I’m running. The sun is starting to rise, I can just make out all the silhouettes of the trees in our forest lined neighborhood. The sky is a dusky blue and pale pink and the temperature is a comfortable 42 degrees.
It’s just after 7 in the morning and I check my watch to see that I’ve almost ran 3.5 miles. That’s good, right? I mean, no one could blame me for turning left into my driveway right now instead of running past it to get to a solid 4 miles this morning.
I keep going straight though. Why? Like I said, no one would say anything negative about a 3.5 mile run. They’d probably say, “That’s so awesome you did that!” or “I don’t even run at all so good on you.”
But I’m not doing it for them and I know myself better. I know I can make it to 4 miles. In fact, that was my goal in 2023, to get over my 3 mile hump and make it to 4 miles (as well as get under a 10 minute mile when I was closer to 11 minutes per mile). I reached both of those goals very, very slowly throughout the year. I struggle more with speed in the summer when it’s hot and I struggle with distance regularly because I got my 30 minutes of exercise and I can go home now…
It’s really easy to talk ourselves into doing less when we compare it with what other people are doing. Whether they’re doing more than us and we feel inferior or they’re doing less than us so we’re already superior, comparison is the catalyst. The same goes for the tug in my spirit to make changes or talk to someone or pray for something specific. No one could blame me for dismissing the urge or the thought. There are so many reasons for bypassing it completely and so many distractions eager to oblige.
But I know myself better. I’m not living life for other people and I certainly don’t want to look back and say, “Well, I could’ve done more but I was really busy (or distracted or worried or concerned about what others would think).” No. When I am staring into the eyes of God Himself, I will wish I’d done more. Just like when I come home from a run that I willingly cut short, I wish I’d gone the extra half mile. Because I knew I could. I knew it then and I know it now. I could always do more and what I can do has nothing to do with what anyone else does.
Help me do the more now, God. I don’t want to regret it later.
Pay careful attention to your own work, for then you will get the satisfaction of a job well done, and you won’t need to compare yourself to anyone else. Galatians 6:4
I don’t remember much about moving to California from New York. I was in kindergarten, sharing the back of a station wagon with my older brother. In the back of the gray Datsun B210, I did all the school work my teachers gave me and sometimes convinced my brother to play Barbies with me. Our family rented a house in Fremont before eventually moving to Tracy and buying our own home. When the moving truck drove away and all was unpacked, my training wheel was missing. We had one, just not the other.
“It must have been left on the truck,” my dad said.
I learned to ride my bike leaning to the side that had the training wheel, which only made learning to ride without training wheels harder. I kept leaning and leaning, falling over, scared of falling over.
“You’ve got to overcompensate for that now,” my dad said. He held onto the back of the bike and let go, over and over. “Find your balance.”
I would slam my feet down in fear and frustration, scared to lean too far in either direction. I knew I’d fall. I couldn’t find my balance.
I don’t remember the details of moving to what would be my main childhood home in Tracy, California. I knew I was getting a cat and starting second grade. It was all blurry. I knew how to ride a bike by then and had moved on to roller skates.
I remember moving away from home to go to college, moving back in when college “didn’t work out”, moving out to live with someone else, moving back in when things unraveled, moving out to my own place, to rent a room somewhere else, to live with a boyfriend, to get a roommate in an apartment, and moving back in whenever it all fell apart.
When my parents moved out of state and into retirement in Arkansas, the safety net of my “home” was ripped out from under me. I had to overcompensate for my lean. I leaned into my own abilities, my responsibilities, my strength and I accomplished great things always knowing I couldn’t lean the other direction anymore. I might fall. Fear and frustration pushed me forward.
Moving to Virginia with my new husband and my very pregnant belly is a moving day I’ll never forget. My dad and I drove from Missouri to Virginia while my husband and his brother made the longer drive together in our car with our pets. We arrived at the empty small home we were renting until we would buy our first home, living out of suitcases and sleeping on air mattresses until our moving truck arrived.
I don’t think anything got left on the truck that day. I think we learned to double check. At the far back of the truck was my childhood piano. My dad, my husband, and our friend helped push that piano up the length of the truck, down the ramp, and eventually up the hill to the side door and into the house. It took so long. It was so heavy. I was too pregnant and banned from helping.
When everything was unloaded and the unpacking began, my dad made his plans for the return trip to Missouri. I didn’t want him to go. I kept making plans. “Let’s go to a store and get some good food to cook and send you off with a great meal!” “Let’s check out that coffee shop one more time.” I wasn’t done leaning on him, his strength, his stability, the way he made everything okay. Until finally, he drove off one morning for his long drive home.
Starting my “real life” as a wife and mother in a new state, new home, new everything was an adventure, often lonely, often filled with anxiety. I began wanting my parents closer. Their visits twice a year weren’t enough time to spend together, to get to know their granddaughters and eventually their grandson. I wanted their home to be near my home and for “home” to include us all.
Many years later, they made that move all the way to Virginia from Missouri and it felt like a true homecoming. I welcomed them with excitement and joy, determined to help make everything work out. Dad’s body was in pain from cancer spreading throughout it and they left almost everything behind to make the trip easier. It would all work out. I leaned in. I leaned hard. I didn’t care if I fell.
When Dad died only 6 weeks later, suddenly, unexpectedly, and tragically, the funeral home came to move his body. I sent the kids to the neighbor’s house, not wanting them to remember him that way, not ready to tell them he was gone. Surrounded by my husband, mom, brother, and two close family friends, we watched them wheel his body down the hall, down the sidewalk, down the driveway and into the car. I would not look away. I would not let his move go unwitnessed. I leaned in, into the frustration, the fear, and the pain.
In the coming weeks we moved mom into the home they’d purchased together. We heaved boxes with his handwriting on them. We set aside the files he had so carefully labeled. We moved the items he had packed for this move-in day that he wasn’t present for. And it hurt.
We are approaching another moving day now. My mom has bought a house around the corner from us, so close and such a blessing for us all. This moving day is exciting, it’s sad, it’s bittersweet doing it all without him. I can feel him holding on to the back of me and saying, “You’ve got to overcompensate for that lean. Find the balance.”
Balance has never been my strong point. With vision in one eye, my head perpetually tilted to one side, leaning always one way or the other, and zero depth perception, I physically find balancing nearly impossible. In my heart, I struggle with balance as well, swinging widely like a pendulum across the spectrum of emotions (excitement, disappointment, grief, celebration, sadness, hope, hopelessness). I lean one way. I lean the other. I wobble around, unsteady and unsure. But I’d rather continue on unsteady feet than push against the waves of feelings that wash over me, fighting against them with fear and frustration, stamping my feet down to stop any forward motion. I would rather overcompensate repeatedly, feeling all the feelings and knowing the depths of my own pain and the heights of my own joy.
Dad was so brave, so strong in his faith. When it became clear that his heart was failing and he would not recover from the blood loss he was experiencing, he said, “I’m not afraid. I know where I’m going.” He walked such a strong, stable, steady road of faith, loyalty and responsibility. I, meanwhile, am wobbling behind him leaning one way and then the other, but I’m starting to figure this thing out. He lent me his faith on his deathbed and I have leaned on it like the only existing training wheel we could find after unpacking the grief, the busy-ness that comes with death, the funeral, the paperwork, and the memories. Taking the training wheel of his faith off, I put it on a shelf of cherished memories and learn to move forward slowly and even with excitement at times. Mostly, though, I’m tired and it still hurts.
