7 Surprises of Childbirth

As I prepared for the birth of my first child, I started researching exactly what I should expect. I visited blogs, read online forums, and read all the books. Even with all of my efforts to prepare, there were still plenty of surprises. I am all for helping others, so I thought I'd compile a list of surprises that I and a few women I know encountered while giving birth. 

1) Your epidural might not work. 

Admittedly, this one is probably my fault. As I've said before, I am a rule-follower, so I did as I was told when the nurse told me to shift from one side to the other to keep the medicine distributed evenly. While shifting, I inadvertently shifted the catheter and quickly learned the error of my ways. The pain came back, up one leg and down the other, and stayed until after my boy had made his grand entrance. I told my husband to get the nurse, I knew I was much too big of a wimp to handle the pain of childbirth, but all the nurse could do was give me bad news. It took half an hour to get the anesthesiologist back up to see me and by that time I was in too much pain to sit up on the bed patiently waiting for him to reposition my line. The good news is that the body-breaking pain magically stops immediately after the baby comes out. 

2) You will not care about a birth plan. 

I did not have a formal birth plan, but I did have an idea of how I thought things would/should go. All of my ideas flew right out the window when we got down to the nitty gritty of childbirth. I had planned to get my epidural as soon as possible and we all know how that turned out. I also planned to get skin-to-skin immediately afterwards, and we did actually get to do that. My sister planned to have her son vaginally, but she was forced to change her plan when the doctor came in and explained that a c-section was necessary for both her health and the health of the baby. Point being you don't know what is going to happen. If you're a planner, make a plan, but know that you may need to veer from that plan. 

3) A c-section is not the 'easy way out'.

This is secondhand information since I have never personally had a c-section, but from what I could gather by watching my sister after her son was born I'm thinking c-section isn't as easy as some people make it out to be. I mean, she had major abdominal surgery and immediately had to begin caring for an infant. There was no 'recovery time.' She also struggled with breastfeeding and I'm convinced that at least part of the reason why was that she was separated from her son for a long while after he was born. She was separated from everyone after he was born! At a time when your child needs to be held the most, she wasn't able to pick him up by herself.

4) Even the most modest people lose their modesty on the moment.

I'm modest. I'm probably one of the most modest people I know, but I no longer cared when it came time to get that baby out. It may have more to do with the pain I was in, but I actually wanted to be naked during labor. I didn't care who saw me either. The nurse asked "Can she stay?" right before I started pushing and I said "Sure, why not?!" without the slightest clue who the nurse was talking about. Looking back, it's comical how naive I was. I was actually going to buy a cute little delivery gown to wear while giving birth. Psh! That thing would've been ruined.

5) You shake uncontrollably afterwards. 

This completely caught me off guard. I was dutifully carrying out my skin-to-skin duties while the doctor was completing all of the necessary repairs to my nether region, and I began to convulse uncontollably. I was trying to enjoy the first of many moments of snuggling my baby, but I couldn't because I was shivering so badly. At first I thought I was shaking because the doctor was still sewing me up but it continued through the night until the next morning. Come to think of it, I think it happened for a couple of nights after J was born. I'd shiver myself awake in the middle of the night in the hospital, as if I wasn't already missing enough sleep my body had to sabotage what few hours of sleep that I was getting.

6. Your previous labors mean nothing. 

This information comes from a few mommies and nurses that I know. I know women who have had a completely uneventful labor with their first child and had to have an emergency c-section with their second. There are women who labored for more than twenty-four hours with one child and less than two with the next. My nurse friends have told me stories about women who think they're experts on childbirth because they've had one child. These women quickly learn that each birth is unique and should be treated as such.

7. You really do forget the pain. 

During labor, I looked at my grandmother who had five children without any pain medicicine and not-so-kindly explained that she must have been an idiot to voluntarily go through that immense pain more than once. She just smiled and nodded. After my baby was born and I got to hold him, she came up and whispered in my ear, "This is why I did it," and I completely understood. That pain is all consuming, but the lifetime of rewards that you reap after it is all said and done is so much greater than those few hours of pain.

