The Haunting of Rever Town B

Moving to Okinawa was going to be a challenge. Everything was going to be different for our family. We packed up and I braved the adventure. We left America and came to Okinawa and we were welcomed with no cars, no home, no phones. I had no idea where we would be living and I desperately wanted to live on base but I knew the chances of that were slim. 

We went to the newcomers brief, and of course, there "was no housing available" and I was told to find a home out in town.

It was so difficult to research homes and see them with four young children that were jet lagged. It was difficult with the language barrier. It was difficult to understand the layout of the island neighborhoods and difficult to determine what I wanted out of a home.

We saw one home in Okinawa City and I adored the purple kitchen, but I feared the lack of play space for my  children. I feared the commute to the Northern camps too and the Southern camp, since originally I was assigned to Camp Kinser for work. 

We saw a few more and none of them fit our needs. Then we finally saw Rever Town B. It was huge. It was newer. It was close. It had a yard, a driveway, a culdesac almost. It was going to be incredible. 

I immediately said yes to the home and rushed to sign papers in order to secure our new home. I was so relieved to soon have our household goods and to be able to set up our long awaited home and start establishing routines for the babies. 

I remember leaving the home that first day we said yes to it and glancing up at the large Shisha Dog structure on the roof. I said to Bobby, "Oh look! A Shisha dog! I wonder why it’s only on this home? I love Japanese culture! Its so different." 

While signing the lease, I laughed at how different it was compared to an American lease. Specifically the line stating, "You May break your lease due to Acts of God or Acts of Evil."  Bizarre, right? I assumed that "Acts of Evil" meant a typhoon or fire... not ghosts. 

A few days later, I moved in and began to settle our family into the home.

The first few days were typical. We were greeted by incredibly large and terrifying spiders. Boxes were everywhere but the home slowly came together. Government furniture was delivered and the house was starting to feel like home. 

I met my neighbors and some were locals, some American. They were great. 

Life in Oki was coming together.

One night after I had out all four kids to bed,  while unpacking boxes, I heard little footsteps running up and down the hallway upstairs. I rolled my eyes, went up to yell at whatever child was awake. To my surprise, the girls were still in their cribs and the boys were sound asleep.

I noted that it was strange, but I shrugged it off.

The following evening, while watching tv, I heard the same little toddler sounding footsteps in the hallway upstairs. I sent Bobby up to take them back to their bed and put them back to sleep... except they all were sound asleep. Again, I noted that was strange because the noises were undeniable, but I continued to watch my tv show and not think of it. 

The next night is when things began to change.  I was carrying a basket of laundry up the stairs and as I turned to corner, I glanced up and saw a silhouette of a young child run from the master bedroom and vanish before my eyes. I was frozen in fear. Every hair on my body stood up, and my voice shook as I frantically called Bobby to come and check on the kids. I sternly said, "I need you to go upstairs and tell me which kid is out of their bed right now." 

He must have known something was wrong because he quickly went up. He came back down the stairs and said to me, "Mollye... They’re all in bed asleep. What’s wrong??" 

I tried to brush it off as my imagination but my gut knew and my heart sank. That was a child. in my home. That child was young and scared, but yet slightly playful. How did I know this? I can’t describe how I knew this, but it was so apparent to me. 

I told Bobby what I had seen and he gasped and asked if I thought the other nights of the running footsteps were related. 

We both tried to ignore what we had heard, seen, and spoke about. I just couldn’t shake the feeling of having a spirit in the home. It was tolerable, but uncomfortable. I tried to laugh it off as I told neighbors what had happened and my next door neighbor said that she was friends with the woman that lived there before. That woman had experienced similar sightings and even noted scratches on the floor. I nervously laughed and internally started to panick. What was I dealing with?

Things seemed to calm down for a week or so, but the noises continued. The sightings continued. The last straw was the night I was sitting in my bed and around 11:00 pm, my son came into my bedroom. This wasn’t unusual, but what he said to me was. He calmly and innocently said to me, "Mommy, I don’t like that skeleton that lays inside my covers and touches my face. Sometimes she sits in the corner of my room and I don’t like her." 😳

 I was fucking terrified because he has never said anything ever like that. It was so raw and innocent and honest. I hugged him tight and slept with the tv on and all the lights on. I had to do something.

I couldn’t handle it anymore. I called my housing agency the next day, as my neighbor had suggested. I was mortified. If I called a rental agency in America about a ghost, they’d laugh at me and call the police to send someone to evaluate my mental wellbeing. 

So I called and nervously laughed as I talked about my experience. "Hai... Ahhh... Hai..." was the quiet and gaspy response I received on the other end of the phone line. My housing agency told me to be home at 5:00 pm that evening to meet a woman that would help me.

I packed up early from work that afternoon. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Who was coming over? What was the plan? 5:00 on the dot came and an elder Japanese lady came. She deeply bowed to me. She had an interpreter. The took a deep breath as she stepped in the doorway. She sat and asked me promptly if the spirit I had come in contact with opened doors, turned on lights, opened cabinets, or if it was a sighting. If it was a sighting, what did it look like? A shadow?

