Maybe this is my midlife crisis...

Maybe this is my midlife crisis.

If you had asked me two months ago what my plan for the future was, I wouldn't have even had to think about it. My future was working in Zillah, doing what I love, watching my kids grow up here, and being a part of the community that I love. This was my home. It was where I intended to put down my roots. I have spent 12 years working in the Zillah School District. I started as a para-pro at the elementary and worked while I put myself through night classes to earn my BA in Education. My dream from the start was to teach English or reading at the middle school in Zillah and that was the first position I was offered when I applied. It was perfect. As I grew to love the quirky middle school age group. I started coaching and eventually took on ASB which led to teaching a leadership class and running a mentoring program. I adored my job. 

Then this year happened. It was by far the most challenging year of my career - by miles. I started the year with a new principal and in the beginning, we got along great. We had similar ideas about student leadership and I thought that it was the beginning of a beautiful thing. It wasn't. In November I left for an NCTE conference in Atlanta. When my plane touched down and my notifications started coming in, I discovered that the guest speaker that I had booked and had approved a year in advance had been canceled without my knowledge or consent. To say that I was furious was an understatement. I had booked someone who would have had an amazing impact on our students. I could have dealt with being told that we had to cut the speaker but I believe strongly that I should have at least been consulted. If I hadn't heard from the company themselves, I wouldn't have even known that anything had happened. When I came home, I had to tell my ASB students that the speaker had been canceled and that instead, a friend of our principal would be speaking. I was angry and so were they. I know that I didn't keep some of my thoughts to myself and I should have but because of the way it was done, I had a lot of trouble with that.

A few weeks later we did our online StuCo survey. It is a routine that we do at the end of each semester to get a feel for what the student body is interested in for upcoming events and what suggestions they have for improving our school and activities. When the results came in and my students brought them to me, I was shocked. A significant number of the responses were related to our principal and they were incredibly negative and cruel. After sharing the results with her, she became convinced that somehow I was turning the students against her. Ironically, I was spending a lot of time trying to stop the negative comments about her - both in my content classes and in leadership. If you've ever worked with middle schoolers, you know how difficult that is. Needless to say, by Christmas break the tension was high. Things didn't get any better after we came back from break. In March I left for my ASB conference in Vancouver. The first day that I was gone was an in-service day for staff. First thing in the morning I started getting texts from coworkers that the topic of the morning was moving leadership to a before school class or an after school club - neither of which would work in our community. Again, I felt like as soon as I was out of the building, my program was on the table without me there to discuss or defend it. When I got back, I was reassured that the leadership program would stay and that things would go on pretty much as before.

Fast forward to May. Things were winding down for the year and I had started working on a presentation for some leadership kids to present at the board meeting at the end of May. We wanted to acknowledge the support that we had to put on new activities throughout the year and show them what we had planned for the coming year. I talked to the kids about presenting at the meeting and told them if they wanted to sign up to do it, we would put it on the agenda. Then we watched our TED talk for the day (if you haven't watched it, you should) about the use of language and the mindset that we have about gender roles. The speaker drops the f-bomb when quoting a player that she interviewed. A parent called the school the next day concerned about the content of the video. In hindsight, I should have sent home a note to parents about it and if it had been one of my ELA or history classes, I absolutely would have. However, in leadership, most of our conversations are about hard topics and I made the mistake of assuming that it was something they all could handle. My principal asked for the link so she could watch the video and then, throughout the rest of the day, students were pulled out of my classes and were interviewed. At the end of the day, some students came to me and confided in me the interviews made them really uncomfortable and that the questions were related to my character and the quality of teacher that they believed I am. I went into the weekend in tears, trying to understand what on earth I had done to make her question my character.

