The Struggle Behind The Strength

Every so often I get told that I'm a "strong mama" or am "perfect". And while I appreciate the compliments, I truly do; I'm not as strong as some seem to think. 

I've struggled with many things throughout my life. Some I'm not very proud of. But none the less, they have made me who I am today.

I'm just going to put this out there, I'm NOT a self image confident person. Not in the tiniest bit. And I know everyone at some point or another in their lives, usually during teenage years, struggled with self-esteem issues. But mine go back much MUCH further than just at the start of being a teenager. 

So we're gonna go through the years just to show you all reading how long I've been dealing with this. 

As far back as 2nd grade I can remember HATING how I looked. My mom would tell me I "looked like a boy" because I had short hair. Also because I preferred to play and get dirty than sit around and play with barbies while being her personal dress up doll. I do remember though from then on, everytime I'd put on any shirt, I'd pull and pull until it stretched out enough to not cling to me. In second grade I did this. Normal? No. I still had baby fat because let's face it, at 7, you're still practically a baby. 

Moving on to third grade, that's when my obsession with body fat began. Especially my back. Lord knows how many times I'd grab at my "back fat" at 8 years old. To be completely honest, I STILL do it. But now it's not imaginary. When I'd be around cousins, they'd be EXTREMELY confident in how they looked. Wore cute dresses or skirts. Meanwhile I was wearing loose clothes. Girly cargo pants and pretty plain t-shirts just to hide what I felt was unsightly body weight. When in all reality, I wasn't overweight in the slightest. 

Fourth grade, I started getting boobs. Usually, girls are pretty happy about that. Not me though. Made me feel like I looked wider. Not to mention, it brought attention to me. Attention I desperately tried to get away from. Excersising during P.E? Forget it. Boobs have a tendency to move when you do, so I didn't want the extra looks. 

Fifth grade and sixth grade are pretty much the same story. But as I mature physically, my confidence pretty much hit rock bottom. 

In 7th grade is when the real issues began. My home life was a wreck. My dad and I were barely speaking. In fact, he told me he wasn't my dad anymore and that I should call him by his first name "Michael" from then on.  I didn't have close friends to talk to. My mom and I's relationship? Practically didn't exist. So I turned to the only outlet I knew how to do at the time. Self harm. And I know that sounds so cliche. But honestly, I was doing it up until 9th grade. Damn near daily. Got to the point where all I could wear were jackets to cover it. Even in summer. Which was fine for me because jackets helped cover my body more.  I remember one time I cut so deep , that the blood wouldn't stop. And in a way, it scared me. In another, it made me think that maybe it would be over soon. 

Eighth grade comes and I start "starving" myself. I could go a couple days without eating. Little did i know, it only made things worse. But I didn't care. I could have a slice of bread and glass of water and be full. My parents didn't really notice. Which helped I suppose. I got to 110 lbs at 5'4. I was considered underweight. I could see my bones clearly at that point. And although I knew that in my brain, I STILL could only see the flaws in my appearance. The extra jiggle when I'd walk. My naturally wider hips. I was never diagnosed with anorexia. But maybe that's because nobody knew about it. 

Ninth grade and the same story. Until I met Julius. He found out about the cutting, saw the cuts and the scars and told me to stop. He checked everyday to make sure I didn't do it anymore. And eventually I stopped.  For the most part. 

Tenth grade and I was still struggling with self image although not as severely. Then I got pregnant with Logan. And it came back. But I knew I had to eat. I had to stay healthy and gain weight. Not for me but for him. 

Eleventh grade and here I am now. 9 years of mental self torture that manifested to self physical harm. To this day, I still look in the mirror and hate what I see. Especially now with the extra baby weight I'm gaining. Although I don't hate what's causing it. There are days when I see myself and just want to cut off every piece that isn't supposed to be there. I want to run for 20 miles just to make it go away. I want to eat nothing forever to help myself be flat. But I don't. And I won't. 

I see now that the cutting didn't help. It left scars. Most have faded now, but there's a few that stick around. And I wonder if their purpose is to show me what I've been through. What I've put myself through. And what I've overcome. I still struggle with it. The urges are ALWAYS there. Especially when I'm feeling especially overwhelmed and stressed. Everything negative rushes to the front of my mind. Like demons that never leave. 

Only time will tell if this newfound "strentgth" is here to stay. Until then, I'm just gonna keep pushing along. 

