Oh Sweet Child of Mine

 
When we arrived home from UCLA, our home became a revolving door of RN's, CNA's, and therapists.  Once a week E would be weighed by an RN that would make house calls, Monday through Friday we were blessed to have a CNA that would come to our home and give me relief so I could sleep, exercise, grocery shop, or run errands.  Considering I had been on 24/7 duty with E for the last 8 months of her life, I eagerly welcomed the support and help.  E was given at-home therapies as well to help her with her developmental delays and finally began to make progress.  I was even finally given the "OK" for E to be seen by a civilian pediatrician in town and made an appointment as quickly as possible.
  E kept pulling her NG tube out and after watching her vomit everything she got from it, we stopped placing it and started working on beefing up her formula.  I was given permission to start offering her soft and NOT pureed foods like scrambled eggs.  I would give her anything that she would take and learn from mistakes if it made her sick or regurgitate.  Almost nothing made the cut and her weight continued to be a significant concern.  After another bad weigh in by the visiting RN, I was told that this looked pretty bad and to start keeping a food journal and even taking pictures of feeding efforts "for your protection".  She and I would talk about ways to convince E's body to digest even the tiniest of anything NOT formula and she advised to slowly start adding rice cereal.  I would add a tiny 1/2 teaspoon per bottle until E stopped rejecting it and up it by 1/2 teaspoons until we reached tablespoons.  It took time and patience.
  With E's weight continuing to keep her so small that on a growth chart she had dropped to -10th%, I took her to her doctor to go over the possibilities to help her.  I was visibly pregnant and had her in her car seat sleeping as we sat in the exam room waiting for her doctor.  The one I had chosen was the same one that had hospitalized her as a newborn and got her better so I felt good about going back to him.  He made sure to prove me wrong as quickly as possible.
  He walked in disgruntled with the results from her weigh-in and looked me up and down with disdain.  I broke the silence by saying I was very worried about her weight and that nothing we were doing was making the difference for her.  He refused to even make eye contact with me as I spoke.  After letting me "rant", he asked me:
  "Do you HOLD your baby?"
  Taken aback I answered "yes, I hold her all the time".
  Unhappy with my answer he elaborated "do you hold WHILE you feed her?"
  Again I answered "she is too weak to hold her own bottle so that is the only way I can feed her, is to hold her".
  "What about your husband?  Does he HOLD her enough?"
  "When he is home and I need a break, he does his part."
  He looked me over like I was lying to him, looked at my pregnant belly, and made an assessment of his very own without listening to anything I had been saying to him.  "Well, it is obvious she must not be loved enough to want to live and I will refer her to behavioral pediatrics."
  "Excuse me?  We love our baby and take care of her!"
  He literally walked out the door without so much as looking at E or listening to a word I had said.  I gathered our things and left the exam room in utter shock of what had just been said to me.  When the check out receptionist asked if I wanted to make a follow-up appointment, I told her I would NEVER return to that office again.  I stormed out and put my baby E in my van, got myself in the drivers seat and called D.  I cried on the phone to him and he became enraged in a way I had never seen before.  When I got home, he was there waiting and immediately went to the insurance representative on base and reported the pediatrician.  They told him how bad they felt for what he had done and would investigate his treatment of other families in the future.  I was not accustomed to D being that angry about anything ever.  It worried me, but I just assumed the stress was getting to him too.
  I decided to talk to the Navy clinic about just having them follow E's care as long as her original doctor was NEVER allowed near her and they worked with me.  I took her in to see a new military doctor and she was wonderful.  She did weigh-ins on her for a short time and would send her to different specialists and after a very short amount of time finally pleaded with me to give a civilian pediatrician another chance.  She told me that E's medical needs were just out of her scope of expertise and so I did research and decided on a new pediatrician.  By this point, I had openly asked for a case worker to do a walk-through of my house to protect D and I and they had found not a single thing that we could be doing better.  I was in full defense.
  I had a small encounter with the original doctor during E's last exam when we were leaving and she snidely sauntered up to me.  "So, I guess they didn't anything at UCLA???"  I looked her steely in the eye and said, "not yet, but they sure did find that she was failing to thrive and had to hospitalize her, didn't they?"  She sneered and went back to whatever she was up to and I left that clinic feeling like fire was coursing through my veins.  I felt like I was losing my mind and chasing a ghost the further into this I went with E.  As I drove home with a one year old E that looked like she was a small nine month old, I decided to get her seen by the new pediatrician as soon as possible and made the appointment for her once I got us home.