I told her exactly what had happened and what I had heard, seen, and what my son claimed. I told her it felt like a child, a boy maybe. I could identify the shadow I saw running had a short haircut, almost like a chin length bowl cut. I told her I could feel the spirit seemed curious and mischievous but not ill intent. It wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t mean either. 

She stood up and asked to go outside. I let her out and she told me she needdd to be alone. I peeked on her about ten minutes later and she was bending over the railing, talking and burning sage I think. She kept bending and talking. A while later I peeked again, and she was sitting on my patio in silence. 

After about thirty minutes she came inside. She had her interpreter tell me that it was a young girl, looking for her Mother. She lost her mother in the war and she desperately was seeking a motherly figure. She chose me and my family because of my open heart for children. However, she said she told the young girl, whom we nicknamed Gigi, that she was unwelcomed in it home and she must move on. 

I thanked the elder for coming and as she left, I felt sad for Gigi, relieved for my family, and curious for our future. 

A few weeks went by and things seemed to be more calm. I still slept with the lights on and I was still miserable, but it was better. Friends had mailed me sage, prayer cards, and coworkers gave me crystals and candles to burn. Lavender sage spray became my go to cleanse spray and life was getting back to a new normal. It seemed, anyway. 

Bobby returned home from his work trip and one night when my car broke down, he asked our neighbor to come over to watch the babies while they slept so he could come to my rescue. 

While he was jumping my car, my phone rang and my neighbor was frantic asking when we would be home. 

We asked if everything was okay, especially with the kids. She said it was fine, but wanted to know if we had a tree in our backyard. A tree? No. Definitely not. Why would she ask that??? 

She said that the tree branches were scratching the glass windows downstairs. 

I told her, "Sam... we don’t have any trees. Are the kids ok?" She told me they were okay but to please hurry home. 

We rushed as fast as we could back to the house and when we got into the door, Sam was shaking while sitting in a chair in the middle of the floor. She apologized for being so scared but she was adamant that there was someone or something scratching the window. We never did know what it was, but we all couldn’t help but wonder if it was Gigi. 

Bobby left again, and shortly after, the second typhoon came. Electricity was gone, and being alone in the house wit the kids was difficult. That evening, I had my nanny and neighbor both over helping me with the bedtime routine. They were with the 3 older kids and I was nursing the baby in her rocking chair. From the chair in the baby’s nursery, I could see into the master bedroom. I had a flashlight propped facing up to illuminate the entire bedroom since we were without power. 

I glanced up while nursing to see a man pacing slowly back and forth in the master bedroom.

It’s difficult for me to reflect on that moment still... it’s hard for me to write it... I wish I could capture the feeling of doom and fear I felt in that moment. The man was not kind. He was tall, slender, and so angry. He was hunched over pacing and you could tell he was intense. 

Ghost Narrative

Click the link above to watch the intense moments after I saw the man in my bedroom.

I became overwhelmed with the sense of urgency to leave the home, immediately. I called for Sam and Ariana to take the kids while I threw essentials into a bag. 

Within five minutes, I was out of the home with four kids and a bag. I knew in that moment that I needed to move, right away. 

And that’s what I did. I told my story. I shared my experiences. I quickly got a home offered to me on base and I immediately took it. I moved myself and the four kids alone. And let me tell you... it was the best decision for myself and my family. We are settled and happy and we don’t share our home with other spirits.

A few months have passed and I still can’t believe that was my life. My good friend that was my next door neighbor at Rever Town sent me a picture of an Ishigantu, which is placed on homes or businesses that are trapped in a triangle or on a corner. Legend says that ghosts and spirits move only in linear lines, therefore they get trapped in corner lots, which Rever Town B was. 

I definitely now can look back on a few instances growing up that I’ve had encounters with spirits.... one being a silhouette in the bathroom mirror as a child. Melanie, my sister saw this too. Another was a silhouette in my parents basement. Both of those were in my parents house and both were very similar in demeanor... angry. 

The other time was when my Meme died and my Grandfather, who was also deceased, called on the telephone frantically asking for "Fran? Fran??!!!" (That is what he called my Meme.) When I tried to tell the man on the phone she had passed away, the line hung up. I attempted to call back the number but it was not a valid number... eerie.

Now that I know these things and I am connected with this sensitivity of mine, I can clearly identify when and where there are spirits present. For example, Uken Beach. I love walking there but every time I go, there is a definite presence amongst us. It is strong, it is plentiful. However, the spirits there are not angry. They feel more confused and lost. It’s devastating to feel... I can’t explain it.

Some people may read this and think I’m crazy. I probably would have thought the same... but what I can say is that what I experienced was undeniable. I can’t believe that was my life and I truly hope my sensitivity passes because I prefer communicating with breathing and tangible humans... not energy driven silhouettes with unidentified intentions.

This blog post was written over several weeks, so I hope it doesn’t seem too sporadic. 

Comment below about any experiences you may have had. I’d be curious to see if they’re similar to mine!!!

