My Eyes Are Dead

One of the worst things about depression is how it absorbs you. It sucks up everything and hides it where you can't find it or feel it. I really hate looking at baby pictures of my kids and watching old movies from before I was treated for my illness. My eyes are dead in the videos. This is what my kids experienced as "normal" for a good part of their early lives. I sang songs with them and talked to them with what I thought was enthusiasm and excitement but in the videos it comes across very different. There is a smile on my face but there is no feeling behind my eyes. This is the aspect of my experience with depression that pains me the most.

So many times when I should have been full of joy I felt nothing. So many times when I should have been full of sorrow I felt nothing. You might think not being able to feel sadness is a good thing but it is not. People that I loved died and I felt nothing. I remember sitting at a memorial and looking around thinking that I should be sad but all I wanted to do was go home and I hated myself for that. I hate that my kids think that "moms need a lot of sleep". Years ago I found a list that my son had made in his little journal. It had each family member listed and next to my name it said "sleepy".

I have been robbed by my illness and I am heartbroken tonight because of it.

You CAN Take It With You

I am going back to school...again. This time I am doing an online program through church that's called the Pathway Program. After I finish the Pathway Program I will be able to move on to get an online degree through BYU-Idaho. It is an amazing opportunity that couldn't have come at a better time and I am so excited for what this means for my future. The question will be, can I stay focused and do this? Right now I say, yes! I am excited and it is new so it's easy to stay focused. From experience I know that when things get boring and routine it becomes harder for me to stay on task. I feel (hope) this time will be different though. I am taking a religion class on the first half of the Book of Mormon and I have noticed a few different things. The first is how nice it has been to have the gospel of Jesus Christ integrated into my schooling this time around. It would have made a huge difference in my young adult years had I gone to one of the BYU's after high school. I never realized how natural it would feel to have the gospel at the center of my academic career. It feels as if I have found the missing piece. The second thing I have realized is that Nephi in the Book of Mormon made the choice to be positive and thankful in all he did. Growing up as a Mormon I just knew that Nephi was good and he made good choices. This past week it has occurred to me in a whole new way that Nephi's experiences weren't that different from his brother's, Laman and Lemuel. How he chose to handle these situations made all the difference. He chose to be thankful for his blessings and not focus on all that was going wrong. This is what I need to do to stay focused and on task through all of this schooling. I need to not get bogged down in the "work" and remember that I am gaining knowledge and that is so important because it's the only thing we can take with us when we leave this life.

By The Grace of God

(This is a post I found from about a year ago, I forgot about it so I'm posting it now.)

We've lived in New Hampshire for a little over a year now and let me just say, it's been a doozy. We have moved twice, sold our home in Mass., I sprained my ankle, one of our dogs was hit by a car and killed, my Grandmother passed away, my car literally started falling apart (why does rust make the things that are supposed to move get stuck while at the same time making things that are supposed to be solid, fall apart?), my oldest turned 12 and at the same time became impossible, my youngest started throwing fits like you read about (I occasionally wonder if she needs an exorcism), I started homeschooling all 4 of them, and I almost died from an undiagnosed ectopic pregnancy. Obviously some of these things are more traumatic than others but it was all hard. All along I kept waiting for it to be too much. When was I going to fall apart? Every time a new obstacle or challenge came along I waited. I was good for a long time, until I wasn't.
It took me a while to get past the pregnancy. I was reminded of what the bottom looks like and let me tell you, it's ugly. The longer I go feeling good the uglier it is at the bottom and I had been feeling good for a while. The good news is that I got out...again. I am going to be 37 in a few weeks. I think, maybe, I'm finally learning that I will always get back up. With my husband, kids, parents, sisters, brothers, and friends, by the grace of God, I will always get back up.

There Is No Point to Point To

 “Irony is easier than hopeless silence but braver than flight. The problem is that sometimes your finger shakes as you gesture, there is no point to point to, and maybe you can’t point anywhere---or at least not at anything visible.”

           

            This a quote from The Empathy Exams, page 154. I have read this paragraph many times.