E on her 1st birthday.

E eating the frosting of her cupcake on her birthday.

Every Step You Take, Gets You That Much Closer

E during a visit to Nevada and very sick as per the norm.

  "She is LOSING WEIGHT and needs something done!  I mean, I bring her in to you every two weeks and she losses weight.  There is something wrong here.  I watch her suffer every day!"  I had my crazy eyes going and the Navy doctor looked completely uninterested.  I wanted my baby admitted into a hospital and tests run and she wasn't interested.
  "She is six months old, have you tried baby food?  She probably just needs baby food for extra calories."  I stared at her in shock.
  "She chokes on liquid formula and you want me to give her solids?!"
  "Just give it a try mom and come back in a couple of weeks to have her weighed."
  With that the conversation ended and I packed up my tiny baby and went home.  I told D what this awful doctor told me to do and although he had the same look of fear in his eyes at the idea as I did, we agreed to let her attempt to eat baby food.  I went to the store and bought some baby food bananas and went home to try this insanity out.  Her vaccinations were so far behind at this point because every single time I would take her in to have them done, she would have a new cold, flu, or horrible inexplicable rash indicating an allergy we couldn't pin down.  She never felt well and we never had a moment's rest.  I feared this baby food experiment but the only way I was going to be taken seriously by this doctor was to do what she prescribed and give her the results.
  I sat E in a high chair and propped her as best I could because she was so far behind in her developmental markers that she had just barely gotten down rolling from front to back and visa versa.  Sitting up was not even a remote possibility for her weak core muscles.  She eagerly took bite after bite of the baby food until we reached the halfway mark on the little container.  Out of nowhere her body rejected it and just like the normal formula rejection, the pureed baby food shot from her stomach into her nose and mouth.  She stopped breathing and turned purple.  I grabbed her from the high chair and immediately began to perform infant Heimlich maneuver until she was able to vomit the rest out and began to breath and cry hysterically.  I sat comforting her and crying from the let down of adrenaline I was feeling in saving her.  I saw my baby aspirate on solid baby food.  Happy now doctor?
  Her following poop came out pure white.  I knew nothing about poop colors, but my common sense told me it was bad.  Really, really bad.  I became enraged.  I gently placed her in her carseat, put her in my van, and drove straight to the Naval medical clinic.  I walked straight up to the corpsman at the desk and demanded the civilian RN.  The look on my face spoke volumes because within seconds I had the nurse talking to me and looking E over.  I described everything that had been happening and told her I had asked her doctor to release her to a pediatrician and that she had refused.  The nurse actually listened and heard me.  She looked at and saw my baby and her condition.  The doctor was called over to speak to the nurse and they exchanged words.  Pretty soon her doctor came running to me and SWORE she would get E in with the UCLA pediatric gastroenterology clinic as fast as possible.  I went home.
  After the marathon that is obtaining referrals from insurance companies, we received the "OK" for E to go to UCLA and the appointment was made.  After a three hour drive to Los Angeles, we went in and saw a specialist that immediately diagnosed her as a failure-to-thrive and told us she needed a lot of tests run that would require admitting her to the hospital.  Unfortunately, they were transitioning from an old building into a brand new fancy one and he couldn't admit her until about two or three weeks later.  He ran blood work that day to look for anything and we drove three hours home to wait for news on when she would be admitted.  The minor validation I was feeling got smacked down pretty quickly when I told people about E's diagnosis of failure-to-thrive because I learned very quickly that the number one cause was parental neglect.  I was warned to expect a cps visit and my worst fears started unfolding in my mind.  The main comfort I had was that I knew that D and I both were doing EVERYTHING we could for her and that is what they would find if they showed up.
  Just before E's hospitalization came through, I got the news that I was pregnant again.  I was worried, but too busy to obsess over it and after how I had acted with E's pregnancy, I chose to be happy about this surprise.  Not anger or negativity was on my mind.  I needed to take care of E right now.  I had been taught by my mother-in-law that a family was only as healthy as it's sickest member and right now, we had a very sick baby.  When E was seven months old I made the drive to UCLA children's hospital and she was admitted into a bed.  One nurse could not stop herself from being rude and nasty to me about how "not sick" she looked to her and how she was taking a bed unnecessarily.  Other nurses would just gush about how insanely beautiful and perfect she was.  It was hard to go through the shift changes and not know what attitude I was going to be faced with next.
  They admitted her on a Friday knowing that the tests would not be run until Monday.  They watched me like a hawk in my every action, inaction, and interaction with my baby.  They recorded my every move for two and a half days straight because just as I was warned, most failure-to-thrive diagnosis are from parental neglect and abuse and they had to rule it out.  I passed their test as a mother and on Monday, the medical tests began.  She was given test after test after test for five days straight and they all came back normal.  They could give me no answers.  At one point, I asked to speak to their geneticist because I had been studying a lot online and her wide range of symptoms appeared genetic in nature.  This awkward and rude man came into her room while she lay sleeping in my arms.  He did not examine her and he asked very few questions before standing up and telling me "I cannot help you" and walking out.  I cried so hard that the nurses had to call in a counselor to talk to me and find resources for us.

