National Law Enforcement Appreciation Day.

Negative highlights spinning the world in cop-hate have left me sickened by the world's focus.  The hate is overwhelming. I said before that I struggle daily with staying out of it, but I feel the need to lend some air and support when it seems to be needed most.  I desperately want our defenders to know that there are people who understand and support them.

As a family of police officers, fire fighters and soldiers who have faced harsh realities, I can say that their reality means that sometimes evil has to be fought with evil.  When those we love become those who work in the dark to serve us and protect our innocence, they must lose themselves with each bit of hate that they have to smother in order to keep the darkness from reaching those they love, and even those that have no idea what is done every minute of every day to allow us to sleep in our beautiful dreams.

Pieces of their innocence trail in every city, every neighborhood, every street, on every corner and in every unmindful soul as they stand between us and what we are never meant to see.  They sacrifice their security, happiness, families, and sometimes even their humanity, to solve our problems and fight for us so that we do not have to make the same sacrifices. They take the brunt of the abused, the drugged up anger, the bullets, the punches, the ignorance, the "entitled," and they shelter us from that darkness.  They protect your rights, even as you turn your back on them.  And as some even falter in their steps, they still protect our dreams and our hopes.

It is funny though, my brother, the protector -- and one of the funniest humans I know.  After hearing so many tales of community members spitting on police officers, my rage sent me digging for more information.  I sent my brother a message telling him that NO ONE better be spitting on him. Statistics get my blood boiling about the ignorance of this mess, but I won't go there now.  But, in a split second I am ready to punish anyone to protect him.  Yet he offers this protection to everyone, those he loves and even to those who don't deserve his loyalty.  That IS something great. 

So when he says that he prefers that I stay oblivious, I know he means that he does not want me to know the obstacles he faces. If I did, it would break my heart over and over again and he does not want our pity or sorrow.  He loves that his job protects my innocence, and your innocence, and he will carry that darkness with pride despite his sacrifices.

Don't misunderstand me, I do not believe that every officer deserves my loyalty. But, I do believe that no matter what, they have done something to protect my innocence, my family, my security, my humanity, my beautiful dreams. 

Happy National Law Enforcement Appreciation Day to all those that I love, and those that I will never know.

Why I took my boobs back.

Boobs and breast pumps. 

(That really caught your attention, right?)

Well, I took mine back -- my boobs, not my pump -- I don't think the store would take the pump, though I'd gladly get rid of it. 

That little chant that I used to find hilarious (read Things I've learned), yeah, it became my arch-nemesis. 

Pride kept me going when I would hardly pump half of what my kid demanded. I'd sit by lamplight in a locked room at work, trying to relax and envision the milk-rivers of my past. I would watch Mack videos and look at Mack pictures. I would cry, stress out and feel guilty. I even brought a blanket to the room to rest my head on while I would try to relax enough and maybe even doze off and wake up to magic milk. I didn't want to quit. 

I was determined to supply - even when I had to supplement with formula. It made me feel better knowing that I could still give him half of me (breastmilk) and by doing so I could make it last longer. I built my freezer supply back up and kept chanting and pumping. 

I could say that I didn't want to quit because I didn't want to pay for formula. But really, it was my crutch. And, it is so much easier to whip a boob out at 2am rather than making up a bottle. But really really, I didn't want to quit because I wanted to win. I wanted Mack to win. I would not be defeated by the pumping game, or my job, or the call of freedom.

But, I did feel defeated. It was exhausting pumping before bed and in the middle of the night when I work at 6am, and taking 2 breaks at work.  And, it was stressful not getting enough for him and still being told how down my numbers are at work (really I can't hate on this balogna because I did work less, I was away 5 hours a week to try and provide for my kid, why should they care about breastmilk).  And then there is the planning that it takes to go away. The stress caused by not being able to feed him and put him to bed at the one time of day that I could feed him directly, and help my body understand what we needed, was torture. Really the list of stressors goes on and on, and maybe I brought them on myself. 

Shit. Is. Hard.

Then I quit. Gave up. Stopped. Whatever you want to call it. 

And the first full bottle of formula that Mack had...he couldn't have cared less, and I bawled. 

Part of me was hurt that he didn't mind where the food came from -- he is such a greedy little nugget. 

Part of me was - is - proud that he is so strong, trusting and determined.

I no longer feel defeated, though. I feel blessed and proud that I could give him all of me that I did, for as long as I did. I never really had a goal or length of time that I planned to breastfeed, but I feel like I exceeded most expectations, and, I have definitely won. 

Definitely, definitely, won.

And this video is certainly entertaining, if you like spit and adorable baby chatter.

Devotion.

As I sit here watching my baby nap...tortured that I had to put him down on my last day home with him...I just want to tell all my mommy friends how sorry I am if I wasn't there for you when you went through this because I feel heartbroken and panicked.

 

The onset of tears starts anytime, anywhere. It catches in my throat first and I try to swallow it down but I stare at his little face and have never felt so much love and astonishment in my entire life. You truly can't know how it feels until you feel it. It is magic.

 

While I may be ready to get back to do something that I am sure of, I am not ready to not spend the day encouraging and soothing Macklin. I barely put him down this week, and he seems to sense my angst because he is letting me snuggle him for hours and nothing else matters.