He knew where he was going. He wasn’t scared. I didn’t want him to go. I leaned one way. I was determined to make it all work out. I leaned another way. I would fix him. I leaned forward, willing it all to be okay. I told him to lean on me. And then it was over. And he was gone. He let go and I wobbled off down the road knowing that stopping wasn’t an option. I’m getting the hang of it now, continuing forward knowing he’s behind me, finding my balance even as I lean too far one way and then the other. I know where I’m going now. I’m not scared.
Today there is a guest blog for you to read. It is written by Noah Smith.
Noah Smith conquered his anxiety battles as a child. Today, he conquers places in his travel adventures. He writes for WellnessVoyager and enjoys offering his travel expertise to readers.
How Anxiety Harms Sleep and How You Can Combat Its Effects
The main connection between chronic anxiety and sleep problems is that one begets the other. It’s a vicious cycle. Your anxiety may cause you to develop sleep disorders like insomnia or narcolepsy and your inability to sleep properly may cause you to develop more anxiety. As an adolescent, this effect can be magnified. Since sleep is done in the unconscious realm and anxiety is felt while you’re awake, it may be helpful to try to reduce your anxiety first, before taking measures (like medication) to force the sleep issue.
Find a way to shut down your overworked brain
Easier said than done, right? Anyone with anxiety knows that these anxious feelings tend to get worse as soon as your head hits the pillow. Finding a way to prevent your brain from flying off the deep end during the quiet calm of pre-sleep is paramount to success in overcoming your problems.
“The worries that lead to increased anxiety and tension may come to the forefront when lying down to sleep at night. Once the distractions of the day are pushed away, ruminations about your career, finances, or relationships may come to the surface,” says VeryWell.com.
An anxious brain is one that’s working overtime. You must find a way to turn the volume down on your overactive mind. Mindfulness exercises, like meditation, focused breathing, and yoga performed right before bedtime can help in this endeavor. Some also find that a little bit of noise can be a distraction from anxious thoughts. Try a white noise machine, some soft music, or leave the window open and focus on the sounds of the city or nature.
Keep anxiety-causing triggers out of the bedroom
Your bedroom should be for sleep and sleep only. One sure-fire way to disrupt sleep is to bring your triggers for anxiety into your bedroom with you. Don’t do homework in bed. Don’t lie in bed and look at Facebook for hours. Don’t even watch TV or movies in bed. Instead, do those things outside of the bedroom.
“Don’t work, watch TV, or use your computer in bed or the bedroom. The goal is to associate the bedroom with sleep alone, so that your brain and body get a strong signal that it’s time to nod off when you get in bed,” notes HelpGuide.org.
The more you associate being in bed with sleep, the easier it will be to fall asleep and stay asleep when the time comes. Don’t get into bed unless you are tired and are committed to going to sleep right then.
Get plenty of exercise and avoid chemical triggers
Studies have shown over and over again that exercise helps you sleep better, and the workouts do not have to be intense. For example, a 20-minute workout four to five times a week in your home gym will provide long lasting benefits. One of those ways is by helping to reduce stress and anxiety, as exercise triggers the release of brain chemicals that promote mental wellbeing.
But it’s more than that. Sleep reinforces our circadian rhythms by promoting alertness during the daytime hours, which in turn promotes restfulness during the nighttime hours. If you don’t find yourself falling fast asleep the moment you lie down after exercising don’t get discouraged. Recent research suggests that “exercise may not have an immediate impact on sleep, but in fact may take several weeks or months to significantly change sleep.”
A healthy diet is also important, and you should always avoid substances like alcohol, nicotine, and caffeine before attempting to sleep. Chronic anxiety is one of the most common problems for teens and sleep disorders are the most common effect of anxiety. What that means is that you’re not alone. Plenty of people have found a way to manage their anxiety to get better sleep, so it’s entirely possible – even if it feels hopeless at times.
4 a.m. – I roll out of bed and go pee, because going pee all hours of the night is just part and parcel with pregnancy, am I right? As I’d done every time I peed for the last month, I checked the toilet and the toilet paper, looking for signs that labor had begun. Blood. Anything. Nothing. I crawled back into bed, exhausted and depressed about the whole thing. I laid there letting the thoughts come and go. I was sad, exhausted, disappointed, confused, telling myself I would go into labor at the right time, trying to find hope and inspiration… the thoughts just tumbled about like rocks in a rock tumbler. They hurt. They thudded against the walls of my brain. And at some point they dulled. They got more smooth. I knew the reality of the situation. After a month of labor signs, contractions and hope, I may have felt hopeless, but I knew the truth: labor was coming. He couldn’t stay in there forever.
6 a.m. – I roll out of bed and go pee…. Again. (see above) This time, there is blood and mucus (and do I really need to apologize for being so blunt? You’re reading a birth story for goodness sake!) and I couldn’t be happier. It’s happening. I crawl back into bed, cuddle up next to my husband and tell him, “It’s starting.” My whisper feels like it’s riding on wings, sending hope and promise into the room where I’d been crying for weeks on end. He startles to consciousness and asks, “Should I stay home?” “Oh no,” I reply, “It could be a long while. I’ll keep you posted.” The morning continued like all mornings. I made breakfast, packed lunches, kissed my husband goodbye, granted my girls screen time, and got ready for the day. My dad said he would take the girls to and from preschool while my mom and I went to my midwife appointment.
8:45 a.m. – Midwife appointment. I tried not to be too hopeful. After all, I’d been having contractions for days on end for over a month. The texts exchanged between me and my doula were embarrassing at this point. Still, it had to be done. Mom and I went to the appointment, did the weigh in, the pee in the a cup thing, and then waited in the exam room for the nurse. I casually told the nurse that I’d had bloody show this morning and I was hopeful baby was on his way. I had an ultrasound and confirmed the placenta was gigantic, going across the front of my uterus, preventing baby from assuming the correct position (he was transverse). Otherwise, everything looked good. Onto the table I went, except I couldn’t sit still, so I stood, hooked up to the fetal monitoring system, waiting to get my hour’s worth of good heart beat measurements. The nurse kept checking in and said baby must be sleeping. Did I want a juice? Could I walk around? I grabbed my water bottle and started drinking. I didn’t have an appetite and didn’t really want anything to drink. Moving, jiggling, talking to him and laughing with my mom, we saw some great spikes on the monitor. We kept hoping we would get enough to go home.
Finally, the midwife came in and said we’d had enough heart rate spikes. She also said, “You’re having a lot of contractions. Did you know that?” I laughed and said, “I’ve been having contractions for a month! I’ve stopped thinking they mean anything anymore!” She pointed to the chart and said, “These are really long though and really close together.” I smiled and said, “Well, hopefully baby will be here soon!” A little twinge went through me. Maybe this really is it?! I thought sadly about my daughter’s birthday the next day and how I’d been so sure this baby would be here before then. The whole pregnancy I had worried about missing her birthday and assured myself I wouldn’t and now? It looked like this baby was taking the same timeline as she had.
I was also informed at this point that none of the midwives were on call that night. Really? I go to midwives my entire pregnancy, meet them all, and now none of them would be at the hospital if the baby came that night? I felt jittery and anxious. The midwives were my people. And who knows who I would get. They mentioned a doctor’s name and I started texting friends and my husband about the turn of events. Thankfully, my husband wrote back quickly saying that the OB on call had an incredible reputation. I just prayed I wouldn’t be there long enough to care!