The following week, my union rep and I sat down with my principal and vice principal. She proceeded to tell me that she had interviewed students from my classes and that she believed that I was trying to pit students against her and that I was a poor role model for leadership. She had heard bits and pieces about students presenting to the board and somehow twisted it to believe that we were going to the board to try and get her fired. She could not have been further from the truth. She then told me that she was going to take my leadership program away from me and that I would no longer be the leadership teacher OR the ASB advisor at ZMS. My rep asked her if this was something that I could earn back if the following year went well and I was told, unequivocally, NO. Prior to the meeting, I had asked if I needed a rep, if there was some sort of discipline that I needed to be aware of, and I was told that there was no discipline to be assigned. After she told me that I would no longer be working with student leadership, I said I had been under the impression that no discipline was occurring. She smiled and said that it wasn't. She explained that she could assign or take away supplemental contracts as she saw fit. So I wasn't be disciplined but I was losing everything that I held dear. I lost it. I left school in hysterics. I went to my best friend's house and I bawled until I didn't have any tears left to cry. Then, I started updating my resume and applying for jobs. I knew that if I couldn't teach leadership or do ASB, the things that brought the deepest joy in my job, that I did not want to be a part of ZMS anymore. Leadership and ASB kept me grounded and made it so I could tolerate the bullshit that was thrown my way. I took two days off, updated my resume, and applied for several jobs around the valley.

The kicker came the day that I returned to work. A district administrator came to see me first thing in the morning and told me in no uncertain terms that the interviews and "investigation" did not yield ANY results that warranted discipline. Let me say that again - there wasn't anything in the investigation that HE conducted that warranted discipline. Then, a few days later I was visited by another administrator. He went on to tell me that the relationship between my principal and I was too toxic for us to continue in the same building. So, after 9 years at ZMS, I was told that I would be moved to a position at the elementary school. That sealed the deal for me. I was done with Zillah.

I have given 12 years to the Zillah School District and I intended to give my entire career to the students in Zillah. In nine short months, all of that was undone by one human. The saddest part is that I am not the only teacher at ZMS who has been put in this position, who has had to contact the union, who has considered leaving the district, who has felt isolated and unappreciated. I am one of several. In conversations with educators and administrators from other districts in the valley who have worked with this person, I am one of many. Prior to my resignation, I was told that I wasn't to share my story. Now that I am no longer a ZSD employee, I am exercising my right to free speech and I am sharing my story. I believe that I was treated unfairly and I believe that my reputation in Zillah speaks for itself. I know the truth about the situation and I know that truth about what went on in our building. I may not have been allowed to share it before, but I am choosing to share it now. I don't believe that silence solves anything.

It hasn't only been my career that has been impacted. This all came to a head as we were in the process of moving to Zillah. My commute has literally been flipped around. My kids will be in Zillah this year since we are living here but next year they will be moved to Selah. This has impacted every aspect of my life.

The saddest part of all of this and the actual point of this incredibly long post is that this entire year has made me question every part of myself. After I got the call from the principal in Selah, who expressed how excited he was to bring me on board, I realized how much my perception of myself had changed this year. I have always struggled with self-esteem but this year has been horrendous. I have questioned my ability as a teacher, as a wife, as a mom, and as a friend. I have doubted myself in every regard and I am so angry about it. I have lost an entire year of my life. I have lost a year of my kids' lives. I have been so depressed and full of self-loathing that I haven't been the wife or parent that I was designed to be. I will never get to go back and relive this time in my kids' lives, I can't go back and be more present in my marriage. I can't undo the poor decisions I made in regard to my health and wellness. I have lost an entire year to negativity, anger, doubt, fear, and hate. I am trying to find a healthy way to process that anger and harness it into being a better wife, a better mom, and a better human in general - but it is hard. I can choose to let it fester or I can write it out, share it, and move on with my life. I choose the latter.

I have a new chapter beginning - a new school, a new community, and new opportunities. I am excited and I am optimistic. I feel like in the weeks since I walked out of the middle school for the last time, I have started to see pieces of the real me again. I have started working out, playing with my kids, and being a human who participates in life again. This post is the endcap of a part of my life - it is the final lines in a dark chapter and I am so ready to turn the page. I am so grateful for the experiences and relationships that have been a result of my time in Zillah. The community has been awesome and supportive and I have taught some of the most amazing students and have watched them grow into kind, compassionate, successful adults. I value those memories and relationships more than I can express and they have shaped me into the teacher and human that I am today.

Thank you Zillah. I will love you always. <3 p="">

Selah... let's do this.

