Tag: relationships

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Navigating our way to a happy marriage

sailing-ship

“A successful marriage is like an elegant ship sailing through the waters and storms of life. The problem with all ships is that they get barnacles, ugly little unseen monsters that attach themselves to the bottom of the boat. Soon the vessel is stuck dead in the water-like the marriage that is going nowhere as the partners peacefully coexist. Little things, like the irritations of misunderstanding that come with wrong expectations, build up.”-Hans Finzel

 

My marriage is my most favorite expedition yet … and no one gave me a compass.

Fernando and I are often teased about our constant state of “being in love”. We don’t apologize, instead we accept it as the compliment that it is. Having both come from broken homes and given our life circumstances, it’s a small miracle that we’ve done as well as we have. But it didn’t come without a ton of hard work, sacrifice and forgiveness; no happy marriage does. Still, it can at times feel awkward with so many of our close friends’ marriages ending in divorce and still others who continue to look for their perfect match.

I’ve eluded before to the fact that the success of our relationship, while certainly a product of hard work, is also due in-part to sheer good luck. And I still maintain that stance. You might call it God’s grace and I’ll say the universe cut us a break; but sometimes science and psychology simply can’t explain why a particular circumstance was met with so much success, while others, who have what seems to be the perfect sailing conditions, end up shipwrecked. The sea of life is full of so many obstacles and weather conditions and each brings unique challenges that couples must navigate. Sometimes, despite a couple doing everything right, there are just too many stressors or differences for the marital vessel to stay afloat. With so many factors that may influence a relationship, it is impossible to truly predict its long-term success … even my own.

Nevertheless, I do believe that given the right mate – hard work, true grit, and a selfless heart are the most vital components to any marriage. And that age, money and even shared interests have much less to do with it. My husband and I have a significant age difference, grew up on different continents, in different generations and started our relationship with nothing-not even an air mattress. Be it luck, hard work or mere compatibility, the man I fell in love with fifteen years ago still very much holds my heart and he still calls me his “Queen”. We are an unlikely match who have managed to not only keep our marriage alive but to stay ridiculously in love doing it. And that is the measure of a marriage’s success … it’s not merely staying together. What good is a marriage if you’re simply tolerating one another? Life is too short to spend with the wrong person, but a marriage is certainly worth fighting for.

So I thought I’d take the opportunity to share the things that I have noticed have helped us to remain successful in our marriage. Many of these things seem to be missing in other relationships that I have seen fail, but it doesn’t account for all of them and it certainly doesn’t account for the sheer good luck that we’ve had. It’s not a simple formula or the end-all-be-all … there’s no such thing! It’s not the viral internet list that says “Never go to bed angry” and “Always kiss good night.” It’s not about how you met or the silly little rules girls in particular try to make (like “If he doesn’t propose in two years, he never will.”). Love is just not that simple. Instead, I’m sharing what I believe has helped us to not only stay afloat but to sail the rough waters of life in unison, with humor, grace and strength.

 

⇒ Take your time saying, “I do”. Fernando and I caught a lot of flack that we had been together for five years and had two children before we finally took the plunge. And certainly, other couples with a much shorter history have been beautifully successful. However, my stance is and always has been – if a person is your soul mate today, then they’ll be your soul mate in five years. Waiting for marriage won’t change that. But, if a person is deceiving you, time will usually reveal this. Allow your relationship to have that time.

Marriage is a life-long commitment. We took that commitment very seriously. Which meant waiting until we had no doubt about our decision. And by the time Fernando and I said our vows, we knew exactly who we were committing too. Making that final commitment too soon could be a painful and expensive mistake. Most of the marriages that I have seen fail, have been ones that were rushed into. Be it pressure from life circumstances, a pregnancy or simply youthful eagerness to take the next step … had they taken their time, they would have seen the fatal habits and character traits that ultimately led to the marriage’s demise. It’s a promise of a lifetime … don’t rush it.

⇑ Aside from time together, conquering life’s challenges and stressors together is another “must-do” before marriage. I’ve known couples who courted for 2 years and went to take the next step and it was a disaster. Why? Because in those 2 years they never took on any challenges together. They each lived in their own homes, their finances were stable, nobody close to them died, the seas of their lives were calm. And then suddenly, the waves started rolling in and the person they thought they knew, was someone else entirely. Stress does that to you. The five years that Fernando and I spent prior to our marriage were filled with so many challenges that by the time we said “I do”, there was no question who we were marrying. Divorce, death, poor finances, an unplanned pregnancy, working four jobs and going to school … we knew that if we could survive all of that … we could survive just about anything. You can’t plan for misfortune; but I’d be extra cautious if I was making a life commitment to someone who I’d never seen under high stress. Again, take your time!

