Sick of being sick

So as the title explains, I'm sick of being sick. For the last 2 and half weeks I have been pretty sick. I thought that I had the flu and actually saw a doctor for the first time in god knows how long. The only time I saw a doctor over the past few years was my OBGYN when I was pregnant with Troy, and all the genetic specialists where I had my prenatal procedures done. I don't like going to the doctor and I try and just rough it out. But boy did I learn that I cannot be doing that anymore. When you have a kid, you need to stay on top of yourself because if you don't, you can't stay ontop of them.

I went to the doctor 2 mondays ago and was told I had the flu. After a few days I actually started feeling worse. It got to the point where my neck was completely stiff and my tonsils and glands were completely swollen. My doctor told me to go to the ER and I did. They told me that I have a respiratory infection and strep. I have been on antibiotics and painkillers since Saturday. They were a little over zealous and gave me liquid Vicodin. I have barely used it because I really hate painkillers and how they make me feel. Painkillers for me are emergency only. I have like 3 bottles left over from when I had Troy because I just don't use them. I went to work today and it was a relief. I got sent home yesterday morning due to potential of being contagious. So I was happy to get back to being busy and making the day go by quickly.

Troy is currently asleep thank goodness. Bobby told me that he didn't sleep at all today which led me to believe it was going to be a rough night for me. I think he was worn out at the store. I had to run to Walmart today after work when I got home to get my mom's birthday gift. I'm going to do my best to make it a two parter. I mailed out her card today, and as I'm writing this, I forgot to get Troy to sign her card. Ugh. Sorry Mom! I know you read this blog from time to time so you're not getting any birthday gift spoilers, sorry!

I've been binge watching The Secret Circle on Netflix and I'm getting close to the end so I'm taking a breather. I cannot believe it was cancelled after one season. This is Firefly all over again. I watched this when it first came out and really enjoyed it. I'm enjoying it alot more this time around. I cannot see why they wouldn't have renewed this. I can't find anything terrible about it.  But I digress. Bobby is at school, I'm exhausted, and hungry. Waiting for Bobby to get home from school so we can have dinner, hang out a bit before we go to bed.

Signing off for now! Ta Ta!

Not much going on.

I can't believe October is almost over and Halloween is next week. Bobby and I already got Troy's costume and it's so fitting. We got him a little devil costume. We were literally in the store less than 5 minutes before we decided. Overall Troy is an extremely good baby. He listens extremely well, is respectful, happy, and so eager to learn. However, hell hath no fury like my tired child. Lawd hammercy. So Troy isn't really a devil child unless he's tired.

Our neighbors moved out and left the front house vacant. We decided that we are going to move into that house. It needs work and we're going to make sure that it gets taken care of first this time around. Someone I work with who's in need of a place to stay will most likely be moving into my old unit with their significant other, I already let them know that we're pretty anti-social and it won't be weird and we wont bother them simply because we work together, We most definitely learned our lesson.

Things have been busy but not out of the ordinary. Bobby is nearly done with his midterms which he has received A's on every single one. It's so nice to see all his hard work paying off. He's so smart and it looks like it comes to him so easy. He juggles everything so well. As always, I am so proud of my husband. I cannot wait until he graduates and starts working in the profession he is working so hard towards. Me on the other hand had my tutor push the start until next weekend. I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty bummed it got pushed back a week. I have been so anxious to start since the beginning of the month. I have waited this long I can wait a little longer right?

I've recently tweaked my eating habits to work on loosing the last of my baby weight I gained going back to work and after a week in I'm down 4 pounds. Not bad in my opinion. I really dont have much left to loose so it shouldn't be too hard. It's very imporant to be realistic and positive. I weighed 137 when I got pregnant and I was 164 when I gave birth so I had only gained 27lbs during my entire pregnancy. I lost it all instantly and gained a little going back to work during the holidays. Holidays are a killer. I enjoy clean and healthy eating and it suits us well. Plus since the beginning of this month, Troy has been walking nonstop so chasing after him is helping, amusing.

I really don't have anything else to say. I gave Troy dinner, a bath, clean set of PJ's and now he's asleep. Just me, my laptop, Netflix and Achilles. Just waiting on Bobby to get home now.