E with her NG tube and i.v. going.

E having an EEG run because of her developmental delays.

  At the end of the week and after multiple efforts witnessed by Occupational and Speech therapists of my unsuccessful efforts to feed her, a nasal gastric tube was placed.  It was inserted through her nose and down into her stomach so that she could be fed by a machine.  Medical supplies were ordered to arrive at our home in Ridgecrest in order to continue forcing food into her unwilling body in hopes of increasing her weight.  I was taught how to safely manage her tube and feedings and the early intervention center was contacted by her medical team to start as many therapies and services as they could.  They had no answers for us, but they provided us with what they could while we figured this mess out.  I was devastated and more determined then ever to prove that there was something wrong and took her home dejected.  I just told myself that at least we got all those tests out of the way to take us that much closer to a diagnosis.  It was all I had to cling to...

Welcome to the Rabbit Hole

  "I had a positive pregnancy test a week ago."  My doctor looked at me in stunned silence.  He gathered his composure and said "Then we better take a look.  Let me go grab my portable ultrasound and a nurse."  He asked me to put on a gown from the waist down and once I was situated, he and a female military nurse entered the room with a small portable ultrasound machine.  I got into the pelvic exam position that all girls learn once they start getting their lady parts checked and he started the ultrasound up.  "Oh yeah, you definitely have a resident."  He then adjusted the screen for me to look upon a 7 1/2 week fetus.  I went blank as I stared at that screen and all I could think about was why he would show me a pre-recorded ultrasound of someone else's pregnancy.  Because that certainly wasn't my growing fetus in my uterus.
  "How is this possible?  You ran a pregnancy test and it came back negative!"  I was ANGRY.
  "By my calculations, you were exactly 5 days into the pregnancy when we ran the test and you have to be 10 days for your HcG levels to be high enough for detection.  You were just too early for our test to find it." With that he printed off a picture from my ultrasound and handed it to me.  I looked down at the picture of a little baby shaped like a bean lying resting against my uterus lining.
  "What about the birth control patch and antidepressants I have been on the last FOUR WEEKS?  Is that a danger here?"
  "Not that I know of, but we will make sure to keep an eye on the baby just in case."
  "So you are telling me that I got pregnant when G was only 3 months old?  This doesn't seem possible!"
  "Well it does happen with the mini pill.  You are definitely having another baby... unless you want to do something terrible like terminate it..."
  I shook my head NO, but I sat there quietly and just for a moment, I understood the desperation of a woman that would consider terminating a pregnancy.  I was so scared and this was so real and for the first time in my life I could finally empathize with a woman faced with that urge.  I wanted this to go away.  I even told myself that my body could not possibly carry another baby and that I would miscarry.  But in no way would I take a measure of any kind to harm this pregnancy.  Some part of me knew that once I looked at the baby and held the baby, I would be in love, but that love was not here yet.
