Readers Note:

The inspiration and strength to write this blog came to me while Finn was preparing for his upcoming black belt testing. In martial arts, progress is marked by belts. Each one marks a stage of growth — lessons learned, struggles faced, skills slowly built over time.

Looking back now, Finn’s story unfolded the same way.

But the darkness didn’t begin at that moment.

It didn’t begin in the hospital either.

Finn’s story — and mine — had been unfolding long before that night.

His emotional intensity started showing up when he was barely three years old. At first it just felt like big emotions. The kind people brush off as “strong-willed” or “spirited.” At the time, I honestly thought Everett would be the child who challenged me the most. His autism had shown itself early, and I had already started learning how to navigate the world of neurodivergence. I thought I already “knew” what advocacy looked like.

But Finn had other plans.

Somewhere along the way, my easygoing second child quietly looked at the universe and said, “Challenge accepted… hold my beer.”

For years we tried to understand how Finn’s brain experienced the world.

Therapy. Diagnoses. Medication trials.

Some things helped. Some things didn’t.

The week before Finn turned five, we were given the official names for what we had been experiencing: DMDD, ADHD, and anxiety.

But by Christmas 2023, it was clear something had shifted. The cracks had widened so much they no longer looked like cracks at all — they looked like canyons.

A few weeks later, in early January, we had an incident that made it painfully clear things had reached a critical point — and that I was in over my head.

With absolute terror sitting heavy in my chest, I emailed every professional in Finn’s support network.

Therapists.
Psychologists.
Psychiatrists.

Anyone who might know how to reach him.

Because at that point, it felt like we were losing him.

And for a moment there, it felt like we had.
I didn’t know how to reach him anymore.

When I made that desperate plea to the members of his support team, his psychiatrist told us to discontinue the Strattera he had been taking — the last medication in his regimen that had any mood-regulating effect.
She said she was “curious to see what would happen” and that she would see us at our next scheduled appointment — in a little over three weeks.

Stopping that medication abruptly took an already volatile situation and turned it thermonuclear.

His sleep started falling apart.
His anger escalated.
Outbursts became more frequent.
More intense.
More unpredictable.

Our house stopped feeling like a home and started feeling like an emotional battlefield.

But the worst part wasn’t just how hard things had become for me.

It was watching Finn start to believe that nothing was ever going to get better. This was just his life.

When he was calm, he would try to explain it.

He told me the anger felt like it lived inside him all the time, just waiting to explode.

He said ADHD was “too hard.”

That he felt like he couldn’t control anything anymore.

That sometimes he didn’t think he could do this at all.

At six years old.

It was during one of those moments, I realized just how much he was suffering.

He looked at me and said:

“You made me feel like a bad person and like you weren’t my mom anymore. And that made me hate you and made me feel like you weren’t a safe person, and want to kill you. This is too hard. ADHD is too hard. I can’t do this anymore.”

Hope that the medication would help.

Hope that the constant anger and emotional chaos he had been living inside might finally quiet down.

And as the doctor spoke, a single thought kept running through my mind.

Shit… it really is this bad.

Because hearing it said out loud — hearing someone else confirm what I had been slowly realizing for weeks — made everything feel painfully real.

Relief.

Fear.

Guilt.

Devastation.

All of it hit at once.

Parenting manuals never cover the moment when you have to decide whether your child needs a psychiatric hospital.

And at the time, I wasn’t sure if I was making the right decision.

But deep down, I also knew something else.

I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay.

He was right.

Finn needed help that I couldn’t give him on my own.

THE SELF-HARM CHANGED  EVERYTHING...

I don’t remember the drive home that night.

Not really.

I mostly just remember small vivid details.

The sound of the sliding doors as I exited the hospital.

The way the valet attendants smile quickly crumbled into sympathy as he scanned my face while handing me my keys.

The surreal feeling that this wasn’t my life — almost like an out-of-body experience.

How I was amazed that I still had tears left to cry.

And hollow. 

So hollow.

Like something essential had been scooped out of me.

All I wanted was some way to numb the pain.

Instead, I called my friend Jami.

And I cried.

Again.

Hard.

At the time she felt like the only person who truly understood what I was going through. She had walked a similar road with her own child, and somehow, she knew exactly what to say — and when to simply sit in the silence with me.

I still don’t think I would have left the hospital that first night if Jami hadn’t reminded me of something important.

Everett still needed me too.

And she was right.

Because sitting in that hallway forever wouldn’t help either of my boys.

Navigating The Pitch Black

I honestly don’t know how I would have navigated that week without Jami.

The next day she showed up without hesitation.

When I felt like I could barely function, Jami stepped right into the trenches beside me.

She helped me sort through the paperwork.

She helped me shop for the things Finn was allowed to have.

There were rules about everything:

• No strings.
• No hoods.
• Slip-on shoes only.
• Nothing sentimental in case items got mixed up.

Information was coming at me faster than my brain could process it.

But Jami kept me moving forward.

She even simplified the paperwork into one list with the most important details highlighted.

We gathered everything Finn needed from the checklist she created — and a few extra things we hoped might make his stay a little easier.

It wasn’t just Jami.

Other people stepped in too.

My mom made sure she could call Finn and be there for his first visitation.

Friends sent encouragement and offered to watch Everett while we visited Finn.

Kids made drawings for him.

Little reminders that we weren’t completely alone in this.

Even though everything still felt heavy.

Overwhelming.

Blurry.

Eventually Finn was discharged and allowed to come home.
Exactly seven days after he had been admitted.

But leaving the hospital didn’t mean the hard part was over.

In many ways, it was just the beginning.

Because healing a nervous system that had been living in constant chaos doesn’t happen overnight.

The next year would be filled with medication changes, endless therapy appointments, school meetings, and more moments of uncertainty than I can count.

Progress came slowly.

Sometimes painfully slowly.

But little by little, we started to see something we hadn’t seen in a long time.

Hope

By the time the next district tournament rolled around, a lot had changed.

Finn had spent a full year rebuilding himself.
Therapy.
Medication adjustments.
Learning how to recognize the early warning signs inside his own brain.

Moments when you could see him trying.
Trying to slow himself down.
Trying to breathe — eyes closed, fists clenched..
Trying to stop the tidal wave before the anger took over.

Little by little, the explosions became less frequent.

The recovery wasn’t perfect.

But it was real.

And honestly… I don’t think I realized just how far he had come until that night.

After the tournament, the team gathered at a Mexican restaurant to celebrate and announce the final placements.

The rings that Finn had competed in were some of the hardest ones at the tournament.

They were also huge.

Despite that, he had actually done incredibly well.
He placed third in several of the individual rings.

But because of how the brackets were structured, he didn’t advance to compete for an overall title.

It wasn’t until our team dinner later that night, that the cracks started to show.

And they didn’t show where you would have expected it.

During dinner they were announcing the results from the day-who won what title and medaled.

I glanced over at him.

And the second I saw his face…

My stomach dropped.

He looked devastated.

In an instant my brain time-traveled straight back to Children’s.

That same cold panic flooded my chest.

The same thought slammed into my head.

This is it.

This is where the dam breaks.

Before anyone noticed, I quietly stood up and slipped away to the bathroom.

And the second the door closed behind me, I lost it.

There I was — a grown adult sobbing in the bathroom of a random Mexican restaurant in Georgia — while a large group of people at the table were probably wondering where I had disappeared to.

My phone started buzzing.

Friends checking on me.

Making sure I was okay.

Because they knew.

Being a parent in those moments is complicated.

I truly was happy for the other kids. I love them. I’m proud of them.

But I also knew the storm Finn had lived through the year before.

And I was bracing myself for the fallout.

Part of the reason my brain went straight to panic was because I had seen this moment before.

Last Districts in June 2024 — Finn had taken the loss hard. 

Really hard.

At the time his nervous system was still raw from everything we had been through.

Disappointment didn’t just feel like disappointment.

It felt like failure.
Like proof that something inside him was still broken.

So when I saw that same look cross his face in 2025, my brain assumed we were about to relive that moment all over again.

I didn’t know if he could survive a second year of crushing disappointment.

What I didn’t realize yet was that Finn had spent an entire year learning how to carry those feelings differently. He had medication that was truly working.

It took me almost fifteen minutes before I could pull myself together enough to go back out.

Mask back on.

Game face in place.

Because sometimes that’s just part of the job.

Being a mom means holding yourself together long enough to help your kid hold it together too.

I left the bathroom and my eyes immediately found Finn.

