Legacy.

i'm okay with it. its my story - not my legacy.

  i get to decide what my legacy is :)
                                         -Momma Brown

Legacy.

How will I live on when I'm not here? That's easy - in my daughter. She is my legacy. Everything I do now is for her, even if I don't realize it.

I want her to remember me as a mom who was out playing with her, not out of breath. Not needing to ice the knee. I want her to have memories of me like I have of my dad - active, healthy, and there.

I haven't talked about my weight loss lately because there hasn't been any. My vacation this past week threw everything out the damn window. I drank, ate leftover birthday cake, napped, ate fried seafood and pizza. I did nothing to help myself.

But when I went grocery shopping this weekend (BY MYSELF....it was AWESOME), I stocked up on veggies, fruits and lean meats. It was such a good feeling to open my fridge and see healthy options.

Now's the time. I weigh 238 pounds. If I lose 53 pounds, I'll weigh 185 pounds and Marc's agreed to baby #2 at that weight (he also wants me to run a 5K in 27:31...HA).

My legacy starts now.

Public vs Private

Every so often, a topic comes up that I would love to blog about, but I hesitate to post about it because I'm a "public" blogger. My friends and family know I blog and I'm sure some of them check it out, though I'm not sure.

These topics that I shy away from are generally more personal posts - they are ones that I wouldn't be comfortable discussing with my boss, co-workers, family friends and others.

Sometimes I feel like my blog is lacking because there are no insanely personal posts on here...but I also feel like I need to draw a line on what to share and what to keep private.

I vow to never post a picture of Paige on the toilet and post it (and let me clarify, a full body shot - I have posted a picture of her feet while she's sat on the potty and posted it to Instagram, but I felt it was done in good taste). I vow to never take a picture of an epic diaper blow out and post it. I vow to keep some things sacred and between myself and my husband.

I vow to stop boring you with this post.

2 years ago.

Dear Paige,

2 years ago, this was honestly a kinda stressful time. It was my due date and I wanted you here. My whole pregnancy felt like a dream and I was anxious for you to make your entrance (and I was honestly scared about my water breaking in public, I'll admit). I wanted to see the color of your hair, feel your soft baby skin. I wanted to hold the baby of my dreams.

You surprised your dad and I by showing up a week late, but that was only because you got an eviction notice. I'm sure you would have stayed much longer if they had let you.

I'm shocked the past two years have gone so quickly and the next two will fly by. I'm excited to see where this next year brings us, and what new treasures you'll share.

I love you, Paige. More than words can ever express.

Breastfeeding.

Today, Censie from Building Our Story posted this story on Facebook.

Go ahead, read it again to let it sink in.

Yes, that's right. If you formula feed your baby, your baby will be uglier than breastfed babies.

Annoyed? I am.

I tried to breastfeed Paige. I truly did. I had my heart set on breastfeeding - so much so that we didn't have bottles or formula in the house (minus what samples came with us from the hospital). It never occurred to me that I wouldn't have been able to. And it wasn't all my fault - the lactation consultant at the hospital and her doctor told me that Paige's mouth was too small to properly latch.

I pumped for about 4 months (supplementing with formula) but it was extremely difficult. I was producing small amounts and taking precious time away from Paige. I know how to trick your body into producing more, but my sanity was at risk. Seriously.

After reading that article, I'm annoyed. And kinda pissed off. I think my daughter's beautiful. I think she's smart. Paige already has the genes for severe acne (something hubbs and his brother suffered from). I was breastfed and needed braces for YEARS. We let Paige dictate the bottle consumption. If she was done at 4 ounces and we made 5, we didn't shove it down her throat.

This article really struck a nerve. I've conquered my PPD, of which not breastfeeding was a huge part of, but I still have pangs of guilt that I wasn't able to breastfeed my daughter like I had wanted to. And reading articles like this always brings it up.

A Yearning

I dream of it every day. A baby in my belly and eventually in my arms. I want a sibling for Paige so badly. I was the oldest of four and while I didn't get along with my siblings, I eventually did. And I'd be stupid to deprive Paige the relationship.

I yearn for the day when Paige is a big sister. She's so helpful. So involved. She'll be amazing.

I'll get a chance to experience it again. The pregnancy, the birth, the first weeks, months of his life. The things I wanted to but gave up too quickly. The things I learned after they would should have been used.

It's my chance to try it differently.

There will come a day when Paige and her little brother (it's always a little boy) will be playing and I will hear "Moooooom, S.F. tore Barbie's head off!" {and yes, we have Baby Boy M's name picked out} and I will wonder, What was I thinking?! while heading off to diffuse another battle.

And I long for those days. I look forward to them.

Hopefully, eventually, they'll be here.