The kind midwife came back in and asked if we could schedule my induction. I had prayed it wouldn’t come to this. Each weekly chiropractor appointment, I had said, “I’ll schedule it but hopefully won’t be able to make it.” Each midwife appointment I would say, “I’ll schedule it but hopefully won’t be there!” I had done everything to try to move things along. I took Master Gland. I ate entire pineapples. I did inversions to improve position (a la http://www.spinningbabies.com). I had sex. I did hip circles on the exercise ball. I danced. I played with my girls until I forgot what I was waiting for. I relaxed as much as I could. I bounced. I did squats. I made labor drinks and labor cookies. I drank them and ate them. A lot. I cried. I laughed. And no matter what, it came down to this: My first was 42 weeks and 1 day. My second was 41 weeks and 6 days. And this one? Well, we were at 41 weeks and 5 days, and counting. So, we scheduled the induction. Friday, February 26, at 7 a.m. Pssssh, I thought to myself, I don’t think I’ll have to go to that appointment and even if I did, I certainly wasn’t going to rush to a 7 a.m. appointment to be induced.
After the midwife appointment was over, I told my mom I wanted a coffee from my favorite coffee drive-through, Micah’s. It was raining outside and as we left the building I asked if I could drive. “Are you sure? You’re in labor!” mom asked. “I’ve been in labor for a month!” I replied. I drove us a couple blocks out of our way toward the coffee place and my husband called. I had texted him during the appointment to say maybe he should come home at lunch, just in case. “I’m on my way! Should I come to the midwife’s office, or the hospital, or what?” I laughed at his urgency. “Just come home! I’m grabbing a coffee with mom.” I said, laughing out loud. “I thought you were in labor?!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been in labor for a month!” I said for what seemed the fifth time that day.
Mom and I returned home with our coffees. I sat at the counter, guzzling mine while dad cleaned and cooked. He was going to make his famous chicken enchiladas and I couldn’t wait to eat them. When my coffee was finished (within minutes), I said I was going to lay down. I had this fantasy that I could just lay in bed, progress with labor, focus on hypnobirthing, and my baby would just slip out of my body. Hey, I said it was a fantasy, right?
I was pleased that the contractions had continued. I laid in bed. I drank water. I watched episodes of the Bachelor. At some point, I silenced my phone and stopped texting my friends. My husband came home. My dad picked up our youngest daughter from school and brought our oldest home early, too. I could hear their tiny voices chatting enthusiastically. How exciting for them: grandparents there, daddy home early, mommy in bed. Something was happening! I was proud of the work I was doing. I relaxed into the contractions. I dozed whenever I could (an issue in my two previous births). I stayed hydrated (an issue in my first birth). It all felt good.
4 p.m. – My husband called our doula to let her know I was still having contractions and though I said it could be awhile, she decided to come over just for a minute to assess the situation. I felt sure she would realize I was perfectly fine, conscious, not in late stages of labor, and then she would be on her way. I figured, like my other children, this one would come in the middle of the night, perhaps after days of labor, like my first.
She came in and chatted with me for a bit. Asked me to use the bathroom and have some contractions while sitting on the toilet, which I did. She asked if we could take a walk. My husband and I obliged. She helped me slip on some shoes, saying it was wet outside. I vaguely remembered the afternoon in bed, listening to the thunder and rain and wind outside my window, thinking, this sounded more like a summer storm, not a February afternoon. I noticed how damp everything was outside and how clear the sky had become, watching the soon-to-be-sunset colors drift across the sky. My husband and I walked, me leaning on him when need be, slowing or stopping for contractions to pass. I could hear my doula taking pictures while we walked. Down to the end of the street we went. Turning around and walking back. When we reached the house, my husband decided to go in to help with the kids and dinner. Doula and I kept walking to the other end of the street and back. At one point my neighbor hollered, “Trying to walk that baby out?” I just waved my hand in the air. I couldn’t have a conversation about it right now. He couldn’t know how right he was. I bragged to her about my dad’s enchiladas and she cautioned me about eating dairy before labor. I was so disappointed, but trusted her judgment. The last thing I wanted was to be throwing up my dad’s beloved enchiladas.
6:30 p.m. – I was in bed again after our walk. Our doula didn’t end up leaving after all. I thought perhaps that was a good sign. Maybe I was farther along than I thought. Still, I resumed my position of laying in bed letting the contractions come and go, trusting they would deliver my baby for me. I hear the doula playing hide and seek with my girls. I thought how sweet that was of her. I thought how I had wanted nobody home while I labored. It was such a private thing for me, I had hoped this baby would come before my parents arrived. I had hoped my friend would come and pick up my kids and it would be just my husband and my doula alone in my home. None of this happened though. Here I was laying in bed, listening to them eat dinner and play games while I labored alone.
When my oldest daughter came in to say goodnight, I felt the loneliness overcome me. I missed my kids and my husband and my parents. I had missed dinner and games and bedtime. And here my daughter was asking if I could come do bedtime with her. I hugged and kissed her and said I just couldn’t right now; I was trying to have our baby brother. She left the room looking as sad as I felt and I started crying. I told my doula, “I miss my kids.” And then I began to sob.
She said she understood and maybe it was time to head to the hospital. I had a brief surge of excitement. Did she really think it was time? I hadn’t thought it could possibly be time. “What if I’m not far enough along? What if they send me home?” I agonized over the possibilities through my tears. She said, “Well, then we’ll go out for pizza!” She encouraged me to drink my strong cup of red raspberry leaf tea and use the bathroom before we left. I asked if I could eat my apple too and she said yes. I scarfed it down, whining internally about how it was nothing compared to dad’s enchiladas. I drank the tea, saying a little prayer that it would do what it was supposed to. I used the bathroom, staying in there for 4 contractions.
And then I began to move. My husband had my bag. My kids were in bed. My parents stood in the entryway at the end of the hall, watching me slowly walk toward the door. I stood in the entryway awkwardly. My mom rubbed my back. I looked at my doula and husband for help. I didn’t want this. My headphones were in my ears, playing Hypnobirthing tracks I’d listened to the entire pregnancy. I wanted to stay in my cave, not converse or interact with people. I headed for the door, stopping again for another contraction. They were coming so quickly now. Over the threshold, to the first step, and stopping for another one, I realized my dad was next to me. I could hear the doula getting in her car, and my husband starting his. As usual, the February weather didn’t seem to penetrate my labor. I felt no temperature change as I walked, contracted, walked, and contracted to the car. My dad’s hand was gently on my elbow and he explained, “I’m just going to help you to the car, so you don’t fall.” My eyes filled with tears. He’s a good dad. Not intrusive. Not pushy. Just helpful. Quietly strong. He helped me in the car, squeezed my hand and I leaned back with my eyes closed, trying to focus, yet again, on the hypnobirthing labor cave I had built for myself in my head.