  After the appointment I sat in my car and anger filled me like poison.  There was no God.  God knew my limits and if he existed he would NEVER do this to me!  All there was was a planet full of people and nature and there was no purpose or direction or anything or anyone running the shots.  I thought I knew things.  I thought I was tight with my maker just enough to be warned or protected.  It unrooted a deep and passionate faith system I had had for years.  I sat in a state of utter despair and loss of faith in my car.  What was I going to do?  I could not possibly be the quality level mother I had envisioned and planned on to my already born children if I was pregnant or taking care of a newborn.  This was so unfair to my two children!  God should have known my limits.  If he was real, he would not have done this to me.  I used protection...
  D could see I was in a dark rabbit hole.  He offered to give me a blessing and I obliged.  Not because I believed in blessings at the moment, but because I didn't want to destroy his faith by refusing his efforts to be a man of God.  I wouldn't wish the darkness I was feeling on him or anyone.  I sat down in a chair arranged in the middle of the floor and closed my eyes as he rest is palms on my head.  He spoke words to me straight from the heart of God that night.  He told me that I WOULD have this baby, but that it would be hard.  Hard on me and hard on my family.  He told me that God would be by our sides and with every medical professional that took care of us and that our baby would be "protected" against illness.  He gave me a sense of closure that this was real and that God knew exactly what he was doing even if I didn't understand or accept it.
  I finally cried.  No part of this made a freaking bit of sense to me but I numbly went along with it.  I would bring a throw up bag with me for when I changed diapers because if there was poop, my morning sickness would not tolerate it.  I would do what I could to take care of my other two babies while the intense exhaustion of the first trimester worked its way through me during D's work hours.  He would have to come home and immediately take over because I was too sick and too tired to do much once I had backup.  The only time I would fall apart completely would be if I had to make the 20 minute drive from our satellite housing base to the main base.  With the other two strapped into their carseats, quiet and happy with whatever toys I supplied them with, I would have time to think and it would wash over me in waves of panic and fear.  I was pregnant again.  I avoided driving anywhere for any reason for a while.
  By the time I was 18 weeks, we went in for the ultrasound that determined our baby was a girl and then two days later, left Japan to move to a new command in California.  We first made a trip to Tennessee to visit with D's family that he had not seen in three years.  Even though I should have been overjoyed to be back stateside, one day I simply laid my head down on a couch in my in-law's upstairs and wept from what I think was culture shock and pregnancy depression.  D made me promise to get help as soon as we got to the new command and I thought it would be best myself.  I knew I was not well.

Pregnant with E and putting on a brave face.

  We went and picked up a van we had ordered from Japan in CA and drove it to check into our new home of Ridgecrest, CA on the China Lake Naval Base.  We got into housing relatively quickly and I kept my promise to get help.  I went to a psychiatrist that was approved by our medical insurance (Tricare) and he asked me a lot of questions that I answered yes to over and over.  Within an hour and a half he diagnosed me with mild bipolar type 2 and put me on bipolar medications.  I called my mom to tell her and she was relieved by the diagnosis.  She had blamed herself for my sometimes outrageous behaviors and would shield me from the ADHD craze when mothers were being told to put their kids on Ritalin by teachers and doctors and now she was validated in her decision.  I opted to start therapy because I needed to get guidance on the denial I felt about my disorder and pregnancy.  I stuck with that therapy the entire two years I lived in Ridgecrest.  I needed it.

