My Freedom of Speech

Well, I know it's been a lonnnng time since I've posted on here...but I had to get this off my chest! I am so SICK and TIRED of hypocritical Christians using the Old Testament to defend their hateful actions. 

In response to someone's comment on another friend's link about the recent Duck Dynasty that "liberals can't even entertain the thought or expression of traditional Judeo Christian values," I wrote the response below. I am in no way a theological expert, but as a devout follower of Christ (God, I don't even want to use the term Christian anymore because of how the Fundamentalists have hijacked the term), my response to such an IGNORANT comment is as follows...

-- There is NOTHING "traditionally Judeo Christian" in the vile and hateful words that spewed from that man's mouth! EVEN if you're a biblical literalist (and let's face it...no one really is because you can't pick out a statement from Leviticus about a man lying with another man, but ignore the banning of poly-cotton blends or the consumption of shellfish - or perhaps the Old Testament's acceptance and encouragement of stoning a "sinful" woman and selling daughters for livestock), believing homosexuality is a sin is ENTIRELY different from using hateful and vulgar language, essentially at work! Believe whatever the hell you want - but do NOT pretend that this Christ you're so devoted to would be PROUD of this kind of hate. Remember Jesus? Yeah - the guy who said that we are all created in God's image...the guy who gave us one rule: to love our neighbors as ourselves...the guy who said "whatsoever you do unto the least of my people, you do unto me?!?!?" Maybe these fundamental "Christians should focus more on the teachings of CHRIST!!!!! --

The Day You Were Born (Gabriela Lucia)

Dear Gabi -

I wanted you to know the story of the day you were born. It was an emotional, long, and miraculous day!

Your due date was March 11, 2008. About a week before your birthday, I went in for my weekly check-up with Dr. Aldrich, my OB. She said my body was already getting ready for your birth, and that since you were ready - she wanted to induce me so you'd come a little earlier. So we set the date - March 6th, 2008.

Daddy and I were to report to St. Luke's Hospital in Sioux City, IA at 6:00am! Yikes, that's early! I didn't sleep at all that night - I was too excited. The night before; daddy, Tata, and I went out for dinner. Afterward, I took a shower, straightened my hair, and went to bed - and lied there all night, so anxious to meet my girl!

We "woke up" around 5:00am. I put makeup on and daddy made sure that everything was ready. We left the house around 5:45, followed by Tata in her car. When we got to the hospital, it took a while to get me checked-in. They got me in a lovely gown (not really), got me in bed, and explained what was going to happen. Then they started my IV and took some blood. They hooked me up to some monitors that would monitor your heart rate and any contractions I might start having. Finally around 7:00, they started the Pitocin to get the show on the road! I was so excited! Daddy sat by my bed holding my hand and Tata stood at the end of my bed, rubbing my leg. We were all so anxious to meet you!



Then the contractions started. Not too bad at first. The nurse came in to check me, I was about 80%, but only 2 inches dilated. He said he'd be back. So Daddy, Tata, and I talked, watched TV, and just waited. Daddy let me squeeze his hand with every contraction and Tata would rub my leg which helped me relax during contractions.

The doctor came in a couple hours into the process and said that she was going to break my water and increase my Pitocin since I wasn't progressing very quickly. After doing this, my contractions increased in frequency - and in pain! But I was determined to hang in there for a long as I could bear. Dr. Aldrich said, that based on the frequency and intensity of my contractions, she figured that the next time they checked me, I'd have progressed significantly.

Well, she was wrong. They came in later to check me. 90%, 2.5 inches. This was discouraging news and I was in a LOT of pain! So that's when I decided to get my epidural. They called the anesthesiologist and around lunchtime he came in and started my epidural. I was so scared, already very tired, and shaking from the frequency and intensity of my contractions. No one could believe that with the contractions I was having, I wasn't progressing! I hugged Daddy tightly while the doc got my epidural in. Shortly afterward, I couldn't feel anything from the waist down.

That good feeling didn't last long. While Daddy went down to get some lunch with Tata, I started getting really dizzy, shaking, and started feeling out of it. I called the nurse, but they were in there before I could even call them because my monitors and yours started going crazy! I was passing out. Before I new it, there were like 8 nurses in my room, they were lowering the head of my bed, taking my blood pressure, giving me oxygen, and trying to figure out what was happening. Daddy walked in the room while this was happening and got very scared. My blood pressure dropped VERY low, then shot up VERY high, and too quickly, went way back down. They turned off my epidural and kept me on oxygen. I finally came to and couldn't figure out what was happening. I was in a lot of pain again and feeling very crummy!