Uneventful

Things have been pretty uneventful on my end. Not much goes on when you're a fulltime working mother. I was so swamped with work last week that I was sure I was going to have to stay afterwork off the clock on Friday to finish. If there is one thing I'm OCD and crazy about it's time. Time management is one of my specialties. I'm always convinced I may be late to work (never have been), I'm not going to finish my work by the end of the week but it's never happened. I love being able to manage myself. I enjoy the solitude of my position. It allows me to listen to books, music, and documentaries while I slam out the work. I have been listening to Breaking Benjamin religiously. I have always LOVED BB. They're new album is just as good as Dear Agony. But I digress.

Nothing exciting has happened lately. Bobby and I cut Troy's hair this weekend. I'm still a little sad about it. When Troy was born he had jet black hair that wound up falling out and growing back like mine. His hair is/was beautiful. Wavy, soft, thick golden brown locks. He looked like a little surfer baby. But as my mom always used to tell me, "Shannon it's hair, it'll grow back". That was one of the great things about my mom. With tattoos and piercings she was very strict but with hair, there werent many limits. Lord have I had some shitty hair cuts in my life. I hope to be the same type of parent my mother was and still is to me, to Troy. My childhood had many set backs and I often wonder what could have happened if I wasnt adopted but a biological child of my mom. Maybe some things could have been different or never happened.

Thinking about parenting is very hard and is very scary. I don't like to yell at my son and I don't like to tell him no. When he's horsing around when he should be asleep rather then listen to me he just laughs, but with his dad its a completely different story. I dont want to be a push over and I want to do a good job. I dont really have anything else to say right now. Bobby's at school, midterms are coming up and Troy's been asleep for awhile. Blah

Obsession, Morbid Curiosity, Unhealthy Habit?

I have been fascinated by anything horror literally all my life. My dad introduced me into horror movies when I was young. My earliest memory of horror movies I've seen was The Leprechaun and Scream on VHS. Leprechaun gave me nightmares for years, but I got over it. I literally don't watch any other kind of movies other than Horror and True Crime.

When my dad passed away untimely in 2005 I was only 14. It was sudden, tragic, and completely unexpected. This fueled my fascination with death. I think every young kid/teen who goes through the death of a parent becomes naturally curious about death on their own so for me, I went banana sandwich. My passion is serial killers. Oh god I love serial killers. I've watched too many to count. I take it pretty serious actually, but it's funny. My husband had a college thesis where he had to critique a student's essay from like 1991 about the death penalty. It talked about a serial killer and specific facts I had already known, so reading the other person's essay I completely dissected it and helped him write the thesis and correct all the errors the other person had. It was so funny because he told me only I would know this stuff.

With all of this being said, this week I have been stuck on the Columbine Massacre. For those who are unfamiliar, Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris were senior high school students that massacred 12 students and 1 teacher. I have spent every day this week dissecting everything I can find about the massacre, to the shooters themselves. I feel like I am finally able to paint a pretty clear picture. I think this is a fascinating case where the mixture of high school stress, being an outcast, unpopular, bullied, parents who were not involved with their kids, and becoming an adolescent went haywire.

When you look up about Adam Lanza and James Holmes it’s hard to really paint a picture because all we know is what we read and what we are being told. With Dylan and Eric, man, nearly everything was made public. Their personal journals, their websites, home video footage (to an extent, basement tapes were sealed and destroyed earlier this year), even their parents journals were made public. While it's still hard to understand what exactly made them decide to shoot up their school, we got to see inside their minds and it's really sad. What can make 2 seemingly normal kids hate themselves, life, and people so much. I think when it really comes down to it, people don't understand just how much bullying can affect people. No matter what you tell young kids in high school, high school is everything, their world. You can't explain to them after high school none of it, and no one from it will matter. Dylan and Eric were so close to graduating and being rid of all the people who tormented and bullied them. Sadly they were so consumed in their own self-loathing and the need for revenge they couldn’t hold on.

I'm on the other side of the fence. While what happened was so extremely tragic, I sympathize with Dylan and Eric. They were so consumed they couldn't recover. Eric was even on anti-depressants and didn't seem to improve. I also sympathize because it is clear their parents clearly weren’t more involved with their lives. Had their parents cared a little bit more, maybe they would have seen their journals, maybe they would have seen the stashes of weapons and explosives in their rooms. If they had cared to ask questions they may have seen things with their children were clearly not right. I feel like if their parents were more involved, this could have possibly been avoided. There was a time a gun store had called Eric's house and his dad picked up by mistake, and the store called to let him know that his clips and ammo were ready. Rather than ask further questions, the dad simply told the store that he hadn’t ordered and ammo or clips. Wouldn't you think that was weird? How could someone possibly call someone else by mistake about ordering this kind of thing? Eric later wrote in his journal that if his dad had asked more questions, everything would have been ruined.