⇐ Just like you’d never embark on a journey without studying the waters that you are about to sail upon, we too must study our partners. Take every opportunity to know them and understand them. When you understand someone, you can better attend to their needs and provide for them. My husband isn’t a talker. When he is upset, he wants to be left alone and likes to process his problems quietly before he cares to share them with me. I on the other hand, want to talk about my issues ad nauseam. This took some learning on both our parts. He had to learn how to be a listener and I had to learn how to leave him alone when he came home upset. Had we not taken the time to study one another, we might have assumed that each one processed our stress the same and we would have been grossly unsuccessful in supporting one another.

⇓ When you embark on the journey of marriage, you are co-captains. I am no one’s first mate. Together, we navigate and explore and build. If I submit to him, it is because he made the better call and on another day it will be him submitting to me because I had a better view. We are both equally responsible for the condition and path of our ship. The old-fashioned idea of “my husband is the head of the household” is often times used as a cop-out to blame him for his failings and to avoid conflict and responsibility. If my husband is making the wrong call, it is my obligation to speak up and fight for what is best. I will not let him make a fool of himself or do detriment to our family. And he too, is equally obligated to respectfully inform me when I am out-of-line.

⇒ Being co-captains means that our obligations lie in one another. As a result, some of our other relationships will suffer. It’s an unfortunate but inevitable price that a good marriage has to pay. Fernando is my best friend. And I have best girlfriends too. However, I have a lot less friends than I used to. Most of our friends are other couples and I have even fewer single friends and male friends. This is the opposite of what I had when I was single. I always hung with the guys and rarely hung-out with any couples. But now that I have a marriage to protect, the relationships I choose to hold onto must also cherish my marriage. I cannot engage in any relationship that would pose a threat to us. And so my best girlfriends are the ones who fight as hard for my marriage as I do. They’re the ones that remind me how wonderful my husband is and tell me to “take it easy” when I’m pissed off and come to them to vent. They’ll never be the ones that say, “Forget him, come drinking with us”. And my guy friends must also be good friends with my husband. If at any point one of us says, “I’m not comfortable with you hanging out with that person,” we are both obligated to comply; lest our marriage pay the price. It feels tragic at times, the relationships that have fallen by the wayside … but in order for your partner to be your number one, I think its inevitable to lose others. Being married has made me “picky” in a way that I never was before. I have a treasure that I must protect and only those who have gained both our trust are privy to it.

⇓ Marriage, like parenthood, isn’t for the selfish. It means putting another person before yourself. It means swabbing the deck and sending your partner for a well needed nap. It means preparing the dish that they like, exploring the places that they wish to see, and loving them the way they liked to be loved. And if the marriage is balanced, the other person does the same. My husband once told a friend of his, “I don’t worry about myself, all I worry about is Amanda. And I know that I’ll be fine, because it’s Amanda’s job to worry about me. All I have to do is love her the best that I can. She’ll love me in return.”

Sure, we all need to indulge ourselves here and there … a pedicure, our favorite snack. “Me” time is important and a sense of “self” and accomplishment is certainly a necessary component in life. One can not lose themselves completely in an effort to serve others. Having a profession or a hobby that provides a sense of pride and accomplishment fuels self-satisfaction which in turn fuels the relationship. But I believe that if we’ve picked the right person and we put our efforts into loving them, then we will need to do very little for ourselves; because our partner will see all that we have done for them and they will be eager to love and support us in return. If they don’t, then they aren’t the right partner. You don’t have to be compatible in all things … you have to be selfless.

⇑ And being selfless means sacrifice. It’s a leap of faith. It means doing things that make us uncomfortable because it is good for our partner and trusting that they will do the same. It means attending someone else’s work events, following through with a request even when we’re really freaking tired and giving up that thing that we’ve been saving for because another expense came up that is more important to “us”. It means working really hard for a long time and maybe not seeing results yet, but continuing to work. It means giving up your night-out with the boys because your wife is sick and overwhelmed (not because she told you not to go). And it means telling your husband to go, even when you’d rather have him home, because you know he deserves it and you can handle it.

We’ve all seen that marriage that ended because someone had an excessive buying habit for things that they enjoyed. And we’ve also seen those couples who’s spouse bought them their dream car after 25 years of wishing, because they knew that they’d never buy it for themselves. Which couple understood selfless love and sacrifice? And which couple suffered from selfish indulgence?

⇐ Along with selflessness and sacrifice comes another point that I feel very strongly about. As marriage partners, we should make every effort to say “Yes” to our partners requests – so long as it is not to the detriment of our self, our home or our family. Guys, that means letting her have a night-out with her girlfriends, so long as those girlfriends are not a disrespect to the marriage. Men need to understand the value of female camaraderie. Ladies, that means giving him sex when he asks for it … and enjoying it! Convince yourself that you’re a high paid escort if you must, but play the part. It’s simple. Keep one another happy and the marriage stays happy.