Till next time, 

~Ashley 💋

Community? What "Community"?

⛔️ MY opinion. Feel free to disagree privately. ⛔️ 

Okay. So let's get real about the IG mom "community". It stopped being a community a long time ago. 

I've only been a part of it for a coupe of months. Since January. And in that short time I've seen more and more how much unnecessary bullshit drama there is. It makes me sad to be honest.  When I found this community I was happy! Finally I would be able to post pictures of my cute son & family without judgement. I could FINALLY relate to some people & talk to other responsible moms. A whole bunch of things I was lacking in my physical life. 

As a teenager and a mom where I live, it usually entails partying every weekend. Getting high. Letting grandparents take care of the baby. Not caring about school    And finally baby daddy drama. 

NONE of that applied to me. I didn't (& don't) party or leave my son with my parents for them to take care of. I love school. And finally, I'm happily together with my son's father. So needless to say, I never talked to any of them. 

But APPARENTLY, IG drama isn't all they different. People still act like they're in highschool and go on with high school drama and games. A huge thing lately has been bullying. If you have a problem with someone, don't spread smut about them. Don't talk down to them. Be mature and talk to them privately. And if things can't be resolved, drop it. 

The mom community is supposed to be there for support. For love. For mutual interest in all our beautiful families & kids. I don't know when it stopped being about that. 

Now some people are "too good" for others for whatever reason. Follower count mostly. 

Let's just have a reality check. Big accounts once started from 0 followers and gradually grew. And whether you have 100 followers or 100k followers 697 aren't any less or more important than the next person. 

Them theres fake pages and hate pages. People. Really? Hate pages? It's pathetic. Yes. Some moms (or dads) make horrible decisions when it comes to their kids and personal lives. That doesn't however give you the right to create an entire page solely dedicated to tearing them down. Ever. 

We have to remember it's not about followers. It's not about who's better than who. It's about family. Children. Support. 

And until we FOCUS on that and drop the rest of the crap going on, IG WON'T become a community again. 

Till next time, 

~Ashley 💋

Small Bump Unborn

" 'Cause you were just a small bump unborn

   for four months then torn from life. 

Maybe you were needed up there, but we're 

still unaware as why." 

Yes, these are the last lyrics to Ed Sheeran's "Small Bump". And yes, it is what this blog entry is named after. 

If you read my previous post about my boyfriend's and mine 'love story' then you know I have had a miscarriage before. 

It's not something I talk about or share often. But maybe it's time. 

Miscarriages are hard. Emotionally & physically. They tear you apart and make you over think. At least that's what it did to me. Even now when I think about it I can't help but to tear up. 

October 11th,2013. That's the day that we officially lost her. I'm going to say her because we both always had a feeling it was a girl. It's been two years but doesn't hurt any less. 

I was only 10 weeks appx. when we lost our baby. We never got to see him/her. I had actually only known for about 2 weeks before miscarrying. 

It was one of the worst pains I had ever felt up until that time. It literally felt like my stomach was eating itself. There were horrible cramps that now I can compare to labor cramps. I got a horrible fever. And got so pale my dad told me I looked like death. (thanks dad.) He didn't know though what was really happening. Unfortunately, I did. 

I stayed home from school the next day and Julius came to visit me at home. We sat on the porch and talked. And cried. Just trying to pass time which was all we could do. 

I remember writing out this entire letter telling our baby how much I loved her. How much I was going to miss her. All the things I wish we could have done. I also remember begging God to give us our baby back. That I would do anything He wanted me to do just to be able to hold her again. To know she wasn't gone & was still alive. 

Needless to say, that didn't happen. I grieved about it. I still do when it comes to my mind. I'll never know why it happened. But I look back on it now & think it may have been so that we could have Logan. 

You may be thinking, you were only ten weeks. If that. It's not like you felt "her" or saw "her". Get over it. 

Easier said than done. I'm not saying it cripples me. But it does hurt. It leaves me with a bunch of "what ifs" that will never be answered. A bunch of fantasies of Holding her & playing dress up that will never happen. Not with HER anyways. With my son yes. And with my soon to be daughter yes. 

It's hard for those who haven't been through it to completely understand. 

But if you have been through it, know that I do. 

Till next time, 

~Ashley 💋

Just a Highschool Love Story

I've been asked before to share my boyfriends & my story. 

I've never really shared it before and I'm terribly bored, so I figured why not? 