I just really can't shake this story. I don't think I'm going to stop looking into it for a while. I'm currently working on reading their journals. I have already read the transcripts for their "basement tape" videos. I was sad to read that earlier this year those videos were destroyed. They were never made public or released due to fear that other people would take ideas from them and carry out similar heinous acts. But come on, have you read the news lately? When are kids looking at videos like this and carrying out school shootings? They seem to be doing just well on their own.

I am not ashamed.

This post will be completely out of the norm. This is a post mainly getting things off my chest, really bearing my soul.

I didn't have an easy start in life. For the most part, I have not had an easy life. However, I do believe that life is what you make it, and everything always happens for a reason.

At one point in my life, I don't think anyone really ever expected me to make it to the age that I am now, 25. I never indulged in drugs or alcohol, but I did indulge in self harm, and poor poor choices that lead to destructive behaviour. I was diagnosed, and suffer with Biploar I, and Massive Depressive Disorder. I choose to live my life unmedicated. I rely on my mental strength and the help of my husband to keep me grounded.

From early childhood until early teen years, I was prescribed and took 4 different medications. 1 for ADD, 1 for depression, and 2 for mood stabilizers. I can probably say that only the ADD medicine was beneficial because my grades and overall activity in school improved. Other than that, I was a shell, I was empty, lifeless and without purpose. I spent over 10 years in intensive therapy and was briefly hospitalized. I never want to feel that way again, and that is why I choose alternative methods to treat my mental disorders.

Sometimes I feel like I can say "I've been clean since 2009". Not in the sense that I haven't used drugs or alcohol but, that I turned my life around. I don't really have anything to hide so the more accurate statement would be, I have been clean since 2013. 2013 was a very bad year for me. I was in a very dark place and I was set on self destruction. Nothing I did, nothing Bobby did could save me. I'm not going to go into what happened but I nearly destroyed my life, and everything I had worked so hard to obtain. (wasn't suicide).

I can never express or show how much I love my husband. I caused a path of utter chaos and destruction and tore apart our lives. When my hurrican had finally ended, he was still there. Any other person in their right minds would have bounced the fuck out. Who could possibly be worth that much trouble? Apparently I am. This is part of my problem. Of all the things I've done, of all the things I've been through, I don't feel worthy. It is often hard for me to accept the love from my husband. Sounds stupid right? It is. The years just keep going by, and somehow I feel like I still need to protect myself from being hurt. My husband has never hurt me, and never would. Bobby is pure. Bobby is a sunrise that washes away the clouds in the sky so you can see the sun.

The last few days have been extremely hard for me. I feel like I've been waging a war inside myself and I cannot extinguish the flames. I am holding it together ok on the outside and I'm not taking it out on others but on the inside I feel tortured. The reasons I'm sure are trivial but still a struggle regardless. I sometimes feel like a phony. While I may seem perfectly fine on the outside, happy, laughing, normal, there are times where I'm just really sad. It's kinda like all the things that I have inside spill out from time to time and I need to be sad for a little while before I can reel it back in.

But with all of this being said, I'm also trying to convey that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. There is hope, there is healing, and there is management. I get up every single day, I kiss my husband and son goodbye and go to work. I come home, Bobby goes to college and I cook dinner for everyone. My life isn't perfect but it's perfect for me. I have a loving husband, a PERFECT child, and everything I need. There are of course things in my life that are missing like certain family members like my mom, but that's what technology is for. You can never give up, ever. No matter how bad things may seem, tomorrow is always another day and a new beginning. Never be ashamed to have issues that are out of your control.

I'm 25 years old. I've worked at the same place for what seems like forever. I've been married for almost 6 years and I am a mother. I have everything I could have ever dreamed of. If I can do it, you can do it too. Stay strong!

Boy oh Boy

Time for an update! It's so funny to see familiar IP's and locations viewing these blog posts. Don't worry I'll feed you baby birds!!

