Monday, April 19, 2010

That body body language.

If you know me, you know that one of my biggest pet peeves is when people ask, "do I look fat?" I hate the fact that everyone is so obsessed with their body and trying to change it. I've always been a really small person, never even reaching my goal height of 5'2. I was in the 5th percentile all through my childhood was just a skin and bones for awhile. Some people would be "jealous" but really, I hated my body as much as anyone. My hips were uneven, my legs were too skinny, I had the body of a twelve year old boy. After being pregnant, I would love to have that body back. For awhile, it was really hard for me to accept the way my body looks. My hips got wider, my legs stayed skinny, I have stretch marks on my butt and chest, my feet got bigger (yeah, I bet most of you didn't know your feet grew in pregnancy), I have a permanent "overhang", and even my teeth moved. Trust me, I could go on. But guess what? I learned to love it.
Never again will I have the body of the 12 year old boy, and I love it. I love every mark that Aden left on me. Sure, I kind of want to get a disclaimer tattooed somewhere on my body like, "Don't judge, I had a baby" or "you'll look like this too someday", but I've gone through something that not everyone can be so lucky to experience. I'm 19 (20 in 2 weeks) and have the experience of someone in their late-twenties. Yes, I try to look good because a) they dont even make mom jeans in my size and b) I'm 19 and single. You want to try to find a man wearing mom jeans? not happenin girlfriend. Babies are typically already a deal-breaker but that's another post.

I've learned that the worst thing you can do is try on jeans on how you USED to be. Sure, I can fit into 12slim shorts from kids abercrombie but in no way does that mean they are appropriate. Talk about coochie cutters. I'd rather NOT have a muffin top, thank you very much.

Also, no one tells you that at the end of your pregnancy, your lips get all big and puffy and your nose gets wider. Yeah, talk about good lookin. It goes back, but in my case, my whole face has changed. Well, embrace it. Remember the show "the swan" where they took women who society deemed "ugly" and gave them a bunch of plastic surgery just so they could look like everybody else in hollywood? You know what their real problem was? Self confidence. These women hated the way they looked. I wanted to go on and be like "Girl, this is what god gave you! Work with it!" Those women were beautiful and no one ever said that to them, instead they just "fixed" them up. Talk about the wrong message to send to young girls. "Don't worry, if you don't like how you look, we'll fix it!"

I don't want my self- confidence to come off as cockiness. I don't go around and say "Look at this, I look goooooooooood!" I try to dress confident, not slutty. I show off some skin and will rock a bikini, stretch marks and all, but out in public you can
bet I won't be wearing any coochie cutters. Confidence = Sexy. Seriously. Put on some heels and go out and strut your stuff.
I never want to call myself "fat" in front of Aden or any other children I may have someday. I never want to complain to him that I look horrible or that I hate my body. I want Aden to see that I am a strong, confident woman. If people don't like how I look, it won't ruin my day. No one will think you are sexy if you don't.

I can't even drink legally yet and I am trying to teach someone to be a decent human being. I will straight up tell you that I have no idea what I'm doing parenting-wise, don't know a thing about how to discipline properly, and pretty much do everything by ear. And let me tell you, OCD and children do not mix well. I'm not only trying to educate myself in veterinary technology, I'm trying to educate myself in parenting. I read books in my free time (free time = when I should be studying but my brain hurts) and magazines about parenting are with me all the time. I cut out articles and different crafts and paste them into a binder (separating by age) for future use. The more I read, the more I know and have some kind of general
direction. By know, I know so many things about menstrual cycles, pregnancy, childbirth, and a baby's first year then necessary. Probably to the point where I come off as a know-it-all... and not many people tend to like getting advice from a 19 year old mom. But I enjoy reading about these things so too bad, you will be seeing more random facts.

All-in-all, let's all learn to love our bodies shall we? Seriously, you should talk to some nudists. They have an unbelievable amount of self confidence!! Do something that makes you feel amazing. Mine is going tanning and doing my hair.

After all....
If I am comfortable inside my skin, I have the ability to make other people comfortable in theirs.
-Maya Angelou

With that said:

And that is Ellyn Liane Peterson with zero make up on.

And this is just my beautiful number one guy.

Friday, April 16, 2010

I don't think I've ever even told this story...