 

I believe that up until the day that I gave birth I worried too much about not giving enough to my family and friends. I never want anyone to feel like they aren't important enough to me. But, now it's about my sweet little family. I can't worry about a party I am missing, or a dinner date long overdue. Well, I will still worry, but those times will come again and this time will not. I  am struggling with that balance right now because I don't think there can be balance yet. I have a baby boy who looks to me for every part of his existence and I need to show him that he can always trust his mommy and daddy.

 

I will get through this going back to work thing just like every other working mother. But I just want to tell you all that the courage,  strength, love and devotion does not go unrecognized.

For today I will hold him, nuzzle his tiny nose, go for a walk in the sunshine, give him billions of kisses and tell him how handsome and wonderful he is. And, I will just have to double and triple all of these things when I get home from work tomorrow.

Macklin #babymack

When you spend 40 weeks planning, surviving, loving and daydreaming about your child, you know what you are asking for and have an idea about what to expect. However, no amount of any of these things can really prepare you for how bad it can feel at times.

When you have only slept for an hour and can't figure out how to calm your crying baby, or get them to eat, or hardly get past your pain after a major surgery, are questioning your ability and adequacy to do this...

But, then you stare into his eyes and at his little lips, and kiss his tiny little fingers, and hear and feel him calming against your heartbeat, you know that you can figure it out together...and nothing could feel better.

Macklin William O'Loughlin
12/19/13 @ 07:59

I thank God for my mother and amazing husband for helping me through. As Macklin and I struggled through his feedings and my pain, my mom sat beside me wiping my tears and softly giving encouragement and advice. Ryan knelt in front of us to help keep Mack and I both calm and able to keep trying.

Through those tears I felt so much love, humility, adoration, and a million other emotions that I could never explain.

And then, just when I thought that I would never be able to sleep in bed again or get off the couch, I was pumping breast milk and flipping pancakes at the same time. Hellz yes you read that correctly, I became a true multi-tasking mother and my abilities are growing every day. True pride and accomplishment.

That was the first two weeks, and here we are, Macklin's one-month birthday and I can't believe how much we have learned about one another. His snuggles are the best and nothing feels better than kissing the top of his head and smelling his baby scent as he sleeps on my chest. The up and down of his little body as he breathes and the little squeaks that escape his resting lips will forever melt my heart.

Now, if he would just begin to like having his diaper changed or give us a steady four hours of sleep at night...

Godparents.

Recently Ry and I have been asked to be godparents to two newborns, and let me just tell you what a humbling experience that is.

It chokes you up and you swallow around the lump and say, "Oh my goodness, absolutely, that is so sweet."

Instantly sprouting a split second of tears as you realize that these people really do love you so much in order to trust their children with you because of who you are as a person.

I know it's different now and mostly it's about sponsoring Christianity for the child's Baptism, but to us, it is confirmation that we have an interest in their life and who they grow to be. And the best part of it all -- it's only brought us closer together with our oldest friends, our best friends and family.

It makes you want to smother everyone with kisses as your heart pounds, so full of love and cheesiness. (We know I am pretty sappy.)

So, to Annie, Justin and precious little Natalie, to Ali, Andy and perfect little Mason - we promise to love you and teach you so many fun things that your parents won't (wink wink). We promise to be there to help find your paths on life's many journeys. We promise to take you to mass if you want to go and help teach you all the ways to pray and work for what you want. 

And to my sister...the humbling, overwhelming pride can only be stronger -- so don't ever think that the honor could ever be less than our first experiences.

They still hold hands.

I wish that I would have gotten a picture of this.

For all the "he makes me the bad guy" or "nothing makes her happy" kind of embellishments that I hear my parents say, there is nothing sweeter than what I witnessed between them a few weeks ago.

My parents were visiting because I was hosting a baby shower for a friend, and towards the end of the afternoon they disappeared.  The rest of us went on with cleaning up, making evening plans and chatting about how perfectly well the day had gone. When I realized that my parents hadn't been around for awhile, I went searching.

And there they were -- sitting on the couch in the den, side-by-side, holding hands in the dark and watching Message in a Bottle or Tin Cup (or something like that).

The sense of serenity almost brought me to tears as it settled over the room. I will never forget their image that day, nor what it's brought me since.

It's sickening how cute we are.

Every day I am thankful that I met the man of my dreams over a beer bong and spilled trash.

He didn't know that I was smitten when he walked into our bumpin' (always) apartment just below his and I demanded that he help me pick up the party trash that we so carelessly left on the stoop.

He didn't know that I was fresh out of broken hearts and ready to fly solo.

I knew that he just wanted to pick up some hot chicks.

Ha, but he didn't know that I had decided that I was going to be her.

And neither of us knew how we would change each other's lives forever.

It was a courting game. So many trials, denials and errors after we'd start a night out with six slugs on the beer bong.  I didn't always win, and many times he would win everyone over, except me. But it went both ways and we had one helluva ride soaring through BGSU's Falcon territory together.

We made it out alive and struggled through the after-years finding our way together. Every time that it seemed hopeless we just couldn't let go.

2012 marked our 10 years together (now married for two) and every day that I wake up to him I feel us growing stronger and stronger. There is nothing better than knowing you have a true partner, teammate and buddy 100 percent of the time.

(Mostly because he vaccums, does laundry, changes my oil and clears the driveway...just working on the dusting and cleaning the toilets.)