This month has been just like every other. Busy. September has been a big month. Troy turned 1, and I turned 25. Jeeze. I turned 25, when did this happen exactly? I feel like 2 years of my life literally just zipped by. I got pregnant at 23, and gave birth at 23, now all of a sudden I'm 25! What the hell!Didn't do much for my birthday because let's face it, with me and Troy's birthday being 19 days apart, it's about him not me. For my birthday I got 2 tattoos and we went to Red Lobster. I like to joke and say that us going to my "Annual Red Lobster Pity Trip". I love seafood, Bobby not so much. We go once or twice a year. I wasn't impressed with my food to say the least. Bobby didn't like his of course, and Troy couldn't stop eating like normal.

I am in love with my new tattoos though. It's been 5 years since I had gotten any. Overdue is an understatement. The two I got were very special and unique. I got my anniversary in roman numerals on the side of my wrist. It's insane to think we're going on 6 years of MARRIAGE. Anyway, I also got "Is brea liom tu Robert". Is brea liom tu means, "I love you" in Gaelic. I am over 50% Irish, and Bobby is Irish as well. I definitely got my tattoo fix in. I had been itching forever. I still need to design or find something I want to dedicate to Troy. Nothing has clicked for me yet, and I want to make sure whatever piece I get for him is nothing short of amazing.

Bobby has been in college now for about a month. It's crazy how much time is going by. I wish time would please slow down. I'm so proud of him. He's currently working towards a double major and has straight A's in all his classes. He's doing so well and he's truly an inspiration. Those who grew up the way he did can use him as an example that it's not the way you grew up that defines your life, but the decisions you choose to make. Bobby decided to live a different life and walk a path different from everyone he knows and look at him now. He's such an amazing person, and I am in awe of him everyday.

I continue to work at the same company while I get ready for my career choice that I have finally decided on. After many years, much contemplation, and trial and error I've decided what I want to do. I have decided I want to be a Police Officer. That's not necessarily my end goal, that's working for the FBI as a serial killer investigator or profiler, but that's my dream. If I never get to the FBI, I would definitely aim for a homicide detective instead. Being a detective or a profiler have all my strong suites built into one career. I am highly detail oriented, I am tedious, I am a nit picker, I am good at seeing things from a different perspective, and I'm a damn good investigator. There's no getting anything passed me. Plus I love serial killers. It's just perfect for me. So I'm slowly working towards that while Bobby goes to school. Once he's finished he'll be a physical therapist assistant and I'll be a cop. Two careers our son will be proud of us for achieving.

I think I've rambled enough, and I'm sure I filled the drama meter for those baby birds still checking on me after all this time, lol.

Today is my son's 1st birthday. Here is my birthstory. (Updated W/ Pics)

This is my birth story.

One year ago today, at 7:43 am, I gave birth to the most amazing little person I have ever known. My son, Troy David Robert Allstead.

For those who know me know that my pregnancy in the beginning was very hard. Bobby and I were going through so much that it is amazing how well we did. We had alot of scares, I had genetic tests done, and alot of specialists. In the end everything turned out ok.

I woke up on September 4^th, 2014 at 4:00am. I had hardly slept that night because of all the pain I was in. Troy despite being 39w 4d, was still very high up in my ribs, and was as active as ever. He made me feel like at any moment my skin was going to tear. But how could I be mad at that? My son was awake, alive, and active. Our bags were all over-packed for the hospital and had been for atleast 2 weeks. Bobby and I were relatively calm despite what we were getting ready to do. At 5am we drove to the hospital.We talked about what was about to come, and about normal things. We had become very familiar with the hospital, and the maternity ward because I had been there for a walk through, and complications with my preterm contractions. I waddled my way through the hospital and to the maternity ward where I was greeted by the nurses on staff that morning, was signed in and was taken to my room. Bobby joined me shortly after because he had to find parking and clarify where he could park overnight.