⇑ If you don’t do constant maintenance, your ship is gonna spring a leak. I think a lot of people, make the commitment and think “That’s it!” They’ve found their person and they no longer need to go through the tedious work of courting anymore. They stop suppressing their bad habits, stop wearing make-up, stop opening doors and bringing home flowers. The routine of the everyday creeps in and frozen meals replace the home cooked ones that we used to make to impress. We all get comfortable … and we should, to a degree. We shouldn’t be marrying someone who we can’t be ourselves with. And let’s be honest, we all put on a few pounds post nuptials! But we should never stop trying to impress.

Burps and farts, while an understandable part of life are still gross, even when you’re married. For the benefit of your partner, you don’t need to belt them out. And date nights are a-must, even if it’s a date night at home. Find a way to make it special. Open a bottle of wine, bring home a fancy dessert, cook a favorite meal, put on a clean shirt. Make-up, a sexy dress and some stilettos gets my husband fired up every time. And when he holds me by the small of my back and opens the car door or pours me a glass of wine without me asking … I swoon all over again.

Your viewpoint going into a marriage shouldn’t be “Shewww … now I got ‘em … now I can relax.” Or worse yet, “He/She’s lucky to have me.” It should be “How lucky I am to have this gift, how can I be sure to have it always?” Not a day of my marriage goes by that I think I am immune to its failure. There are women prettier than me, smarter than me, and kinder than me and if I thought for a second that someone wouldn’t scoop my husband up if given the opportunity, I’d be fooling myself. Possessiveness and jealousy aren’t the solution. Everyday I must strive to be the best partner for him so that his eyes never feel the desire to wander. And, if they did, if he strayed and left me anyway… he could never say that it was me, the marriage would end on my clear conscience because I gave him everything that I could.

⇐ Sticks and stones can break my bones and words can ruin a marriage. No one respects a captain who doesn’t respect his first hand. I know a few couples who would argue this point but I’m going to maintain my stance. Your spouse is to be cherished and your words should reflect that. Even if you think it’s being done in good fun, the moment you begin to disrespect one another through your word choice, is the moment your marriage begins to crumble. It may crumble very, very slowly but it inevitably will crumble. And if you manage to stay afloat anyway, congratulations! You just taught your children how to tolerate someone disrespecting them. Words can build-up or tear down. You can’t call names. You can’t tell one another to “Shut up”. You can’t make false accusations. We all have our moments and we are all human, but there must be a conscious effort to exclude these things from our homes. They’re toxic. All great feats are won by compromise and reasonable discussion, not screaming and name calling.

This was a skill that I had to learn, as my upbringing modeled all of these negative behaviors. And it required that I learn how to de-escalate and calm down before I could talk about something. It was Fernando who taught me that. Sometimes, that meant that I had to go to bed angry and once in a blue moon it meant that I had to take a drive. But when I returned, or in the morning, after some sleep and some time to process, we could reasonably talk-things-out without using hurtful words and saying things that we didn’t mean. The “I feel”s and the “I am concerned because” make for much more effective conflict resolution than the “You always” and the “F**k you”s. And it doesn’t take an expensive therapist to learn this skill either. While paid therapy is sometimes necessary and is certainly a viable option; a good couples book, the desire to improve and continual practice are oftentimes all you need to learn healthy communication.

⇑ Unlike toxic words, humor is the salve to most things. Not hurtful humor, not selfish humor or inappropriate and untimely humor … but a simple ability to laugh at ourselves when life flops a big ‘ol cod up on our deck or we find ourselves accidentally standing on the sail ropes. Mistakes happen, life happens and it helps if we don’t take them too seriously. The best couples are the ones who laugh together!

And in my bag of marriage tricks, one trick that I think few people utilize, and it works like a charm, is complimenting your partner in the presence of others. Try it! Their head will swell and they will love you for it!

 

I don’t know what the seas up-ahead have in-store for us. And I don’t know how long life will allow me to have a co-captain. But as long as he’s here, my hands will be next to his on our ship’s wheel. And together, we will fight the angry waves that come. We’ll shift our sails when the winds dictate a change in course. And we will continue to look onward towards our next adventure and our newest discovery. And with some grit and good luck, we’ll do it with grace and confidence and humor. Our course is endless and our love is our compass. The universe gave me a sailing partner and with him, I’m having the expedition of a lifetime!

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Who Saved Who? Lessons learned from a not-so-perfect dog rescue.

“Who saved who?”….