⛔️Grab some popcorn & sit nice and comfy to read this one. ⛔️ 

It started the end of October when I was at my high school spending time with my at-the-time boyfriend. His name was Andrew. We were just hanging out with our group of friends when a kid, that was a former friend & stalker of mine, started causing trouble. Andrew told him to back off and get out of there. After he did so, things went back to normal until lunch. It was at lunch that I met my now fiancé. 

We were sitting by ourselves when once again, that same kid came back. But this time he had Julius with him. When I first saw Julius the first thought that ran through my head was, "Shit. Here we go again. And now he brought a henchmen." At the time, Julius looked like a typical goof off, don't-care-about-anything skater. Beanie, slicked back hair, shorts, vans, and his diamond brand sweater.

Total douchebag. 

Well, instead of instigating a fight, he said, "Just tell me what happened. And we can sort it out." 

So then I just listen to them talk when out of nowhere I say, "I like your glasses." I like your glasses?! Really? Trust me. I beat myself up for seeming like such a dingbat for a while. In fact, I still do 😂 

He looked at me like I was nuts. (Go figure.) He was polite, said thank you, and moved on. They finished talking and left. 

Lunch ended and I couldn't stop thinking about Julius. I couldn't remember his face, just his glasses & eyes. According to Julius, that's the same exact way he was. He asked around about me. Who I was. What my name was, etc. 

Then... 

A couple days later I get a message on Facebook. Yes. Facebook. So horribly cliché. We start talking and get to know each other pretty well. I was surprised how much we had in common. 

Soon after that, Andrew started getting back into the smoking & hanging around with the wrong people.  So, Julius and I started hanging out at school. Hewould always linger in the area we would hang out & look at me. 

On November 18, 2012 he asked me to be his girlfriend which I gladly accepted. 

❤️  

February 1st we hit a BIG bump. Julius had always been into not good things. I'll just leave it there. And he temporarily went back. He cut off contact with me out of the blue. Completely randomly. I was devastated. We didn't talk for about 2 weeks. 

Then a few days before Valentine's Day, he came back. He apologized and tried to make it up to me. I was suspicious and less than trusting. What he had done hurt more than almost anything else I'd gone through. He finally explained everything that happened during those two weeks away from me. And I decided to forgive him. It was clear he was sincere & I still loved him. Yes. Love. 

We were happy. And have been since then. 

The October of 2014 I miscarried at 10 weeks. It was only 10 days before that I had found out I was pregnant, and ten days later our little baby was gone. We always had a feeling it was a girl. Maybe that's why we want a girl SO badly now. 

I remember for the next few days we were each other's pillars. I cried and hurt so badly just like him and we were there for each other. 

A couple weeks later, another set of double pink lines. Our rainbow baby. 

We were scared but overwhelmingly happy because of our previous loss. After we told our families, I got transferred schools and he started independent study. 

We saw each other about 2-3 times a month for the entire rest of my pregnancy. Pretty much for appointments only and one other time on a weekend. We missed each other so much and cherished the few hours a month we got to finally see each other. FaceTime became our best friend. 

You know what they say. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder." I learned from first hand experience. 

After our son was born, I can honestly say that I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Seeing how much he loved Logan and I made me love him so much more. 

Here we are. Two and a half years later. Happy as can be, parents to a sweet, curious 10 month old, and expecting our second. 

Although we did things backward, I wouldn't trade it for the world. 

I found my best friend, my fiancé , my goofball, my caterpillar (inside joke), the father of my children, my world. 

If you read this Julius, thank you for being who you are. And for dealing with my day to day craziness. I love you.  Forever and always. 

Anyone else who reads this, thank you for reading our story. And sorry for it being so long. 

Till next time, 

~Ashley 💋

  

A Gallon Of Coffee Please!

Let's get real about sleep. It's precious. ESPECIALLY after having kids. And without it, most of us are grouchy, sleepy, non-functioning, caffeine addicted mombies. I speak from experience. 

I was so grouchy I think I scared my own reflection in the mirror. 

Well... 

This week I officially started sleep training Logan.

It has so far been incredibly tough and at the same time incredibly rewarding. 

As a mom you come to learn how to deal with the two-hour increments of sleep while your child is a newborn. Heck, you even come to expect them. And soon after you master it. 

I went weeks with about 4 hours a sleep a night. None during the day. Obviously, my coffee intake rose immensely during coincidentally the same time. Go figure. 