A Catch

  Even though she was an awesome eater, G was not gaining weight with my exclusive nursing efforts.  By three months in, I had to make the tortuous decision to start supplementing her with formula after each nursing.  I was on the mini pill for birth control and it had to be taken literally 24 hours to the minute from the last dose to prevent pregnancy from occurring.  Miss it by 5 minutes or stop breastfeeding 100% of the time and you were unprotected for two weeks while you started all over doing it perfectly.  It was the only breastfeeding-safe birth control so I used it.  My post-partum with G was far harder than it had been with M so I was on shaky ground as it was.  Weening her left me feeling like I had failed, but I couldn't watch her starve on what my body was making to stave off my feelings of inadequacy.

  I went to the doctor and talked to him about getting on a more stable form of birth control and opted for the patch since there was no having to remember to take it.  Just stick it on and a week later take it back off to replace with a fresh one.  Simple enough.  He ran a pregnancy test just to rule it out and it came back negative, but something felt... off.  I felt like I would be doing something somehow wrong if I put that patch on myself.  I procrastinated until my milk ran out a about a week or two later and bit the bullet.  G was being bottle fed now so there was no more snuggling while she would at nurse at night, I had to get up to make and then feed her the bottles.  By two days into my patch being on I woke up in a state of pure exhaustion and a sense of desperation to make it stop.  The lights went out in my brain and I felt nothing.  Not happiness, not sadness, not anything at all.

  I robotically went about feeding and taking care of my baby and toddler while this thought kept running through my mind that I could jump off the balcony.  Not because I wanted to die, but because I would get rest once I hit the ground four floors below.  I heard this voice tell me to call my husband so I did.  "D, I think I will jump off the balcony today."  He was home in half the time it usually took and had me to an emergency room as soon as he got to me.  They put me on an antidepressant and sent me home with a diagnosis of post-partum depression.  I took my pills, but they were like peeing on a wild fire.

  After three weeks on my birth control patch, it was time to do a week of no patch to allow for a period.  I took off my patch and... nothing happened.  Well, no period that is.  Other things did start to happen like food aversions, intense fatigue even after G was in a good night sleep pattern, and morning sickness.  It hit me as I attempted to make dinner one night and became so ill at the very thought of the food that I had to go lay down on the couch until D came home from work.  As I lay there I thought about my missing period and how familiar this feeling was and it hit me that I might be pregnant.  I told myself I was losing it and promised myself that once D got home, I would sneak off to take a test and get this wacky thought out of my head.

  D came home and I made an excuse to go to the store like wanting a Sprite or something and he didn't think anything of it.  I started doing a mental checklist of pregnancy symptoms I didn't have and almost had myself convinced out of testing when I pulled into a parking spot.  There was this voice that whispered to me "don't do this alone LaNae, it is going to be positive" and I brushed it away as I buckled down and went in and bought a pregnancy test.  I didn't want to freak out D so I opted to take the test in the store restroom and put this nonsense behind me.  After a matter of 0.2 seconds, it was bright positive.  I sat shaking and although I wanted to cry, the tears felt trapped in my chest somehow.  I just sat there in shock and terror looking at this test telling me I was very pregnant.  I had a 4 1/2 month old at home and this didn't seem possible.  No.  Just NO.

  I tucked the test into my purse and stormed from the restroom clearly upset and got behind the wheel of my van not sure how I was even going to drive the 2 minutes to my apartment.  I managed to go into auto pilot and got to my parking garage and wobbly made my way to the elevator.  When I opened the door to my apartment, I literally screamed out D's name.  He thought I was hurt and rushed to me.  I thrust the positive test at him and then he had to catch me as I lost my leg strength and almost hit the floor.  I wept into his chest not to hate me and how sorry I was and how scared I was.  He reassured me that there was nothing to worry about and that it would all be okay.  As he worked to try to calm me, I suddenly remembered that moment after G was born and how I told him, "A baby this perfect will come with a catch.".  Well, a catch is exactly what we got.

My Amazing M

  I have been a mother for eight and a half years if you count from the day my first child was born. My baby M took me 40 hours of labor before I was able to push her out into the brisk air of our hospital delivery room.

39 weeks, 5 days and in labor with M.

She was so perfect in every way that I got over the amount of time she made me suffer instantly.  Once home I would hold her as she would slip into a peaceful rest and in my postpartum state, I would cry at her beautiful perfectness.  Every morning she would wake up with a giant smile on her face and my whole day would be brightened with her spirit.