In May of 2013 I almost died. I ended up in the emergency room after two weeks of not being able to catch my breath, passing out, and some major shoulder pain. I went to the ER on a Sunday after I passed out in the bathroom at church. Even then I was hesitant to go to the hospital. I would hate to make a big deal over nothing. I had seen the doctor when I first started feeling sick and he said it was ovarian cysts. There was no ultra-sound or anything, that was just what he thought it was and I believed him. He was nice, why would I question a nice doctor? Turns out I had an ectopic pregnancy. The embryo had implanted in my fallopian tube and the sickness and pain started when my fallopian tube split open because a fallopian tube is not equipped to house an embryo. I had been bleeding internally for two weeks. I had to have emergency surgery that was supposed to take about 45 minutes but ended up taking three hours because my entire abdomen was filled with blood and had to be irrigated out before the doctor could see what was happening to be able to remove the pregnancy and my right fallopian tube. The doctor thought he was done and was looking around to make sure and discovered that my entire chest cavity was filled with blood as well, so that had to be removed too. Of course I only found this all out a week later when I went back for a follow-up. The doctor apologized, sincerely apologized. I was ready to be mad at him but he knew he had messed up by not realizing what was wrong sooner. If you google “fainting and shoulder pain” ectopic pregnancy is one of the first things that pops up under causes. In fact, after my surgery when I googled that exact phrase it said if you have these symptoms call 911 immediately because it is a sign of internal bleeding. Not only did I not call 911, I kept living my life as best I could. I drove my kids around, made dinner, and all that other stuff that I normally do. Why did I not die?

            The above quote refers to this situation for me. I laughed about it, “Hey remember last week when I almost died?” or “I think I was busy trying not to die when that happened, sorry I couldn’t help you.” I had to stop joking about it because it scared my kids but I needed to feel something about the whole, horrible situation and humor helped. I wanted to go to the doctor and point my finger at him, yell, and blame him for….for what? Making a mistake? He was humble and felt sorry, he’s human and I didn’t die. I couldn’t be mad at him. I had nowhere to point. I still have nowhere to point and this still bothers me.

Light the Match

There was an exact moment that I woke up and and consciously decided to live.  I don't mean like, "you only live once" kind of thing.  I mean I decided to live. 

I was driving home from a friends house at 5am.  We had talked literally ALL night.  I sat down with her as one person and drove away the next morning as another.  I drove away and on that 15 minute drive I decided to live.  Up until this conversation no one had told me the truth.  No one had told me what I looked like from the outside and you know what scared me the most?  I wasn't hiding it as well as I thought I was.  She knew, and if she knew then how many others knew?  So, here I was alone in the car and I had two choices.  Finally I could lay down and let the darkness take over, or I could light the match my friend had given me and start digging. 

It's obvious what I chose to do, I chose to live.  That was 15 years ago and I am still digging and I will be for the rest of my life.  You know what is so beautiful though?  Once I admitted to myself that I was going to have to work at keeping the darkness away it became easier.  Does that make sense?  Once I stopped trying to hide it and stopped fighting so hard to be "normal" I no longer had to carry it alone.  I can retreat when I need to now because there are people around me that allow me to do that.  Sharing the burden of depression, (or really anything) is key to surviving.

We'll See...

It's been a long time.  Life kept on going and I never had a moment to write.  I recently read some advice in a magazine intended for someone who wants to write.  She said to put it into your schedule as an appointment.  I thought this couldn't work for me because I usually just write when I have something that just won't stop going through my head and I need to get it out.  Then I thought, maybe if I sat down regularly with the intention of writing my thoughts wouldn't have to yell so loud to get out.  I want to try this and see what happens and I plan to attempt this here.  We'll see...

The Lost Years

This time of year I always find myself thinking back over my younger days.  I have TONS of stuff that I wish I had done differently.  There were so many things that I cried about and got mad about that were so unnecessary.  I hated school.  I had friends and wasn't picked on at all, I still hated it.  I almost didn't graduate with my class and I had no plans for what I would do after I graduated.  I wanted to sleep, that was my plan.  I had a boyfriend that went away to college and I was so sad when he left.  I wanted to be with him forever....ummm, we didn't even stay together until Thanksgiving break.  I thought he was a jerk because he basically had a life and I wasn't part of it anymore.  It was my fault though.  I needed goals and direction but I had none.  I spent the next five years wandering.  (Mostly figuratively but there was also some literal wandering too.)  FIVE YEARS!!  It makes me sad.  I wish I could have a long conversation with that girl, help her find some direction.  I met my amazing husband on May 27, 2000.  Almost exactly five years after I graduated high school.  He helped me find direction and he helped me feel loved.  I had never felt loved before by anyone, ever.  Not because no one did but because I wouldn't allow it.  For some reason he stuck around through the crazy.  He could see the other side when I didn't even know there was another side.  The fact that the years that I lost in between high school graduation and meeting my husband happens to be exactly the same amount of time it would have taken me to get a degree and probably find a job is not lost on me.  Those will always be "The Lost Years" for me.  If it was a movie it could be a hysterically funny comedy or a heart-wrenching drama depending on how it was spun.  If it was a book it would be a "choose your own adventure" because that is how I was making decisions at that time.  I took the long way around but I still got to my destination.  Maybe that's all that really matters? 