Except, the Finn I found wasn’t crying.

He was laughing.

And while I knew he was bummed about not getting a title, you could tell he was mostly just happy for his friends.

Well his friends and cheese dip that is.

And that’s when I realized — in the wise words of my bestie, Taylor Swift:

It’s me, hi
I’m the problem, it’s me

I had spent so long taking care of Finn’s mental health that I had forgotten about mine.

Finn wasn’t nearly as traumatized by his stay at Children’s as I was.

Children are more adaptable and resilient than we give them credit for.

Adults on the other hand, aren’t.

I realized then that the light-hearted jokes I made about having PTSD weren’t really jokes.

I was actually struggling with it.

And I knew then that I also needed to find a way to heal myself.

Looking back now, I realize that healing rarely happens the way we expect it — in easily identified dramatic moments. It shows up quietly, when you least expect it.

I had spent so much time watching Finn, waiting for the next crack in the dam, that I didn’t realize the water had already started to recede.

He had been quietly learning how to carry his emotions differently.

Learning how to pause.
Learning how to breathe.
Learning how to “levitate.”

And somewhere along the way, while he was rebuilding himself… I forgot that I might need to rebuild a few pieces of myself too.

Somewhere in the middle of helping Finn prepare for his black belt test — reviewing the knowledge he’d be quizzed on, timing his 5K, and running through his forms — I found myself pausing to take in the journey we have been on over the last few years.

Something in me shifted, and I knew it was time.

Time to share his story.

I had finally healed enough to do it.

To show his strength.
To show his growth.
To show that even when life feels pitch black — when the darkness feels endless — there is always light somewhere ahead.

But also to show that no matter how much better Finn and I are right now, this path is still rocky sometimes.

And that’s okay.

Life is going to throw you curveballs.

Sometimes those curveballs look like the familiar buzz of another message from your child’s teacher.

Sometimes those curveballs look like unexpected mental health reality checks.

Just a few weeks ago, at his last psychiatry appointment, the doctor asked a question I wasn’t expecting.

“Have you ever seen or heard things you knew weren’t real?”

Finn said yes.

And my heart immediately fell out of my chest.

In an instant I was transported right back to that moment at Children’s when I learned he had been self-harming.

Then he clarified that it hadn’t happened since around the time he was hospitalized.

I took a deep breath as my heart slowly settled back into my chest.

This path we are on will probably never be easy.

But there is light.

Joy.

Hope.

As I stood there Saturday watching Finn work through each part of his black belt test, something dawned on me:

When most people think about earning a black belt, they think about strength and techniques.

Kicks.
Forms.
Breaking boards.

As I watched “Mr. Dorothy” have his newly earned black belt tied around his waist, I felt a rush of pride and relief.

Pride in seeing just how much his hard work had paid off.

Relief that he had passed — several of his friends hadn’t.

Because, for Finn, the hardest thing he had to learn wasn’t how to spar.

It wasn’t learning a perfect back stance.

It wasn’t mastering a 360 bo staff toss or memorizing the names of every Grand Master.

It was learning how to breathe.

How to pause.

How to sit inside big emotions without letting them take over.

That’s the kind of strength you can’t earn in a dojang.

But somehow, Finn managed to do both.

The same kid who once asked if the doctors were there to “fix his brain” was now standing on a mat, earning his black belt.

When Finn walked off the mat after testing ended, I expected him to come straight toward us.
But for a moment I couldn’t find him.

When I finally spotted him, he had his arm around a friend who hadn’t passed.
While everyone else was celebrating, Finn was quietly walking beside him, comforting him.

Watching him walk beside his friend that day, something became clear:

The belt wasn’t the most important thing he earned that day.

It was never even about his belt.

It was about his journey.

In Songahm Taekwondo, the belt system is represented by the life of a pine tree.

A seed is planted.

It reaches for the sun.

It becomes a sapling, fighting for space among the taller pines.

Its path becomes steeper as it grows stronger roots.

Eventually the tree reaches maturity — standing tall and strong.

And when it does, it begins planting seeds of its own.

Finn’s journey followed that same path.

My little seed did grow.
He found the sun.

He became a sapling and fought his way among the taller pines, bending through storms no child should have to face so young.

His path became steeper than anyone could have predicted, but he kept reaching upward, deepening his roots along the way.

And somewhere along the way, the pitch black that once surrounded us slowly gave way to morning.

I got to witness that sunrise after Districts in 2025.

Now his tree stands strong.

Ready to weather storms.

Ready to plant seeds of hope for others who may still be standing in their own darkness.

Watching him walk beside his friend that day, I realized something I hadn’t understood before.

The storm we survived didn’t just teach Finn how to endure the dark.

It taught him how to recognize it in others.

And in that moment, the darkness no longer felt endless.

He didn’t just survive the pitch black.

He learned how to be light for someone else still standing in it.

If you’re a parent walking through your own version of Pitch Black right now— I see you. Your dawn will come too.

The post Pitch Black appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

Embracing My Beautiful New Body: The Transformative Journey of Swimsuit Shopping After Bariatric Surgery

Looking back on the day, I made the life-changing decision to undergo bariatric surgery, one of the things I excitedly added to my “Skinny Girl Bucket List” was swimsuit shopping.

For me, surgery was more than just a standard procedure, it was a leap of faith towards a healthier, happier me. I’m finding that with the more weight I lose, the more of myself I’m gaining back. My confidence, my joy, my sense of adventure, and most importantly, my life.

Now, as summer approaches, I find myself on a new and scary adventure—swimsuit shopping with a new body. One of my biggest goals this summer was not letting anything hold me back from actively participating in summer fun with my family. However, when I started swimming shopping, I felt like I was walking through landmines. Nothing felt quite right.

While I knew it was an opportunity to embrace my new body and celebrate the incredible changes I’ve made, it was also an opportunity for some of the less “pretty” side of my changes to show, aka my loose skin. I looked over Facebook posts and blogs about post-surgery swimsuit shopping and discovered the majority of the information was out-of-date or fell into one of these three categories:

• Here is a swimsuit that will cover you from ankle to elbow!
• Here is a swimsuit that will suck your tummy fat into looking like a size negative 3-Sorry about the elephant leg skin and bat wings though. Guess you’ll just need to use a coverup!
• Just embrace the loose skin- It’s better than fat!

To say this was frustrating would be an understatement. I finally found a swimsuit I loved at a thrift store, but by the time I needed to use it, my body was too small, and my loose skin issues were too big. I needed to find something I could feel confident yet secure in. Something that would help mask the areas on my body that I felt needed more work, but show off just how far I’ve come.

I decided to reach out to my friends at SwimZip for help. SwimZip is known for being an all-inclusive brand that celebrates diversity and bodies of all sizes. They have sent my boys countless swimsuits over the years and even sent me stuff. I never felt confident enough to rock their stuff prior, but this summer, I am feeling more confident and happy in my body than I have in years. The items they have sent me in the past are also actually fitting the correct way now!

SwimZip Haul

SwimZip sent me several options, and I absolutely loved the colors and being able to match my boys! They had a lot of options to help me cover two of the areas I’m struggling with most- my legs & upper arms.  My skin is currently the loosest in those areas, so I’m a lot more self-conscious about showing them off.

My favorite items from their line were the crop top rash guards- it hid my loose skin but showed up just how much more slim my waistline was!

I also really loved their adjustable skirts & bike shorts. The shorts even have pockets which is incredibly convenient!

My least favorite part of the haul were their tops. The patterns & colors were absolutely amazing, but for a woman who is as large-chested as myself, I find myself needing a bit more extra support & coverage. The first day I wore one of the bikini tops to the pool, my “girls” tried to slip out of the bottom- not exactly appropriate when one is at a pool full of small children! I’m hoping that as I keep shedding weight, my chest area also shrinks so that this is less of an issue though! The tankini tops were a bit better for minimizing potential “slip-ups,” but they still didn’t fit quite right. I guess this Goldilocks has a bit more work to do in that department!

The absolute best part of this experience wasn’t trying on and loving all of these new swimsuits, it was actually the unexpected shock of trying on something SwimZip sent to me in 2020, back when they were first expanding into the plus size world- a swim dress cover up. At the time, it fit more like a roomy shirt, but I loved the feel of the material, coverage, and spf protection, so I’ve happily been rocking it every year since it arrived. However, when I tried it on last month and it fit like it was supposed to fit, I about lost it with my shock and glee. I was so incredibly excited to have such a visual testament showing just how far I’ve come.