I’ve seen the bumper sticker with the paw print and the sentimental saying and I appreciate it for it’s worth. I’ve seen first hand the bond between cats and dogs and their lonely owners. Animal rescues hold the potential to save many lives, tortured by solitude. Scientific studies have shown the benefit of animal camaraderie on mental health. And so, this truth doesn’t weigh lightly on my mind. I’ve always loved animals. Fortunately for me though, they are less of a “need” and more of a “luxurious addition”.

A nurse who works full-time and blogs, two kids for whom schooling is a challenge and activity is a constant desire, and a husband who puts his all into providing for his family and yet is constantly trying to keep up with all their shenanigans …. No one here needed animals to keep them company. And yet there’s a zoo here:

The 9-year-old rescue dog who’s perfect, except for her propensity to sneak out of the yard and go hunting … only to come home smelling like death. The cat who will piss in the laundry basket if you don’t keep her litter box clean. The rabbit who loves more than anything to pull her hay out of the box and toss it through the slated cage all over the floor,  if her 13-year-old owner doesn’t exercise her enough. The algae- eating fish who doesn’t do his job and the snake who thank god … completely minds his own business, if only his 10-year-old owner would just remember to feed him on time! Oh yeah, and the frogs who need live crickets, which we toss in a powdered vitamin supplement just prior to feeding.

So, were we looking for a second dog? Haha funny. But she came to us … without tags or a direction home. My intention was only to find her owner, but when no one came forward, we grew by another 4 paws. We made it official on Facebook and sealed the deal to ‘commit’ by forking over the money to vaccinate, chip and spay her.

A new collar, matching bowls and freshly inscribed tags made it feel like a fairy tale ending. Only it wasn’t quite that magical…..

You see … after about a month and a spay that unfortunately ended an unknown pregnancy. Our sweet little rescue began to exhibit some undesirable behaviors and they took a toll on our family. She became aggressive and territorial. She obsessed about her sleep place and gathered cat toys as if they were her pups, defending them with vigor. Not to mention her constant barking became almost unbearable. It took a major toll on my day sleeping and an even bigger toll on my marriage. While I have an unrelenting affinity for saving lost creatures, my husband has a much easier time saying “Enough is enough”. I bought her some more time by explaining that her hormones were raging and her animal instincts were confused; But when she snapped at my husband as he tried to remove her from my bed, I knew her days were numbered if I didn’t take action soon.

Armed with the internet, an understanding vet and an undying desire to make this situation work, I took every feasible action I could. Daily walks, obedience training and a no-nonsense approach to her every behavior and household possessions became rote. I learned that it was my job to teach her that everything belonged to me and that she only gained access to them if I allowed it. Walks and playing fetch helped her to burn excessive energy and structure gave her expectations. This decreased her anxiety and increased her respect for us as humans. Within a week, I had a new dog. Within a month, we began to build trust again.

“You did such a good thing rescuing her!”, they said. “You saved her!” and for a minute I believed all the hype. It’s true! I didn’t need or really, for a minute, even want a second dog. But I saved her anyway. I’m kind of a hero 🙂

But every hero needs a little saving himself. And the truth is … she saved me too – not from loneliness and not because I needed fulfillment in my life. That’s important … but I get that through home and work. She saved me because she taught me what I had forgotten that I needed. She reminded me.

She reminded me that I needed to get outside for fresh air and exercise. Sunshine and burning off energy is good for dogs and humans. I needed those walks and sunshine more than I ever realized. I had become lazy with my older dog, merely opening the back door to let her out into the fenced yard. She’s loving the walks now too!

She reminded me that yelling accomplishes nothing and that calm assertive energy is effective. I’m a Mom…why did a dog have to remind me of that?!

She reminded me to be patient. Change doesn’t happen with one treat or one command but gradually over time and with repeated efforts.

She reminded me to be consistent. One of the fastest ways to sabotage your own efforts, in any relationship, is through a lack of consistency.

She reminded me that loving isn’t spoiling but learned respect and earned privileges followed by praise and affection .

She reminded me that when things are hard and the people you love the most are ready to give up – that’s when you work the hardest. And you don’t ever give up until you’ve exhausted all options.

If the dog hadn’t learned. If she had bitten someone or posed a true threat to my family’s safety – she would have had to find a new home. And I would have had to accept the possibility that she could be put down as a result of her age and aggressive signs. No doubt about it … my family comes first! But I’m glad she did learn and I’m glad I did too.

It’s been almost 5 months since Pinkie came into our lives and into our home. She’s not perfect ….. but neither am I. We’re both a little anxious, can be mouthy and loud, have lots of energy and need a ton of physical affection. She has grown by leaps and bounds but it will take much more time before she has gained full trust in all things. Still, we both worked hard to make the relationship work and it paid off. She’s the perfect snuggle-buddy for my kids, the perfect guard dog for the house and she has befriended all of the household creatures beautifully … including my husband.