Well. He hit 2.5 months & I figure 'OK. His sleep is about to get much better and soon he'll sleep through the night.' 

W R O N G. 

A month passed before he finally slept through the night. Then two weeks later the 4-month sleep regression hit. 

Pretty much he went back to sleeping like a newborn but WORSE. Much much worse. Up every 45 minutes. Whining. Crying. Took longer than the ten minutes it used to in order to get him back to sleep. 

*if your child is not yet 4 months, pray s/he doesn't go through it. And if they're past 4 months and you have NO idea what I'm talking about, consider yourself L U C K Y. * 

Well that phase lasted about 3 months before he started sleeping 4-5 hours at a time. 

Now, he wakes up about 4 times a night & DEMANDS a bottle one of those times. 

This wouldn't be a problem if he was a newborn. But he's 10 months old. 10. 

I should now be accustomed to sleeping in my warm, comfy bed at LEAST 9 hours straight through. Waking up at 7 or 8 to feed my happy, well rested, sleeping-through-the-night baby. 

My solution? Sleep training! It has such a bad reputation because a lot of parents do the cry-it-out method. Which is fine if that's how they choose to parent. 

Me? No. I can't handle the constant crying without wanting to throw my head repeatedly against a very hard wall. 

My method? A mix. After he's fed, changed, given gripe water if he needs it, I lay him down in his crib with his pacifier & go sit down out of sight. Obviously he starts crying because he's not fully asleep. But, only when he stands up or sits up do I go over to him. Then without a word I lay him back down & go & sit down. This repeats over and over until he falls asleep on his own. 

I must say, it has been far more successful than I thought in this last week. The longest it has taken him was an hour. 

I still need that gallon of coffee. (Need, not drink because of my current being pregnant situation.) BUT I do believe within the next 2-3 weeks he will be able to fall asleep on his own. And my coffee need will drop significantly.

And for all my fellow mombies (or dadbies) it'll get better if you make it better.  Mind you, a 3 month old is still not ready to be sleep trained. But a 9,10,11 and so on old? Yes. What method you choose is up to you. 

But I promise you, in the long run it is so much better for both you & your little on. 

So keep chugging that gallon of coffee mamas as long as you need it. But not needing it will feel SO much better. 

Till next time, 

~Ashley 💋

Whiplash

Time flies when you're having fun. 

That's what people say at least. 

And boy has it flew! 

Feels like just yesterday I was in 9th grade, an awkward barely-getting-used-to-her-own-skin kid. Innocent as they came. Never did drugs. Never drank. Never ditched. Never suspended. Straight A student. Loved by teachers & my friends. Yeah I had a couple boyfriends. Nothing too serious. Mostly puppy love. Never gotten (or wanted to get) farther than kissing. I was happy. I KNEW what classes I was going to take the rest of high school. I KNEW what colleges I was going to apply to. And what my major would be. Life seemed so... Simple. 

The stress was simple. Tests. Friends. Grades. Family. That's it. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Boy did that all change. 

By that Halloween I met my fiancé (little did I know) and almost everything I never had done, I did. I still never did any drugs or drank. But we got farther than kissing. I ditched a class, 6th period on a day there was a substitute. (I still count it as a win.) I felt like a crazy rebel. And to be honest, it was liberating. 

I think that's one of the things I loved about our relationship. He took me out of my comfort zone but never made me feel bad for being uncomfortable with doing so. I hope that makes sense. 

I was SO used to being the good girl, being "bad" was just another experience. Not the new me. 

Fast forward one year. We're still happily together. I look down and well, two dark pink lines. Shit. I AM pregnant. I was happy and scared at the same time. 

How am I gonna tell my folks? I told Julius and he was immediately excited. No scared bone inside him. He was "ready" to be a dad. He wanted our little he or she (preferred she) and couldn't wait. Me on the other hand. Well. I had goals. I wanted to be in the upcoming school play. I was on the track I had always seen myself on. 

Fast forward another 10 months. 

I had Logan. Still in school (alternative for pregnant girls). Still getting straight A's. But now I was a mom. Stress was so much different. It was, "Should I get some sleep so I can be the calm not zombie mom?" Or "Should I stay up another two hours and do some work?" 

I chose sleep. And most of the time I still do. Being a mom, the BEST mom I can be is my #1 priority now. It's not about studying for a test or what my essay will be about. It's about , "If Logan wakes up at 3 A.M, will I be rested, calm, and composed enough to take care of him and get him back to sleep?" 