Happy reading :)

The Effing F L U

It’s 10:15 pm on a Monday night. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Weston climbs into my bed with me. Every night he comes into my bed around 11 pm. I think it’s his own way of reconnecting and getting his one on one snuggle time with me. I don’t really mind it. Maybe I even kinda like it. I’ve co-slept with every baby and once they transition to their crib, a part of me is so relieved but yet so sad. So when he does crawl into my bed everyyyy singleeee nighhtttt, I push him to the middle of the bed, rub his sweet little head, and remember that this is a phase and it too shall pass. When it passes, it will be deeply missed. 

This phase of life is hard. It’s not because of the lack of sleep, or the tantrums, or the chaos. All of that is hard too, but what is really hard is literally keeping four tiny humans healthy and alive. As parents, we do everything in our power to ensure our babies are healthy and safe. We go to work ur prenatal doctor appointments, we spend way too much money on the top rated car seats, we rear face until they are 13 (jokes jokes). We anchor bookshelves, we lock cleaning supplies, we have 4 baby gates in a small little house. We may even spend $150 on a damn infant heart rate monitor to help prevent sids. We contemplate vaccinations, we weigh the pros and cons of flu shots, we debate nanny or daycare..... all because we HAVE TO keep them healthy and safe. 

But in reality, we have zero control of anything. Now, this could be my anxiety speaking or it could be real like talk, but in a blink of an eye, our babies can be swept away from us despite going above and beyond to ensure we’ve kept them safe. I’ve seen it happen far too often to people I love. Two of my close friends lost their daughters in literally the blink of an eye. These women are just like me - and in literally a mere few days, their children were unexpectedly taken from this world. A mother’s worst nightmare. A nightmare they have to relive every single day. 

**** Side note: Weston just got into my bed. It’s now 10:27 ****

So what does this all have to do with my blog post..

Well, this past week has been brutal for my family. It started last Sunday, 8 days ago. We went to my Mom and Dads for a late lunch and abruptly, I got incredibly sick with a stomach virus. I threw up in my brand new car on 95. Lovely. I had the following day off of work anyway and I did make a quick recovery, but it wasn’t long before Bobby got the bug and then following behind, Greyson and then Katelyn. By Friday, I was confident that the bug had run its course and it affected who it was going to affect and then it would be done. I had cleaned the house, done laundry, cleaned bathrooms, kept kids home from school, etc. I did everything I was supposed to do. We survived the stomach bug! ..... until last night when that nasty shit struck again. 

So Saturday came and it was a good day. I’ll write another blog post about LASIK soon and discussing my experience, but Sunday came. Yesterday. 

Weston started diarrhea. If you know Weston and his crippling fear of pooping, you know this is this kids worst nightmare. Greyson just looked off. Kate had more loose stool. Ava had a terribly runny nose. What the hell was going on? I deep cleaned, again. I really got down and dirty with the Lysol and Clorox. 

I just couldn’t get over my hunch about Greyson though. Something was off. I took his temperature and it only read 99.4 but I made Bobby take him to urgent care. He had a slight cough, but that is really all. That gut instinct is no joke though. So Bobby took him. He texted me frantically asking if Greyson had gotten the flu shot in the fall..

Shit... Did he? I did. I know the middle babies did. But did Greyson? The fall is a blur. I was dealing with Ava and meningitis and then rsv? Did he get the flu shot? I can’t remember.

And then Bobby texted me this.. 

The formal diagnosis of the Flu. My worst nightmare. My anxiety instantly peaked. Kids are dying from this. I did everything in my power to keep him safe and healthy, and I failed him. Not only that, I now exposed my infant with a shit immune system that definitely didn’t get the flu shot. 

Despite any effort, it was all wiped away and I had no control. 😑

Then my mind raced... 

“Work. Do I have enough leave? What if Ava gets it? Do I keep them all home? How do I get Tamiflu? I can’t miss work. It’s inspection season and I missed so much last week. I wonder if I caught this early enough that it won’t get bad? What is the difference between A and B and Swine Flu and H1N1? I should google. Oh god, I should not have googled. In 1918, half a million Americans died from the flu. What the hell. They hardly had daycare back then. How did all of those people die? What the hell is elderberry? Why do people of my Facebook only recommend homeopathic shit? If homeopathic stuff worked, the doctor would prescribe that and not Tamiflu. I should go to medical school. No, I should just get off of Facebook and google. Ugh. I am going to cluster feed Ava so help give her more immunity from my breastmilk. Oh I’ll order groceries online at Walmart and get popsicles, OJ, water bottles... what else?”

..... Yall that is 20 seconds in my brain. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

And literally, not even an hour after Bobby got Greyson home, Weston began violently puking. And that lasted until 5 am. 

I see people’s posts on Facebook about how they miss blah blah blah and they have 1 kid or about how hard XYZ is.... I smirk. Most people have NO IDEA the insane amount of teamwork Bobby and I have to have to even survive a normal day, let alone a day or night when 2/4 of our kids are incredibly sick. 