My pregnancy story! I mean come on, who isn't interested in teen pregnancy?
I graduated high school May 2008. I had gotten my acceptance letter to THE Ohio State University Main Campus with my major listed as Special Education. I started going out with my friends a lot more and doing whatever I pleased. I even got a "sister" tattoo (aka bro tat) on my right lower hip in June. July 29 came. I was with Ryan. We were on rocky terms at the time so it was the first time I had seen him in about 2 weeks. We were talking and joking around and I let him know that I still hadn't had my favorite visitor that month. I couldn't remember exactly when the last time she visited was, and I was pretty sure, if anything, I was only about a day or two late. He made me go get a pregnancy test. I go into the bathroom and do my whole thing and set the test down. We go into his room and are laughing and joking around, of COURSE the test was going to be negative. I was on birth control. People don't get pregnant on birth control.

I go into the bathroom to check after a few minutes and my heart sank. "Um, what do the two pink lines mean?". Ryan, who was the other room says "two means pregnant one means not". I started shaking "are you sure?" We take the test and go downstairs in the garage to get the pink first response box that describes what everything means. Yup. Two meant pregnant.

Instantly I sat down on the garage steps and cried. Ryan took me inside. I'm not sure what we why but we thought somehow you could get a false positive. Deep inside I think we both knew that it was a positive. We decided to get another test. Again, I took the test. And again, it said I was pregnant. We decided to go to Planned Parenthood for yet another test. Looking back I have NO idea why we decided to go there. Apparently I thought the tests were lying to me. July 30 we went to Planned Parenthood, or in our case unplanned parenthood. The woman did a simple urine test and Yes, indeed. I was pregnant. I was given a sheet of paper of my estimated due date (she said March 27) and an entire pamphlet on fetal growth, adoption options, and pregnancy information. Ryan waited in the waiting room while she took me into her big office. I I sat in a chair and she placed a large box of tissues in front of me.

She said that the baby was about 6 weeks along and had a heartbeat. For me, heartbeat = person. Just because it was an "inconvenience" at that point in my life, didn't mean that I could decide whether that person had a chance to live or not. She gave me more information, took my phone number, and sent us on our way. I was a graduate from Bishop Watterson. I was going to THE Ohio State University." This doesn't happen to girls like me", i thought.

Ryans car was parked in the parking lot of target at graceland shopping center. We went to pick up his car and decided to drive to my house and tell my parents, and then drive to tell his parents that same day. No reason to hide this from anyone. Turning out of the Target parking lot I called my sister. She started freaking out WAY more than I was. I think she said "it's okay" about 500 times. She went home to meet us there.

I walk in the door to my house. You know how sometimes in really bad situations you kind of want to smile from being so nervous? Totally that time for me. Luckily I wasn't stupid enough to smile and break the news to my mom that her 18 year old baby girl is pregnant. I cried instead. First words out of her mouth will always be a classic : "am I being punked?" I wonder what the look on my face was when she asked me that. My mom called my dad home from work and when he arrived I got to be the lucky one to tell him. Ryan stood far away. Good choice on his part. I dont remember much other than my sister going outside for a cigarette and her walking around the neighborhood with my dad while Ryan and I left for the meeting with his parents. They were understanding, pretty much knew it was coming after ryan called a meeting to meet with both of them together.

I think that was the hardest day of my life. Seeing my family who just wanted me to be successful in life and happy watch their daughter's freedom fly out the door. I felt like I was a disappointment. I was ashamed. I was another statistic. Just another pregnant teen.

The next few days happened to be my college orientation. Talk about depressing. BUT I was going gosh dang-it. I was GOING to college. No ifs, ands, or buts.

I broke the news to everyone rather early. Friends were shocked, but "excited" for me. I dont think any of us knew what was to come. Ryan's football team all found out in a matter of minutes. No one talked bad about us... to our faces. Lots of rumors surfaced. Who was the "real" father, what were we doing with the baby, etc. I turned into a new person. I stopped going out. I stopped associating with most friends. I dyed my hair brown and cut it short. I wore big shirts to cover up. I sunk into a hole of self-pity.

In august, when I was about 10 weeks pregnant, I had a planned trip to cedar point with my uncle and cousin that I had to go on. Guess what? Pregnant people can't ride rollercoasters. That's right. I went and just hung out at cedar point watching everyone ride them. That was torture! But still fun to watch the faces they made.

At about 20 weeks I dyed my hair back to blonde. Well, it was more of a taupe color and pretty deformed from all the processing it had gone through to get to brown. I was attending college and tried to be more social. I started to wear tighter shirts to show off my belly. No one dared to ask me about it though. I think people thought it was a "touchy" subject. It wasn't. I loved reading about my pregnancy. What my body was going through, what my baby was doing and how he was growing. I even had a girl name picked out before the ultrasound telling us if it was a boy or a girl. Lillian Grace Kiger. Lilly with two l's. Because i liked it like that. After we found out that our baby was a boy (November 18, 2008) we came up with boy names. I liked Aidan. I got a text from Ryan saying "No I don't like the name Aden". I loved the way he spelled it. So we kept it that way.