Post-Surgery Swimsuit Shopping Tips

Before diving into the world of swimsuit shopping, I took a moment to reflect on my journey. It wasn’t quite as cut and dry as I expected it to be. It was more than just trying to find a suit that would work for my body, but rather a tentative celebration about the progress I’ve made. The decision to undergo bariatric surgery was not an easy one, but it has been worth it every step of the way. I’ve faced challenges, celebrated victories, and discovered the strength within me. So, I decided to honor this journey and remind myself of the incredible transformation I’ve undergone. Swimsuit shopping became more than just finding the perfect swimwear—it became a celebration of my resilience and the person I’ve become. Given that, here are some of the things I’ve learned during this daunting experience.

1. Embrace Your Beautiful New Body

This is a chance to fully embrace your beautiful new body, adorned with confidence and self-acceptance. Shed the old layers of self-doubt and insecurity and, instead, wear the radiant glow of self-love. Every swimsuit you try on is an opportunity to appreciate the changes you’ve made and the progress you’ve achieved. You deserve to feel incredible in every single one, your new body is a testament to your strength and the limitless possibilities that await.

2. Discovering Your Perfect Fit

Finding the perfect swimsuit is like discovering a treasure that compliments your unique shape and style. This weight loss journey has changed my body in so many more ways than I even could have imagined. So, I tried to take the time to understand my new measurements and embrace the contours of my body. I didn’t even know what my size really was, so I measured my bust, waist, and hips. I allowed those measurements to guide me towards swimsuits that accentuated my newfound curves and helped me cover the areas I felt less secure with. However, it’s not just about the numbers—it’s about finding a swimsuit that makes you feel comfortable, confident, and utterly yourself.

3. Playful Exploration of Styles

Swimsuit shopping after bariatric surgery can be daunting, but it can also be a playful and adventurous experience. This is your opportunity to try on different cuts, experiment with vibrant colors, and explore designs that catch your eye. It’s a chance to express your unique personality and try things you may have never let yourself try before. Maybe you’ll fall in love with a high-waisted bikini that showcases those newfound curves, confidence, and grace. Or perhaps a flattering one-piece with ruching will make you feel like the epitome of elegance. This journey is about rediscovering yourself and having fun along the way.

4. Prioritizing Comfort and Support

While style is important, I always prioritize comfort and support when swimsuit shopping. I tend to look for swimsuits with built-in bras, adjustable straps, or underwire to provide the support I need. I consider my plans for the beach or pool—whether I’ll be diving into the waves or lounging under the sun. Choose swimsuits that offer both coverage and freedom of movement, ensuring that you can enjoy your time without any worries. When I feel comfortable and supported, my confidence shines even brighter.

5. Bring Your Hype Team

If the vast array of swimsuits feels overwhelming, remember that you don’t have to navigate this journey alone. Bring along your support team- the ones that will hype you up like no one else. They will cheer you nonstop and help make experience memorable and fun. Let them help you find the suits you never imagined trying on before. With their support, you’ll be sure to find that perfect swimsuit—one that hugs your body and soul!


Swimsuit shopping after bariatric surgery is a sentimental and personal adventure. It’s an opportunity to celebrate the remarkable journey you’ve been on and to embrace your beautiful new body. Take the time to appreciate how far you’ve come, the love and care you’ve shown yourself, and the joy that radiates from within. With each swimsuit you try on, remind yourself that this journey is about finding more than just swimwear—it’s about finding a piece of your soul that brings you closer to self-acceptance and fulfillment. Final words of advice? Dive into the world of swimsuit shopping with an open mind, a sense of adventure, and allow the beauty of your transformation to shine through. You are worth it!

The post Goldilocks & The 3 Bathing Suits appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

I’m overweight and I’m not unique-there are over 90 million Americans that are struggling with their weight as well. With millions of us in the same boat, you’d think this journey wouldn’t have felt so isolating, but it did. I felt like I wasn’t in the same boat, but rather, I was regulated to a dark and lonely hole-filled rowboat. A rowboat that needed to hide in the shadows so no one, not even myself, could see it as it slowly sunk to the bottom. I didn’t want to be seen, because being seen meant that I would have to acknowledge it, it being the elephant in the room, aka me.

I tentatively pull on a shirt that’s 5 sizes smaller than what I was wearing just minutes ago and it fits. I stare at myself in disbelief. It fits. It actually fits. I glance down at what I had been jokingly calling my “bag lady” clothes flummoxed. In my mind, those “bag lady” clothes still fit, they were just a little roomy and my mind can’t process that the shirt I pulled on somehow fits too. It almost feels like some weird “Sisterhood Of The Traveling Pants” moment, with the exception that it’s my body and not a pair of jeans.

Then the tears and feelings of unworthiness start. You see, when I had this moment, it was a mere 8 days after I had a mini gastric bypass procedure in Mexico. I had been prepared for rapid weight loss & potential emotional moments post-surgery, but I somehow had discounted and ignored the 65 pounds I had lost prior to going to Mexico. While I intrinsically knew my body was different, in my mind, I was still at my starting weight.

People were telling me how proud they were and that I was doing such a great job, but in reality I just felt like a big fat fraud. The first 30lbs or so that I lost? It wasn’t because I was “trying” to lose weight, I was actually suffering with an almost 4 month long covid side-effect that caused my throat to swell. It was harder and sometimes painful to eat, so I stopped eating as much. I didn’t stop eating & drinking the things that contributed towards my weight gain, I essentially was starving myself.  Eventually, my body got used to being starved, so when I finally started a specially tailored bariatric diet, my body didn’t mind. I lost those first 30ish pounds in such an unhealthy manner I felt I couldn’t take credit for them, and the transition to my new diet was so remarkably easy it didn’t feel like I was doing something worthy of praise either.

So how did I become this “elephant” in the room and why am I sharing now? My story starts over 20 years ago and I’m sharing now because I hope that maybe my story might help someone else who is also going through what I went through. It also doesn’t hurt that when I write my feelings down it also helps me process what I’m going through.

You’d be So Pretty If…

Almost all of my life I’ve felt haunted by the words “you’d be so pretty if…” followed by some sort of phrase that was designed to make me feel shame about the way I looked.  It may not have always been exactly “you’d be so pretty,” but the expressions were similar enough to be interchangeable. I’ve heard:

You’d be so pretty if you…

• Just lost some weight
• Tried a little harder
• Watched what you ate better
• Tried exercising
• Gave up soda.
• Joined weight watchers

And the list goes on. I’ve let these “observations” live in my head rent-free for years. Take, for example, an incident that happened over 15 years ago. I was on a trip with a couple of girlfriends, and the organizer also invited a few male friends to join us. One of those male friends made the comment, “You’d be so hot if you just lost some weight.” This was followed by my girlfriends agreeing with him: “You’re so pretty Crystal, but you’d be stunning if you just lost a couple of pounds.” At the time I was a curvy size 12.

Over the years, I learned to condition myself to pretend like those phrases didn’t bother me. I tried not to act like the stereotypical “fat girl.” The girl who always complained about her weight to prevent the eventual shaming that would follow, (i.e., “you did it to yourself,” “you just need to learn some self-control,” etc). Yet as the years went by, it seemed that nothing halted my slow descent towards morbid obesity. Yes, the personal trainers, gym memberships, weight-loss pills, and diets helped slow my descent, but they never seemed to halt it.

How It All Started

However, my story started prior to that trip. It started with family and the comments about what I ate and how I looked. The praise and compliments I received when I was thinner that slowly tapered off as I got larger. I’m not going to dive too deeply into my past here, however, there is one very big issue that started in my childhood that vastly contributed towards my weight gain: ADHD. One of the bad parts of not being diagnosed with ADHD as a child is that it led towards me developing two eating disorders: binge eating disorder and rumination syndrome. Studies have shown individuals with ADHD are 5 times more likely to have binge eating disorder due to issues with impulsive behavior/eating. Eventually, the binge eating disorder and anxiety led towards me developing rumination syndrome. Sadly, these eating disorders were something I wasn’t diagnosed with until the last couple of years and have taken significant time and work to deal with.

It wasn’t until college, and shortly thereafter that my weight started getting out of control more quickly. I had a few traumatic events that led towards massive depression and infertility issues, during which I started gaining weight more rapidly. Then I became pregnant (twice!), and between the pregnancy weight gain/bed rest/mom-life, the focus became my children, and it was easy to ignore that my weight was steadily increasing. I slowly let my life as a mom become all-consuming because it was easier being Everett & Finn’s mom and not “Crystal.” During this time period, I would get comments from my parents about how I was letting “myself go,” but it was easy to brush their concerns off and focus on my boys.