Bobby was a champ last night though. He took care of the boys mostly so I could get a few hours of sleep before work today. I slept from 3-5:45 am and it was enough to get me through the day. 

I was also so blessed to have a dear friend Ebony give me her Tamiflu she didn’t use since the county and surrounding counties are all out of the antiviral. Grey was able to start it ASAP today. I’m glad he did too because his fever is at 99.7 Still and although he is lethargic and coughing, I think it could be worse. Ebony, thank you. You’re amazing. You saved my guy.

So despite literally doing everything, my power was taken away and my babes got sick. Now we just have to diligently love them, clean, and keep them hydrated and taken care of while they fight these nasty germs. 

Stay safe, friends... Wash your hands. Stay home if you’re sick. Not everyone has a strong immune system to fight the flu, and it’s so scary. 

Please keep my guy in your thoughts 🤗 And cheers to my Zoloft for never failing me 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼 

Life with 4

Life with 4... wow. 

I wanted to write about Ava’s Birth, but four months later, it all seems like a blur and I find it difficult to even remember the details.

Someone asked me the other day, “How are you?! How’s the baby?! Is she sleeping through the night?!?”

My answer was “We are all good!!! I’m not sure if we are sleeping. I really have no idea. But we are good!” And that’s the truth. I have no idea if Ava sleeps through the night because I’m so damn exhausted myself, that even if she does wake up in the middle of the night and I take care of her, I’m running on auto pilot and can’t remember the next morning.

Life with 4... Well, a typical day consists of Weston coming into my bed at 2 am. He insists on kicking me every 2 minutes. Around 3 am, Ava eats, I think. I pretty much cluster feed her in bed from 3 am-6 am. By 6 am, Greyson is awake. So by 6 am, I have 3 out of 4 kids awake and roaring for food. I get them downstairs and shuffle the cereal chaos. Who wants what with what kind of milk and what color spoon. 🙄 

Greyson turns on Nintendo switch by 6:01 am, which is obnoxious AF but I’m slightly relieved he is so busy with that so he doesn’t feel my stress. 

Weston is literally 2 inches away from me at all times. It’s exhausting. And Ava is in a bassinet somewhere. 

I get everyone ready for school and then last I get Kate at 7 am. Y’all... I get 3 humans ready for the day and then myself all in an hour. Hello, I should win an award.

Once kids are at school, it’s my turn to go to work. Work is my happy place. Work is my sense of identity. Work is my outlet and my reminder of what I was put on this earth to do. I don’t work for money. I work for passion of education. I have my babies at my fingertips at my work, so truly I have the best of it all.

Once I’m home, usually around 5:30, I get everyone dinner and I get to the gym from 6:30-8. Then it’s bedtime.

My day is literally nonstop. Sometimes I’m not sure how I function. 

My house is a disaster, which kills me because I am somewhat OCD about organization and clutter. I can’t stand either. Yet, I find myself not caring more and more because what’s the point of cleaning when in 2 minutes it’ll be a mess again? See below: toy cleaning and organization. 

My oldest, Greyson, he’s a good kid. He tries to keep to himself and entertain himself. I feel guilty not really being able to provide him with the 1:1 attention like I used to. I miss those days of just him and I... he was my best friend and he and I got through many nights and days alone when Dad was deployed. 

Then there is Weston... I’m confident he is on the autism spectrum. It could just be a slowly developing 3 year old, but my Mommy intuition knows better. He has been evaluated but he does meet the criteria for typically developing in academic skills, but yet something is still not right. He struggles immensely with social skills, sensory integration, communication skills, and motor skills. Bobby and I literally exhaust ourselves parenting him everyday, but his challenges he faces daily are so difficult and he just doesn’t understand things the way other 3 year olds do. He go s to play therapy once a week, which has been incredible. His teachers exhaust themselves daily too, working as hard as they can to connect with him. Without the village, we wouldn’t survive. I love that little boy so much, and that is why we put so much into parenting him, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was mentally and emotionally exhausting. 

Then Katelyn. She’s just a joy to parent. I wish I had more time to spend with her just her and I. She’s funny and smart and she is excited by the world. She’s the kinda kid that brings the party wherever she goes. She’ll cause me a lot of trouble later in life, I’m sure.

And lastly Ava... Sweet Ava. She just kinda goes along with the ride. She has had a rough start to life and has gone through a lot in her first 4 months. At 4 weeks she was hospitalized with meningitis. It was incredibly terrifying. 2 lumbar punctures, IVs, more antibiotics than should ever be given to a little baby. She fought through it and then a few weeks later was diagnosed with pneumonia. I think that it really revamped my anxiety again. I sill take my Zoloft, but I’ve been a little more paranoid about certain things. It’s always a fine line, determining paranoia vs realistic caution. Oh well. Aside from a small breathing scare at School the other day, she’s doing well. She’s a happy and sweet little baby and she’s a trooper for handling the wrath of her siblings. 