I was given my hospital gown to put on, and was hooked up to all my fetal monitors. The lady who was hooking me up looked under my gown and was for some reason shocked. She had said, “You’re all baby under here”. All I could say was, “Thanks?” I was very small throughout all my pregnancy. No one ever believed me when I told them how far along I was. But I digress. I got very caring and understanding nursing staff that morning. I have a huge fear of needles and did not want the IV I was going to receive to go into my hand. I couldn’t handle it. They agreed to give me an IV in my arm instead which I was so thankful for. After they drew my blood and took down my medical history my doctor came in. He had told me he was so pleased that I was punctual. That means that everything can go exactly as planned. We did get there early so we spent some time waiting on my labs, and just cuddling in bed. That’s when Dr. Knight showed up, it was game time. I wasn’t ready. Dr. Knight told me that he was going to get changed, and that we were going to the operating room. That’s when the fear really hit me. I had misheard what he said and I thought that I had more time before we went to the operating room. They told me that Bobby couldn’t come with me because I had to be set up first. This was terrible for me. I was getting ready to do the biggest thing I have ever done and I had to do the walk alone. I waddled along with the nurses to my operating room as they greeted the doctors and nurses along the way. Every step that I took I swear Troy already knew how scared I was. He didn’t let up for anything. Finally we made it. My operating room, my door.

When I walked into the operating room it was extremely bright. Everything in there was white. But the room overall was absolutely freezing. Freezing to the point where I was shivering and shaking. I was naked under this paper thin gown. Once I sat down on the table I started to panic even more. My anesthesiologist did everything he could do to keep me calm while the doctors and the nurses talked amongst themselves. There was no time to think about anything because it was all moving so fast. The anesthesiologist told me to lean forward and try and touch my toes. This was it, the moment I had been dreading most of all, the spinal. The spinal was a shot directly into my spinal cord. He didn’t tell me when he was going to put it in but I felt it. During this moment is when I thought I had made the wrong decision. What was I possibly thinking? How can I do this? This is a really big mistake. It was a super sharp pain and before I finished saying “OW” the pain was gone and the weird feeling had begun. I had lost all feeling in my lower body. They had to put their arms under my arms and physically pull me up, which didn’t feel good, at all. I was very worried that I was still going to be able to feel everything. I started to panic even more, and started to cry. I asked when I could see Bobby, when I could see Bobby. They told me that he would be able to come in once I was all sterile and prepped.

They started prepping me by putting up my partition first so I couldn’t see. They were touching my legs and I was still able to feel. But what I was feeling was normal. It felt like the same tingly sensation you get when your legs fall asleep and you stand up. After they did all this they started to rub this cold stuff on me. Once they were done doing that Bobby was finally able to come in and sit near my head.

I was never happier to see him then I was at that moment. I also don’t think that I squeezed his hand harder than I did at that moment. My anesthesiologist joined us at my head. He had made sure that I was comfortable and just tried to talk to me. He told me that they had already made the first incision and was trying to tell me what else was going on. I shut him down straight away and told him that I didn’t want to know what they were doing and I only wanted to know when he was almost out. After a few more brief moments he told me that they were going to push down on my chest and that I was going to feel some pressure. When they pushed down on my chest, it felt like there was an elephant standing on my chest and that was it, Troy was here. The first thing that they had said was “Whoa this guy already needs a haircut” Troy then began to cry. It was the most amazing sound. The past 10 months had flashed before my eyes. This crying started as a “Pregnant” on a digital pregnancy test, a blip on a monitor, a kick in my chest, now he was really here, he was real, my son. I started crying instantly and the anesthesiologist wiped my tears as they held him up for us to see. Troy had his eyes closed and a head full of jet black hair. After I saw him I started having a hard time understanding what was taking place. They said “give him a kiss mom” and placed troy against my face and I kissed him, and they took him away.

Before we went to the hospital Bobby and I had many talks about him being very aware and very involved with Troy when he came out. I told him that he needed to make sure that he was ok. They started to perform the Apgar test. I wasn’t able to see a lot of it but the time I was able to see was the time when they were having trouble getting Troy to cry. They were rubbing his back, patting him, basically trying to make him mad so hell cry, and he did. At this moment I felt myself going in and out of consciousness. Bobby squeezed my hand tight and told me to squeeze his hands, keep my eyes open, and to stay with him. They called Bobby over to cut the cord and I wasn’t able to see because of the partition.

Once Bobby cut the cord he came back and joined me at the top of my head and the doctor brought Troy over to me and laid him in front of me and Bobby was holding him in place. Troy wasn’t really crying, but he was whining. I kept telling him that he was a faker and he was faking that he was fine. After a few more minutes with him the doctors told me that they were just about done stitching me up and that we were getting ready to go into recovery. I grabbed Bobby and told him “Do not leave his side, do not let him go anywhere where you can’t go” Then they were gone.