By 2019, I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do that would truly stop and reverse my weight-gain. I decided to try and pretend like it didn’t exist. I decided to preach body positivity, find clothes that looked cute in my size, and celebrate the “all bodies are beautiful” movement. In reality, though, I was just lying to myself and others. I didn’t let anyone know my secret shame- I hated my body. I learned to stop looking in mirrors and either not be in or hide behind people in photos. I stopped talking about all things involving my weight and instead worked on boosting others’ body confidence. All of my negative body thoughts and comments about my weight were shoved into a mental box and put way up high on a shelf my little t-rex arms couldn’t reach.

At the start of 2020, I had a friend who had gone through weight-loss surgery, (WLS), the previous year. I watched her transition carefully-she looked fabulous and felt amazing. Then, my parents offered me money towards a WLS procedure, and I decided that this was an option I needed to seriously consider. I was just about to commit to it when the Covid pandemic hit.

The pandemic hit all of us a little differently, but 2 of the most common side effects from being isolated, weight-gain & depression, also hit our household. I kept my secret body shame close to me though. I would have friends offer to walk with me, join weight watchers, etc, but I would politely brush them off, knowing if I committed to that with them I would have to face that secret body shame box I had “hidden” so well.

Facing My Secret Shame

Finally, in 2022, I made the choice that I was finally going to take the plunge and get my WLS done. To say the people around me were shocked would be an understatement. One friend even made the comment, “When you said you were going to have WLS, I was shocked. You never talk about your weight or have given any indication you were unhappy with it.”

That was kind of the point though. I didn’t want to talk about and acknowledge the fact that by summer 2022 I had reached my highest weight- a resounding 386 pounds. I was shopping for clothes that were 5x and occasionally 6x. My options for “cute” clothes were starting to get extremely limited. What all of my critics about getting this procedure done didn’t know is that this wasn’t some snap decision. They made comments about how dangerous it was and about my level of commitment to such a drastic procedure. They told me I was basically going to kill myself because I wanted some “hot body.” That I needed to spend my money on things like “Weight Watchers” and “personal trainers.”

What my critics didn’t do is ask me WHY I was doing what I was doing. They didn’t ask about what I had done to prepare, what my plans were for aftercare, etc. They just made assumptions. Those assumptions hurt more deeply than I’m willing to admit. As I said before, this wasn’t a snap decision. I had been planning this for years and had been doing significant research on my options. They didn’t understand this was something that I was doing for my family and, most importantly, myself. I wanted to be able to go on hikes with my family, play soccer with my boys, go on bike rides, heck even walk up my driveway without sounding like I had climbed Mount Everest. I was ready to reclaim my body and sense of identity. I wanted to rediscover myself and be more than just “Everett & Finn’s mom.”

Surgery Time!!

I originally wrote a very detailed section here that described not only how the experience was leading up to my surgery, but why I chose to do the things the way I did and what it was like. After writing it, it became apparent that it would be much better suited for a standalone blog. You can find it here: All Roads (Planes) Lead To Mexico .

The Box Falls Off The Shelf

I flew into San Diego for my surgery on January 18th and a driver, provided by the clinic I was working with picked us up to take us across the border. My surgery was early the next morning. I spent January 19th and 20th recovering in their medical suite. In the wee hours of the morning on the 21st, I was released and scheduled to fly home. My only regret? Not booking a room for an extra night. Those flights home were miserable!

Once I was back home, I spent the weekdays with my MIL, trying to keep moving and slowly testing the waters for what my body could/couldn’t handle. I wasn’t hungry per se, I just wanted the flavor and texture of food in my mouth. I didn’t want to actually swallow it though. I jokingly compared it to the scene in Madagascar where the Zebra serves the other animals saltwater drinks that are intended to be spit out.

While she was here, we also went into a local consignment store. They were having a killer sale, so I grabbed a few smaller sized clothing items for when I would be able to fit into them. Upon returning home, I tentatively tried on one shirt to see how much further I had to go before I’d fit into it.

My brain couldn’t wrap around the fact that this shirt that was 4 sizes smaller than what I had just taken off actually fit. I quickly pulled the clothes off, saying I needed to be in looser clothing to give my incisions some space. The next day I tried on a different shirt with a pair of pants that I hadn’t been able to fit into for almost 5 years. The jeans were so roomy that I could basically slide them off my body with a gentle tug. I also quickly took them off in favor of my “bag lady” clothes.

Fast forward to Saturday morning. I was alone in my house for the first time since I had surgery. Everyone else was at the airport, dropping my MIL off for her flight back home. On a whim, I pulled out a shirt I had received from a smaller sized friends wardrobe. It was a size 17 in juniors, so I knew there was no way my body would fit into it, yet somehow it did. Then I tried on something that was an extra large, and holy cow, it fit too.

I broke down sobbing, every emotion hitting me at once.

That box that I had shoved all of my negative body thoughts into? It had hit me resoundingly on top of my head. Those feelings of guilt, fraud, disbelief, etc., that I mentioned above crashed over me like a tidal wave. I called up a friend sobbing that I didn’t think I could get rid of my bag lady clothes, but if I didn’t, how would I be able to get new clothes that “fit”? I called up another friend who could hear the trembling breaths behind my words, and she quickly came over to listen to me as I sobbed.

Over the weekend, I spoke with several friends, including my mother, about the box hitting me on my head. The advice they gave and the listening to me as I processed my feelings was invaluable. However, I still had a major issue- myself.

Facing Myself

I realized that Monday morning, I had avoided looking at my body so long that I didn’t even know what I looked like anymore. I needed to see for myself. I needed to see what my new body looked like. I needed to see that my bag lady clothes truly didn’t fit. I needed to see my new clothes on my body.

On a last-minute whim, I contacted a friend who is also a photographer, aka Jami Tatum Photography. I knew that she would be able to handle my erratic emotional state and capture the images I needed with tact and gentleness. Despite being busy that morning, she quickly came to my rescue and readily understood what and why I needed to see myself.

I won’t lie- even though her photos of me were amazing, I still immediately honed into the things I disliked about my body. However, I expected that knee-jerk response. I knew these photos were my first step towards self-acceptance and love. I pulled up photos of myself from the previous year and compared them. Looking between them, I could finally start to understand and accept that I had lost weight prior to surgery. The elephant in the room was actually shrinking.

The Fat Shaming Epidemic

Our country has an obesity problem, but worst of all, it has an obesity shaming problem. Most of us “elephants” are aware of and know we are overweight; we don’t need someone to point out just how unhealthy we are. As a matter of fact, when you point it out, most of us end up gaining more weight and start developing more health issues. And I’m not just talking about friends and family, I’m talking about every single person that treats us like it is a personal failing, rather than a disease. None of us made the conscious decision to become this way.

This is especially true when it comes to our healthcare providers. Research has shown that on average, doctors not only spend less time with overweight patients, they also treat them with less sympathy, overlook potential non-weight related medical problems, and some even refuse to see overweight patients at all. Those that do see us, often don’t provide adequate solutions for how to lose the weight. There is a lack of actionable dieting advice and a lot of them just tend to shove pills our way. Some believe this tough love approach will shame us enough to fix the problem, but in reality, it pushes the majority of us away.

We stop going to the doctor and ignore easy to fix health problems until it’s a life-or-death emergency. As a matter of fact, this issue has gotten so bad, that those studies showing diseases like ovarian cancer are more lethal when you’re overweight have been skewed. Because a lot of overweight women put off going into the doctor for so long, their issues tend to have progressed to the point where treatment isn’t always going to fix the issue. And if you’re a minority it’s way worse. Don’t believe me? There is proven evidence that the fat shaming stigma is actually causing more issues than being fat.

The US Healthcare System is barbaric and ineffectual. It is failing millions of people and it feels like there is no solution in sight. I tried off and on for years to lose weight. It was a nightmare that left me with a host of body image and health issues. My healthcare providers completely missed that I had two eating disorders, prescribed pills that were unhealthy, and made me feel inadequate, not only in their office, but also in my own body. It didn’t make me any thinner or healthier, instead it led to me to feeling like a failure and gave me anxiety about returning for additional healthcare.