John 16:21

A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.

What surprises did you have during childbirth? 

Praying for my boy

As I sat down to write this post, I had intentions on writing a letter to my future adult son. I wanted to tell him all about my hopes and aspirations for him, but I never could get the words out quite right. I'd say one thing and then contradict myself in the next sentence.One thing remained constant though, I always wanted God's will for his life. I have no clue what I want kind of life I want for my child. Luckily, I'm not the one in charge of the planning, and I'm so thankful that God has already made the way.

As I'm sure most of us do, I pray for my child every day. I've done so since I learned that I was pregnant with him, and I'm sure I'll continue my daily ritual until I'm dead and gone. I discuss my boy with God like I'm talking to his doctor about his growth. I talk about his development like I'm telling a friend about the new trick he learned today. I have full conversations with God about J, thanking Him for His blessings and asking for His guidance on this all too important job of raising a child.

I pray over the decisions I make, and I ask God to help me make choices that will benefit J. I think about who he will be someday. Will my choices help to mold a confident, independent, Godly young man? And even though I know I shouldn't, I worry over past choices and whether they are somehow going to have a negative effect. 

As I watch him sleep, I thank God for the blessing of being his mother. As he plays, I marvel at the enormity of it all. Sometimes I cry because I am overcome by the magnitude of my love for him. The responsibility of raising him overwhelms me, but I turn to my Rock. I pray that I don't mess this up. This is such an important job, being his mother. He is the most important thing that G and I have ever done, and I know above all else that we cannot do this alone. So, I pray. 

I pray that I'm able to excentuate the good. There's so much good in him. He is so thoughtful, so smart, and he has such a tender heart. My prayer is that everything I do as his mother helps all of those good qualities shine.

I pray that he is kind but discerning. Kindness is a virtue that is lacking in so many people, and sadly it is also a characteristic that can often cause it's owner to be exploited. In today's world, kind people are at a disadvantage without awareness, so I ask God to bestow discernment on my little boy. 

I pray that he is happy. Happiness seems to be fleeting for so many people. We're always chasing the bigger house or the faster car, so I pray that he can find happiness in his life at any given moment. I hope that he can be content in his life and also be driven to create a wonderful life for himself. 

I pray that he is successful. Success is hard to find and even harder to recognize when you find it. I pray that he fights for his success but that he also understands failure. I hope he appreciates his triumphs  and is thankful for his blessings.  

I pray that he is chivalrous. Chivalry is a lost but valuable virtue. I pray that he carries the heavy loads and opens doors for the ladies in his life. I hope that he is able to find a good, Godly helpmate that will appreciate his chivalry and help to instill the same virtues into their children.

I pray that he is healthy. I ask God please let him stay healthy. I hope he never feels the pain heart disease, diabetes, addiction, or cancer. It feels selfish of me to ask with so much pain and suffering in the world, but I pray that he never has to know that kind of suffering.

I pray that he becomes a strong, articulate, God fearing man. I pray that he'll accept Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. I pray that he'll know the peace of asking Him into his heart. I pray that I can build a home around him that will nurture his relationship with God. Above all else, this is my prayer.

I could sit around and plan his life out for him, but I believe that would be putting him at a disadvantage. God has a plan and a purpose for J's life. So, I will pray these things, follow Jesus, and know that he knows the way. When I become overwhelmed with the responsibility before me I will trust in Him.

Samuel 22:33

It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.

Why I (finally) chose to post my kid's pictures on social media

It's a touchy subject to some people. I remember being against the idea of posting pictures on social media. I was about 8 months pregnant and I decided to have a talk with my closest friends and family about my choice to keep J's pictures off the internet. Unbeknownst to me, I was opening myself up to a much bigger debate among my friends. I had J a couple of years after some of my close friends started having babies. These educated (and opinionated) women had all already been putting their kids' pictures on some type of social media for years when I made my request, and I feel like some of them took it as if I were saying that it is a bad idea to put your children's pictures online. I wasn't. Actually, I could have cared less how many pictures of their own kid that they posted. 