7:16 p.m. – I watched the clock on my husband’s car change. I looked at the dark sky and the headlights passing us. We ran a yellow light. He looked in his rearview for the doula. I thought to myself, she knows where she’s going, it’s ok. At the hospital, he parked and helped me out of the car. Through the parking lot we walked in the darkness and mostly silence, me leaning on him during contractions, then taking a deep breath and walking some more. Into the hospital we continued. Our doula guided us to the elevator and we made our way to the second floor. Once there we were buzzed into the admitting area and I tried to stay in my cave. I heard questions being asked. I heard myself answering them. I heard a nurse ask, “Is she going to want an epidural because our anesthesiologist is leaving for the night.” A flutter went through my heart, a shudder through my body; was I really going to do this without medication? Maybe I should change my mind. Maybe I should ask them to hold the anesthesiologist just in case. Or maybe I should let him leave, because I could do this. Maybe I was closer than I thought. In hindsight, my husband would describe those few minutes as amazing: “She was amazing. She walked through the parking lot, into the hospital, checked herself in, and gave birth. She did it all by herself.”
7:38 – 10:08 p.m. – Two and a half hours. That’s all it was. And yet so much seemed to take place. I was introduced to nurses. Accompanied to the bathroom. Helped out of my pants and underwear. I remember the trail of blood I left as I walked through the room. A nurse said, “You’re the skinniest pregnant woman I ever saw!” I thought to myself, she’s ridiculous. At some point they got a needle in my hand; the “just in case needle” reminding me that I might end up needing intervention. I could smell my doula’s essential oils. I tried to find a comfortable position. I just wanted to lay on my stomach and go to sleep. Soon. Soon, the baby would be out and I’d have my stomach back again. I grasped hand rails of the bed. I rolled from side, to front, to side, moaning through contractions, listening to my hypnobirthing as it played from my iPhone in my doula’s hand. I heard the nurse remark that I was so relaxed; she’d never seen a laboring woman so relaxed before. Someone said they needed to check me. That required laying on my back. There was nothing I wanted less, but everyone helped me get there. I screamed during the cervical check and immediately went back to my side and stomach, curling around my rock hard uterus and wondering if I was going to make it. I heard them say they should call the doctor because she lived in Staunton. I guess I was far enough along to call the doctor, so that was good, right? I didn’t want to know what my dilation was but it killed me that no one was saying, “You’re so close.” In hindsight, I was a 4, maybe a 5 and I’m glad they didn’t tell me. I heard the nurse saying the smell of the oils was too much for her and she was getting a headache; she said it was okay if we used them, but she would switch out with another nurse. I don’t know what my doula did, but the nurse stayed and the smells weren’t so intense. As things progressed, I started moaning, “Nooooooooo” every time a contraction would rise up within me. My doula would say, “Yessss, Theresa, yesssss.” “NOOO!” I would yell louder. I’m pretty sure I knew I didn’t want anymore. In the bathroom I told her, “I think I need something. Drugs. An epidural. Anything.” She said, “No, you don’t. You’re so close. Those are just going to slow down your labor anyway and you’ve been waiting a month for this baby to come!” I felt unsteady, unsure about what I wanted anymore. I returned to the bed, to labor some more.
A huge release came with a loud pop and a rush and I thought, “He’s here!” But it wasn’t my baby. It was my water breaking violently all over the place. I’d never experienced that in my previous births. After the brief rush passed, I realized I still had a lot of work to do.
10:09 p.m. – That’s when he was born. It happened so quickly. One minute I was in my personal hell of contractions and I felt myself pushing. I heard them whispering about me pushing when it wasn’t time yet, but I couldn’t stop. I realized the doctor was there. I saw her down below discussing my dilation with the nurse and doula. Still, I couldn’t stop pushing. At some point, the doctor pushed my cervix’s lip over the baby’s head and announced that I was fully dilated and could push. They wanted me on my back again. I didn’t think I could move. I just wanted to keep pushing and pushing until it was over. Somehow I ended up in an upright, somewhat seated position. The back of the bed was so high, I don’t even know that you could say I was on my back; it was more like I was sitting in a chair. I continued pushing and yelling. I heard the doctor talking to my husband about how my other births have been. He mentioned that I caught my second daughter myself and she asked if I’d like to do that again. How could they sit around talking about me while I was being tortured? I wondered. And within seconds I was told to reach down and grab my baby. In between contractions, my head resting back against the bed, I shook it saying, “No, I can’t.” I was so tired. So very tired. They kept saying, “He’s here! Grab him.” I opened my eyes for the first time in what seemed like hours, looked down and saw a huge baby head and a shoulder. He was facing to my left, completely. I couldn’t believe he was still sideways after all of that! I tried to get a grip on him, shoulder and all, and somehow I pulled him out and started screaming “Yes!” over and over and over and over. Nothing mattered except it was over and he was here and we were together and it was over, it was over, it was over. I had done it. I had really done it. Less than 3 hours of active labor and he was here. In my arms. Screaming his head off. Placenta delivered. Stitches administered through my protests of “What are they doing to me? Why are they hurting me?”
The nurse kept gushing about two things: how big my baby was and how relaxed I was. “You should give classes on how to be relaxed!” “I’ve never seen a laboring woman so relaxed before!” “Your body was completely limp!” “He’s huge!”
“That’s a big boy!” And forever captured on video, her saying, “He’s a monster!”
They moved us to another room for the night, though I insisted I didn’t want to stay. I wanted to go home with my baby. Tomorrow is my daughter’s birthday. I wanted to be home. My husband slept. I couldn’t sleep. I had a baby. The baby I had wished for, prayed for, fought for, begged for; he was here. I just stared at him. In the morning my husband returned home to have breakfast with our birthday girl. I cleaned myself up and sat cross-legged in bed, texting and Facebook-ing and just gushing over the goodness of my little miracle. A nurse came in and said, “If you’re sitting like that, I’m guessing you’re just fine and ready to go home!” Everyone on the floor knew us as the family who wanted to leave early, who had a birthday girl at home. I so appreciated all of their help and concern, but I wanted out.
My husband returned; he brought our daughters and enchiladas! We all hung out. Took pictures. Waited for doctors to come and go and check us off their list. It seemed an eternity before we were getting into our car and heading home to begin our new lives as a family of five.
I would say in these first 24+ hours that this unmedicated, natural childbirth was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life. I had no idea what the next month would hold…
Thank you for reading this extremely personal, beautiful and life-changing account of the birth of my son. I appreciate your supportiveness and kindness as you peek into a private moment of my life.
You know I have been on quite the journey with my health. You can read about it on my blog: How I took some antibiotics that set off my mutated genes; How I tried to treat Candida and only made it worse; How I discovered I had MTHFR; How I tested and treated my neurotransmitter imbalance; And how I experienced over-methylation symptoms from vitamins that were supposed to help me. Quite the journey, indeed.
Well, during all the panic attacks, stomach aches, jitters and nausea, I still had to function. It’s not like illness sweeps in and the world pauses, waiting for us to get better. No, I still had to take my oldest to school and care for my youngest everyday. We still went to California for our anniversary and traveled to see family for Thanksgiving. There hasn’t been a pause button, as much as I wish there had been.
During it all, I had to find something to stop my anxiety from escalating. I was pursuing a holistic treatment plan, which sometimes takes time and during that time, I still had to survive. That’s why I say crocheting saved my life. Wherever we went, I would take a crochet hook and a ball of yarn. I was so new at crocheting last year, that all I could really create was a square and a rectangle (read: potholder and dish towel). It worked for me though. Focusing on my stitches, moving the hook in and out, turning my work, counting; all of this brought a much-needed distraction to me and something I could be proud of in the end. It also made great gifts!
