I'm glad that thanks to the epidural and the eight short hours, I remember labor as one of the best experiences of my life (even though I still remember the OMG BAD! very distinctly) rather than one of the worst like my mother. When she came in afterwards and was holding my baby girl, she looked at me and told me she was so happy for me, because I had had a better birth experience than she had. And I told her that I loved her so much and couldn't believe she'd had 25.5 hours of OMG BAD! OMG BAD! to endure epidural-free, plus major traumatic surgery, to have me.

However, your birth story goes--natural, medicated, c-section, we're all Supermoms here, ladies. We are--every single one of us! We have given birth, brought life forth.

But the epidural's kind of awesome, I'm just saying.

I'm Still Here

It's been quite a month. I've intended to blog several times, but have had trouble summoning energy this month.

There's something about having a months-long buildup to a long, fabulous vacation you've planned out in your head, complete with gorgeous beach pictures for your Christmas card, that leaves you completely drained and devoid of energy when said fabulous vacation unravels in a swirl of tropical storm winds, continuous rain, and lack of continuous power in the hotel room you are stuck in due to the aforementioned continuous rain.

It started well, then...

disaster struck (tree knocked down outside our room).

It looked like this for 80 percent of our week..

So, yeah, Jamaica did not turn out to be the fabulous vacation I hoped for. We had decent weather for the first 2.5 days and then the rain started and did not let up until we went home. Which might've been okay if the power had stayed on in our room. But we had about 1.5 days of no power in our room. Ever changed a dirty diaper on a wiggly toddler in a dark room? It's messy and no fun.

And still, it all might've been okay, if it was just the power in our building or room...however, it was the power on our side of the resort. So if we didn't have power in our room, neither did three of the restaurants, the kids' camp for our daughter, the XBox gaming room, and the spa...pretty much all the other things you do at a resort when it's raining and you can't swim. (To their credit, the spa managed to keep going by candlelight when the power was out, which was awesome.)

No power also means no air conditioning, which means massive humidity, which means feeling wet and sweaty for five days straight. Yuck. I'm high maintenance. I'm Glam-O-Mommy. This is my nightmare, people!

Mommy should be in this picture instead of me, because the bad weather turned her into Mommy the Grouch!

We ate almost every meal the last four days in the same single restaurant on the side of the resort with power...the last two days I was so tired of the food and depressed, I quit eating. Seriously. I came home three pounds lighter from vacation. WHICH NEVER HAPPENS.

It was incredibly stressful, especially not knowing if and when the power might go out again, and what might go wrong next. I couldn't relax. I was completely on edge. I was frustrated that the resort didn't seem to have a decent plan in place for handling the storm and the power outages. (They couldn't relocate the kids' camp to the side of the resort with a power? Add extra activities in the areas with power to give people something to do? Had they never had a storm before?!) All in all, I came away feeling like I'd spent a week on Survivor, which is a show I am not cut out for. It was like we went camping in the jungle instead of staying at a nice luxury resort. All that money down the drain.

Now, I should mention that while I had a pretty unhappy time on this vacation, my daughter loved it! She's two, so it's not like all of the weather and lack of power and sweating meant anything to her. And since they managed to keep the power on on the side of the resort where they did the nightly Sesame Street shows, she got to dance with Elmo, Ernie, and the gang for one hour every night--AND LOVED IT. She was a total Elmo groupie, standing right in front of the stage with her little arms up to him. It was the absolute saving grace of the whole trip, because I enjoyed watching her have such a fun time, even when I felt miserable. :)

ELMO! I'm right here!!

I don't know why Mommy is so upset. I'm having an AWESOME time with my Sesame Street friends.

And I don't mind that this is the dirtiest I've ever been in my life, because check out the cool sunken boat behind me!

Obviously, I need to take a page from her book about making the best of a bad situation. :)

Unfortunately, I came home drained and depressed, and that feeling has dragged on a bit. It took me two full weeks to unpack all the suitcases and do all the laundry, something I usually do right away. I let the house get a little crazy until the maids came to clean, which only added to my depression. I had a hard time focusing at work.

Worst of all, I feel terrible whining and complaining and being depressed about my vacation, because it's what I call a "high-class problem" to have...not that I'm high class or anything, just that it's not a real problem. It's not a real disaster. We all survived, we were lucky, our vacation just kind of sucked. Some people lost homes in the storm. Other people have real crises in their lives. I shouldn't complain.

However, I can't help feeling let down and like we wasted a bunch of money (oh, what else I could do with that money!) and I think I needed to write about this one more time just to purge it from my soul and move on, you know?

I've turned a corner in the last two weeks...got the laundry caught up and the house mostly back in order. Took my daughter to get two-year portraits made, which made me happy, since I didn't have family beach portraits from Jamaica (Note to self: next time, take family pictures on beach at first opportunity). Went to dinners with girlfriends and three Spurs games, which always cheers me up. And I'm rocking and rolling at work too.

Our ONLY family picture from the entire week. Cute, but not exactly what I planned for our Christmas card. Note that my daughter is snuggling up with Elmo. We tried to take a few family pictures after the characters left, but she pitched a fit and tried to follow Elmo, so this was it.

So I'm still here, I'm moving on, and I will try to get back to regular blogging (and NO WHINING) soon.