Humbled...

I was going to have a tantrum today.

I was going to post about how hard my day was - first day home alone with the new baby, trying to get a workout in, keep up on housework, and still be a good mama and give my boy all the loves he needs. He was fussy this morning and from 5am on it was a dance of cuddling and pumping and feeding and changing and rocking and burping and then PRAYING he'd go back to sleep long enough for me to get a few Zzzzz's in. I gave up on the concept at 10:30 and slowly got us ready and out the door for a jog [IN THE RAIN]. We got home and I got all pumped up to do my first Shred workout but had to hop back and forth between rocking Cohen in his carseat and having Jillian chew me out for taking breaks. Then I cleaned the master bedroom as fast as I could, picked up most of the house, and spent the rest of the afternoon feeding, pumping, cuddling, burping, [getting HURLED on], and changing my sweet little boy.

I was grumbling a little, visualizing this routine lasting for the next three months and wishing for just a teeny dash of normalcy in my day. I was writing up a blog in my head talking about how much harder it is to be a SAHM than a working mom, how I miss work and routine, and blah blah blah. While I was rocking Cohen after his mid-afternoon snack I snuck on my phone and checked my Google-reader to see if I was missing out on anything. I don't get to keep up on my blog reading like I used to and I wanted to make sure nothing major had happened in the world of the interwebs.

And I read this post. And I realized what an asshole I am for complaining about how hard my life is.

I've been following Jenn's posts since I was pregnant with Addison, I followed along as her twins were conceived despite huge odds, as she lost the healthy twin the day before delivery, and as her surviving baby struggled for the last 17 months in the NICU. And now she has to bury her baby. Suddenly everything fell into perspective for me... I have a healthy baby boy and a thriving little girl, my biggest concern is how to fill my spare time and keep the crumbs off my floors. I stress out because my laundry piles up and because I forget to shower. But my children are alive and healthy and safe... and that is really all that matters.

So, I won't have a tantrum today. I won't be selfish enough to think my life is hard enough to warrant a tantrum. Instead, I'll be thankful for each time I get spit up on, for every time I get woken up during the night, for every fit Addison throws when she can't have any more apple juice. I'll be thankful and I'll count my blessings - and any time I start to feel sorry for myself I will remember that I'm lucky just to have these two tiny people in my life.

They're back...

Hormones.

And not just your 'run-of-the-mill pregnancy hormones'... nope, these are nine months pregnant crazy hormones. They're the ones that bring on the nesting that leaves you scrubbing the tracks in the shower door, that has you crawling around dusting the molding around the house... and the ones that make you bat-shit crazy over NOTHING. Yup, those ones.

I had a really good day - I got my hair cut and colored, got my eyebrows waxed, my toes are all beautiful and polished, I registered for baby stuff at Target, had lunch somewhere other than my kitchen counter, and even managed to get my car reasonably clean. My house is clean, my laundry is done, I'm off my icky meds, my kid gave me good lovies before bed... I *should* be flying high. But, alas, I am not.

I'm sad. I'm lonely. I'm uncomfortable. I'm anxious.

The reason these hormones are so stupid is that they screw up your brain so much that you don't even know what's wrong or you're mad about things that haven't even happened [that could also be part of the definition of crazy... but we won't go there right now.] I'm sad. Why? Hell if I know. I want a hug... and not just any hug but a good, long husband hug. I know I'm shaped disproportionately right now and giving me a hug is probably not the easiest thing but I miss hugs. I think I've had two in recent memory =[ I'm lonely... which makes me sad. Double whammy. I've been alone in this house for two months. Even when people were here, I was pretty much quarantined off to the back of the house. So even though the introvert in me liked doing all my errands alone today, it also pointed out that I was doing all of my errands... alone. Then I came home and, after a quick dinner and episode of Tosh.0, I was in the bathtub - alone. Not that I wanted company IN the tub but it was just something else to do alone. But you have to understand where the 'crazy hormone' part comes in... after I was out of the tub and laying in bed, Derek asked me if I wanted to sit in the TV room and watch a show or if I wanted him to watch the M's in the bedroom while I played on the computer - and because I'm [crazy, stubborn, pregnant... who knows] I tried to pretend that I was okay sitting in here alone. I guess it's not just being in the same room but I want to DO something - hang up Cohen's name letters or the curtain rod, go on a date [I would kill for a real, dress up, reservations-required pre-baby date], anything but sitting in front of this stupid TV or this stupid computer for another night. I tried to hint that we should go out but so far I think it's fallen on deaf ears...