Skinny Girl Bucket List

It’s easy to build up resentment and anger over how many signs and flags were missed about my weight gain, but I have come to the conclusion that it’s not doing me any favors. I would rather focus on the steps I’m taking to take back my life, happiness, and body. There are so many things I let my weight interfere with and I am ready to put an end to sacrificing my joy. I jokingly created what I have deemed my “Skinny Girl Bucket List.” All of the silly things that I told myself I couldn’t do because I was too fat. Things like learning to scuba dive, goat yoga, rock climbing, and pole dancing lessons. Heck, I am even planning on going bikini shopping for the first time this summer. I am ready to live my life and celebrate the hard work that I have and will continue to put in.

Taking these steps are hard, but they are worth it. I am worth it.

The post You’d Be So Pretty If… appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

All Roads (Planes) Lead To Mexico

One of the most common responses I received when I told people I was going to Mexico for surgery was shock and horror. I’ll be honest, Mexico wasn’t my first choice. Unfortunately, the US health insurance/healthcare system sucks. No matter how many doctors recommended a WLS procedure, my health insurance company refused to cover surgery. Fortunately, the friend I had mentioned that had WLS a few years ago, had also gone to Mexico, and I had already been watching and researching the surgeon she worked with.

My initial plan was to go in August, shortly after the kids’ school year started. Covid had other plans though. In mid-June our household finally caught covid. While the rest of the family snapped back fairly quickly, it became apparent that I wasn’t going to. Thanks to covid, I had some significant cardiac issues start to arise. This pushed my surgery date until I was more stable.

At the start of September, my team of doctors figured out how to treat my heart issues. I started walking daily, right after I would drop my boys off at school. Knowing my weight probably contributed towards the issues I developed, I knew I wanted to start getting more active in preparation for surgery. There were still those weird throat issues we had to resolve, but overall, I was healthy. I started to notice each time I was weighed at the doctor, the number kept going down. The walking combined with what little I was eating was starting to show.

By mid-November, we finally figured out the throat issues, and I started the process of booking my procedure. One of the drawbacks to having surgery in Mexico is that I was going to have to assemble a local care team- a dietician, a doctor to help with follow-ups/bloodwork, and a personal trainer to help me as my body changed.

Taking The Leap

The doctor I had chosen to work with, Dr. Jorge Maytorena was based at a medical center in Tijuana. When I contacted the clinic, LongTerm WLS, I was shocked to discover that I could essentially book the procedure whenever I was most interested. I only needed to get approved for the procedure and pay a deposit to secure my surgical date.

The process was fairly simple. Once I made my initial inquiry, I was assigned a “concierge” to help me navigate the booking process and answer any questions I may have. I ended up booking the procedure for mid-January. This way, the kids would be in school, and there wouldn’t be any holiday temptations/social gatherings that would make me feel awkward.

After copious amounts of research, I decided that a mini bypass was my best option for several reasons. In addition to the fact that it was the recommended procedure for my bmi range, the risks, operating time, and recovery period were lower than a traditional bypass. Not to mention, the results were comparable (and better in some cases) to having the full bypass. It also didn’t hurt that it’s been clinically proven that having a gastric bypass, though slightly riskier, has a better success rate for keeping off the weight long-term. This is due to the fact that it’s both restrictive (smaller stomach size) and malabsorbtive (less small intestine). It also alters hormones in the gut so I’d feel fuller longer.

Assembling My Local Team

I knew that once December rolled around, my diet would have to change drastically, and I would need to create and work with a team of local professionals that would help ensure my success, both prior to and after surgery.

I was committed to starting a bariatric diet that would prepare my body for surgery a few weeks ahead of when I would need to, just to help with the adjustment and my health. Given that, it was very important to me that I would be able to find a professional that had a proven track record with helping individuals who had experienced repeated weight loss failures.

I was excited to find a local dietician that did just that. I felt even better about working with them when I learned one of their specialties was helping patients who were preparing for & recovering from bariatric surgery. After my first visit with them, I experienced a massive amount of relief. In addition to helping me with meal planning & and accountability, they also sold specialized food that made it easy for me to stick with a diet that was appealing, healthy, and convenient.

Knowing that in addition to a dietary change, I’d need to work on my strengthening my physical body, I found a local gym. I knew I’d need accountability and encouragement, so I met with one of their personal trainers to explain my situation and develop a plan. As an added bonus, they also offered red light therapy, something I was very interested in for post-surgical healing. I started working with my trainer once a week and going to the gym 1-3 times a week.

I attempted to find a local practice that offered bariatric surgery to help me maintain other potential post-surgery issues, but I wasn’t able to find anyone. Fortunately, my primary care doctor offered to help me monitor my levels and help answer potential questions. She said she preferred me to have the surgery locally but understood that without my health insurance helping it wouldn’t be affordable.

I also made sure to surround myself and my family with support for the time I’d be away and for part of my recovery. My mother agreed to be my travel & surgery companion, despite the fact she absolutely hated flying and was nervous about my procedure. I spoke with my mother-in-law, and she agreed to come help Fredric with the boys while I was away & for a few days after I returned while I was recovering.

From Thanksgiving until I left for Mexico, (approximately 7 weeks), I lost almost 40 lbs. I was working with my personal trainer, going to the gym several times a week, and following a carefully planned out diet. My body and plans were as ready as they were going to be!

Holy Cow, It’s Time To Go!

January 18th, 2023 rolled around much more quickly than I anticipated. I was ready though- the more I had to defend the choice I made, the firmer my resolute became. I understood that I was going to be facing a whole host of physical and emotional changes after surgery, however I trusted myself, my team, and the process to reach my goal of a healthier and happier Crystal.

Confident in my research and knowing I had been putting in the hard work, I arose that chilly, pre-dawn morning, fully packed and ready to go to the airport with my mother. We were set to fly into San Diego, and despite the weather causing some havoc, we were able to be there in time for our shuttle driver, Edgar, to pick us up and take us across the border.

The procedure I booked not only included my surgery & medication, but it also covered my shuttle and a guest condo for the night before surgery. The guest condo was essentially a very basic Airbnb- there were a few bottles of water, (the tap water in Mexico isn’t safe for consumption), several beds/bathrooms, and a TV.

Surgery Time

My surgery was scheduled for fairly early Thursday morning. We needed to get up early so Edgar could get us there in time to have my pre-surgery labwork done. The sunrise drive from the condo to the medical center was chilly, but I enjoyed watching the sites in Tijuana pass by.

We arrived at the facility and had to wait in a frigid lobby until all of my paperwork, payments, and pre-surgery labwork was done. When we got up to my floor, I was informed I would be the first surgical patient of the day. This meant that I had to rush to get ready because I only had a few moments before different members of the surgical team were coming in to introduce themselves and go over the procedure with me.

A lot of different people flooded into my room for the next 45 minutes, and I’ll be honest, for the most part, I forgot their faces almost as soon as they left. The only one that stood out was Dr. Maytorena, but seeing as I had researched him so much, that’s not surprising. I was given my IV (that took several uncomfortable sticks and multiple nurses to get it in correctly) then shortly after I was wheeled away for surgery.

The only time I second guessed myself was during this time. They wheeled me up into a surgical suite that looked a lot different than I was used to seeing in the US. While I assessed my surroundings, everyone around me was speaking Spanish and I had no clue what was going on. I remember telling myself “Well I guess it’s too late to back down now…”  The next thing I knew, I was waking up, and the procedure was done.

I slept most of that day, but I still managed to get up and start walking around the floor I was on and start to tolerate ice chips. The next day, I progressed to broth & other clear liquids, and my walking/standing endurance was increasing. I was shocked with just how well I was doing and how quickly I was feeling better. The worst part was when I blew my IV and they had to place another in. 3 more sticks and a fancy vein finding light later, the problem was solved.

That Saturday morning, I was scheduled to get my checks and leave for my return flight. Everything looked and felt great, so I was given the green light when Edgar arrived to take us back across the border. Due to how long it takes to cross the border, we had to be ready to leave no later than 6:30am, despite our flight not leaving until 2pm. The wait time at the airport wasn’t pleasant-I was exhausted, uncomfortable, and ready to be home.

The plane ride back was absolutely miserable. The flights were long, the seats were cramped, and I felt like a bottle of soda that was being shaken nonstop. At one point a passenger who was trying to get his luggage down accidentally hit me, right where my incisions were. I about fell over from the pain. I’ll be honest, I spent the entire journey home wishing I had booked a hotel room in San Diego for Saturday instead of a flight- it was genuinely that bad. Fortunately, we made it back safely, and I happily collapsed into my bed shortly after midnight.