At about 30 weeks, boy was I feeling it. I never wore make-up, never got dressed, was exhausted all the time, and was swelling more and more each day. Not to mention that my nicely toned 93 pound tanned body had turned into an 145 pound pale giant balloon. I was also congested the entire 37 weeks of my pregnancy and had wonderful nosebleeds. I was a giant moody bitch. (sorry for the language. no other words describe how bad I was)

At Wednesday, when I was 36 weeks 4 days or so, Ryan was supposed to leave for his senior trip. He had decided not to go only a few weeks earlier. I was sent into the hospital the wednesday morning he would have been leaving due to high blood pressure, blurry vision, and excessive swelling. My mom was very sick and I could not drive myself (doctor's orders because of blurry vision) so I called Ryan and woke him up (how dare me, I know) and asked if he could come get me. On the way their I was experiencing a few braxton hicks. Ryan's exact words "This is just going to be a waste of a day. They are just going to send you home". We were listening to techno.

I was kept in the monitoring room for HOURS. I think about 6-8 hours, I dont remember exactly. The only chair in there for Ryan was a hard, basic upright uncomfortable chair. He was not happy. I was given an IV of fluids to stop my labor because I was having contractions. They told me that I was going to do a 24-hour urine test in the hospital and if results came back good, I could leave and go home. Thank goodness because the lady in my double-room was having morning sickness and threw up ALL NIGHT. That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

The IV was kept in me all night and the entire next day (march 5). On the morning of March 5, my wonderful doctor came in to talk to me. She said that if my blood pressure kept spiking, I would be induced the next day. That evening, she said there was a 90% chance I would be induced tomorrow.

Well, I was indeed induced on march 6th. I think they started pitocin at about 12:30 or 1. I started laboring on my own and they stopped pitocin. I got an epidural at 3cm. Epidural stopped working at 10:30. Aden was born at 12:28 on March 7th at exactly 37 weeks gestation. If he had been born 29 minutes earlier, he would have had to gone directly to the NICU for a preemie evaluation since he would have been 36 weeks 6 days gestation. He was smart to wait :)

The rest is history. Any questions?

Lady did whaaaaaaat?

Okay so as we all know I go tanning. I've posted about it before so the shock factor should be worn off now. Anyways, the other day I come out of the tanning bed only to see a woman and her around 2 month old waiting for a room. Really? I mean, to each their own but I'm pretty sure that shouldn't be happening.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Well that's scary

My sister and I were going through and laughing at old pictures from last year when she came across this disturbing one...
Oh Life.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Easter 2010

Last year at Easter, Aden wasn't even a month old and slept the entire mass! This year however, things were quite different.

Aden woke up at about 7:30 and discovered his easter basket! He loved the trucks and the eggs filled with cheerios but REALLY didn't like the easter grass I put in there. We ate breakfast, took a bath and got ready for church.
Aden and I went to church at 10:30 am at St. Brendan's church with my mom, dad, Lizzie, John, Ryan and his mom and his sister Kaitlyn. Aden decided that he didn't want to do anything but cry the entire time. Awesome. Finally, in the last 2 minutes of church, 22 pound Aden fell asleep in his mommy's arms. Do you know how sore my arms are from holding him and wearing 4 inch heels at the same time? Really. Really. Really sore.

Aden also decided that he didn't want to take a nap at all. I spent from 4:15- 8:00 trying to get him to go to bed. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't play, he just cried. You'd think after being so exhausted he'd sleep in right? No. Up at 6:30 ready for the day. And trust me, I did everything I could to try to put him to sleep again.

Hopefully today will be a day of lots of sleeping (which of course I won't get to enjoy because Ryan has Aden from 1-7ish Monday and Wednesdays while I go to the library and study)

I survived

I survived the first week of Spring Quarter! Okay, so maybe I didn't have any tests but I did spend 5 hours at the library on monday and 3-4 hours at the oval TRYING to study. It was good people watching, I couldn't help it.

The best part is, I kind of sort of understand what we are learning about in Physiology. Homeostasis? got it. Negative Feedback Regulation? got it. Diffusion? got it. I have class Tuesdays 5:30-7:55 and every other Saturday I have a Physio lab 9am-1pm. The rest is online.

With an Essay, 4 writing assignments, readings, 2- 20 page lectures to take notes on, 3 physio assignments, and a physio lab... let's just see if I can survive week 2.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Oh dear.

In no way is this natural...

Can someone remind me why I ever dyed my hair in the first place? Now I look like a bleach-a-holic and I only ever dye the top. Oh well, at least I look better than this:
Yeah, I was really that fat.