I don’t know if it’s a bad thing, but I was so completely out of it that I wasn’t really that worried. I think it’s because I knew Troy was safe with his dad. The only person that I could possibly trust at that very moment to take my minutes old son away from me. It didn’t take very long for them to finish up and they took off the partition and I almost died. There is some weird thing they placed over my stomach for surgery that was adhesive. So when they pulled it off my stomach looked like ramen, or like when your finger gets all pruney when you stay too long in the water. I had asked them if those were stretch marks and the anesthesiologist assured me no. They covered me up and started to wheel me into recovery.

When we got wheeled into the room Bobby was standing in the middle of this room holding Troy and adjusting his hat. He looked so confident, like he had done this a thousand times before. He was already a natural. This was a really magical moment. I had no partition in front of me, nothing blocking my view and I was sitting fully up. Bobby, Troy’s father, handed me my son. He was so calm, he was perfect and still. I pulled down my gown and put him to my chest. He laid on my chest and I felt whole. They had told me that they were getting ready to give Troy a vitamin K shot. When they gave him the shot he cried so loudly that I instantly started bawling. My poor little booboo was in pain and I couldn’t help it. The crying didn’t last long before he was perfectly at ease on my chest once again. I wasn’t allowed to breastfeed him because they were concerned about his breathing. He was making a sigh/cry when he exhaled and he shouldn’t be.

They decided that they were going to give him an hour to see if he was going to improve. During that hour Bobby was running in and out of the room to get service to talk to my mom who was anxious as could be. My mom was so happy for me and couldn’t get enough of his pictures.

After the hour passed Troy’s breathing hadn’t improved so they had to take him away again and I made Bobby go with him. They put him in a heating bed, and monitored his heart and gave him a bath. They waited a little longer till he was cleared to come back to my room. During this time I was sitting here alone, scared to death about Troy. When Bobby finally came to my room to tell me that he was ok, I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much longer before Bobby and the nurse were wheeling Troy into my suite.

Bobby again handed me Troy, and I had the go ahead to breastfeed. I was so lost on how to do this and I wasn’t sure I was doing it right. This is a moment I will never forget in my life. As I was talking to Bobby about it, and telling him how everything I had read tells me that when a baby latches, you’d know it. At that exact moment, Troy had latched. It was the most amazing thing ever, my baby boy had latched and began to feed. He was a breast feeding champion. It did take a little time for him to be able to latch properly on both breasts but like I had said, he was a champion and got it down pat in no time.

Now that I finally had Troy with me and he was perfectly fine, we took this time to take lots of pictures and send them to family and friends. My mom got the majority of the pictures and like everyone, was amazed at all his hair. All I could do was just look at him. I was simply amazed at this little boy. He was perfect in every way, and I was surprised that I had made this little boy. He came out of me. And just a few hours ago he was kicking the crap out of my ribs. He spent the majority of the time overall sleeping. I had the hardest time putting him down. I would have loved to have bed shared with him in the hospital but that wasn’t an option.

There are no words to describe how tired I was after I had Troy. I got absolutely no sleep the night before because I was so anxious. I woke up so early and headed to the hospital then had Troy. I had never been so tired in my entire life. After you have a C-section, you’re checked on constantly because it is major surgery. I swear to god that every time I nodded off or finally fell asleep a nurse had come in to check on me and Troy. I appreciate the follow ups but man….I don’t think I slept more then 1-2 hours at a time my entire duration I was in the hospital. I also couldn’t sleep because I was too scared. In hospitals they swaddle babies to keep them warm and comfortable. Troy however liked to sleep kind of on his side. I was so overly paranoid that if I fell asleep, he was somehow going to roll over on his face and suffocate. I cannot tell you how many times I called, and or texted my mom panicking. She told me to just relax and calm down and that he was going to be fine. But I still couldn’t do it. So instead I stayed up, watched crappy TV and slammed as many apple juices my nurses would bring me.

Before I knew it, it was time to bring Troy home. We were both well enough to be discharged after 2 very long, long days. There are no words to describe the paranoia of driving your 2 day old child home in the car on the way home from the hospital. Bobby drove so slow!! We were so happy to be home, and I was so happy to come home to a pristinely cleaned home with all of my necessities close near my bed. Bobby made all the preparations for coming home that we eased right in. Giving birth is hard, scary, exhausting, and amazing. I couldn’t have done it without the support of my husband, my mom, and my family.