Through hard work, commitment and patience ……. another soul, another pup … was saved.

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Birthing and Life’ing Un-medicated or not

birthAs a labor and delivery nurse, you can imagine I do a lot of educating. Childbirth, whether you’re a first-timer or an old veteran, can differ with each baby and so the questions that are asked, differ too. I like educating. I like helping. I like being able to offer assurance and answer questions whenever the situation allows me. I like being able to use my own experience to help my laboring families.

But there is one question that I just hate getting asked. The question that inevitably rears its ugly head every so often and I dread answering every time is – “Did you get an epidural?”… And the reason I hate it so much is because 9 times out of 10 it’s a conflicted woman in agony who’s asking me. And the decision to treat one day of pain holds way too much weight in the world. My labor doesn’t matter right now… today is your day! Depending on the patient and the circumstance … my answer varies.

The truth is, No, I didn’t get an epidural … or any pain medication for that matter. And yes, even more ridiculously, I planned it that way. Why? I really don’t have a good answer. The best I can come up with is that I have control issues, LOL. Not having control over the lower half of my body or being aware of my every stage of labor was unsettling to me. Weird, I know. I also come from a family of strong women who also birthed un-medicated and that’s what I was brought-up to expect. Epidurals are safe, they don’t drug your baby and they seem lovely. Ninety-five percent of my patients get them and a mere fraction-of-a-percent experience any complications from them. In short, it’s a great option that I simply decided not to take.

If I admit to birthing un-medicated the next question I get is, “How did you do it?” And my response is always, “Anyone can do it”. We all have the capability of withstanding that level of pain. It’s much more a matter of whether or not you can maintain self-control AND whether or not you want to. I often times tell my patients “This is your day. This is a story you will tell for the rest of your life. Make it a good one!” I had a wonderful experience birthing my children un-medicated. Some women who go un-medicated hate it, are out-of-control and feel traumatized. They should’ve gotten epidurals …. because plenty of women do and have great stories to tell. There is no absolute truth when it comes to pain management in childbirth. Every woman, every baby, every labor is different.

But how really did I do it? Well, first, let me say I had good labors. I make small babies. I have a high pain tolerance and I had a wonderful support system. And luck of course …every good outcome always has a smidgen of good luck! From very early on in my pregnancy, I committed to the idea that an epidural wasn’t available. However, I also understood that if at any time my baby or my labor decided to take a different path that my plan would have to be re-negotiated. An openness to change translates to an openness of the mind and body. Close-minded people never labor well – twelve years of experience and I can tell you that for sure!

Now if you want the specifics, I don’t carry any magic advice. I took each contraction, one at a time. I didn’t think about the contraction that would come or the contraction that had passed. When the contraction started, I started to breath. Every other second I had to remind myself to relax my muscles and every next second, my muscles were tense and I had to relax them again. None of the breathing techniques I practiced worked for me so I did my own thing. And the shower was a god-send. Don’t believe me, research water-therapy in labor. There’s science behind it and it allowed me to keep going for the last leg of my labor.

I hardly have any visual memories of my labor. I was so entranced in my own state that an occasional peek at Fernando or the labor room is about all that I remember visually,  of my labor. But what I do remember very clearly, is being inside my own head. I remember the exhaustion. I remember starting to cry when another contraction started before the last even seemed to finish. I remember there was an absence of thought and time. I think that if for even a moment, I wondered how much longer I had to labor or how much worse it could get… I would’ve lost it. The resiliency of my youth, a functional labor, uncomplicated pregnancies and my genetic predisposition to be a strong, determined female was certainly on my side as well.

And when it came time for delivery, I remember that it was the most physically and emotionally intense moment of my life. If at any point in your life, other than childbirth, you experience that level of pain, I assure you, something is terribly wrong. And yet, with childbirth, everything is terribly right. It feels as though your hip bones are breaking, your bowels are being removed and your vaginal tissue is splitting in half. And just when the intensity of your pain can’t get any higher… it falls away and you are handed the most beautiful, wonderful creature you’ve ever seen. The universe holds you on a pedestal while you are enraptured by the squirming, wet creation on your chest. And you will know no greater love.

No matter the woman, no matter the story, birth stories always get retold, over and over again. It’s a story that leaves such an indelible mark, that we can’t help but to re-tell it. And given the job title I carry, I suppose I probably recall my own story a little more often than the average. And once you start to recall it, it’s like opening the flood gates. A barrage of memories and emotions saturate you all over again as you recall the moment you met your child face to face.