And then lastly there is Nala. We lost Hannah almost a year ago and we got Nala a few months later. Nala and Hannah would have been best friends. They’re very much alike. Nala is a bit more stubborn than Hannah was, and a lot larger. Nala is great with the kids but again, she’s so big that accidents happen. If Nala turns around and bumps into Kate, kate falls down. Nala can’t help it. And Greyson is NOT a Dog person, which is really annoying. He cries and screams whenever Nala gets close to him. I’m trying to teach him compassion and such for animals, but I don’t really have patience for the drama. Nala loves walks but it’s so damn cold outside. She is probably so bored. She’s loving her rawhide though 🤷🏼‍♀️ 

But chaos aside, my babies are beautiful. They are difficult and exhausting and my life is so chaotic but it’s incredible to watch these little people grow into smart and thoughtful humans. 

Moral of the story... the struggle continues to be real, but I love every ounce of these crazy human beings and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m finding my new normal everyday. I am constantly seeking ways to feel like myself everyday... whether that be by doing my hair and makeup, dancing or singing, or just simply watching some good ol reality tv. I need to keep searching for myself and keep merging the new me and the old me to find the real me, ya know? 

And ps. I need a nanny. 

Party of Five

Katelyn Belle is 6 weeks old now. I know I haven't published her birth story blog, but I will hopefully this weekend. 

So how has life been now that we are officially a family of 5...

It's been a roller coaster!!I We have good moments and challenging moments but over all, the transition has gone fairly well. She fits right into our family. She was our missing piece. 

The first two weeks at home were great because Bobby was here tending mostly to the boys needs. I got plenty of sleep and Kate got plenty of nursing and Mommy time. Oh and our friends... Our lovely friends... Gosh.. The meals they brought us were so incredible. My life felt complete and normal. 

Once Bobby went back to work, I think I have managed. Initially it wasn't so bad, but the past two weeks I have been struggling. 

I try to get out of the house as much as possible. Usually that isn't the norm with a newborn, but it's a tip I learned from my very dear friend Nikki. She is a Mom of many littles and its impressive to see she gets out of the house every single day by 8:45 am and doesn't come back until lunch and nap time. 

Following suit, my children do better when we aren't at home. They argue less, they're engaged in whatever activity we are doing and it's a mental break of the monotony. 

Every morning I have made it a point to walk at least an hour. Jogging feels good. I lifted at the gym yesterday. It felt good. I try to do normal things like play outside, have play dates, go to the park... But everything is a dysfunctional challenge getting anywhere. Like the logistics of getting to point a to b is hard with three kids. I'm trying my hardest though. 

Now.. What is different... A LOT!

I have never been so B U S Y in my life. From the moment I wake to the moment I sleep, and the hours in between, I am actively parenting. There is no such thing as sleep when the baby sleeps but of course, not all of my children nap anymore. On rare occasion, I can get them to simultaneously nap. If that by chance happens, I shower. 

With that being said, I'm legitamently exhausted. I'm so tired it hurts to think. Mom brain is real. My brain is constantly churning of an on going to do list...

At the end of the day, I don't want to speak to anyone - not even my partner. I want to be alone. I crave being alone, doing nothing, in silence. 

Another challenge is transitions to and from places alone... There's just so many of them... It's a lot of, "Greyson close the door. Weston come on, press the button. Stand there while I get the baby. Yes I'll get you a snack,  hold on....okay! Let's go let's go let's go!!!"

There's a lot of directives like that. I don't have the time or energy to be all developmentally appropriate with my kids. I need them to get their shit together and do what I need them to do because other wise I'll probably lose one of them. Just kidding. Sorta. 

The parents at Greyson's school have been very gracious helping me in and out of the school and parking lot. There's neverrrrrr any parking close to the front door, so there I am... Trucking along a toddler and a newborn and Greyson. We are always rushing because I can seem to get out of the house yet by 7:50.... I get out of the house by 8:05 usually. But you know what? I don't care. At least I'm out of the house and checking things off of my to do list. 

Another thing different is my ability to let things slide. The dishes can wait. Katelyn is my last newborn and I want to hold her. Laundry can wait because Weston wants (needs) me to read a book to him. 

I am more flexible in my chores by choice. I like that. I hope my kids grow up and remember their childhood as living in a fairly tidy and clean house with a fun and active and involved mom. 

So overall, this hasn't been an easy six weeks but it has been a beautiful, exhausting, and wonderful six weeks. We are together. We are healthy. We are learning. We are surviving. We are doing a lot of growing as people and as parents. 

I am so blessed to have such supportive and honest friendships in my life also. I have sweet dear friends near and far all checking in on us, lending an ear, telling me it's okay to not get my to do list accomplished, offering to watch my boys, holding Katelyn, asking me what kind of wine I need, and just letting me vent my frustrations. My Dutchman friends, my kickball friends, my neighborhood friends, my college friends... All of you, thank you. I wish you all knew how special you are to me and how grateful I am of your friendships. You are the people that I can relate to, and the only people that truly "get" the struggle.  

So dear family and friends... If I don't respond to a text, if I don't answer the phone, or if I don't respond on Facebook... It's for a reason... I am either indulging in my rare alone time or I'm bonding with my babies and my new family of 5. 