My recovery was and is going much smoother than I anticipated and as of today, I have zero regrets about my decision. There have been a lot of adjustments that I have had to make in regards to my eating habits, such as slowing down when eating and learning to listen to my body. I am also working through my eating disorder triggers and finding healthier outlets for those triggers. However, I’m close to reaching a total of 100 pounds lost since June 2022, which is a huge motivator. I can’t wait to see what changes the next few months bring and how much my life improves! 

The post All Roads (Planes) Lead To Mexico appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

Leaving the therapists office Monday, tears still in my eyes, I was left feeling raw and vulnerable while experiencing an overwhelming amount of mom guilt. Her words crashing through my head on repeat:

“You need to ask his psychologist when enough is enough and he needs committed to the children’s psych ward. It also sounds like it’s time for him to be on medication…”

I feel unprepared to face my reality. The reality that it might be time to consider putting Finn on medication. The reality that after describing the amount of abuse Finn has put me through this week, my own therapist mentioned committing him. Though she wasn’t talking about him being committed today, she did say she noticed that the amount of virtirol and violence towards me was increasing at an alarming rate, so knowing the signs of when a child needs psychiatric intervention is important.

Really though, it feels like the reality is that I’m not enough. That I’ve somehow failed some magic parenting test. I sit in my car and just break down. Huge heaving sobs as the mom guilt cripples me. Oh the mom guilt. Then there is the guilt that I said my deepest fear out loud: “I worry that we’re going to lose Finn like we lost Fredric’s father.”

So I sit in my car, torturing myself. Repeating my fears and self-perceived shortcomings. Allowing the waves of grief and guilt to drown me, before I muster up the courage to call the pediatrician and let them know we need a consult.

I barely hold it together as I describe what I’m calling about. As I hang up, my voice cracking, I muster up the energy to call my best friend Ellie. And I breakdown again. Not even her soothing voice and wise words break all the way through my misery.

I turn to Facebook support groups, but before I can even post, all I see are my fears coming true in others experiences. “I had to call the police on my child and lock myself in my room for safety” “I just had them committed into the children’s psych ward for the 3rd time” and so on. I start sobbing again, terrified that this is my future with Finn. That we are fighting a losing battle, no matter how much therapy and interventions we use.

I know I need more help, so I reach out to a group of local girlfriends to see whose shoulder I can cry on. Amanda invites me over, and I sit on her bed and release all my fears and worries in a torrent of tears and grief. She listens patiently and firmly puts me in my place, telling me everything I need to hear, even though I feel unworthy of the compliments and reassurances.

I leave Amanda’s, eyes swollen and sore, to pick up Finn. He’s in great spirits and I immediately feel better… until we go to the park. At the park, when I tell Finn it’s time to leave he starts berating me and then starts kicking me. I can feel the stares and judgement. I head to yet another girlfriends house, because it’s obvious that I still need support pulling myself out of the black hole of grief that has sucked me in.

She reiterates what both Amanda and Ellie have said, except this time it starts to sink in past my grief. It’s almost as if they talked about me before arriving and decided on a script. I lament “I just thought I had MORE TIME…” Her response is finally what started snapping me out of it:

As a parent we always think we have more time”

It just resonated with me… it was so simple, but so true. Still somewhat doubtful, I decide to let her comforting words be the truth, despite still feeling unworthy of them. I slowly try to let myself heal some, feeling thankful for my tribe.

This. This right here is the struggle of a parent with a child with DMDD. This is what it looks like when we break. I’m slowly picking up the pieces that my emotional rollercoaster left in its wake, but today I feel stronger. I have a plan. I’ve only cried once, when I told his OT that it looked like we were going down the medicinal path. Yet, as I write this, I know I’ll get through it, just like I get through everything else, one day, one hour, one minute at a time.

The post Raw appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

There is nothing better on a cold winter’s night than an old-fashioned, home-cooked meal. This delicious Corned Beef recipe is the ideal meal, served with a creamy white sauce and steamed vegetables, that will have the family asking for more. Leftover corned beef is also great on sandwiches, served with mustard pickles or cut into strips for salads.

What is Corned Beef?

Corned Beef or silverside is brine-cured beef. The usual cut of beef used for corned beef is the silverside and corned beef is often referred to as corned silverside in Australia, New Zealand and Ireland for this reason. In America and Canada, eating Corned Beef is associated with St Patrick’s Day.

Cooking Corned Beef in a Slow Cooker

Recipe (serves 6)

        1.5kg piece of silverside

        water

        6 pepper corns

        1/2 cup of white vinegar

        2 tbls brown sugar

        1 clove of crushed garlic

        1 tbls mixed herbs

        1 onion, cut into wedges

Place silverside into slow cooker and pour in water until it just covers the cut. Add pepper corns, vinegar, brown sugar, crushed garlic, mixed herbs and onion wedges. Cover and cook on low for 8-10 hours. Slice and serve with creamy white sauce, potato bake and steamed vegetables.

Corned Beef (Silverside) with White Sauce

Recipe

        4 tbls butter or margarine

        4 tbls plain (all purpose) flour

        2 cups milk

Melt the butter in a medium sized saucepan. Add the plain flour and mix well away from heat. Return to the stove and cook mixture for 1 minute. Pour a little milk into the mix and stir continuously over heat until it begins to thicken. Add the rest of the milk gradually, stirring until the sauce is thick and hot. Pour over corned beef or serve in a gravy boat.

Side Servings for Corned Beef

Steamed vegetables served with corned beef, adds the perfect touch to this home-cooked meal. Steamed baby carrots, broccoli and beans are ideal.

Other sides to be served with corned beef may include:

        roast potatoes

        steamed pumpkin

        cauliflower au gratin

        steamed cauliflower

        baby peas

Potato Bake

        4 medium potatoes, sliced

        1 pkt of Maggi Creamy Cheese and Garlic Potato Bake

        2 tbls milk

        300ml thickened cream

        1/2-1 cup of grated cheese

Preheat oven to 200 degrees (Celcius). Empty Potato Bake sachet into a medium sized bowl. Add milk and mix well, combining the mixture. Add thickened cream and again mix well. Lay sliced potato into the bottom of a casserole or oven-proof dish. Move mixture over potato and place on the middle shelf of the oven. Bake uncovered for around 40-45 minutes. Remove dish from oven and sprinkle with grated cheese. Return to the oven and bake for a further 15 minutes or until cheese has melted and potato is cooked.

Enjoy this corned beef meal at family gatherings or dinner parties. For a great family dish, with all the trimmings, pop a piece of silverside into the slow cooker and return home to a delicious, home-cooked meal.

The post Cooking The Perfect Corned Beef appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

“I hate you. I hate everyone. I want you to kill me. Someone needs to kill me. I don’t want to be alive anymore. Kill me now. What does blood taste like. I’m going to drink all my blood. You hate me you hate me you hate me. You don’t love me. Everyone hates me. I want to die”

Finn, Age 4 

Everything written above, was said by Finn, to me, in the span of 5 minutes this morning. This morning is our first back at OT and school since break. He’s been becoming more and more dysregulated through this holiday season. It makes sense, after all, we’ve been off schedule, off therapy, and really just off.

What is dysregulation? It is defined as the following:

“Dysregulation, also known as emotional dysregulation, refers to a poor ability to manage emotional responses or to keep them within an acceptable range of typical emotional reactions. This can refer to a wide range of emotions including sadness, anger, irritability, and frustration.”

The effects of dysregulation can be mild or severe, but in our case, as the holidays have come to a end, and as our normal schedule is supposed to resume, calling it severe is an understatement. In general, emotional dysregulation involves having emotions that are overly intense in comparison to the situation that triggered them. This can mean not being able to calm down, avoiding difficult emotions, or focusing your attention on the negative. Most people with emotional dysregulation also behave in an impulsive manner when their emotions (fear, sadness, or anger) are out of control.

As I sit here and write this, I begin to feel the guilt creep in. I know I handled this mornings outbursts poorly. I feel like I’ve  been stuck in a hurricane of my children’s volatile emotions, and that has slowly chipped at my patience. I struggled this morning, as I’ve been struggling the past 2 weeks. Struggled with screaming at the kids “why don’t you have shoes on yet? I’ve asked 48 times!” “We’ve got to go! We are running late!” “Can you please for the love of all things, just put on your dang coat?!? GUYS WE ARE RUNNING LATE!”