Have you found your crochet? Do you have something that calms your mind and your body? It truly can be life-saving. You see, your mind can’t actually focus on two things at once. Take this NPR article for example; when people are multitasking, they are actually switching from one thought to the other rapidly and it can be really exhausting. To choose something for yourself that occupies the anxious thoughts is to literally stop your mind from going where you don’t want it to. This article from Forbes says more of the same: it is better to concentrate on one thing than to try to juggle many. So if your thoughts are getting away from you and anxiety is increasing, concentrate on something else!
Sitting on an airplane, juggling two toddlers, feeling the nausea and the anxiety build inside of me, I grabbed my yarn and started crocheting. When I finished my pot holder and was out of yarn, I unraveled it and started again, because that’s how badly I needed my crochet. Long car rides as a passenger have triggered me as well, so I don’t leave without a project. Focusing on my stitches helps me forget the car, the traffic, the feeling of being trapped, and the thoughts about the destination. Sitting had become one of my dreaded states of being. Even if I loved my friends and family, sitting still allowed my body and mind to become so anxious that I just wanted to run away. Crocheting was a way to stay present with people, while occupying my mind and body with another activity.
Everything about crocheting has captured my heart. I love to create and give to others and crocheting has allowed me to do that. From picking out the colors to planning the project, I am thinking of the intended recipient. Each stitch is filled with love and thoughts of others and so I am gifting them as well as myself.
Things are better now. I don’t need crochet to get through a drive or a visit with people. I have started making scarves, hats, purses, and blankets. I feel so thrilled with this developing skill and so grateful for what it brings to me. It is my meditation. It is my relaxation. It is my “do something for yourself” and my “me time”. And with all of that, it’s still something I can do while I visit with my husband or snuggle with my girls. I’ve found my thing and I hope you find yours too. Because there’s no better way to calm your thoughts than to distract them with something beautiful, lovely and productive.
Are you interested in learning crochet? Here are some of my favorite sites to get you started: Video Tutorials for Beginners by BobWilson123 Video Tutorials for Beginners by Moogly Blog Once you get the basics down, you’ll discover that BobWilson123 and Moogly have amazing projects you can create! Ravelry is also a community of people who crochet, knit and loom and are always sharing their projects and patterns. It’s fun to search Pinterest and other sites for inspiration and then challenge yourself to try something new! Enjoy!
Are you following me on Pinterest? Have you liked my Facebook page? I’d love to see you there!
Remember when I had strep throat? It was a humbling experience. I mean, I live such a healthy life and then I come down with something so debilitating that I’m at urgent care filling a prescription antibiotic? Sigh. I took my antibiotic. I got better. I took probiotics over the next few months and I felt like it was something I had put behind me. Sure, there were some subtle signs that maybe the antibiotic had altered my gut health, but I couldn’t see those until they were hindsight.
In August, there was a bug bite. It was the bug bite to end all bug bites, as it doubled in size within hours, then doubled again and again, until it was exponentially increasing in size and 30 hours later, I was crying from the pain. A visit to my integrative physician landed me on an antihistamine and an antibiotic AGAIN. It felt necessary because the poultices and oils I was using wasn’t stopping it’s increase in size. Also, I was leaving on a plane for Texas with my children; my husband and I were both nervous about what could happen if I didn’t get it resolved.
The bite decreased in size. The pain dissipated. Then I was standing in the security line at the airport and the worst feeling came over me. I was having a panic attack, the likes of which I hadn’t experienced in 15 years. I thought those days were behind me?! I ran to the bathroom while my husband stayed with the kids. I waited to throw up. It didn’t happen. I washed my face. I did deep breathing. I told myself, “You have to get through this line. You’re fine!” I made it, as you can read in my blog about flying with toddlers. But I never really felt fine… ever again….
As the days passed on my vacation in Texas, I begged my husband to talk to the doctor, to let me get off the antibiotic because I had constant butterflies in my stomach and I didn’t know if I could get on a plane again (this from a girl who LOVES to fly!). The doctor didn’t think the anxiety and antibiotic were related, but I knew better. I took several probiotics a day, thanks to my friend’s stash, and I quit the antibiotic just a few days in. The butterflies diminished, but never really left.
In fact, as time went on, I would continue to have random, devastating, debilitating panic attacks. There was no trigger. I knew it wasn’t psychological. Something was terribly wrong. And just because it needs to be said, I don’t say “panic attack” lightly. Many people will say they have panic attacks and perhaps, that is true. But I’m talking about being pulled over on the side of the road, sweating while shivering, hand over my mouth, waiting to vomit (which never actually happens), vertigo spinning me around in the car, and terrified that I won’t be able to get my children home safely. I’m talking about not being able to drive my daughter to preschool because everything is so tense inside of my body that I know I can’t get behind the wheel or it will happen again. I’m talking about leaving one of my best friend’s houses trembling, trying to get home before anyone sees this happening. My panic attacks as a child and teen were horrible and usually, I would pass out. Panic attacks as a mother though? They are a million times worse.
Despite the doctor’s opinion on antibiotics and anxiety, I have discovered something: they are definitely linked. It’s not just one antibiotic that can cause anxiety, it’s any of them.
You see, the health of your gut is responsible for the health of your mind. An antibiotic can disrupt your gut’s health and therefore your mind’s. According to the ADAA (Anxiety and Depression Association of America), “Although relatively infrequent, psychiatric symptoms have been reported as a side effect of most antibiotics.” See where it says “most antibiotics”? So it’s not like one antibiotic is better or worse than another. They all have the capability of causing psychiatric symptoms, including anxiety. ABC news reported on a 2010 study by McMaster University in Canada in which “scientists found a link between intestinal microbiota and anxiety-like behavior”. The report goes on to explain that probiotics may help some people but are not a “magic bullet” to prevent damage from occurring in the gut while taking antibiotics.
When I went to my amazing chiropractor (who is so much more than a chiropractor), Dr. Andrew Dodge D.C., D.A.C.N.B. at Valley Family Wellness, he listened to my complaints and definitely agreed. As we went through the history of antibiotic use and the symptoms I had been experiencing, he was 100% it was my gut causing the problems. On one hand, I was relieved that this wasn’t in my head and I wouldn’t become an agoraphobic. On the other hand, I was disappointed that my healthy lifestyle and nutrition hadn’t saved me from the ill effects of antibiotic use.
I will begin to share what I’ve done and this will be an ongoing discussion here, because not everything works all the time for every person. Not everything worked for me at any given time. But I can tell you what did. And what didn’t. Let’s start with two things that I highly recommend for every household and every person.
A probiotic is probably the most important. It definitely helped me in Texas when I couldn’t get the nervousness out of my body. Probiotics with large numbers are your main priority when purchasing one. This is a great one by Designs for Health; a practitioner can order them for you (including me, so contact me if you’re interested). It’s called Probiotic Synergy and it is designed to survive manufacturing, shelf life and stomach acid in order to get where it’s needed: the colon. The affiliate link to purchase it on Amazon is below.
The next item I recommend is activated charcoal. This should be in every household. Whether you ate something that made you feel sick or you’re fighting a stomach bug, activated charcoal grabs hold of toxins, gases, heavy metals and liquid wastes and soaks them up like a sponge. They exit your body never to be heard from again. I recommend Integrative Therapeutics Activated Charcoal Tablets (affiliate link below). Take these on an empty stomach in order to avoid the charcoal from grabbing any beneficial nutrients from food or supplements. I take it either in the middle of the night of mid-afternoon when I’m unlikely to be eating.