My life has changed IMMENSELY in the last  almost 3 years. I never imagined it would be like this. 

I still dream of college. I still know what I want to do. But being a mom now is still first. 

I now see myself in less than two years from now being married, raising TWO little ones, moving with my fiancé to Mississippi while he completes his Air Force tech guy training. 

There's no doubt about it. I have been whiplashed. 

But if I knew then what I do now, I wouldn't change a thing. I'm a different happy now. I've matured in ways that I still can't comprehend. And I love my family more than words can describe. 

Two and a half years ago I was an awkward, innocent, school driven kid. 

Now. I'm a happy. Motivated. Pridefilled mommy of soon-to-be 2. 

Till next time. 

~Ashley 💋

More Than Baby Blues

⛔️Warning: Personal & Deep Topic⛔️

I know this is a pretty heavy subject. Especially for those who aren't moms ..

BUT,  I really think this will help those who are moms and even who aren't to understand postpartum depression more.

DISCLAIMER:  OKAY. So first things first. I was NEVER diagnosed with it. I don't want anyone to read this to feel that I am "faking" being diagnosed.

Maybe it wasn't postpartum depression, but I'll tell you that I have had a history with depression and know if felt damn near the same.

⛔️ Now onto the heavy stuff. ⛔️

What would I describe postpartum depression as? I could only describe it as emptiness and a feeling of not being "good" enough. Good enough for who? For my son. For my boyfriend. For myself.

Mind you, I had only been a mom all of maybe two weeks. A teen mom who has to go back and forth between three different houses. A totally different situation than most moms deal with. I was getting used to waking up every two hours to feed, change, and rock my little one back to sleep. I was trying to learn to breastfeed without screaming from pain. And I kept thinking to myself, "My son deserves someone so much better than me." 😔

I felt like a failure. I'm NOT (Not) 🙅🏻 the most patient person in the world. At all. I get frustrated. And I remember crying myself to sleep any day that I would get frustrated with my newborn. A NEWBORN. I felt an incredible amount of guilt. How could I get frustrated at a baby that doesn't know any better? A baby who is not doing anything on purpose.

Even now i can remember how inadequate I felt. And how i felt alone in this. Everyone else was ENTIRELY baby love struck. And then there was me. Just trying to cope day-to-day. I'd look at this little human I had carried inside of me for 9 months and feel almost numb. I KNEW he came from me. I knew he was mine and that I should feel a surge of love anytime I held him. But it wasn't there..

Needless to say, that realization did not help matters.

I didn't tell anyone and somehow managed to eventually slowly get over it.

9 1/2 months later, I no longer have it. I still get frustrated and I still feel guilty about getting upset later, but I came to an important realization along the way.

 EVERYONE  gets mad. Teen moms, adult moms, grandparents; Even those considered the BEST moms in the world do. It's a part of human nature. Its HOW you handle it that matters. That is what defines you as a good or bad mom. Choices matter. Choices are all that matter. We are learning to be moms as they learn how to be children. It's a learning process.

I want everyone to understand that postpartum depression is real. It's there. It's a dark monster that sucks the happiness out of an amazing time of motherhood. Its more common than people think. And it's making AMAZING moms feel like s***. As long as your child is loved and taken care of, YOU ARE AN AMAZING MOM! 

It took me a LONG time to realize that. I hope it doesn't take you, if you are going through it, as long.

Hug your babies and know everything will be okay. ❤️

Till next time

~Ashley 💋

A Little About Me 💕

Hi everyone!

My name is Ashley! I'm a 16 almost 17 year old teen mom. I was born and live in the bi-polar state of California ☀️☁️

My fiancé, for all intents and purposes, and I have been together for almost 3 years ❤️ We plan on getting married next summer before he enters the Airforce. 

Together we have two little ones. A 9 month old named Logan Cole💙 he's very smart and very curious! Loves to climb on people and has been known to occasionally try and eat my nose 😁

We also are expecting another little one (HOPEFULLY) a girl due Sept 2015 😊 As of now I am 24 weeks. Finding out the gender soon 🙏🏻

I am a junior and soon to be senior in high school. I am now in independent study so that I can spend more time with my son & still continue my education.

I have a passion for all things music and oddly enough criminal psychology 🙆🏻

I hope through my blog you can get to know me & my journey!

Till Next Time

~Ashley 💋