Often times the details you remember are random and disorganized. For my first delivery, I can’t recall the hour she was born, but I can tell you what Fernando was wearing. For my second, I can’t remember a word the midwife said, but I can remember my oldest child’s face as she watched me deliver her brother. And one silly detail I remember, is remarking to my family, after my first delivery, “Well at least the hard part is over”. And they laughed at me. I think they’re still laughing …. or at least pathetically shaking their heads.  LOL

Anyone who has raised a child, especially a teenager, knows exactly why they laughed. Because it’s not childbirth that poses the biggest challenge. It’s raising them. Many have the days been, where I’ve wished I could get back in that bed and just breath. I’ve cried, hoping that relaxation and practice would make it all better. And I’m still working on taking things one moment at a time and not thinking ahead or dwelling on the past. The causes and treatments for physical pain are, for the most part, so simple, so easy to treat. And yet the angst that comes with raising children is so much deeper, so much more complicated, so much more painful.

And so, while only some of us are called to labor and deliver our children at their birth, we are all called to raise them. And life’ing, parenting, adult’ing …. that’s the real challenge. We have baby showers to welcome new arrivals. Delivery rooms are often times packed with family and friends celebrating the newest addition. Everyone is eager to help and to hold the newest bundle. Childbirth classes are advertised in every OB office. But where is all the support and the help when that cute little baby grows and the challenges grow with it? You feel like a goddess the day you deliver and a few years down the road you’re a haggardly maiden just trying to find some clean clothes to wear.

As I raise a teenager and two strong-willed children, I look back on my labors for help and perspective. I remember when my first labor started. I was scared. Those contractions that I prayed for, hurt. It was the distraction and companionship of my female support system that occupied my thoughts and dulled that pain. Pain is easier to bear when you have good company and someone to make you laugh. Don’t be afraid to call someone when you need that distraction or companionship again …. but be careful who you call. You don’t want drama. You don’t want questions. You don’t want spectators. You want a movie date, a foot massage, a quiet conversation, or even better, a kind heart to confide in.

When the pain became too much to ignore despite my company, my strongest supporters became evident. Only those who love you most will lie in bed and rub your back for hours, will hold your puke bucket, will be present at any hour, will hold your hand when you are at your worst. Not a word of criticism or unsolicited advise but the gentle words of “You got this…keep breathing” and the rhythmic stroking on your back, that is support. Remember those people … they’re the ones to call when life hands you a shit storm.

When its time to seek help, know when to go and who to trust. Know who to listen to when they say, “It’s time to go now.” The best labor in the world, the best life in the world, can end tragically if you don’t know when to go for help. Don’t be so arrogant or close-minded that those whom you love the most suffer because you didn’t call for help. Listen to those that matter and ignore the anxious and nosy busy-bodies. They are the drama you don’t need.

Use all the tools they give you. In labor- it’s positions, and water and yes, even pain medicine, if you need it. In life, it’s counting to ten and relaxation and walking away so you don’t lose your shit. It’s discipline techniques and advise from those who have treaded those heavy waters before you. It’s wine and talk therapy with your BFF when you think you can’t handle another thing. It’s an emergency text- “Are you available to talk”? It’s free babysitting so you and your partner can go out for a much-needed break. It’s a dinner or a hug or a simple … “You’ve got this” that keeps us going through the lifelong labor of parenting.

While an epidural is a suitable option for women who choose not to labor un-medicated, the same pain-blocking options aren’t available for parenting. You can’t numb yourself from the rigors of raising children (and those who try to, fail miserably) the way an epidural numbs your lower half from contractions.

In short, get the damn epidural if you want it – because there’s no epidural for raising children.

If you didn’t get the epidural, remember the moment when the baby was crowning and you thought for sure that you were probably dying. Remember that you didn’t die. Instead, when you reached the point when you hurt so bad you could hardly breathe and you thought you were either going to explode or pass out, the pain subsided and you were handed the most beautiful thing you ever saw. Parenting too, will yield much pain … but the pain will one day subside and it will lead you to new moments of beauty. And the gifts you receive, once cute outfits and toys, will become richer by the day – patience, empathy, understanding …. and my favorite, humility.

“Oh, you went un-medicated!? How was it?”

It was the hardest, most painful, most exhausting thing I’ve ever done … and it was also the coolest and most rewarding.

That’s my inside answer …. for labor and life raising kids.

I’ll grab you a cool wash-cloth and you grab me some soothing music and together we’ll tackle this thing … one contraction, one day at a time.

Labor, un-medicated or not, is a matter of the mind and body. Life, on the other hand, takes your soul and is a far greater hurdle to clear. Build your support system with a stable base, accept help when it’s offered, learn to rest and appreciate the breaks in-between, remember that everything is temporary and …. stop stressing about a stupid epidural injection.