Like I said, this will be an ongoing discussion, as just broaching the subject has me reliving some very difficult months of my life. I’ve learned a LOT during this journey and I hope that just writing about it means I’m a lot better than I was. I also hope that this can help other people in some way because there were moments when I thought I was crazy; there were moments I thought I’d be better off sedated or worse. May no one ever feel that way, feel that alone, or desperate.
Let me know if you have any experiences or questions! I’d love to hear from you!
You know I love Young Living products and that their therapeutic grade essential oils are the only oils I use for myself and my family. (Read why, here!) I would be remiss, though, if I didn’t share the information I’ve acquired about the presence of gluten in several of the products Young Living offers. I’m not saying gluten makes these products ineffective. Surely, there are so many people with testimonials about the benefits of many Young Living products. This is not to devalue their experiences or yours, but to educate and inform for those, like me and my daughter, who cannot include gluten in any of our food, supplements or skin care products.
I originally signed up with Young Living to get their Tender Tush diaper rash cream for my youngest. It wasn’t much better than other creams, but essential oils mixed with coconut oil were definitely more effective. I didn’t think about it then, because honestly, it never crossed my mind that there could be gluten in a diaper rash cream. I know better now.
As I’ve been leading essential oils classes, I’ve included information about the Young Living supplements and skin care line. Because I want to provide as much real life information as possible, I started looking into some supplements to try myself so I could report back with results. My first purchase was going to be MultiGreens. I researched the ingredients and noticed Barley grass juice concentrate. My years of gluten research had alarm bells ringing in my head. I immediately wrote customer service. Here is their reply:
Hello Theresa,
Thank you for your email and for your patience in our reply to your inquiry. Multigreens are not Gluten free, I have also attached to this email a gluten content list.
If you have additional questions or concerns, or if we can assist you in any way, please feel free to contact us via telephone at 1-800-371-3515, fax at 866-203-5666, email a customerservice@youngliving.com, or our Live Help feature at www.youngliving.com.
If you are gluten intolerant, gluten sensitive, or allergic to gluten, like me, please read the following list carefully, to make sure you are not inadvertently putting gluten into your body and stimulating an immune response.
The essential oils themselves have NO gluten in them. However there are massage oils that do, as well as the V-6 oil used for capsules to swallow and diluting oils applied to the skin. The oils that contain gluten are:
Dragon Time Massage oil Ortho Ease Massage oil Ortho Sport Massage oil Relaxation Massage oil Sensation Massage oil V-6 Enhanced vegetable oil Cel-Lite Magic Massage oil (The gluten in these products is in the form of wheat germ oil.)
The following are supplements that contain gluten, including what form of gluten it is:
Allerzyme (Barley Sprout Powder) Balance Complete (Barley Grass Juice) Ecuadorian Dark Chocolessence (Contains quinoa, which may contain gluten-like proteins) Essentialzymes-4 (vendors have been unable to confirm gluten-free) ICP (oat bran) Juvapower (Barley Sprout Seed) Juvaspice (Barley Sprout Seed) Kidscent Mightyvites (Barley Grass) Multigreens (Barley Grass Concentrate) OmegaGize 3 (“none to our knowledge”) True Source (Barley Grass) Ultra Young + (“none to our knowledge”)
As I said before, the diaper rash cream came as a shock to me, but a LOT of Young Living personal care products contain gluten. They are listed below:
ART Creme Masque (Oat kernel extract) ART Day Activator (Tocopheryl acetate is sourced from wheat germ) ART Night Reconstructor (Tocopheryl acetate is sourced from wheat germ) ART Renewal Serum (Oat Protein) Bar Soaps (Oat kernel meal) Boswellia Wrinkle Cream (Barley Extract – Hordeum Distichon) Copaiba Vanilla Shampoo (“we cannot guarantee the reformulated hair care products as gluten free”) Copaiba Vanilla Conditioner (“we cannot guarantee the reformulated hair care products as gluten free”) Genesis Lotion (wheat germ oil) Kidscent Bath & Shower Gel (wheat germ oil) Kidscent Lotion (wheat germ oil) Kidscent Shampoo (wheat germ oil) Kidscent Tender Tush (wheat germ oil) Lavender Foaming Hand Soap (Hordiam Distichon) Lavender Lotion (Hordiam Distichon) Lavender Mint Shampoo (“we cannot guarantee the reformulated hair care products as gluten free”) Lavender Mint Conditioner (“we cannot guarantee the reformulated hair care products as gluten free”) Lavender Volume Conditioner (wheat germ oil, hydrolized wheat protein) Lavender Volume Shampoo (wheat germ oil) Orange Blossom Face Wash (Hydrolized wheat protein) Prenolone + Body Cream (wheat germ oil + hydrolized wheat protein) Protec (wheat germ oil) Regenolone Moisturizing Cream (wheat germ oil, hydrolized wheat protein) Rose Ointment (wheat germ oil) Sandalwood Moisture Cream (wheat germ oil, hydrolized wheat protein) Satin Facial Scrub (hydrolized wheat protein, hydrolized wheat starch, barley extract, Hordiam Distichon) Sensation Lotion (wheat germ oil) Wolfberry Eye Cream (hydrolized wheat germ oil, hydrolized wheat starch, barley extract, Hordiam Distichon)
Thieves products are beloved by many and thankfully there aren’t a lot that contain gluten. However, it should be noted that the Foaming Hand Soap contains Tocopheryl acetate from wheat germ oil. I plan on making my own foaming hand soap when my September order of Theives arrives. Keep looking for that post!
The Animal Scent Ointment also contains wheat germ oil.
FAQ
Can you have a copy of this chart and e-mail?
Most certainly! Use the “Contact Me”box up top and I will get it right over to you.
Do I feel differently about Young Living now?
I’m a little disappointed, but if I’ve learned anything from this process, it is ASK! Always ask. Don’t assume that because a company has high standards and superb products, that they’re allergen free.
Am I frustrated by the use of gluten in Young Living products?
Yes, I am. I feel like I won’t get to try some of these products that people have experienced great results with. That said, thankfully their oils are gluten free and that’s what really matters.
Should Young Living change their product formulations?
I wish! I wish Young Living would recognize that we are a society overburdened with gluten and that so many people are sensitive and allergic. I wish they’d consider that and produce a reformulation that included products without gluten. I also wish I knew how to get that ball rolling…
Should we avoid these products?
You should avoid the products mentioned above if you are sensitive to gluten. Even rubbing products containing gluten on your skin can cause an immune reaction and we wouldn’t want that! I won’t ever get to try the MultiGreens, but perhaps I’ll find a blend I like for myself elsewhere and supplement with additional oils, separately.
Is Young Living still the best company for oils?
I say yes. I say this is the only company that follows their oils from the very seed planted in the ground to the harvesting of the plant, from the rendering of the oil to the seal on the bottle. I think for me, the disappointment and “a-ha” moment came when I realized that just because they make awesome, pure, therapeutic grade oils, does not mean that they are a supplement company or can produce a product for personal care better than I could at home. It’s so easy to fall in love with a company and surrender to them, believing they are the only company for you, without double-checking the things you would anywhere else…
That being said, my supplements will continue to come from Designs for Health and Apex Energetics, because these companies are GMP (Good Manufacturing Processes) Certified and I know every ingredient that goes into their products. Also, they never include gluten or dairy, corn or soy in their products, and I personally, need that validation.