Nesting

Nesting is a real thing, people.

Pregnancy is an absolutely amazing miracle that our bodies are capable of. It blows my mind when I think if he millions of cells that must come together to create this little life that grows into a human.

A human. I have a human inside of me. Even though Kate is my third baby, her kicks and rolls and hiccups are all signs of a very active little person I N S I D E OF ME. 

Our bodies go through a lot when we are pregnant. Physically, emotionally, mentally. 

Our bodies instantly change from the moment that baby implants. From bloat, to nausea, to soreness, to flutters, and round ligament pain, and pelvic pain, and then big baby kicks, and a growing belly, growing back pain... But what happens to us emotionally and mentally?

Well, we go bat shit crazy. 

I mean really... We do. We stress over health and safety of our growing little one. We stress over our diets. We stress over our work outs. We stress over finances. We stress over the nursery. We stress over car seats and strollers and the best of the best baby gear.... Because we instantly become Mothers to this baby as soon as we discover we are pregnant. We want everything to be *perfect* for our new baby so we can give them the very best start to life. 

Fast forward to now 37 weeks pregnant. The final stretch. 20 days or less until D Day. Holy. Crap. Panic sets in. Over drive mode sets in. You're sore and tired and miserable but yet you find yourself scrubbing the corner of the kitchen floor at 11pm on a Saturday night because if by some freaking miracle the baby decides to come tonight, that corner of the kitchen MUST be spotless.

Y'all... Nesting is a real thing. If my husband divorces me in the next two weeks, it's because I'm nesting.

I've demanded he makes everything symmetrical in our very imperfect and unsymmetrical house. I've demanded he shampoos carpets for me inside and in the cars. I've literally gotten rid of my every day dishes because they just aren't fit for the princess we will be bringing one. Mind you, she won't eat off real dishes until she's probably 7 years old - but I'd rather be safe than sorry. What if she hated the red square plates we have had for 10 years??! Well, luckily they're gone now and we eat off paper plates for the time being. At least my cabinets feel and look less cluttered! 

Do y'all see my point?! Nesting makes us insane. I'm trying to find a way for this tiny base house to work for our rambunctious boys, massive dog, and new little one. I'm trying my hardest to get creative with my storage solutions and my design and decor techniques, but it's hard. I can't say I love this house. I don't. But I am trying.

So tonight I am thankful for nesting because cleaning and organizing makes this little tiny house slightly more bearable.  

But it still makes us crazy. 😉

Pregnant Power - The Importance of Fitness in Pregnancy and Beyond. (LONG POST)

I wanted to take some time to write about exercise during pregnancy. I've been pregnant or nursing for five years straight and during this time, I've really struggled with finding any GOOD information about pregnancy and exercise.

It's quite ridiculous if you ask me, honestly. I don't understand the mind set of Doctors really... They expect you to only gain 20 - 25 lbs during pregnancy, yet will tell you do only do low impact exercises like yoga, swimming, walking, etc.

Okay, let me just say... That's some bullshit. If you have a body type like me, there's no way I could only gain 20 lbs by eating healthy and like... walking a few miles a day. That's what I did with my first pregnancy and I gained 40 lbs.

So with that being said, let me rewind a bit and start from my fitness journey from the beginning.

Growing up, I always exercised. I was on team sports, I ran at the track with my sister on the weekends, I competed at a Junior Olympic level in Tae Kwon Do. I was not a lazy kid or teenager. I thought I ate a fine diet. I wouldn't binge eat pasta or ice cream...So I never really understood why I was "always bigger" than everyone else. My typical diet consisted of what I thought was normal things. Cereal, fruit, granola bars for snack, maybe crackers for a snack, a sandwich and yogurt for lunch, another snack of some sort, and then dinner... a protein, a carb, and a vegetable. Sometimes ice cream? Not daily. So why on earth was I weighing in at 180 lbs when I was exercising and eating "okay"?

I met my husband in 2007 and he really opened my eyes about how I was eating and exercising. He taught me that what I was eating was high carb, low protein, low fat. A disaster and terribly unbalanced. He taught me how to add protein and cut carbs from my daily diet. As soon as I did that, weight melted off of me. It was actually EASY to start losing weight when I finally understood what I was doing wrong.

By 2010, I was no longer 180. I was a perfect size 4, weighing in at 135. I was fit, I was healthy, I felt amazing, I looked amazing. I owed my success to Beachbody, my husband, and myself. I worked hard to learn. I worked hard in the kitchen. I worked hard in my exercising. I worked hard to be consistent. I worked hard to change my life. I was so happy with my success, and that is when I became a Beachbody Coach. I wanted to share my journey and my success with other people. If I could do it, anyone could do it.

So February 4, 2011... I came home from work. Bobby had just left for a few months for TAD so I was by myself. I didn't feel great.... So I took a pregnancy test... And my GOD THAT SHIT WAS POSITIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Like, undeniably positive. I was SO HAPPY. I cried, I shaked, I jumped, I said a lot of "oh my god". I called Bobby and told him. I called my Mom. I called my best friend. I called my sister. I wanted to shout it to the world that I was going to be a Momma!!!!