That's the thing though. They were posting pictures of their own kids. Not mine. That's where my opinion on kids' pictures on social media comes in. I believe that it is up to the parents. I don't care what your stance is, but I believe that you are the deciding factor on when and what pictures of your children are shared on social media. 

I asked for my friends and family to keep my boy's pictures off the internet until I was ready to share him with the world.I had a caveat. I did not mean that I would never post his pictures. How on earth could I keep him to myself forever? He's just too cute! I meant that we wanted to keep him to ourselves for a little while before we posted. I just believed, and still do believe, that we should respect the intimacy and sanctity of some experiences..even in a world that revolves around likes, comments, and shares. The birth of a child falls under that category for me, and I was adamant that I wanted to only share that experience with family and close friends. 

I believe that it is the parents' right to decide whether or not to share their child's picture on the Internet. My request was met with opposition when I mentioned it to a few of my friends. "You know his pictures will be on there eventually!" "Why does it even matter?" "You can't protect him his whole life!" I also inadvertently offended some with my request to keep J's pictures offline. "Well, I have to put my kid's pictures online so my relatives can see him." "What's the big deal?" "It's not like I let the whole world see my pictures. I know how to use my privacy settings." 

Yes, yes, and yes! I knew all of that. I was aware of the beauty of having your relatives who live hours away be able to see your child grow through pictures. I understood that a lot of people don't see the point in taking a stance on social media. I see futility in the efforts of others to fight the technology revolution, too. I understand that I can't protect him his whole life. I just didn't want anyone to post pictures of my son on the Internet before I was ready. I felt as though the people who wanted to see him would bring theirselves up to the hospital and everyone else could wait. I'm a firm believer in the whole face-to-face communication thing. 

Weeks after J was born I finally decided to share his birth announcement on Facebook. I had kept him to myself for long enough, and I wanted to share him with my old friends, old classmates, and far away relatives. Pictures of him started as a trickle into social media and are now at a steady stream. Sometimes I just can't keep the über cuteness to myself. I still have relatives asking whether they can post pictures of him on social media; I always say yes, but I am ever grateful that they respect my authority as his mother to continue to ask.

Do I think we should keep our kids' pictures off of social media? Heck no. I'd probably never even glance at Facebook or Instagram if it wasn't for all of my friends' babies. I also don't think it's a poor parenting choice to put your brand new, fresh-out-of-the-womb baby's picture out there for the world. That was just a decision that I felt strongly about. 

I'm sure most of my readers fell in love with Miracle Molly the same way I did. Many of us would have known her and her story without the added benefit of regular updates via social media, but the fact that her mother shared their story with all of the world brought us all together in a way that would have never been possible before this technological age. She touched more lives than anyone will ever know, and she was able to do so at such a grand scale because of social media. I am grateful, as I'm sure many are, that her parents made the decision to share their story. Knowing what little that I do about them, I'd assume it wasn't a decision that was not reached lightly of without its fair share of prayer. It was a decision that they knew would bring glory to God and one that they knew was right for their family. 

That's all I'm saying. Whether you think it's right or it's wrong, it is the right decision as long as you are making it for the good of your family. So post those babies' pictures, or don't, whatever. 

2 John 1:12

Though I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink. Instead I hope to come to you and talk face to face, so that our joy may be complete.

Why I'm scared to have another baby

Before you read this, I want you to know that this is a very personal, very true account of my pregnancy. I tried to keep it classy, but sometimes I just had to put it out there. Okay. If you're still interested, read away.

All you mamas out there are probably well aware of the question that you get when your first child is approaching his or her first birthday. 'When are you planning on having another one?' As if handling that one wasn't hard enough, as if your body is even close to 'normal' again, and as if you have been able to forget the pain you went through to bring this one into the world. I tend to answer this question in a variety of ways, but the most frequent answer is 'I don't know.' Don't get me wrong, I love being a mommy. It's just the journey that you have to take to become a mommy that I'm not too sure about. The truth is I'm not at all scared to have another baby, I'm scared to be pregnant again. I'm nervous for many reasons, the scariest of which being the amount of complications that I had during my first pregnancy. 