Uncomfortable? Anxious? I'm sure that neither of these two feelings are surprising. I have a human living in my stomach. A human that is now capable of living outside, on his own. That means he's big, he moves A LOT, and he has incredibly boney knees. If it's not a butt shoved up into my rib cage it's a knee or foot or elbow [literally] sticking out of my side. And if it's not him, it's contractions. I'm thrilled to be off my medicine but let me tell you, these suckers are just getting started and I am visualizing two [or more] weeks of feeling like an iron band is clamping around my torso and sucking the life out of me. Anxious? I want to have a baby. NOW. I'm done being pregnant. I HATE being pregnant... I'm not one of those happy, warm-fuzzy women who knits blankets and sings lullabies during her pregnancy. I suffer through this because the end result is a tiny person that I love more than I could have ever imagined. But if a real, live stork could have dropped these munchkins off on the porch, I wouldn't have complained a bit. I keep willing my contractions to be strong or praying for my water to break so we can just be done with this part... but I know that I have weeks of this ahead of me, not hours or days.

I don't have a point to this post... aside from whining about my incredibly difficult life [sarcasm] and documenting exactly how crazy I get after nine months of pregnancy... =[ Can we please be done now??

Now I'm going to scream... or cry... or take a nap...

I'm sick of preterm labor. Really, REALLY sick of it... and in the last few days I have come to the conclusion that the only real difference between preterm labor and 'real' labor is that preterm labor is pointless. It doesn't get you any closer to having a baby in your arms but it still hurts like hell, makes you miserable, and makes you want to kill yourself several times a day. I'm having a very hard time grasping the fact that there are WEEKS of this ahead of us... and I'm having an even harder time comprehending that somehow I have to make it through without losing my sanity.

Monday. Everything bad happens on Mondays right? Monday morning at about 4:30 my contractions woke me up. Up until that point, getting to sleep was always my way of getting rid of the nasty little buggers... if I could fall asleep (HA!) then they wouldn't bother me. Not anymore. Monday morning they woke me up and I tossed and turned and writhed until my 8am med dose. My back cramped up, my tummy was as hard as a rock, and it HURT. They came off and on again like that throughout the day... I didn't get up to shower... I barely got up to make food - I just laid there... allllll day. Then, yesterday, they woke me up again... at 3am. I took an early dose of my meds at 4am and suffered through most of the morning. By about 8pm last night I was regretting not going to the hospital but was also too stubborn to ask to go in - a night trip to the hospital is a MAJOR hassle. Derek gets zero sleep and has to go to work in the morning, we have to call his parents to come stay at our house to avoid dragging a groggy two-year old to the ER in the middle of the night and THEY have to get up and work in the morning, not to mention... it's always the same story. "Yup, you're having a ton of contractions. Nope, you're not dilating. Go home and suffer until something else changes." Not exactly how I want to spend my night so  I figured if I could tough it out until my appointment this afternoon then maybe we could get some answers. I got a few hours sleep last night before they woke me up at 3:30 again. I grumbled and tossed and turned and at 8:30 I called Dr. H's office to see if they could get me in earlier in the day - just on the off chance that they might be able to offer some magical cure that they had been holding out on. They couldn't get me in but told me to go to L&D for observations [Oh. Joy.]. So, I packed myself into the car and drove my big to the hospital for another engaging round of 'count the contractions' and 'poke Stefani in the cervix'.

The end result... yup, you guessed it. "You're having a lot of contractions but we can't increase your medications any more. Thankfully, you aren't dilating yet. Try a warm bath or a hot pack and see if that helps [insert me resisting to throat punch the nurse] and come back if anything changes." FML.

Things about this situation that make me angry...