Just for the record, it will be 12 years in August and it has never been better.

Life is Good (Except When It's Not)

I have been too busy and happy lately to blog about depression.  It is fabulous!  Don't worry though, it will come back.  It always comes back but you know what is great about being where I am on this journey?  I have gone up and down so. many. times. that the pendulum swinging doesn't scare me as much any more.  Of course I'm saying this on a good day.  I probably wouldn't sound so optimistic on a bad day.   

If the Name Fits...

"The finest hour I have seen is the one that comes between the edge of night and the break of day, it's when the darkness rolls away."

No song lyric has ever spoken to me so much as this one.  I had two recurring dreams as a young child.  I won't bore you with the details of the dreams but I would wake up from them crying and shaking, spending the rest of the night throwing-up.  The only time I would feel better was when I saw that hint of sunlight in the sky.  You know that look when it's not actually any lighter out but the sky seems to have a tiny glow to it?  That is when the darkness is rolling away.  At the time I didn't really know what was going on or why this happened to me.  You know kids just live in the moment (externally at least).  Years later I realized that these were my first experiences with anxiety.  For years and years on into my twenties this would happen to me.  The dreams went away but there were other scary things that would wake me up in the night and I would sit and wait for the darkness to roll away, then I could sleep.

When I had baby #3 this finest hour took on a new meaning.  You see, my first two babies were born in the afternoon because the 1st was a c-section and the 2nd was highly medicated making him come into the world in a less than natural way.  Baby #3 was altogether different.  She came completely natural and it was a journey.  If you think labor and delivery is just about getting a baby here that was not the case for me.  Yes, that is the most important part but it also turned out that I needed to work through about twenty years of pain and self-loathing before my body would delivery this baby.  I was certain that no one had ever been in such pain ever and there was no way I was going to come out on the other side.  Towards the early morning hours I locked myself in the bathroom and was telling everyone and myself that I couldn't do this.  It was after my midwife convinced me come out for just a minute that I noticed the sky changing.  I felt almost instantly renewed.  I was still uncertain about whether I could do this or not but I was gonna try.  She was born soon after.  Baby #4 came on her own too.  This time there was no emotional journey.  I had worked that out with #3.  I could do this and I knew I could do this but I really didn't want to.  I had a "let's just get this over with" kind of attitude.  I was annoyed that it wasn't going as fast as I wanted, actually if you ask my husband he would say I was really pissed.  After 26 hours she was born.  It was 5:49am just before the sunrise on Easter morning.  The finest hour became even more beautiful and just full of all things wonderful after this.

Recently, after briefly sharing the story of my last two births with a friend she commented on how fitting my name is.  Funny, all my life I had never made that connection.  She is right, my name is pretty fitting. 

I'm Pretty Sure



Me 4 years old (on the left)

 

Lucy 4 years old

I'm pretty sure God gave me Lucy so I could see what I would have been like without depression.  I'm also pretty sure He gave me her last so I would have the time to really pay attention to her fiesty personality.  From the beginning she was physically my twin.  I can compare pictures of us at any age and we could be the same little girl.  She was the easiest baby ever and I said all along that she would get me back at some point.  I didn't realize I would be so right about that so soon.  She is opinionated and full of personality. 
Lucy didn't walk until she was about 20 months.  She had no need for such trivial things, she was too busy dancing.  Her favorite song was, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cindy Lauper.  From the first note of that song she would start raisin' the roof and bouncing on her bum.  I am not kidding, she had it in her from the beginning.  Her taste in music hasn't changed a whole lot in her four years.  She still loves Cindy Lauper but she has added to that Lady Gaga, P!nk, Kelly Clarkson and any music from Glee.  Depending on her mood she also enjoys almost any broadway song.  She loves all the same music I do.  (She does like to occasionally head-band too, after-all she was partially made by her father.)
I watch her and wonder if I would have been like her had I felt free to let my inside out.  Lucy holds the place in my heart that was probably supposed to be reserved for loving myself.  I see myself in her in so many ways.  As I watch her I grow I am keeping my fingers crossed that she won't loose her spunk as I did.