I was nine weeks pregnant when the first 'episode' happened. I just went to pee. As I finished up, I knew this wasn't the same. The tissue was soaked with blood. This was not 'spotting' - this was bright red, terrifying blood and a lot of it. I didn't know much about pregnancy yet, but I did know that bleeding is a bad thing. A very bad thing. I panicked. I'm the type of person that automatically assumes responsibility when things go wrong, so I just knew that I had inadvertently done something to hurt my baby. I'd only been carrying this tiny person for about nine weeks and I already loved him more than I could have ever imagined. The thought of losing him broke me into a million pieces. (Notice I said 'losing him' and not 'losing my pregancy.' I'd never demean a miscarriage that way. A miscarriage is the loss of a child-a little person with his own personality that he would grow to develop one day.) The thought of losing my baby was horrific, and the thought that I might've done something to cause it was unbearable. 

First thing I did was call my mother, and she instructed me to call the doctor. The doctor's office was closed so I decided to go to the emergency room. I knew that if I were actually having a miscarriage that there was nothing that the ER could do, but I needed to be told whether my baby was alright. I couldn't wait. I spent the better part of four hours in that emergency room. They finally did an ultrasound and I was flooded with relief as I heard that quick little 'whoosh-whoosh' of his heartbeat. I'll never forget that feeling. It felt almost as if warm water rushed from my head down. The ER doc told me that he couldn't explain the bleeding but the baby looked fine. I scheduled a follow up appointment with my regular doctor and he sent me on my way. Relief. 

At my follow-up, my regular doctor did the whole gambit of tests. I got to see my sweet little baby yet again on another ultrasound, but they still couldn't tell me why I was bleeding. I was sent home on 'pelvic rest' and told that I should take it easy and the bleeding should stop in a few days. Being the strict rule follower that I am, I did as I was told and waited patiently for the bleeding to stop. While I can't say the exact number of days that I kept bleeding, I'm thinking it was around five days, but the bleeding did finally stop. 

For the next two weeks, I lived my life as a carefree pregnant lady. I blamed the bleeding on my strange body and let it go. Until it reared its ugly head again sometime near the end of the first trimester. This time I was at school. I ran to the restroom between classes one day and there it was. And again, of course, I panicked. I ran to my classroom and called the doctor. They said to come in immediately, so I cleared it with my boss and hightailed it to their office. Again, I had an ultrasound and heard that glorious little 'whoosh-whoosh' of his quick heartbeat. The baby got the all-clear. Again, the doctor examined me, and again he found no explanation for my bleeding. I was sent home on prolonged 'pelvic rest' and told to take it easy. This time the bleeding continued for a couple of weeks but did eventually come to a stop. I never had any cramping, but I did pass what looked to be blood clots a couple of times.

As my baby (and belly) grew, I became more and more anxious about everything. I was neurotic about my diet and my activity level. I believed that even if I did the smallest of things wrong that I'd hurt my baby. I was borderline obsessive compulsive. Literally. My entire second trimester was spent simultaneously obsessing over every detail of my life and also trying to enjoy every second. It's hard to enjoy something when you're scared. 

As I approached the third trimester, I grew more and more relaxed. We had learned that our healthy and growing baby was a boy. I hadn't had any bleeding episodes in weeks, and I was beginning to think that I could have a normal pregnancy after all. I was so comfortable, in fact, that I agreed to go camping about two hours away in our new camper. 

Because we knew we wouldn't be able to get away by ourselves for a while after the baby was born, we decided to go away as a couple for the weekend. The trip would have been interesting enough just with the dogs locking us out of our own vehicle, but that's a story for another post. After we solved the dog problem, we went shopping for groceries for the weekend. While we were shopping, I felt what I thought at first might've been me peeing on myself. Yep. There. I said it. I thought I peed on myself. Anyway as I walked to the bathroom, I felt what could only be described as a flood of something. The bathroom in the store had a floor length mirror and I saw what I definitely did not want to see as soon as I passed it to go into the bathroom stall. Blood. It wasn't just some stained toilet paper this time either. This was so much more. It looked like I had peed my pants except it was a dark red. The room started spinning and I was sure that I would pass out. No. Not here. I'm so far from home. This can't be happening. I'm only, what, thirty-two weeks? He's not ready! When is the last time I felt him kick? Please kick?! Knowing that I had to make it out of the bathroom, I gathered my strength and went to find G. I searched through the small crowd of people at the checkout for him. We're both pretty tall, so it was easy to find him. I could tell that he knew as soon as he saw me. He knew something was wrong.