I know this sounds like a typical parents morning, but the majority of them don’t have 2 dysregulated children,  one of whom is taking turns playing dead on the ground with screaming back at you they want to die and hate everyone, while the other tries to hit you and screams “this is the worst day of their life” and slams doors/hits the walls.

I know when the adult is dysregulated, the chances of the kids getting regulated are slim to none. Typically my children rely on me to be their emotional regulator, so when I’m not regulated, utter chaos breaks out. We are all left drained. Empty. Sad. Disappointed.

I know it won’t be long until we are snuggling again, but it definitely takes longer for the pain from these moments to fade. However, I live for the good moments in between. I try to keep the memories of the happy and fun times in my head, as a balm to ease the tougher days.

I’m not sharing this for sympathy, but rather insight. To show those of you who struggle with mood disorders, either with yourself, child, spouse, etc, that you’re not alone. For those of you who don’t have this struggle, but who could use a reminder to give a little extra patience to the woman or kid who is a little short with you today.

The post “I Hate Everyone. Kill Me Now” appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

What Is Endometriosis?

Endometriosis is a disorder in which tissue that normally lines the uterus grows outside the uterus causing chronic, debilitating pain and menstrual irregularities. It affects around 1 in 10 individuals during their reproductive years. That is about 176 million people worldwide and counting. Because endometriosis is a full body disease, it has the potential to spread to other places in the body outside of the reproductive organs such as the chest cavity, lungs, liver, kidneys, bladder and bowels. It has been found everywhere except the spleen.

Despite symptoms like crippling pain, fainting, vomiting, pain with sex, severe bloating/”endo belly”, bladder spasms, etc, the only way to officially diagnose endometriosis or adenomyosis is surgery. And no, surgery is not a cure. Many sufferers go on to have multiple surgeries because the disease often comes back. Even a hysterectomy doesn’t guarantee that endometrial tissue won’t start growing in places it’s not supposed to again.

To top that off, there is also a possibility of developing adenomyosis, the sister disease to endometriosis, which is when endometrial cells exist or grow into the uterine wall. Both physically AND mentally debilitating diseases, endometriosis and adenomyosis are listed in the top 10 most painful illnesses to have. Both diseases are still being researched and examined to find a definite cause. And while there are various treatments and ways to alleviate pain and symptoms, there is no cure.

Many people are unaware that there are three different types of endometriosis and there are four different stages (I-minimal, II-mild, III-moderate, and IV-severe). Although this is good information to know, no particular stage determines the amount of pain or symptoms an individual may experience at any given time. Women can go years undiagnosed, and still be a stage I or have milder symptoms and be a stage IV. The main issue with stages III & IV is how it impacts your fertility.

And this is where my journey begins.

My Endometriosis Saga

I was 31 when I was diagnosed with endometriosis. I had been suffering for almost 3 years by the time of my diagnosis. This is my story of how endometriosis has impacted my life.

Prior to my issues starting, my periods were eerily predictable. Every 28-30 days lasting 5-7 days like clockwork. Then something changed. I feel like that change was triggered by using birth control. I remember my first incident- I had a period that lasted from April 27th until July 6th. Yes, you read that right- just over 2 months. At the beginning of July I decided to stop using my birth control and BOOM, my period stopped.

I made the decision to just try to track my periods and use the “natural planning” method for birth control to hopefully fix the issue. I started tracking my ovulation in August, buying a ovulation monitoring kit. I wanted to test daily over the next couple of months to figure out if I had a pattern or if it was going to still be as weird as it was when I was on birth control. My August period was barely there- basically 2-ish days of spotting then nothing. I figured I had already had such a long period that it was going to take some time to even out.

Toward the end of the month my LH numbers (what ovulation kits measure) slowly increased. I figured this was a “spike” and kept testing daily to see how long it would last. Imagine my surprise when after a week it still showed I was ovulating. Typically a surge only lasts 36-ish hours. On a whim I took a pregnancy test and walla! It was positive.

Quite frankly, I was shocked. Apparently my August “period” was implantation bleeding. I was scared, nervous, and cautiously excited. Sadly, before the end of September, I lost the baby.

To say I was devastated would be an understatement. I won’t go into details, but I ended up having to switch doctors and go through 3 procedures before my medical issues were fully resolved. We also had announced to family & friends, so having to reiterate the loss multiple times and be the recipient of sad looks felt like a punch in the gut each time. However awful those looks made me feel, it was worse when they didn’t “get” it. I still am haunted by a colleague who said “I don’t get why you’re still so upset. I mean you were barely pregnant, so really there wasn’t much to get attached to. Why not just move on and try again?”

That December, my husband & I decided to relocate to Atlanta. This ended up being one of the worst decisions we could have made. With no job, no support network, and unknowingly facing months of infertility, I started slipping into a deep depression-a depression I’m still fighting to overcome. I desperately wanted to become pregnant again, but my periods were becoming increasingly painful and unpredictable. I tried supplements, working out, etc- nothing worked. Each cycle yielded the same results: a negative pregnancy test. I became so bitter and haunted by the pain of those negative tests, that when a sweet friend told me about her pregnancy that following summer, all I said was “that’s nice” and walked away seething. I still feel guilty about how I responded years later.

I started working with an doctor in May, and by fall 2013 it was determined that I had endometriosis. We started the treatment/diagnosis process with a laparoscopic surgery. It was scary and unclear if this would solve my issues or if they would even find anything wrong. I remember being terrified that they wouldn’t find anything, meaning it was all in my head, or that they would find something that was even worse than endometriosis.

After surgery, I was diagnosed with stage III endometriosis. He went on to tell me that this is likely why I had been unable to get pregnant again and it could have even been the cause of my miscarriage. He also cautioned that if I was to get pregnant, that my chances of having a c-section or pregnancy complications would be higher.

Still, I pressed on. After a few weeks of recovery, I went back to the doctor. My hormone levels still weren’t ideal for conception, so I was given fertility treatments. The treatments had some miserable side effects, but I was determined to see it through.

The first round was a dud, however, the 2nd round looked much more promising- I had several follicles that were healthy looking and ready. I was visiting my mom that Christmas and came down with a nasty cold. It was still pretty early to find out if I was pregnant or not, but I decided to try a test *just in case*. There was the faintest barely there line. I wasn’t even sure it wasn’t my eyes playing a trick on me. We went to the doctor to get medicine and they gave me another test. It was still faint, but they confirmed it was an early positive. I was so excited I didn’t even care that I was sick. Sadly, Fredric wasn’t with me, (he had already gone back due to work), so for the second time, I had to tell him I was pregnant long distance!

I was nervous wreck after finding out this time. I didn’t want to wait until I was back with Fredric to do an ultrasound-I NEEDED to know immediately if this was a viable pregnancy. I made an appointment at a local office and went with my mother. Hearing Everett’s heartbeat for the first time was one of the most magical experiences I’ve ever had. Though hearing his heartbeat gave me reassurance, I still worried constantly. I kept thinking I would somehow lose him or he wasn’t going to develop correctly. This time I refused to share or post about the pregnancy until I was almost to my 2nd trimester. I insisted on extra/early testing, just to make sure he was healthy and that he was growing normally. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy by any means, and I’m pretty sure the anxiety I had developed over the last 2 years of loss & infertility has never completely gone away.

Moving Forward

During this journey the worry about endometriosis always hung over my head. It was like this horrible nagging voice that would rear it’s ugly head any time I thought about trying to have a baby again. Thankfully, pregnancy & breastfeeding usually reduces the symptoms and spread of endometriosis due to your lack of period and the increase in progesterone, so I had a nice break from dealing with it.

Despite waiting until the day the pain would come back and start tormenting me again, I was happy with Everett and decided that being “one and done” actually worked out perfectly for us.

In January 2017, I took a pregnancy test in solidarity with a friend who was worried she was pregnant. Apparently the fates decided that they weren’t done throwing us curveballs, so while her test was negative, mine was a resounding positive. This time I wasn’t “joyous.” I was unprepared and shocked with just how simple it was to get pregnant with Finn. I was scared- my pregnancy with Everett was hard. Everett was also starting to really show signs that something unusual was going on with him. I essentially spent the whole first and part of the second trimester not really acknowledging my pregnancy. Don’t get me wrong, I went to appointments and didn’t “deny” my pregnancy, but rather, I didn’t “celebrate” it. I pushed forward full steam and eventually got my self to the point where I started spotting from overdoing myself. That spotting made me realize just how much I wanted another baby and how lucky I was that I didn’t have to suffer through another infertility cycle.

So What Now?