Chillin' in her car seat

Just a regular morning at home.

Soggy Steps

Yesterday was a good day.  It was cloudy and rainy so there was potential for feeling sleepy but I decided to power through.  It's not always possible but I was successful yesterday.  I woke up on my own at about 6:30am and couldn't go back to sleep.  This is really weird for me.  If I can't do anything else I can always sleep.  Yesterday morning I felt refreshed and awake though.  I was thinking about getting up and taking the dogs for a walk when I heard the rain start.  Well that settled that!  I can't walk in the rain....can I?  After I was done arguing with myself about it I had to get up and get the kids off to school.  I got them all to school with only one incident of someone getting kicked and a little yelling.  It was a good morning!  I came home after running to the pharmacy and the grocery store.  It was only 9:30am and I felt as if it should be at least 11am.  Not in a "I can't believe how slow this day is going" way but in a "Wow, I still have so much time" kind of way.  The dogs still needed to be walked.  I was already wet from running in and out of stores and I needed a shower anyway so I took them out in the rain.  We ended up walking for about 30 minutes.  They slowed down before I did, it was really strange.  I was really wet, a little cold, really happy and it was still only 10am.  I still had two hours before I had to get the little one from pre-school.  This happiness carried on throughout almost the whole day.  It was really, really wonderful!

You see, I have been told exercise helps depression but I was not sure.  Besides, how am I supposed to exercise when I can't even get dressed?  I am still not totally convinced but two things happened recently that have made me lean towards thinking that it really does help.  One, my Dr. took the time to explain to me why it helps and everything she said went along with what I am studying for school.  Two, was my experience yesterday.  The thing is, I need to remember that it doesn't have to be all or nothing.  I don't have to put on sneakers to go for a walk because honestly, (I am not making this up) finding socks and putting on sneakers is sometimes what keeps me from exercising.  I don't have to do it every day.  I may have a bad day and not be able to get moving but that doesn't mean I have failed. 

I have always been a perfectionist of sorts.  If I can't do something completely and perfectly then I don't do it at all.  This is why I didn't do well in school.  It's why my house is messy.  I know I can't do it perfectly and I don't want the humiliation of trying my best and still not being good enough.  I have to have a constant dialog in my head telling myself, "it doesn't have to be perfect" or I freeze.  I am working on this and walking in the rain yesterday was a soggy step in the right direction.

My cute dogs, my motivation.     

Valleys

I am putting the continuation of the last post on hold.  I can't have this blog feeling like homework.  I will continue, it's just not what I'm feeling right now.  I haven't written for so long because shortly after my last post summer vacation began which means I had no time for anything.  Then the kids went back to school and so did I.  My classes take up a good portion of my free time.  I've recently decided to make this somewhat of a priority though.  It feels good to write.

So my medication recently had to be changed.  After seven years of very little anxiety I fully flipped out at the end of the summer.  It seemingly came out of the blue but I have slowly begun to figure out why this happened.  For starters my Dr. put me on a stimulant last Spring to help with my exhaustion.  This was okay but I really hated the way it made me feel when it wore off.  I took it though because I was more productive and less tired and that was the whole reason for taking it.  I always get nervous for my kids to go back to school.  I like having them home in the summer and I don't like it when summer ends.  This year my baby started pre-school too which made it even more dreadful.  Lastly, I started school for the first time in over ten years which was very scary and stressful (also wonderful and exciting).  All these things combined to create the perfect storm. 

So now I am not taking the stimulant anymore and because my anxiety has bubbled up again my Dr. has added another anti-anxiety/anti-depressant.  I left my appointment the other day realizing that this is how it's going to be....My. Entire. Life.  I will never be able to say, "Wow, I beat this!"  It will be a never-ending journey with valleys, peaks and plateaus.  I guess life is that way for everyone.  I think people with depression probably have valleys that are harder to climb out of though.       