And then... It all sank in. How do I exercise? Will it hurt the baby? What do I eat? Do i have to change my diet? I was clueless.

I researched some, but I was a typical paranoid FTM. I kept crackers and ginger ale by my bed becauswe that is what the books told me to do. I stopped running and started walking (6 miles a day) because the books said do low impact. I had bad chicken aversions so my diet was carb heavy again.

9 months, 40 lbs later, plus pre-eclampsia...I delivered a 6 lb itty bitty baby weighing in at 189. And then I was left leaving the hospital back at 180.

"It'll come off quick" they said...
"Breastfeed, it helps" they said...
"Take it easy the first few months" they said...

Okay... I'm just gonna stop listening to the choir because y'all are preaching malarkey.

Within 9 months, I was back to 140 lbs and feeling good again, but it was work. A lot of work.

Fast forward to July 2013....I was still breastfeeding and found out I was pregnant again. "This time would be better" I told myself... AND it was!!! I still gained 40 lbs, but my diet was better. It was more balanced. I did exercise but it was a mix of things. Light weights, walking, some jogging. I did my best. It was a hard pregnancy for me, physically and emotionally. My husband was gone again and I was working, parenting, and dealing with neighborhood drama all while trying to grow a healthy baby. So my goal was to survive the 9 months.

I gave birth to my second son at 42 weeks, weighing in at 174 and he was 9lbs, 3 oz.

After having him, I was unable to exercise for a long time due to a dislocated pelvis from SPD and then I broke my toe, and then I got surgery on my wrist. It was rough.

By the time my second son was 1, I decided I needed to change up my fitness routine. I was doing fine, and for the most part, back to normal, but I still wanted to lose maybe 15 lbs and tone up. I researched into starting Jamie Eason's Live Fit Trainer from BB.com. I loved what I read. I decided it was time to try something new and different... i wanted to learn more about lifting weights. So that's exactly what I did.

My body started changing so fast when I was lifting! I was strong. I was lean. I was energized. I felt the best I had felt in a long time. I was starting to understand the importance of women lifting weights and doing cardio and eating right. It all made sense to me. It clicked.

AND then, just when I looked my hottest and best.... I get knocked up again. I was in disbelief. This came as a huge surprise to both of us, but we agreed this will be our last baby. 3 kids in 4 years is no joke. It's exhausting physically and mentally, especially since I get all crunchy and hippy and breastfeed them until they can like, eat steak and read chapter books.

So my husband and I spent the first few weeks of the pregnancy discussing what I can do different this time. My body couldn't handle another 40 lbs. I can't take another year of my life to lose the baby weight again. So really, what can I do different this time...

Being sick as a dog helped the first trimester. All I ate was fruit I think? I don't know. It was a hot mess. We were living at my parents house for the summer and all I could think about was how sick I felt all of the time. I couldn't even function enough to parent properly. It was rough BUT I did make it to the gym every day. I was still doing the Jamie Eason program and I was determined to finish it. I didn't slack because I was pregnant. Some days if I felt really awful, I would go lighter or do less reps, but I continued my program. Once I got prescribed Zofran for the nausea, things improved even more at the gym.

My daily diet didn't change much either. I continued to eat eggs. they didn't make me sick. I was able to eat chicken this time without getting too sick. What made me sick was sweets and chocolate, so maybe I lucked out. But I tried to keep the fact that I was newly pregnant in the back of my mind. I think it's important to remember you're pregnant, but to not let it dictate your daily life if you can help it.

So here I am. 37 weeks. I've gained 23 lbs. They are inducing me in 2 weeks to help eliminate the pelvic issues and the shoulder dystocia my son had...so 23 lbs now with 2 weeks to go. I still go to the gym daily. I no longer do Jamie Eason's Live Fit program because I'm knowledgeable enough now that I know what I'm doing in the gym for the most part. I have great friends at the gym too that help me and teach me also.

I couldnt be more proud of myself. Squatting 85 lbs at 9 months pregnant isnt easy, but it feels amazing to know my body is this strong and able to do it. I've had people approach me at the gym and high five me, ask me questions, tell me I need to write a book. That is all very flattering but that's not my goal. I just want to be healthy and happy with myself. I want to share what I know with other women. I want other women to understand that our bodies are capable of amazing things but we have to also be mentally strong but none of this is easy.

It would be much easier if I sat on the couch at 9 months pregnant eating a bowl of ice cream, but how would I feel? I'd be miserable. I'd feel disgusting. I'd feel lazy. I'd have satisfaction when I ate the bowl of ice cream, but it would quickly fade and guilt would take over. Not ONE day has gone by that I've regretted the gym.

I hope I can inspire other women, other pregnant women, to learn that they can also do this.

I've been talking about getting my personal training certificate for a while now. I finally made the choice as to which type I want to get and I'll begin next month (Because I'll have a NB and two other toddler, whats one more thing, right? Ugh...)