We went straight to the emergency room, which by some crazy coincidence (or, as I like to think about it, divine intervention) was right across the street from the grocery store where we were shopping. I waddled into the hospital, partly because of the blood but mostly because of the belly, and they sent me to L&D as soon as they saw me. I can't really explain my thoughts as they wheeled me up. I was somewhere between denial and disbelief. As I rode up the elevator, I started praying. God, I trust you. I know you have a plan, but please, please let this baby be okay. Please let me feel him kick.

Then, he kicked. As I rolled out onto the labor and delivery floor I felt him, two little kicks like he was just in there trying to get comfortable. There was that feeling again, relief rushing over me like warm water from my head all the way down. I looked at G and said, 'He kicked', and I could see the same relief in his eyes. 

The nurses in that hospital were amazing. They comforted me and calmed me but they were never dismissive or condescending. They showed me my sweet boy on ultrasound and hooked us up to a monitor so we could monitor his heart rate. I'm not completely sure how long I was in that hospital, but I do know that I was told yet another time that they could not explain the bleeding but the baby looked great. 

I stayed on bed rest for a few days after the last 'episode' until my regular doc gave me the all clear. I resumed life as usual afterward. This time, I continued to bleed until the baby was born. I worked until two days before he made his grand entrance into the world and I only quit then because I no longer had shoes that would fit my swollen feet. He was born eight weeks to the day after the last bleeding episode, and he was as perfect and as healthy as I had prayed for him to be. I knew from the moment I saw him that being his mommy would be worth all of the fear and pain that it cost me to have him. 

Each time I bled I was given the same story, no explanation for the bleeding but the baby looks great. I was, at once, both  overjoyed to hear that my baby was perfect and disappointed that I still had no cause for the bleeding. Maybe that's the real reason I'm so unsure about getting pregnant again. Maybe I'm scared because I still don't know what cause all of my problems the first time. 

Now that I've told you about the fear that I lived in for 30+ weeks before I gave birth to my (very) healthy, almost nine pound baby, I want to add that I am not in anyway saying that I understand the grief that I'm sure accompanies a miscarriage. I know the fear that you have leading up to it. I know the hope that you'll feel your baby kick any second now. I know the feeling of dread when you go for a routine bathroom break because you're terrified of seeing the tissue stained with blood. I know all of that, but God also blessed me with knowing the complete and utter relief of hearing my baby's heartbeat on the ultrasound machine. I was blessed with that little kick I got while rolling into L&D eight weeks premature that let me know that he was still with me. I'm not trying to say that I've been in your shoes, I haven't. I don't ever want to be.

 It's just that I remember googling 'bleeding at 9 weeks pregnant' praying that I would run across stories of women that had been through the same thing and their babies all were born perfectly healthy. I'm just sharing my unique experience and trusting that it will find someone one day that is going through similar circumstances and maybe that this post will help her in some way. 

thankful in the struggles

Its one o'clock in the morning. I'm awakened by my baby, but this time it's not his cries that stir me it's his voice. The sound of a baby as he tries out his newly found ability to speak. He's saying 'ma-ma.' As I walk towards his bed, my eyes still heavy with sleep, he lets out a squeal of excitement. It's one o'clock in the morning, and all he wants to do is play.

I pick him up and use my best stern, no nonsense voice to explain to him that it's time to sleep not play.  He looks up at me with those big, confused, ocean blue eyes and I can tell he's not going to go back to sleep without a fight. So, I decide to fight it. I'm just so sleepy, and I have to work in the morning. And I'm the parent, so what I say goes. 