My Journey Part 1

I am tired today.  I'm pretty much tired all the time but today I am the "sitting and staring at nothing" kind of tired.  When I feel like this it is very easy for me to spiral down-ward.  This is why it is so important for me to sleep well.  I can power through, I've done it many times but it is not healthy for me.  If I push through I often end up crashing and falling into a depression for a few days.  I was visiting my in-laws recently and was feeling this way.  I disappeared for a bit and took a short nap.  Maybe they think I'm weird but I've learned after all these years that if I can sleep for 45 min. I can avoid falling under the dark cloud.  If I sleep longer than that it can make me feel worse.  Forty five minutes is perfect.  It's not being lazy or indulgent it is taking care of myself so that I can take care of others.  (I have to type this out loud for myself as much as anyone else.)

Having said all that you can imagine how hard it was to have babies.  The most well-adjusted, healthy person can be defeated by a little baby.  I FELL APART when I had my first child but I found I had to fall apart to become stronger.

I was paranoid and terrified as a new mother.  My first pregnancy, delivery and baby were difficult.  At 19 weeks my tummy started to get smaller from appointment to appointment.  Enter five-million ultra-sounds to find out what was wrong.  My fluid was low and my baby wasn't growing.  Enter five-million non-stress tests and non-stop kick counts.  This doesn't sound exhausting but it was.  I had to write down my kick-counts, get nervous if I couldn't feel her moving, call the Dr. right away (as instructed) and rush in for ultra-sounds a couple of times too many.  Finally at 35 weeks the Dr. decided the baby would be better off on the outside.  Come to find out my placenta had stopped functioning and the umbilical cord was the thickness of a pencil (not ideal).  After trying to induce labor for three days baby flipped feet first and I needed a c-section.  I was devastated!! 

The good news is my baby was completely healthy.  The hard part was she was 4lbs 3oz and super skinny.  She needed lots of food all the time.  I had to nurse, pump and tube feed every two hours.  This meant about ummm....zero sleep.  I was told she was fragile and if she got sick it would be very bad.  I became very protective and defensive.  I would see all kinds of horrible things happening to her that were out of my control.  Specifically I would see myself falling down the stairs while holding her and her flying into the wall.  I thought these were just my protective instincts kicking in.  When she was about six weeks old I was up in the night feeding her.  I had just finished changing her and she had fallen asleep.  I was getting ready to go back to bed and she proceeded to fill her diaper....a lot.  I burst out crying and could not stop, I mean for months.  Of course I am exaggerating a bit but really whenever I was alone I cried about the tiniest thing.  I remember sobbing uncontrollably because I couldn't screw the cap back on the peanut butter. 

Now as I remember this time in my life I can see that I had a classic case of postpartum depression.  At the time I did not see it and I was really good at pretending I was fine.  However, I was certain there was a reason why I was feeling this way.  I threw myself into figuring out what it was.  I read all sort of books about parenting, pregnancy, childbirth and c-sections.  I learned a ton and had my theories but I would never fully understand what was happening until a few years later.

How's that for a cliffhanger?
To be continued...

I'm Messy

Okay, now I need to decide how honest I should be on here.....  I want to totally put it all out there but I am afraid.  What if no one is as bad as I am?  That would be a horrible discovery.  I am willing to bet that I'm not alone though.  The comments you all have shared have been wonderful to read (in a "I'm not the only one" way).

I clean in weird ways at weird times.  I'll give you a few examples...Last night at 9pm I went to take out the trash.  Not weird at all, right?  Right, except I ended up cleaning half the garage while I was out there.  Not planned, just started picking up and organizing until my family came looking for me.  The other day I went to do the dishes and ended up taking the stove apart to clean the drip pans under the burners.  They are clean, the kitchen is not.  In fact, we had to eat cereal out of tupperware this morning. 

You think I'm kidding just look at this.

Now in my defense the dishes on the right are clean and waiting to be put away.  The rest definitely need attention though.  I feel as if I am surrounded by dishes, laundry and paper all the time.  Paper?  Yes, and not the good kind of paper.  The amount of paper that comes into my home every day is obscene.  Good thing we recycle, right?

My "desk"

(I use the term loosely because I really don't know when I last sat at it and used it as such)

There you go, I'm putting it out there.

I am messy.

I don't want to be.

I don't like to be.