As a toddler, she would tell me that I was her best friend and even now she will tell me she is the luckiest girl in the world to have me as a mom.  I tell her it is more the other way around as she is so wonderful to have as a daughter.

Now she is so grown up that it is difficult to wrap my mommy mind around.  She is intelligent, kind, and imaginative.  She can be ubber creepy in her sense of humor and is ready to laugh. She is full of compassion.  Her heart is bigger than I can ever fathom my own being and she wears that big heart on her sleeve.  She is a joy and an honor to raise and love.

San Diego beach at Coronado

Sand Mountain

Weird and hilarious girl that makes everyday interesting for everyone lucky enough to be in her life.

The Tightrope We Tread

  I am a single mother of four children between the ages of 4-8 and even have a soon-to-be-stepson age 3 here with me every other week while his dad works on the weekdays.  Back when I moved to Nevada I had a $9.50 an hour part time job at Target that I had transferred from Tennessee.  The drive to that job would put me negative in gas as I had to drive an hour and ten minutes each direction.  As soon as I could, I got a local job only a five minute drive away from my home.  Due to the fact that the people I lived with were charging me $600 of my child support as rent AND childcare, I thought it would work out.  Well the woman I paid this money to decided to inform me that it was "Satan" telling me I needed to work and not be a stay-at-home mother.  She conveniently would not be available to watch the kids I PAID her to watch by springing out-of-town trips on me and or leaving for full weekends to fulfill other responsibilities.  I understood the weekends, but the other days were impossible.
  I called the Children's Cabinet here in Nevada that is a child care subsidy for low-income families that is meant to enable families to go to work and not hand their entire paychecks over to the child care providers.  They broke the news to me that all their funding was frozen and they were forced to drop literally FIVE HUNDRED low-income families from their services.  I have a daughter with behavior issues that would scare my new affordable private babysitters away by the second sitting job and that kept me on my toes trying to make it all work out.  Add in that I also have a daughter with a very serious congenital genetic disorder and child care was a nightmare.  She gets sick easy and the sickness escalates rapidly until I am sitting with her in the hospital not working to pay for the child care my other not-sick kids are at in that exact moment.
  I finally found a wonderful sitter that stuck with me and my high maintenance children that I could barely afford.  She worked with me and gave me a ridiculously low rate because she understood I was making almost nothing and had a lot of kids to pay child care for.  My mom stepped in and put my oldest daughter into a really great after-school program that my brother attends and saved my hide on one-fourth of the costs.  I barely saw any of my kids because I would drop them off at school and then go to work from 10 am-7 pm.  By the time I would pick them up I had to rush home to make them dinner, clean them up, and send them straight to bed.  I worked all weekends and the ONLY reason I was able to afford child care was because I only paid for three days a week because L and my mom would take them on my weekends free of charge.  They did it because they loved me and wanted to support me as the working single parent I needed to be to take care of my kids.
  Due to the fact that I made so little and paid so much, we all qualified for state assistance so I got some help in food and we all got medical coverage.  I was doing literally EVERYTHING in my power to provide for my kids, the people in my life were stepping up A LOT, and I still had to stretch myself as far as possible to survive.  I prayed about things as my college semester began to close in and I knew my cna class was going to be intense and time consuming.  In my prayers I was told to quit my job and that things would all work out.  So I did the final steps of getting my financial aid ready to go and put in my two weeks notice.  Once I left my job, my state assistance went up and my child care disappeared completely so it compensated for my loss in income.  I knew this was all being directed by God and I went with it and trusted in it and it did, in fact, work out beautifully although tight.
  Fast forward to now and I am a state licensed Certified Nursing Assistant capable of making $11 an hour starting.  I WANT to provide for my children and not take assistance if I can make a modest living.  I did the math and it is staggering.  Someone making $11 an hour at 40 hours a week will bring in $880 on a biweekly paycheck BEFORE taxes are removed.  Child care for each of my older two children would cost me $85 MINIMUM A WEEK if I did between three to five weekdays of work.  The first two of FOUR children would cost me $340 of what would be my $800 check after taxes.  With still two children left to pay child care for, that would leave me with only $460 of my check.  My second two will cost MORE because they are younger.  Per paycheck, I would be charged between $360-$468.  That would leave me per check with literally $100- NEGATIVE $8.  My state assistance would drop because I was making an income, so my food costs would rise far above the optimistic $100 I would have left.  Again, I would be negative just feeding my family.
  I called Children's Cabinet after a year since calling them last and nothing has changed.  All they can offer me is a place on a waiting list that makes anyone hopeless.  I mean, 500 families got assistance removed and I am guessing they are all ahead of myself on that waiting list for "when or even IF" the state ever releases funding to them again.  My next best option is to work evenings and weekends and utilize my fiance and oldest siblings to help him because those are the hours he doesn't work.  He is wonderful enough to be willing to do that for me, but is that fair to him?  He works his own 40 hours a week and for every waking moment that he is not at work to be him taking care of 4-5 kids while I work 40 hours a week is a huge thing to ask.  He and I would enter into the world of rotating work and kids and the last time I did that, it broke us both down to an extreme.  So here is a question:  what do I do?  Staying home is barely keeping us afloat and my fiance does what he can to help me any time he can, but he can only do so much.  I am capable of making a modest but not-to-be-scoffed-at amount (and more than I have ever made before), but child care is financial brutality if we are blunt and honest here.  I am open to any ideas that do not involve networking.  You can leave me a comment that I will see in my email before it posts on here or you are more than welcome to reply on my Facebook posts or private message me.  Until Next Time...