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Toads and Princes


He was tall and oh so handsome. His chiseled face could’ve been on the front of GQ. He was charismatic and knew what to say and when. He was a psych major who switched paths to Physical Therapy and transferred down to my home city from Rutgers, his 4th year now. I was a freshman who knew I wanted to be a nurse and that was about all I knew.

……………. I had been hanging on by a thread. If my high school counselor hadn't seen the light inside of me… my college applications never would have been filled-out, much less sent. My waitressing tips paid for the application fees. I was an honors and AP student who never took the AP exams to get the college credit. That was classic me… doing the work… rarely stopping to get the credit. Searching for happiness, all I really wanted to do was run away. I paid my own way to travel out-of-state to visit schools with a friend over my senior year spring-break . Then I applied to all out-of-state schools, determined to get out of my home state. With only one fall back/“just in case”-in-state university, I was going to prove to everyone that I could do it. I could take care of myself … I had been, for a long time.
Flying by the seat of my pants, the only adult overseer to my college application process was my guidance counselor and we missed the housing application deadline. Without on-campus housing, I had no place to go. Even private housing needed a parent’s co-sign… and that wasn’t going to happen. All I wanted was to have something to show for myself. The girl who rose from dysfunction and blossomed into a happy, successful, professional. A Cinderella story without the prince, just the success. That’s what I wanted. And yet here I was… still in my freaking home state!
Begrudgingly I accepted my mother’s ride to the in-state campus for a visit. All the work and money I’d spent getting accepted to out-of-state universities burned a hole inside me. This isn’t where I wanted to be. But it’s where I was…so I took it. I knew my major. I signed up for as many classes as I could physically attend- eighteen credits and I worked four jobs. If I wanted to live on campus, I’d have to pay for it, so I stayed home and commuted. I was focused and ready to finish, to get out on my own as soon as possible. ………………

So here I was, on campus and this senior god and I starting talking on our smoke break. I was in flip-flops, a tank top and baggy sports pants. Why was he talking to me? Is he flirting? I was used to having older friends, but not too many boyfriends. I was awkward in my adolescence and always the kid with less, in the affluent private high school I attended. Hard work always got me where I was, never status or money. But hard work doesn’t get you noticed in certain communities. I was never the girl who got noticed, or so I thought. So, I couldn’t believe it when he asked me out on a date.
He took me into the city and showed me a wonderful evening, fine dining and a happening club. I wore my own movie-star of a man on my arm and we shared a magical walk around the harbor by star-light. He continued to pursue me. He showed me how to dress, how to talk, how to be refined. While I resisted his efforts… silently, slowly, I listened. With him, I grew from a scrappy girl into a lady.
My prince charming however, turned out to be a toad – a possessive alcoholic who distracted me from my studies. When he got a DWI and totaled his car, I became his driver for the rest of the school year. When he finally got off probation and got a car 10 months later… he left me. And leaving me was the best thing he could’ve done.Becoming single again, allowed me to refocus on my studies and also encouraged me to continue growing up. All of the refining pressure I had resisted from him skyrocketed when he left me. I bought a new wardrobe and walked through the campus with my head held high, so that he could see what he let go. I finished the semester stronger than ever. He flunked out and moved back home to NJ… no closer to graduating. The following year I refused to date anyone and focused hard on my studies and working.

In my 3rd year, another model of a man took notice- twenty-two years old, six foot, blond and blued eyed, a professional body builder who owned his own home and made 80k working for the government. Working towards his eventual PhD… he was a breath of fresh air. A welcome change from my last entitled boyfriend who went nowhere in 5 years. This guy was motivated and successful. He taught me about life and he displayed the stability I was looking for. I was again surprised. I didn’t know my worth. Why was this man noticing me? And not only was he noticing me but he fell for me, hard. When I wanted to date casually, he insisted that he had to have me all to himself. Red flag?! I think so!
Just when I gave him my whole heart, he too turned out to be a toad. A pathological liar who fabricated his life stories and had affairs. During our last conversation he said he wanted to marry me. A week later he moved his ex-girlfriend back in, stopped answering my calls and never had the decency to speak with me again.

Like every girl, I wondered why this kept happening to me. A pawn in these guys games of life. I wanted stability and honesty. Still, I was anxious about getting away. Two more years to finish my degree and then I’d be off travel nursing, exploring the world ALONE.