We lay down in our bed and I stroke his hair and sing 'Amazing Grace' hoping the song will lull him back to sleep. He lays there patiently until I hit 'a wretch like me' and he starts rolling over to crawl. This isn't going to work, so I decide to rock him and sing my other go to song, 'Go To Sleep Little Baby.' He sits patiently for a couple of verses, but eventually sits up and starts 'talking' to me. I assume he's asking why on Earth I'm trying to get him to go to sleep when he's obviously not sleepy, or maybe that's just what I am asking myself. This cycle continues for another half hour until I finally give up and go play. It's funny how such little people can have such big determination.

We move to the living room, and we both get in the floor. It's now close to 2:00 in the morning and I'm sitting in the floor sending tiny racecars down a little red racetrack. I'm trying my best not to wish for the sleep I'm missing, but it's hard. I'm trying to be grateful for these moments, just me and my boy, but right now all I can think about is the fact that I have to get up in three hours and be all I can be for both my son and the multitude of students that file in and out of my classroom each day.

It's in this moment that I'm most thankful for my baby. It sounds crazy, but it's in the most difficult moments in parenting my healthy, predictable son that I'm most thankful to God for the blessing of being his mother. It's in the struggle that I see how blessed I truly am. Now, I'm not trying to win any awards for being the perfect mother here, I'm just wanting to share my heart. I'm also not in any way saying that it's easier to be thankful for your child when you don't have extraordinary circumstances in raising him. I'm just reflecting on the way God has spoken to me recently.

When all I want to do is sleep but my baby has other plans, I'm thinking of all the mothers who are losing sleep praying for their sick children and hoping that their babies can hold on through one more day. When all I want to do is eat my meal without being interrupted but my baby wants to be held, I'm thinking about all the mothers who never got to hold their angel baby or the mothers who have had to hold their baby knowing that it would be the very last time. When I'm tired in the afternoons after work and all I want is a nap but my sweet boy wants to go outside to play, I'm thinking of all the babies who are stuck in hospital rooms  whose parents would give everything they had to be able to take their healthy child outside to play.

I've had my eyes opened recently. In the past week I've seen a mother to three small children who has been given more hardship than I could ever imagine face the reality that she may lose one of her precious children to cancer, yet she remains graceful and unshakeably faithful. She has been and continues to be a wonderful example for Christian mothers and Christians in general to follow. I've heard the story of a pregnant woman who has been told that the first time she'll get to hold her precious baby will also be the last yet she remains faithful in her walk. I've been introduced to a mother who has had to bury her teenage son after a year long battle with a childhood cancer yet she continues to glorify God, including in her attempts to help other mothers and families cope with the loss of a child. 

It's humbling, really. Here I am dreading that little voice calling 'ma-ma' in the night because I know it means no more sleep while there are so many mothers in this world who would give everything they have to be in my situation right now. My 'struggles' are so trivial in light of everything that is happening in the world around me, yet here I am pitying myself over a couple of lost hours of sleep. 

I'm certain that this is The Holy Spirit speaking directly to me, and I'm listening. I'm humbled. I'm blessed. No matter what circumstances we're given, God is in control. 

1 Thessalonians 5:18

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

The weight of our words

When did it become acceptable to say what we think all the time? With the growth of social media and using the written...er, typed?..word, came the uncontrollable urge to voice our opinions to the masses. That attitude has spilled over into our everyday lives too. I've become too open with my opinions lately, so I'm not blame free. I've had my eyes opened recently as to some of the ways our words can affect the people around us, and I've decided to make an effort to be more thoughtful in what I say.

Your words hurt. You may or may not intend for your words hurt someone, but they do. Everyone you meet on a daily basis is carrying a load. Some people carry a light load. Some people carry more that you can imagine. Depending on the personalities of these people, you may know everything that has ever happened to them or you may know absolutely nothing. Social media allows us to voice our opinion to all of these people at once, but oftentimes that is more of a curse than a blessing. While you're only thinking about your close knit group of friends and maybe a few acquaintances, you're actually sharing your thoughts with hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Most of us would be extremely nervous if we had to actually speak in front of a group. Some of us would probably be unable to speak at all, but we're not as timid when it comes to the written word. Sometimes we should be timid. When the words we want to say are damaging, we should be more apprehensive to say them.