Remember, for oils, Young Living is the only way to go, in my opinion. For other products, I may recommend heading elsewhere…
To sign up with Young Living, go here and enter 1414775 as the Enroller ID and Sponsor ID. Choose the Premium Starter Kit in order to get the most for your money and start enjoying your oils today!
Please, follow me on Facebook and Pinterest. Comment below if you have something to add. Contribute to Facebook conversations or check out my Pins. I look forward to hearing what you have to say!
I may write and talk a lot about food, body image and freedom, but I don’t mention exercise much. It’s pretty controversial, actually. With all my nutrition classes and health training, I am very aware of the health impact that an exercise routine makes and yet I can state it simply: I don’t work out.
Am I recommending that you don’t work out? That depends. Does the thought of not working out fill you with fear, anxiety or guilt? Then, maybe. Does it fill you with excitement and freedom? Then, maybe. Maybe working out isn’t for you either.
Let me explain. During the worst years of my disordered eating, exercise was not an option. It wasn’t for fun. It was for the image, the look I was going for (because the emaciated skin and bones look is super hot, right?). I wanted to look like the girls on the cover of Shape magazine, which I subscribed to and devoured every month. I don’t think there was a single day that I didn’t work out in some way. From exercise videos to hours on the treadmill, long walks, running and weight lifting; I did it all. It consumed me as much, if not more than my rigid eating or lack of eating rituals.
As I gradually began the journey of recovery, exercise was the last to go. I learned to eat more freely and to accept and feed my cravings, but I could not ditch the 5-mile runs, bike rides, weight lifting sessions and yoga. You may be thinking, “Why should you? Those things are all so healthy.” Yes and no. They can be healthy but often, they’re not. When exercise is used as punishment (I ate this so I have to work it off), or to reach some physical goal (I will work out every day until I lose 15 pounds), it has power over you. You can take that power back!
Baby steps though… I traded my treadmill for an elliptical because I wanted to be gentle to my body. My rigidity continued, despite my intentions and finally I sold the elliptical and “forced” myself to take a slow, leisurely walk one afternoon a week. My intention on these walks was to quiet my mind and connect with the nature around me instead of drowning out my feelings with loud, upbeat music and pushing my body harder. I learned a lot on those walks. Gradually, I gave up running and pretty much anything that felt like I was forcing myself to do it. If I didn’t have a desire to do something, I told myself, “No.” It was a gentle “no”, much like a parent to a child, protecting myself from, well, myself. Honestly, I was scared that I would gain weight, lose muscle mass and turn into a big blob, but I didn’t. Our bodies are so incredible. Because I had already become an intuitive eater, I didn’t actually have to worry about what my body would do. We all have a natural set point for our weight that our bodies will arrive at easily, when we allow ourselves the room for some fluctuation. I found mine and I’m happy with it. I’m also happy that working out doesn’t control my life, my schedule or my relationship with my body.
The phrase “working out” is so mechanical, so laced with work. Shudder. That’s not fun! What do I suggest? The Health At Every Size model has a concept called Joyful Movement. It’s truly beautiful and I will try to describe it to you as best I can. Think of playing as a child, running around the neighborhood or in your backyard, playing tag, chase, climbing jungle gyms and kicking a soccer ball around. That was joyful. Swimming in a pool or the ocean during the summer months or being on a sports team you enjoyed. Joyful. Something happened to change that. Puberty? Media? Ideas of what you should be doing and how you should look? Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever it is, we lose that desire to move in a natural, joyful way and then we turn to “work outs” to fix ourselves. Dancing. Swimming. Walking. Running. Lifting weights. All of these are movements that can be joyful, or rigidly structured in such a way that the joy is stripped from them. If you are like I was and you need to step away from “working out” to discover what joyful movement looks like for you, give yourself permission to just stop. Adding activity into your life in a more organic way may help you find movement that you can enjoy. Things like parking farther away, taking the stairs, walking over to a co-worker instead of calling, strolling the neighborhood with your children and playing fetch with your dog are all activities that can easily be added into your life to increase movement while decreasing religious, structured, controlling regimens. It’s about turning off the timer (the one that says 30 minutes a day, 3-5 times a week) and giving yourself a break. You’re not a machine after all, despite what the fitness magazines would have you believe.
I still have my weights. They just don’t tell me what to do or when. I grab them once or twice a week and strengthen my muscles because I like the feeling I get when I lift them and I like knowing that I’m strong. I still have my running shoes, but now they push a stroller with my two beautiful girls when the weather is nice and my friends are alongside me for a good, long walk filled with deep conversations and laughter. I got a Wii last year for the winter months and I love doing programs on it like Wii Fit Plus or dance games. I had to stop that for a while too, though, because I felt my old triggers returning and the need to do it for a certain amount of time every single day. When I go back to it, it will be because I want to have fun. I guard the freedom I have with a passion. I ache for others to have that freedom too. I believe it is my mission and my purpose. Contact me if you want to schedule a session or just check-in. I love hearing from you!
Me, after the 5k Color Run – I didn’t run, but I did have a fun walk with my friends!
I posted a question on my Facebook Page: What do you want to know more about? I definitely want to write on topics that are powerful and helpful in your journey. One request was for information on skin care and how to do it without all the chemicals. So, I’ve gathered information and resources that I hope will help you!
Could there be anything wrong with your current skincare regimen? Maybe. Maybe not. Have you read the ingredients? Yes, all the ingredients. Are they pronounceable? Are they edible? Okay, maybe you think I’m going off the deep end here, but the majority of the things you put on your skin (try 60-80%) get absorbed into your bloodstream, not unlike the food you eat being absorbed and assimilated as well. So, is it edible? Chances are, it’s not.
Some ingredients to look for and AVOID are:
Propylparaben: presents toxicity for developmental and reproductive systems, disrupts endocrine system, inhibits immune system and is toxic to the environment. Found in over 7,000 products including those made by: Suave, Cover Girl, Clairol, Physicians Formula, Aussie, Avon, Biolage, Elizabeth Arden, Clinique, Neutrogena, et al)
Methenamine (formaldehyde releaser): cancer-causing agents toxic to organs, and inhibits immune system. Found in 4 products including those made by: Suave, Sally Hansen, St. Ives, et al)
2-Bromo-2-Nitropropane-1.3-Diol (formaldehyde releaser): cancer causing agent, toxic to the environment, inhibits immune system, causes irritation to skin, eyes and lungs, and toxic to organs. Found in 146 tested products including those made by: Suave, Boots, CVS, Davines, Simple, et al)
Butylparaben: causes changes at cellular and biochemical levels, toxic for developmental and reproductive systems, disrupts endocrine system, and inhibits immune system. Found in over 4,000 tested products including those made by: Clinique, Maybelline, Boots, Clearsil, CVS, LORAC, Avon, Back to Basics, Neutrogena, et al).