After a couple of hours of intense contractions every minute or two, they checked me again. Nothing. I was fully effaced but only 3 inches dilated. You were at a station -1 or -2, meaning you weren't even engaged yet. We still had a LONG ways to go! They started my epidural again, but this time - it didn't work. At all. This is when I started feeling a little worried that this was going to be a very long and painful process.

Boy was I right! Around 5:00 pm, my doctor came back in and checked me. I was fully effaced, but only dilated to a 4 (a "generous 4," she said - meaning it was closer to 3.5) and you were still at station -1. You just were not coming down! The doctor said she'd check back during the 6:00 hour to see what was happening. In the next hour and a half, I was having one very intense contraction on top of another. I thought, "these contractions have to be doing something!"

But they weren't. Close to 6:30, the doctor came back in. I started crying when she said I hadn't budged in terms of dilation and that you hadn't budged or moved down any closer to engage in my pelvis. That's when she said the "C-word." She said that felt my body just wasn't going to do this, and that we'd need to do a c-section. I was already feeling very emotional - the pain, the exhaustion, the anxiety - they all compounded when she said "c-section" and I started to cry. I sobbed. I didn't want a c-section, I told her. I wanted to do this the way I'd always imagined - I wanted to have a mirror so I could watch my baby come into the world. I wanted to hold my baby on my chest as my husband cut the cord. I envisioned this all a certain way and a c-section was not in my plan! She said she'd give me one more hour. If she saw ANY progress, she'd let me keep going over night. But, if I continued to stay stuck, we'd have to do a c-section.

So I prayed and I cried. I told Daddy and Tata that I didn't want to give up on my dream of ever having a vaginal delivery. At this point, there were no breaks in between each contraction, and they each lasted well over a minute. I was shaking and in so much pain, still without a working epidural. at 7:15, the doctor came back in and said you were hanging in there and doing great, but that all of this was taking its toll on my body and I wasn't doing so well. She checked me. Absolutely zero change from the last time. She took my hand and said "we've done all we can, we need to get this baby out and get your body some relief." At this point I just looked at Daddy and cried - knowing that the choice had pretty much been made for me. I needed to do what was best for us (you and me). The next half hour flew by in a blur.

They came in and took more blood from me, adjusted my IV, took off the monitors, got me prepped for the c-section, and wheeled me away from my mom and away from my husband. I was scared. Daddy was scared. Tata was scared. But we were also just so ready for you to be here. The nurses got Daddy in his scrubs and brought him into the operating room after my spinal block was complete. The one great thing about the c-section (other than getting to see you quicker), was the relief I finally felt from the contractions! They prepped the OR and once they knew I was numb, they began the procedure.

I could feel some pressure...pushing and pulling. I started feeling shaky and very nauseous. The anesthesiologist was so kind and explained to me that it was just the meds, that I was pefectly and safe, that all my vitals were just great.

And then, we heard it. At 8:00pm on the dot. We heard you cry. They raised you over the sheet and we saw you for the first time. Tons of black hair, and just the most perfect little baby I've ever seen! They weighed you, cleaned you up, and all that stuff while the doc sewed me up.

Then they brought you to me. They propped you up next to me and daddy helped holding you so I could hold you with my free arm. I just kept kissing you and saying "Hi my Angel" and "I've been waiting for you, my Princess." Daddy and I cried and kissed
you and kissed each other and cried some more.

After they got me all sewn up, it was time for them to take you to the nursery so they could check you out, get your newborn shots, etc. I didn't want them to take you from me, but they had given me some medicine to help with my shakiness and my pain; so I started feeling very sleepy. Daddy went with you to the nursery and on your way there, your grandparents - Daddy's mom and dad, Tata, and Great-Grandma Podie - got to see you for the first time. Everyone cried tears of joy!


After some time in recovery, I finally got to see you again. I missed you! I tried nursing you, you were just more interested in sleeping than anything else. So we mostly just snuggled and stared at you. Daddy changed your first diaper - which happened to be his first diaper too. :) Tata spent the night that night and we all got a little rest. You barely made a peep! You just slept and peeked at me with one eye every now and then. You looked just like I did when I was a new baby. And Tata said all I ever wanted to do those first few days was sleep and peek at her. I guess we're two peas in a pod, you and I! :)

Gabi, you changed my life five years ago, today! I can't believe that you turn 5 today. The joy and the lessons you have brought to my life are inexplicable. Daddy and I love you, cherish you, and thank God for you! You are so kind, so funny, so smart, so beautiful - inside and out. You are my pride and my joy! I love you with all of my heart and all of my soul, forever and ever, to the moon and back, to infinity and beyond.




Love,
Mami

And the Oscar goes to...