When you shout to masses on social media that you are tired of being pregnant and you wish this baby would come out already, you are trampling all over any woman who has ever had a miscarriage. You may not ever even think about it, but I bet their angel baby was the first thing they thought of when they read your status. It probably even made them tear up a little thinking about how bad they wished they could have made it to that point. It might have even made them angry that you aren't more appreciative of the fact that you are blessed with a healthy, uneventful pregnancy. I'm sure the women that I see updating us on their uncomfortable state of pregnancy never meant to upset anyone with their status, but that doesn't change the fact that they did.

When you tell the parents of a child with cancer that the hospital is all she's ever known, you might as well be telling them that their child's life is being wasted. They know better. They know that their little girl knows love, she knows fun, she knows vacations, she knows laughter. You may not know it, but she knows so much more than the fear, pain, and uncertainty surrounding her diagnosis. I'm sure the lady who was pitying this little girl and her parents only meant well by saying those things, but that doesn't change the fact that her statement did nothing but annoy and maybe even anger that sweet girl's parents.

The words you say are heavier in someone's ears as they were coming out of your mouth. People are flippant with words. I'm the world's worst to say something that I don't think matters when in reality my words are hitting someone like a ton of bricks. I told a friend the other day that I had a dream that 'she went and got all skinny on me.' I thought nothing of the words when I said them, but they hurt her. What she heard was "Thank God you're still fat", but that was nowhere near my intentions. I let those words fly right out of my mouth as light as a feather without ever realizing their weight until I heard her cry when she finally decided to explain how bad I had hurt her.

When I told a friend that I was having a baby and went on and on about how easy it was for us to get pregnant, I had no idea that I was practically ripping her heart out. I had no idea that she had tried for years to get pregnant and been through multiple fertility treatments. I never even thought twice about it, but she was well aware of her infertility the entire time I was telling her how easy it was for me to get pregnant. Only when she finally became pregnant did she tell me why it was so difficult for her to be happy for me when I told her about my pregnancy. I was just excited about my news and I wanted to share it with a friend, but that doesn't change how my attitude about my news made her feel.

When you've said it, you can't un-say it. You can apologize, but those you've hurt still remember what you've said. They may forgive you, but it's too hard to forget. While your relationship with that person may continue past hurt feelings, he or she will always have those words in the back of their mind. The outcome is even worse on social media. You seldom to never see your 'friends' or 'followers', so the majority of their opinion of you is formed from their interaction with you via social media. It takes one, just one, post to compel people to delete you. I know because I wrote a status update on Facebook about a year ago along the lines of this blogpost, and I lost 'friends' over it.

Not everyone cares about your opinion. Actually, most people who haven't asked for it don't care about what you think. However, if you believe in what you're going to say with all of your heart, by all means you get your opinion out there. I mean, hello! I'm writing a blog. Of course I think you should share your thoughts with anyone that will listen, but I just think that we should concentrate on sharing constructive ideas and opinions.

I'm all for free speech, but can we please just think before we speak sometimes? I'm not naive enough to think that we can always think about everyone's feelings. I just think it would make for a happier world of we thought about the weight of our words before we speak. I try to teach my students to think about their words; if what they want to say isn't thoughtful, kind, and necessary, I tell them that it's be better not to say it. I admit my efforts are often futile, but I try. I'm also trying make an effort to be more thoughtful in the words I speak because I never know how they'll affect someone. 

While this may fall on lots of deaf ears and many people that I share this with probably won't take the time of day to read it, I hope that it may reach just one person who will join me. Before you click post, read your words from someone else's perspective. Before you open your mouth, really think about what you're going to say.

Thank you so much for reading. Please share your opinions and comments with me! 

Why you should start putting butter in your coffee.

It sounds crazy right? Butter. In your coffee. I'm not making it up though. It's a thing, and it's a pretty good thing, too.