One month after toad #2 left me empty-handed, an old friend asked me out for drinks. Eighteen years my senior, barely my height, an immigrant who spoke broken english and still lived in the same rental he had for fifteen years…he was everything I wasn’t looking for. On his way to ending his marriage with two little boys caught in the crossfire, a relationship with him was the last thing I imagined. I didn’t want a relationship with anyone! Hours passed by as we sat at the bar spilling our life stories. Two different countries, two different generations…and yet we shared so many common threads.
When we finally left, standing under the street lights of the dark, empty parking lot, he told me that he was in love with me. My head spun. Sputtering for words, I told him that I loved him too but that a relationship between us would never work. The age difference, his marriage, the kids…we were too far apart in life. And if by happenstance, we were able to make it work, my family would never accept it.
He didn’t take “No” for an answer. For weeks and months, he’d call and sit outside my house, asking me for a chance. I loved that man for his genuine heart but my head was looking for the college degree, the high paying job, the model to wear on my arm … a person with less baggage. My head was looking for what society had taught me I needed. But my heart was already rejected by those men and was being pulled closer and closer to this immigrant.

Weeks turned into months and months turned into years. My head wasn’t convinced of our possibility but my heart wanted no one else. More hard work and more drama than I care to divulge here… and that empty-handed, full hearted immigrant gave me the Cinderella ending that I was looking for.
Paying my rent so I could finish school, helping care for our daughter when our unexpected pregnancy complicated my final year of nursing school, encouraging me always, he became my rock. I finally got credit for all my hard work. And my family, who at first, lacked acceptance, as predicted, grew to adore him. He, with our baby daughter stood proud when I walked the stage and received my diploma. A happy, successful, professional I became. It was not easy and it was by no means a fairytale beginning. But I sure as hell found a fairytale ending….and it had a prince in it after all.

When people see what I have, they often ask, “How did you get that?”. And that is always a hard question for me to answer. I believe in critical thinking and using your head. But in my story, my head is what held me back. Or perhaps, it was the head society filled. My decisions for our relationship were calculated and reasonable; but they didn’t follow the empty promises and faulty rules that society has put into place. In many other cases, our story would not have ended well. Statistically, my relationship should not have made it. I believe in statistics and yet, we must be statistical outliers because fifteen years later we are still madly in love. Perhaps there’s more to the heart than we give it credit for. And at my age, I certainly know now, that society doesn’t have it all figured out.
I never made it to an out-of-state college. By the time I graduated with my BSN, I was a Momma and travel nursing was off the table. Still in my home state, my life was not what I had planned it to be 5 years earlier.

It was better.

Don’t get me wrong…when my friends were free and traveling the globe and I was at home with a baby, trying to make ends meet-sitting on a couch we rescued from the dump and food I bought with WIC… I envied the life others had. We hardly drove a pumpkin carriage and our home will never be a castle, but we are happy. Truth is, rice and beans tastes just fine with good company and filet mignon is never seasoned right when an arrogant asshole is sitting across from you. I never stopped loving my little family and we never stopped working hard. At twenty-five,  I was pregnant with our second child, bought our first home, and we ran off and got married.

Today, I still have days when I wonder why it seems like everyone else has a housekeeper and a nanny. We’re still not rich…with money that is. But in life and the pursuit of happiness…we are royalty. Making enough to be comfortable, we don’t travel abroad, we take road trips. We don’t shop at department stores, we thrift. Every night we eat dinner as a family and family game night is a regular thing.

Now I have my own little prince and princess and while I can’t change the pressures that society may place on them, I sure can guide them in their search for happiness. I’ll tell them not to worry about the money, the status, or the looks. If you can find an honest heart, hardworking hands and a tender soul…your life will come together like the wave of a magic wand. Boxes will one day turn to wooden tables and crates will become upholstered chairs. And two broken hearts CAN mend one another.

As I watch my peers now…still struggling to find a mate… still switching careers…still looking for happiness…I’m ok with the fact that I have less passport stamps than they do. I’m proud of my dedicated husband and the life we’ve built out of nothing. He came to me with nothing but a suitcase of clothes and I from a broken home with a broken heart. I accepted the proposal of the most unlikely of pursuers and it turned out to be the best decision of my life.
Every once in a while, those “toads” come up in conversation and my husband always says, “One day I’d like to see those guys…and if I did…I’d say, ‘thank you’, because if not for them, you never would’ve given me a chance.”

As cliché as it may sound, it really did take kissing those toads to lead me to my prince.

Whatever poison comes into my life, my husband is the antidote. Whatever challenges present themselves, he has the answers. He is the first face I kiss in the morning and the one I count down the hours of the day to see. He rescued me. And if you ask him what I’ve done for him, he’ll tell you I “saved his life”.

When we go out and I’m all dressed up, he jokes, “Ha! Everyone in this room is wondering how much I paid for you! You know, they think I have money.” And he sheepishly giggles about our modest means. Then I say, “But you’re still my King.”

I don’t wear glass slippers and I’ve yet to meet any fairy godmothers but I have what I always wanted …. I have happiness. And happiness is all I’ll ever really need.