If you knew me from the ages of 13-15 years old, you would know that there was a time in my life where I thought was convinced that I would win an Academy Award someday. Like, I really and truly believed that this was going to happen. Along with a Golden Globe, a Screen Actor's Guild Award, a Tony Award, and probably even an Emmy Award.

I practiced my speeches. I imagined winning. I envisioned myself on the Rosie O'Donnell Show (I told you, this was 15-ish years ago). Seriously - it was like I had this imaginary life inside my head. Had people known this at the time, I probably could have been diagnosed and institutionalized.

Ok - so maybe I was just a 14 year old with a dream that she really, really believed in.

Sure, the fame was appealing. But - for me - it was my passion for the art of acting. It was the feeling, the high, the escape I felt when I was acting - pretending to be someone else. I wanted to be an actor because I loved (love) acting. I love being on stage. I love losing myself in a script or a book - losing myself in the characters. I love trying to imagine what their back story is, what their mannerisms are, what causes them anger/happiness/sadness.

Yeah - I love acting. I was going to win an Academy Award. The words "And the Oscar goes to Monica Rusk" was going to be said. I didn't doubt it. I didn't hope, I knew.

And then...life happened. I mean really - looking back, my 14 year old self had no idea that she didn't have the look, the means, the luck that it takes to "make it" in acting. My 14 year old self didn't know that she'd get fat, quit college, get married at 22, etc, etc. Maybe someone should have told her. Maybe someone should have burst her overly ambitious mind....

But, man...how our goals and priorities change in 15 years, huh? Don't get me wrong, if the opportunity suddenly presented itself tomorrow to act in a movie, play, TV show, etc - I'd take it. But, with caveats you don't think of when you're 14. Yes, I'd take the chance in a heartbeat - but only if my girls could be with me 24/7 like they are now. There are so many things in my life - however mundane they may seem - that I wouldn't trade for all the Oscars in the world! That's what 15 years has taught me. I win an "Oscar" every time the girls hug me, or every time I tuck them in bed at night, or every time I hear them giggle during an impromptu dance party. That's what my 14 year old self didn't know.

I often start to think about all the reasons my dreams didn't come true - like my weight, my looks, etc. But the reality is - those big dreams of being a star didn't happen, because they weren't meant to. I wasn't meant to be a famous actress. I was meant to be a mother to Gabriela & Amelia! And thank GOD for that!

I said earlier that maybe someone should have burst 14 year old Monica's bubble...but no, I'm glad they didn't. I wouldn't have wanted her to know. 14 year old Monica lived in her own little world where she truly believed that she could achieve even the most ambitious dreams. And that 14 year old Monica who dreamed so big is who made this almost-30 year old Monica who she is. I'm glad that I had the chance to live in a world where I thought it would be possible to be a famous actress.

My belief back then in myself is something I miss and something I envy 14 year old Monica for. I wish I still had that belief in myself. But I'm glad 14 year old Monica had it...because she needed it! Almost-30 year old Monica has what she needs.

I'm the Kinda Girl Who...

...Is crazy about the color purple

...Thinks it's good to laugh at myself

...Can't function without coffee in the morning

...Isn't bothered by a mess & is super unorganized in every aspect

...Craves reading & loves books

...Prefers eating out than eating in

...Cries - a lot

...Gets urges to shop

...Will listen to the same song on repeat several times in a row - same with TV shows

...Laughs when kids do something naughty (out of their sight, of course)

...Still pictures myself as the Ballerina I was in high school

...Misses being on stage

...Wishes I was a doctor or a vet; or a nurse practitioner, physician's assistant, etc

...Dreams of having more kids

...Loves sitting around, eating and drinking wine or cocktails

...Secretly thinks I can sing like a Broadway star

...Needs a good nap now and then

...Wants to go back to school, but fears it's too late

...ADORES animals and believes very strongly in animal rescue and cries at animal cruelty stories

...Sucks at making decisions

...Has impromtu dance parties with my kids - in the living room, kitchen, car - wherever

H54F!

TGIF!!! As a SAHM, the days sort of run together...I don't get days off. No PTO, no vacation, no sick days. Just 24/7 of being a mom. And, please - don't get me wrong! I love being a SAHM...but everyone needs a break now and then, right? Or am I just a crappy mom? 

Anyway, this is why I love Fridays - my hubby gets off work at 12:30pm and so not only do I have him home for the next two days, I get him for most of Friday too! Woo-Hoo! :)

#5 - Gabi and Amelia have been sick all week; but their fevers are gone and I'm wiping the snot from their noses less and less every day!