I was exploring Pinterest, like I do on a day to day basis, and a pin about buttered coffee caught my eye. Maybe it was the word 'butter'. Maybe it was the word 'coffee'. I have a love affair with both, so either way it got my attention.

My initial reaction was one of disgust. I mean, coffee and butter. No. Stop it. But, I was interested. I investigated further and realized there were plenty of people who put butter in their coffee. Plenty of health conscious fitness freaks. There is whole brand behind it actually. The Bulletproof brand, created by Dave Asprey, is centered around a drink he calls Bulletproof Coffee. Most of the people that had chronicled their buttered coffee journeys in blogs were Paleo or on some other form of red meat loving diet. This came as no surprise, you have to have that kind of mindset to chug a cup or two of hot liquid with about two hundred calories of straight fat melted into it. Sounds delish, huh? Stay with me here. It's definitely a little bit difficult to wrap your head around, but it really is good. And surprisingly, it makes you feel good. I've been drinking it every day for the past week, and I'm not stopping anytime soon.

It really needs to be blended. It looks gross if you don't.

There are tons of proposed health benefits from drinking this stuff. I'm not convinced about some of them, but I can attest to the increased energy claim. It really does give you sustained energy and mental sharpness. Think six hour coffee buzz. At first, I was sure it was just the placebo effect, but it proved itself when J decided to wake up at 3:30 a.m. two mornings in a row. I definitely needed a pick-me-up, and that coffee delivered. I felt great all day long, all week long.

It's also supposed to reduce cravings throughout the day. You know how eating a high-fat meal makes you feel full for hours afterward? It's the same concept. I'm not a Biology teacher or a nutritionist, so if you want the science lesson behind it click here. I can, however, confirm that it does nip those cravings in the bud. You really do feel full after drinking it. It is meant to be a meal replacement drink, but I felt so full that I couldn't eat breakfast if I'd wanted to. When break time rolled around, I just stayed in my classroom and kept working. No cravings + extra energy = finished 'to-do' list. I'm a big afternoon snacker, but I didn't even have those cravings when I had my buttered coffee. Miracle coffee? Not in the least, but I'll take these side-effects any day. 

I've read that this coffee is supposed to also teach your body how to burn fat more efficiently, but I can neither confirm or deny this claim. I will say that I have lost five pounds in the past two weeks without any effort on my part. The only thing I have changed is my coffee. But, that means nothing. My weight fluctuates by a few pounds all the time. I'm going to need to see a bigger change to corroborate any weight loss claims.

So now that you know some of the benefits, let's talk about the recipe. This is my recipe. I'm sure I'm not doing this according to anyone else's recipe and it's probably why I am not seeing any weight loss benefits. But, it's how I like it, so yeah. Take that Bulletproof Guy.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups high-quality coffee
• 2 tbsp butter from a grass-fed cow.*
• 1 tbsp MCT oil...I use coconut oil**
• 1 tbsp honey
• A little cinnamon
• A dash of vanilla extract

*The butter must be from a grass-fed cow. This butter has more vitamins and nutrients, and that's part of what causes the sustained energy.

**the MCT/coconut oil is optional. I like it, but G says its gross. To each his own.

*You can buy the actual Bulletproof coffee kit here: Upgradedª Bulletproof Coffee Kit

Waiting on the coffee. Do you see that pink stain on my counter...oops.

Directions:

Brew your coffee normally. I brew mine a little stronger, but do it how you like it. Combine butter, coconut oil, vanilla, honey, and cinnamon in your blender. I use my Magic Bullet for convenience, but I'm sure you could use a blender or stick blender. Pour about two cups of coffee over the other ingredients and blend until it's the color of a latte. Enjoy! 

If you like sugary coffee, this is so not for you. It is only mildly sweet and super-rich, especially if you add in the coconut oil. I suggest that you drink it hot (just because I can't imagine drinking it cold), but I have found a recipe for Iced Buttered Coffee.

Now, go throw some coffee and butter in a blender and try it for yourself. What have you got to lose?

Let me know how you like it!