As of this morning, I was inspired to write this blog because my endometriosis is back. I had almost 6 years with “normal” periods thanks to pregnancy and breastfeeding, but unfortunately, the excruciating pain and ridiculously heavy period is back. I would venture to say that my period is actually worse now than it was.

Oddly, my periods are following a more “regular” cycle length, though they can still vary from 27-40 days, they are typically around 31 days. However, the last few months I’m seeing an increase of what is best described as a “mini” period in between my “regular” periods. My bleeding gets so severe that I suffer from vertigo, iron issues, cold-like symptoms, and don’t get me started on the pain.

Oddly, or maybe thankfully, some of my periods are manageable, and I’m able to continue being a mom with the use of NSAIDs over the course of the first few days of my cycle. Some are much harder than that. All I’m able to do is get from the bed to the couch. These are the days that I’m especially thankful for Fredric. I know that I’ll likely need another one to two surgeries in the near future, which now that I’m a mother is even more scary.

I never wanted to be a woman with chronic pain. I certainly never wanted to be a mother with chronic pain. But I truly believe we’re all shaped by our experiences. The bad days help me appreciate the good days. My boys are learning how to be gentle with me when I’m feeling down-and seeing them learn to be nurturing is a reward on it’s own.

I’m just thankful that my good days still far outweigh the bad.

The post Motherhood Uncensored: Coping With Endometriosis appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

Today is National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day, so I decided to share my favorite recipe for baking them! There are millions of recipes out there, all with slight variations, however, this one always consistently comes out delicious and it’s easy to make.

I discovered this recipe a few years ago after trying out a lot of combinations and having quite a few fails- like the time I accidentally used corn starch instead of flour! Whoops! Since then I’ve tweaked it a little based on how many I want to bake and what types of flavors I want to add, like mint or cbd. Today I’ll be giving you my basic recipe and you can modify it how you see fit!

Ingredients

• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 large eggs
• 2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
• 1 cup chopped nuts (Optional. If omitting, add 1 to 2 Tbsp. of all-purpose flour.) I usually omit nuts, though sometimes I use almonds.

In addition to the ingredients above, you’ll also need a cookie sheet (I use 3), a mixing bowl, measuring cups, measuring spoons & cups, a mixing spoon, and a spatula. I also use a cooling rack.

Steps

1. Combine flour, baking soda and salt in small bowl.
2. Beat butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar and vanilla extract in large mixing bowl until creamy.
3. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
4. Gradually beat in flour mixture. Stir in morsels and nuts/additional flour. Drop by rounded tablespoon onto ungreased baking sheets.
5. Chill the dough 10-15 minutes while oven preheats to 375° F.
   • The longer you chill the dough, the more the flavors will develop and the chewier your cookies will be!
6. Bake for 9 to 11 minutes or until golden brown.
   • Tip: the best way to make soft chocolate chip cookies is to slightly under-bake the cookies. In order to slightly under-bake the cookies, the edges should look set (but not brown). The center of the cookies should look soft and even a little puffy still. This trick will help to keep your cookies nice and soft.
   • You can bake 10 minutes for a softer cookie or up to 14 minutes for a crispier cookie.
7. Cool on baking sheets for 2 minutes; remove to wire racks to cool completely
8. Enjoy!

Keeping Your Cookies Soft

We don’t often have a lot of extra cookies lying around, but when we make the full recipe we definitely have an excess amount. Here are a few tips for keeping your cookies fresh, especially handy for those of us who like to prep cookies for giving away during the holiday season!

• Be sure to seal your cookie container well, whether you’re storing them in the freezer, refrigerator or a zip-top bag. You want your cookies to be in an airtight container for maximum freshness.
• If you are storing your cookies at room temperature or in the refrigerator, add a small piece of bread to the container with the cookies. This will help to keep the cookies soft.
• My favorite way to keep homemade cookies fresh is to freeze them. Freeze your extra cookies as soon as they cool completely after baking. I know many people freeze extra raw balls of cookie dough before baking so that they can have fresh baked cookies whenever they want. If this is the method you love, then go for it. For me, it’s too much effort to preheat the oven and wait whenever I want a cookie. I bake all of my cookies at once and then freeze the extras right after they are cool. Then I can just defrost (on the counter for a few minutes) and enjoy!

I hope you love these cookies as much as we do! Let me know in the comments below if you try it!

The post Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.

This year, we kicked off our Earth Day celebrations a bit early. We still have plans to clean up the creek behind our house tomorrow, when it’s actually Earth Day, but I wanted to go ahead and share what we’ve been doing in case you need ideas!

Last year, our focus was on wind power/sustainable energy. If that’s your jam, you can find a link to those activities here. This year our focus is on having good Earth stewardship and being mindful of our environmental actions.

Book Review

One of my main focuses for Earth Day this year was to help the boys understand how their actions directly impact their environment. To start working on this concept, we read 2 books, One Earth by Eileen Spinelli and What a Waste by Jess French.

One Earth was a really fantastic way to help highlight the beautiful things Earth provides for us while also teaching kids the ways they can do their part in protecting the environment. I really loved the artwork and the way they used counting & rhymes to introduce earth stewardship.

What a Waste was a phenomenal way to really highlight how our little actions add up for big results, both good & bad. It got the boys to start asking a lot of good questions and excited to do their part to help the environment. There were some great diagrams that broke down the important facts into smaller tidbits the boys could absorb that I really appreciated.

Activities

Earth Treasure Hunt

A friend who knows that I’m a big science geek tagged me in a post 2 weeks ago about a cool new startup she saw called Earth Treasure Hunt. I was immediately intrigued, so I started pouring over their website and loved what I was seeing. Science based. No easily broken plastic toys. Easy set up. I could keep going, but you get the point. This looked super rad. Here’s a little snippet from their website that talks about their product:

Spark curiosity in any child with Earth Treasure Hunt, a science-based treasure hunt game focused on quality, design and natural earth treasures.
It’s simple to play. The grown-up secretly plants the treasures. The child solves the clues using science and smarts, leading them on a thrilling treasure hunt adventure through the home!

I knew this would be a perfect fit for the Earth Day activities I had planned for the boys, so I reached out and asked their founder, Lauren, if she’d be interested in partnering up. Much to my excitement, she was willing to send over a kit for both boys and I got started planning.

When the kits arrived, I couldn’t wait to start investigating them. We had a pretty busy weekend, so I wasn’t able to hide treasures until Everett was at school. I distracted Finn with some Magic School Bus and started hiding. I kind of felt like a super spy, hiding things while Finn could very easily have discovered me! However, not only did he not figure out what I was doing, I even managed to hide a treasure mere feet from where he was sitting! Excuse me while I go pat myself on the back!

When we got back from picking Everett up from school, I navigated them through the house in a way that they wouldn’t accidentally stumble on a clue before the hunt started. Everett is still struggling a bit with reading and Finn definitely can’t read yet, so it was up to me to read the cards. It took a little bit for the boys to puzzle out the clues and I could see the wheels spinning as they tossed out ideas.

Each time they figured out the clue, they raced across the house to find the next clue. The “aha” moment and excitement was something that will stay with me for a long time. Even while writing today’s blog I have a HUGE grin on my face while remembering the joy they experienced.

Then came the educational part. We talked about what each item was and how the Earth was able to provide these awesome treasures. I tied it back to the books we had read and why their treasures were so valuable. I also talked about what made these “toys” different from their plastic ones. Finn didn’t quite grasp these concepts, but Everett most definitely was able to connect the dots. Once I could tell I was losing their interest, I let them go about and do their thing. Their own thing turned out to be video calling their grandparents and giving them a run down of the treasures and a slightly disjointed science lesson!

Nature Walk Hunt

One of the things we’ve been doing a lot of lately is going on nature walks. Thanks to the pandemic, we’ve had to get creative with entertaining the boys, so we turned to the outdoors. Monday we did a little creek splashing and used a little nature hunt sheet to explore the area.

We didn’t take photos of the items above, but I did have them find items while they splashed around and we talked about them. A good friend who is also a photographer took photos of the boys as they explored and they turned out so well!

Creek Cleanup & Other Activities

Tomorrow we will be cleaning up the creek in our backyard, doing a bingo game, and a free Earth Day worksheet set I found. All in all, the lessons we are working on this week are so important. Teaching children at a young age how their actions impact the environment and maintaining those lessons as they grow up will help ensure that future generations will still have an Earth to enjoy.

The post Celebrating Earth Day 2021 appeared first on Not So SuperMom VS Society.