1. Um, I'm miserable. Not 'can't walk, can't talk' contractions miserable... but 'leave me the f*** alone' miserable. Which, after two weeks, seems like about the same thing.

2. I don't buy into the whole, "Not dilating so we're safe" idea since my water broke with Addison when I was barely dilated to 1 cm. But whatever, no one listens to me.

3. I can't sleep. I lay down at 9pm... toss and turn [andtossandturnandtossandturn] until about 1 or 2am and fall asleep until 3:30 or 4am when the contractions get bad. I take my meds, go pee, and toss and turn for the next four hours until I can take my meds again and Derek leaves for work. Then, I take over the bed and, if I'm lucky, get another hour or two of decent rest.

4. I *HATE* going in to the hospital all the time. No matter how many doctors and nurses explain that they'd rather have me there every day than have a preterm baby [and I agree] - I can't stand the look from the snooty ER check-in staff when I show up and check in. Not to mention, leaving L&D while still pregnant is like taking the walk of shame. Don't ask me why, it just is.

So... I know that if I go back and look at blog posts from early September of 2009, I probably vented these same things and I know that [to the rest of the world] a few more weeks isn't going to kill me [we'll see]. But I can tell you that right now - I'm exhausted, I'm uncomfortable [understatement of the decade], I'm frustrated, and I want to scream and cry and bang my head against the wall until this baby decides to be born. The only thing keeping me from doing that is the fact that I know this little guy isn't ready yet and no matter how awful this is, it doesn't compare to how awful it would be for him to be born too early. So my mommy instinct is keeping me from doing fifty-thousand jumping jacks and trying to send myself into labor.

So, since I was there alone, I did what I do best. I took random pictures so all my friends and family can experience this magical time with me. Don't worry, I didn't include any pics of my butt hanging out of my hospital gown on the way to the potty... that sad sight is reserved for my poor husband.

God, grant me the serenity...

to accept the things I cannot change;

the power to change the things I can;

and the wisdom to know the difference today.

Once upon a time, way back in TTC land, I swore that IF Derek and I were able to get pregnant that I wouldn't complain about anything - no matter how bad it was - because I was going to be so thankful for the chance to have a baby. I broke my promise. I can't not complain... I don't want to but I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't... So this is going to be a whiny, woe-is-me post... but you've been warned. 

One of my closest friends had her baby last night and it brought up loads of emotions for me - excitement, happiness, anxiety, and... jealousy. I laid awake most of the night thinking [and dealing with contractions and a killer backache] about how ready I am to be DONE. I realize that Cohen isn't ready yet and that me being uncomfortable for a few more weeks is a small price to pay for a healthy baby... but still, uncomfortable doesn't even begin to sum it all up. Most of the day I'm having contractions at least every 7 minutes and in the evening it's almost always every 3 minutes. They hurt, they make my back cramp up, and they make it impossible to fall asleep or even get comfortable enough to just lie there and rest. My meds, while I'm sure they are doing wonders, make me shaky and light-headed, cause me to feel flushed for the first hour after my dose, and give me raging headaches... I'm weak from lying around doing nothing for weeks on end to the point where standing up long enough to take a shower is getting exhausting. I have to choose between eating and drinking enough water because my stomach is so smooshed that it can't handle both - so I either drink my water and get yelled at for not eating enough, or I eat and get yelled at for not drinking enough. 

On top of being physically miserable, I'm mentally spent... I want to be cleaning [nesting has kicked in big time] and I can't do anything. The nursery isn't ready, the house is... gross, laundry is piling up, our bathroom smells like man-smell, my car is a disaster, the yard has five wind storms worth of crap blowing around in it, and the list goes on. By the time I'm off super-strict bed rest and allowed to at least exist in my house, I'll be nine months pregnant... and cleaning toilets and bathtubs at that point is going to be a total circus. Nesting isn't my only problem... I just feel... I don't know... sad? lonely? I lie here in an empty house all day and even if I open up the window, I only get to look at a fence [and sometimes our cat who stands on the doghouse and yowls at me]. Sure, I get to watch my TV shows and could be reading a book or working on lesson plans but I just don't want to. All the things I want to be doing are off limits - it's like being grounded. 