#4 - On Monday, I colored my own hair. I wanted it to match my roots. And it does...I just didn't realize that, at some point, my roots turned pretty much black! Yeah, so now I have a head of black, goth-looking hair; rather than the dark brown I was going for. Good news is - after a few washes, it's not as harsh and it's growing on me. :)

#3 - As every week passes, my husband is closer and closer to being done with school! This is his last 5-week session, and on Sunday, week two will be done! YAY!

#2 - My Bestie and I are going to start doing Pinterest projects and making bulk meals to feed our families throughout the week. I can't wait because, not only will we get a chance to chat and drink wine, but she'll keep me accountable for this goal we've set for ourselves.

#1 - OMG...I'm BLOGGING! This is something I've wanted to do for a long time! Here's why:

* I love writing

* I have way too many thoughts floating around in my head

* My short-term memory sucks

* I want to live in the moment and enjoy the daily things that make up my life

Isn't it funny...

Funny, isn't it...when things "hit you." Today. I'm putting the girls down for a nap. And, as usual, I'm doing and thinking of a million things at once. So I'm thinking about how many cupcakes I need to make for Gabi's party next weekend. And - BAM! It hits me....

My Baby...

MY FIRST BORN...

is going to be 

5 Years Old 

in just a few short days.

I know, it's good - right? Every birthday we celebrate is a gift, and the alternative of celebrating a birthday is...well, you know. So, believe me. I couldn't be happier that she's going to celebrate another birthday. Every new year that I get to spend with these girls is like another miracle.

You know, I remember the day she was born like it was yesterday. I could tell you her "birth story" today with as much detail and emotion as I would have told you almost five years ago. 

But, God...if I wouldn't give a million dollars to go back and really live in every moment with her and with Amelia. What I wouldn't give to have kept baby books. What I wouldn't give to have not worried so much about what was coming up, but lived in each moment as it was happening.

I don't remember the day she first smiled. But I remember the way my heart felt. I don't remember when she first crawled, but I remember the day she crawled over to a box of Kleenex and took each tissue out of the box. I don't remember the day she started walking, but I remember how much pride and love I felt the first time she walked into my arms for a big bear hug. 

So, today I cried a bit. I mourned the passing of one stage for the next. I relived moments that made me happy, and sad. I gave thanks for every second of every day with these little girls. I smiled as I wiped my tears away. I laughed as I thought about the mess I will be when she graduates high school! 

And then, finally after my little breakdown - it was quick, but it was a doozy; I made myself a promise. I made my girls a promise. To live in each moment. To blog my stories, thoughts, and memories. To appreciate each second for what it is - a gift!

I probably won't be prepared the next time a random wave of emotions hit me - I am Monica, afterall. I just think it's funny...how a mundane task can give you a quick peek at the bigger picture.

Introduction

Well - I've never done this before. I feel like a junior high student who is about to write in her diary for the first time. But, I need a spot to purge my thoughts, record memories, share the funny and crazy things that my children do. So, here it is! My Jar of Hearts!

I'm Monica.

I'm a wife. My husband and I dated off and on through high school, then consistently while I was in college and he was in the Navy. We married in July of 2006. He's my best friend.

I'm a mom. I have two precious daughters. My first was born in March of 2008, and my second was born in November of 2010. Gabriela Lucia, and Amelia Jane. My Girls, my world.

I'm a daughter. I have the best four parents in the universe! Yep, four. Mom, dad, stepmom, stepdad. I'll probably get to that someday...but just now for right now that I love those four people more than I can say.


I'm a sister. I have a brother who's 4.5 years younger than me, and a sister who is 14 years younger than me. I also have two sisters-in-law (who, despite our ups and downs, I love like my own sisters - having known them since they were literally little kids, they've become my sisters). And, I have a sister-in-law-to-be! She and my brother might as well be married, and since there's not a term for "my brother's girlfriend" that actually encompasses what she means to me, I refer to her as my sister-in-law also. My little sister is not married, or close to being married, and it better stay that way for a long time! ;-)

I'm a cousin, a niece, a granddaughter, a daughter-in-law (though my in-laws would probably deny that fact), etc. My family is, literally, spread out all over the world.

I'm a friend. I am one of those people who doesn't have a lot of friends. I have a few close friends; several friends that I don't talk to nearly often enough, but with whom I could catch up at any time, as though no time had passed. I've also formed a very close circle of Facebook friends...people that I met in one way or another, that I may not see or speak to in a physical sense...but people from whom I get a great deal of support, encouragement, and friendship.

And then there's just me...the girl who loves deeply (sometimes too deeply), who suffers from anxiety, who fears separation and death. The girl that would do anything for her friends and family. The girl who is compassionate to a fault. The girl who is terrified of bats, rodents, and cotton balls (yeah, you read that correctly). The girl who loves politics, travel, good books and deep conversation. The girl who above all else, just wants to leave this world a better place.