I am working on it.

Sorry the pictures are really bad, I took them with my phone.

Writing Is A Good Thing

I have to say I am terrified that I put this out there.  I am so thankful for the kind thoughts that have been shared.  It eases my fear a little bit to know that not everyone is scared off by me and my crazy ;).

I had a good day.  I got the kitchen cleaned and babysat for a really cute baby.  I cleaned the tub too!  I hate cleaning the tub.  Does anyone actually like cleaning the tub?  If you do I would love to become really good friends so you can come over and clean my tub.  It really should be done more than once a quarter, don't you think?

I was thrilled to discover last night that writing still helps.  I used to write a lot.....B.C. (Before Children).  It is therapeutic and all those negative thoughts are not in my head anymore.  I don't hate myself today and that is all I need to know right now.

P.S.  I am a bit annoyed though that we seem to have skipped Spring here in New England and gone straight to hot, humid Summer.

I Hate Myself

Sometimes I hate myself so much it is totally consuming. I hate the kind of wife I am, the kind of mother I am, the kind of friend I am. I could keep listing but you get the point. The sadness I feel seems to come from some outside source and I feel like I need to be comforted and the person that wronged me needs to pay. Then, I remember that it's me that has done this to myself and that is where the self-loathing comes from.
I have so much I want to be and do. I see a path that I am supposed to follow that will lead me to these great things. I wake up most mornings with a great plan in my head. I want to finally get caught up on laundry, finally get that mudroom done, paint the chairs I got for the dining room. I want to fix nutritious meals for my children. Play, color and read with Lucy. Go for a walk with my dogs. Clean the garage, clean my car. I am excited to choose from all of these wonderful things. Then it happens. I can't even describe it. It's is like when a water balloon gets a pin hole in it and slowly but forcefully all the water leaks out.
Fixing a snack for Lucy feels like the equivalent of the effort it would take to run a marathon. I want to sleep and I hate myself for wanting to sleep. It doesn't make me feel better it just makes me not feel. As long as I am awake I am aware of all the things that I am not doing. The little things and the big things. The little things I already spoke about, the big things bring me too much sorrow and self-loathing to even talk about in detail. I know I was not meant to be this person. The person I was meant to be is encrusted in layers of depression and hatred.
The depression is not me but it has me under it's control. I can't win because every time I break through it becomes stronger. You're not the only one who thinks I should stop feeling sorry for myself, I think it too. (Enter more self-loathing.)
I want to shout out to everyone who will listen (and even louder to those who won't) that I am ill. This is a sickness. A real, I have no control over it, sickness. Then I wonder if I'm just a lazy, fat girl who could control it if I really wanted to.

Phase Two

I am at a strange place right now. For 10 years now I have been immersed in pregnancy, babies and toddlers. My "baby" is now 3 1/2 and I am a bit lost. I am so used to being exhausted and spent that I don't know how not to be. Does that make any sense? Most nights I go to sleep and wake up in the morning. Most days I can eat without sharing and go to the bathroom alone. For so many years this was just not an option. I wished and longed for the freedom to sleep all night and go to the bathroom without someone on my lap and now that I have that I am confused. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy eating with both of my hands free but it does take some getting used to. I never anticipated what it would feel like to be a stay-at-home mom with kids instead of babies. Any advice on how to adjust to this new phase of motherhood would be much appreciated.

Tortured?

I am trying to find the energy right now to clean the house. It needs it BAD!!!!!! Sometimes I just can't do it. It gets boring doing the same things day after day. My husband pointed out to me that a lot of people have to do the same thing day after day. Dang it, he's right..........guess I'm not as tortured as I thought.

Thankful

I have loved being Mom lately! It's grrreat! I think my kids are getting older and I'm not in that space of CONSTANTLY being needed any more. I am glad and sad about that at the same time. I'm trying to figure out this new stage of Motherhood. I'm having a hard time letting go of being the Mom to a baby but I am enjoying it A LOT. Weird? I guess I just didn't expect it to go by this fast. It felt so overwhelming and never ending when I was in it and now I'm like, "Oh, that was fast!".

Bad Mother?

Is it bad that I put my one year old in front of the T.V. in her highchair when I just can't do it any longer? I've decided it's survival. If I need a break and that is my only option it is okay because I will come back as a better mother after the show is over. There....I answered my own question.