On top of all that, I just want to meet this little guy - I don't have the intense fear of labor that I had with Addison that helped me stave of the desire to head to the hospital. I'm ready, I want to hold him and love on him, I want my family to be here, I want to start living our life as a little family of four. I realize that a few more weeks is nothing and that he'll be here and life will be wonderful... but if you've ever been pregnant you'll understand that time slows down to a snails pace during the last few weeks and days feel like months... and a month feels like eternity. So I'm having trouble grappling at two and a half more weeks in this bed, in this room... 

So please forgive me for wallowing in self-pity, I do realize that things could be exponentially worse... but I'm ready and I just wish that this kiddo was ready too.

Bedrest.

Why is it that I don't realize how much I want to be at work until my doctor tells me that I may not be able to go? =[ I went in for my 6 month appointment today and confessed that I'm still having contractions 5-6 times an hour most days (but not all day long) and Dr. H said that is right at the brink of 'unsafe'. Right now it's up to me if I want to continue working but I have to find a way to stay completely off my feet while I'm there which is proving to be impossible... I'm up and down grabbing things off the printer, getting things out of the inbox, and running to the bathroom fifty times a day... I already have students in charge of handing out and collecting papers and running errands as much as I can. Derek has put me on bed rest as soon as I get home but in reality I have an hour an a half alone with a toddler every afternoon. As much as I try, this child requires chasing. She doesn't really adhere to the 'sit and hang out' philosophy that everyone is wanting me to follow...

The verdict... I have two weeks until my next appointment and in that two weeks I have to find a way to reduce the number of contractions I'm having or I'm done at work. Financially, that sucks but thankfully we have salary insurance that will cover some of it. Emotionally, it sucks because even though I complain about work most days, I really want to be there and the thought of abandoning my kids already makes me teary eyed. I know they'll do fine without me but they're my responsibility and I want to be there for them as long as I can...

Why can't my uterus just play fair just this one time????

Bittersweet...

These past few weeks have been pretty hard on me and I haven't really sat down and talked to anyone to vent it out, so I guess I'm going to ramble on the interwebs and see if it can give me any relief...

I should have been having a baby this week. When I got pregnant in the spring, my due date was right around the 15th of December. But I lost the baby and all of those dreams went out the window. [I want to stop right here to explain that I am SO thankful to be pregnant now and that so far, things are going perfectly with this pregnancy and I do realize that there was some reason that the last baby couldn't have been carried to term... so as painful as it was/is, I have come to terms with the miscarriage.] It just so happens that this pregnancy's timeline leaves milestones on some of the most painful dates - We have our big ultrasound in a week and as excited as I am to find out if baby is a boy or a girl, I can't help but think that I would have been cuddling a newborn baby at that time. I'm due on May 10th, five days after the anniversary of the miscarriage and I really, honestly fear delivering on the 5th of May just because that date holds so much pain for me. I guess I just feel like all of the 'biggies' of this pregnancy have a shadow of the lost baby hovering just out of sight...

I think the other factor that is driving all this anxiety is that we are quickly approaching week 21 in this pregnancy - the week when I made my first [of MANY] hospital visit with contractions. My pregnancy with Addison was textbook in the beginning. After week 21, it went to hell in a handbag - contractions, PUPPPS rash, bed rest... oi, the list goes on and on. I know that each pregnancy is different but I only have one to compare it with and it was so scary at the end and the closer we get to that date, the more I worry. The difference now is that I'm at work all day, so if the contractions start I can't just jump in the car and be at the ER in 15 minutes... I'm already running out of sick leave and I haven't even started my bi-weekly or weekly check-ups yet, and I'm HORRIFIED of going into labor at work... early or on time.

I know that this is all out of my control and I'm positive that is the reason that I'm so stressed about it. I hate not having a plan, not being able to know what is going to happen and when... Being pregnant in the summer sucked for a lot of reasons, but at least I was home, comfortable, and less stressed.... now I'm on my feet, with an audience of 25 at all times, uncomfortable, and... well, I work with teenagers, I'm always stressed. I know there is nothing to do except sit back and let it come as it may... but that doesn't make it any easier.