This was a hobby that has become a passion and now I want to truly make it a living. One day I may go back to teaching, but for now, i can use my skills as a teacher and teach other women how to improve themselves physically and mentally.

I have a lot of goals for myself still, and I am constantly learning new techniques, new methods, new diet tricks. Working with my Beachbody Clients has made me grow also. We're growing together. Our bodies are always changing, so we never should stop learning.

Moral of the story: Weightloss, exercise, pregnancy, being a woman... the struggle is real. It's exhausting. It can be defeating at some times. But it's also about finding our deepest inner strength to persevere. When we get knocked down, we must get up. That is how weight loss goes for me.

I will never be 120 lbs or a size 2, That's okay with me. That isnt my goal. My goal is to feed my body healthy food to energize it and fuel it. My goal is to age gracefully. My goal is to be strong enough to keep up with 3 children. My goal is to look fucking awesome in a bikini and people high five me for having 3 kids in 4 years and STILL look that good. My goal is for me to motivate myself by motivating others to make healthy changes.

I've ran into people that are very critical of me for "being obsessive" or "doing too much in pregnancy". That's okay. They don't understand my journey. I don't do this for other people. I do this for me.

If you are ever interested in becoming a client and customer of mine, I'd love to help you along your journey. Visit me at: Beachbodycoach.com/mveirs

My first pregnancy @ 37 weeks (Around 178 lbs)

My second pregnancy @ 37 weeks (Around 172 lbs)My third pregnancy @ 37 weeks (Around 167 lbs)

The benefits of squatting in late pregnancy.... Kim Kardashian Toosh? 

 
  Two more weeks to go!

The begging of the end

I'm just 20 something days from meeting my last baby... My first baby girl. Emotions are running high and wild, quite unexpectedly.

My blog is simple. I keep it real here because I feel like SO many Moms put on this effortless ambiance that is so incredibly fake it's nauseating. Most of my friends keep it real, so I'm talking about a majority of all the other mom blogs. The DIY Moms, the Organizing Moms, the Sports Moms, the Moms that throw on their mom jeans and drive their minivans with a proud weird pride I don't simply grasp yet... Anyway, those Moms are the ones I can't connect with. 

Back to the pregnancy..

So my pregnancy took me surprise. We weren't trying. In fact, we were avoiding. I was 7 weeks along when I found out I was pregnant. I had found out at 4 weeks with the boys. We were in the middle of a massive transition of a PCS and we didn't have a house to settle into yet. 

The only reason I took a pregnancy test was because I was so sick and had no idea why. That should have been a warning of what things were about to come. I spent the first 20 something weeks nauseous and sick but it became manageable. I hadn't been that sick with my boys so morning sickness was a new learning curve for me. 

In general this pregnancy has been alright. I've had terrible back pain on and off, but I have only gained 22 lbs and I'm nearing the end, so for that I am grateful for. 

With the end approaching, I'm realizing how different this pregnancy still is compared to the boys. I'm incredibly sensitive and emotional, especially this past week. I've been crying at the drop of a hat because I have the urge to organize my husbands tools. Clearly I cannot bring a newborn home until the tools in the garage are in the proper place 🙄 It's just  bizarre. I never had the urge to nest as strong as this before. Surely I cleaned before my babies arrived in the past, but this is an entire different level of nesting. 

I think a part of it has to do with disliking our house. There are benefits to living on base but there are so many cons as well. We pay $2200 a month for a small house with the worst appliances imaginable. The heating and cooling is comical. There is zero storage. Everything is cluttered. It smells like Chinese men in Westons room and I don't know why. I can't ever seem to keep it clean. The boys argue so much because they're on top of each other playing. And it's all overwhelming. Do I want to move? No because that's a huge PIA but at the same time, I'm about to bring another person into this house that hardly fits the current people that do live here. 

I miss North Carolina. I miss the space. I Miss my home. I miss the beaches. I miss the comfort and relaxed lifestyle. I miss my routine. I don't miss my old neighbors and I don't miss people talking bad about other people, but I do miss my life there. I'm sad I'm not bringing my new baby back to my home there. I'm sad that my new baby has to be subjected to the chaos that this house and this demographic area brings. At the end of the day, I know all she will need is just me and nothing else, but when you want give your babies the best of the best, it's frustrating. 

I'm venting and rambling now, but let me just bring it back down to reality. The struggle is real. Three kids is a struggle. Living on base is a struggle. Being pregnant is a struggle. Being a stay at home mom is a struggle. Driving a fucking minivan is a struggle. 

Ive been here 6 months and I have yet to find a solid groove and that is a huge struggle, especially because I rely so much on routine and consistency. 

But the end is near. She will be here incredibly soon and I'm hoping my bahumbug attitude changes. I'm sure she won't care that Westons room smells like Chinese men, or that the tooth brush holder needs to be moved two inches to the left. Surely she won't care about that! But right now, hats what I care about. 

Sum of my story tonight: Pregnancy makes us crazy. Pregnancy is a struggle, and this shit is very real. 

10 weeks

28 weeks

35 weeks 

My sweet girl...