These are just a few that caught my attention. Trust me, there are more! Are you curious about your products? Go to EWG Skin Deep and type in your favorite product or brand and read about it. They give an overall score of skin products from 0-10. A lower score doesn’t necessarily mean it doesn’t contain toxic ingredients, but it does mean it contains less than others. Try searching for a new body wash (something that you use all over your skin and is absorbed so easily with warm water and open pores). Look for one that received a better grade like Coastal Classic Creations (score: 0), Loving Naturals (score: 0), Bare Organics Inc. (score: 0), Celadon Road (score: 0), or Dr. Bronner’s (score: 0). A facial moisturizer by Be Natural, Aura Cacia, Gio’vane, or Kiss My Face is going to be far less toxic for your skin and your health. Check out the website, search for some new options. Let me know what you discover!
Remember when I wrote about boosting immunity to remain healthy or recover quickly from an illness? So many of these chemicals inhibit the immune system! Maybe we should start there! And then the issues of infertility and cancer come to mind and I think, “Why aren’t we looking at the crap that goes into our bloodstream through our skin? This stuff is supposedly regulated and somehow approved for us to use and absorb?!” Are we science experiments or what? Besides, who told us we needed all this stuff anyway? I am 99% makeup-free. I wear eyeliner sometimes, but that’s about it. Do you know what one of the most toxic substances is? Mascara. Haven’t worn it since middle school, but I know lots of women who do. I promise you: you’re beautiful. I know it. You should know it too. Smile. Laugh. Kiss. Breathe. Beauty is made of these things, not hundreds of dollars of toxic products.
I know it’s overwhelming. Learning to live a more healthy life is not a destination that you have to try to get to quickly. It’s a journey and it’s an evolution. The more you know, the more power you have over your health and your family’s health. One method that’s helpful in order to make changes is to replace products as you use them up. So when you run out of body wash, search for a healthier option. As your moisturizer runs low, look for a new one that has received a good grade on EWG Skin Deep or at the very least contains ingredients you can pronounce and define!
We can’t rule out home recipes for non-toxic skin care either. A good quality coconut oil will go a long way in the skin care department. Used sparingly as a moisturizer before bed, you may find you need nothing else. Coconut oil contains one ingredient: coconut oil. It spreads easily and works into your skin not leaving you greasy or sticky. An easy skin toner you can use is a 50/50 mixture of white vinegar and water spread on with a cotton ball. You can find 9 other recipes for homemade toners at BeautyHealthTips. Just think about one thing at a time. I’m happy to review products if you like or try out some homemade recipes. Just let me know. Remember, we are in this together!
P.S. If you’re not buying my whole “you’re beautiful without all the crap” message, check out No More Dirty Looks. They are some gorgeous make-up wearing divas who review and write about non-toxic products so you can still get your glam on without trashing your insides.
I don’t know about you, but meal planning didn’t come naturally to me for a long time. I didn’t like planning what I was going to eat a week in advance. Sometimes I’d get an idea for a meal and go out and buy all the ingredients and it would be wonderful, but I couldn’t do that every day. I also got to the point, when I had babies, that I couldn’t just run to the store any time I wanted to make a new recipe. As a family we had a to figure out how to get enough groceries in each week so we weren’t making multiple trips to the store and we had to do that within our budget.
A budget is a loose term here. I can’t say I only spend $50 a week on groceries. I’d like to say that, but I can’t. Instead, I will be completely honest and say that the majority of our money goes to food. When I go over our bills each month, I see our grocery store and Amazon (subscribe and save) as the biggest numbers. I firmly believe that you either pay now or pay later when it comes to health. With that said, paying now means literally paying now, every day for foods that are more expensive because they are healthier. We stay away from the dirty dozen (produce with the most pesticides) and purchase meats that have not been given hormones or antibiotics. Most grocery stores have a line of meat and poultry that follow these guidelines.
When we moved to Virginia, we had to find a grocery store that carried what we were used to and it was disappointing at first until we realized that we might have to get creative. We discovered Martins (which is a store linked with Giant) and they had a natural section. Within that section and their Nature’s Promise line, we’ve found many new favorites that fall under our idea of healthy. We also use Amazon Subscribe & Save for many regular purchases that were getting too pricey at the grocery store (things like toothpaste, shampoo, toilet paper, deodorant and gluten-free Pamela’s Pancake Mix). Costco, Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s are 45 minutes away, so we shop there every six weeks or two months and stock up on things we can’t find here or afford here, like organic brown rice pasta, goat cheese, healthier pet food and some condiments. Gluten-free flours I buy directly from the website or Amazon. Pamela’s Pancake Mix I use for pancakes, cookies and quick breads:
Better batter flour I use as an all-purpose flour:
I’m going to lay out for you what I do each week. Maybe it will inspire you to find your own way to make meal-planning work for you so you can stick to a budget and not run to the grocery store every other day. I’ve found that our grocery store puts out a new ad on Sundays. Since Sundays are our day at home together anyway, it makes sense to do our grocery shopping for the week and then settle in for the week with our plan in place.
Here’s a snapshot of the ad for Martins this week, specifically showing you their very small Nature’s Promise section. As you can see, there was hardly any meat on sale and very little else to speak of. This is when I turn to my freezer. Whenever something is on sale, I buy 2-3 of it, whether it’s chicken, steaks or roasts. These come in handy on the poor sale weeks. I took one glance at this week’s ad and began meal-planning out of my freezer. Usually, we purchase fish and I cook this on Monday because it’s fresh and I don’t want it to go bad. We also usually purchase chicken, which I will cook on Tuesday, also because the thought of chicken going bad makes my stomach turn. Meat just seems to have a longer shelf life. Generally, I have 1-2 vegetarian meals a week, one fish, one chicken and one meat. I also rotate rice, quinoa, potatoes, bread and pasta as our starches. Friday is take-out. This keeps us all sane and it stops us from grabbing take out just because it’s easier. Those dollars add up if we get food elsewhere on a regular basis. We also don’t feel great when we eat takeout regularly so we limit it to one day. And the weekends? I leave those up to my incredible husband! Sometimes we travel, sometimes we have company and sometimes it’s just us, so we play it by ear.
Here’s a snapshot of the meal plan for the week. I always consider my week before planning. For instance, Wednesday I’ll be very busy and don’t know how much time or energy I’ll have to cook, so I have some soups stored in the freezer that I can pull out and serve with some fresh vegetables. Because I have chicken and meat in the freezer, I can turn to those items this week for meal ideas and use this shopping trip to stock up on things that we’re running out of: capers, olives, red wine vinegar, cat litter and frozen fruit. You can see it all on my list here (don’t judge the typos!):
This may all seem like a lot and I guess it is, but it has become a ritual for me. I sit down with my coffee after breakfast and pull up the ads. I also use Pinterest and store up my favorite recipes and recipes I want to try so I can find some inspiration when I get bored. You can follow me on Pinterest here if you’re looking for some inspiration too!
I’m also not an extreme couponer by any means, but I do save coupons for items I know we buy. Many of the brands we use offer coupons on their site, like Stonyfield, Simply Organic spices and Almond Breeze. I’m on the mailing list for Martins and they send coupons monthly that we use when applicable. The hardest part about couponing is the lack of coupons for things that we buy, especially organic items and gluten-free items. That’s why I’ve subscribed to some e-mail lists that send out e-mails about coupons for these items and every once in awhile I find one that we definitely use! Organic Deals and Coupons and Gluten Freely Frugal are my favorites.
I don’t have a desire to become a blog that’s all about coupons and deals, but I’m happy to let you know about organic deals if I find them and if you’d like that? Let me know! Please feel free to let me know if you come across any either. We’re in this together and it’s easier that way!
friends!
Remember when I wrote about 