Going to the Chapel and We're Gonna... Pay Bills?

 
  Ah, weddings.  The flowers!  The cake!  The dresses!  The vows!  ...and the MONEY.  Ugh, the money.  I am at the very first steps of the marathon that is planning for a wedding and already I have learned some valuable lessons.   The first is that weddings are EXPENSIVE.  Even if you all you want is to throw on a pretty dress and elope, you are gonna pay BIG dollars.  Due to the fact that we are paying for our own nuptials, I wanted to try to go as cheap as possible on a wedding gown, make the flower girl dresses, rent the tuxes, and DIY as many of the little details and decor of the wedding as possible myself.  Lets talk about that first one...
  There are websites that sell wedding gowns that are beautiful and are incredibly inexpensive all over the place and they just seem too good to be true!  Guess what?  They are.  I found a website that looked great with affordable gowns that were incredibly beautiful so I hopped on over to my Pintrest to pin them.  (I have quite the Pintest addiction as a bride-to-be.)  Upon attempting to pin these dresses, Pintrest rejected my pins and sited that the website was a scam.  So I did some research and found out some very unfortunate information about the world of wedding dresses.  These cheap dresses are not the real designer's gowns at phenomenal prices.  These gowns are knock-offs made in China.  The real designer gown's designs are mimicked and a replica is made that might or might not match what is advertised when it shows up at your house.  The gowns might be very badly made, have very cheap fabrics, and be very ill-fitted even when you give exact measurements upon ordering.  If you are not satisfied with the gown and you somehow get a hold of the makers, they request a picture of the gown and then argue with you until you are forced to give up and either pay hundreds to have it fixed or just go spend more money on a gown from a wedding dress store in the states.
  As for dresses you buy in stores, I found some interesting accusations across the board on that as well.  Many future brides made the common complaints that after finding "THE ONE" and placing their order with their measurements and all, their gowns would show up over-sized.  This would then enable the wedding dress stores to "need" to do alterations on the dresses that would push the already sky-high prices of $800-$5000 of the gown up by a couple hundred more dollars minimum.  Profits galore, sky's the limit.  Add in all the accessories they push while you are caught up in the emotions of stepping into that perfect gown, and you are spending a thousand dollars on a five-hundred dollar budget!  It is enough to make me nauseous and I have not even stepped foot into a wedding gown store yet.  And to think, that is only the FIRST of the multitude of wedding costs and hurdles I am up against...
  I made a list of what a wedding budget includes the other day in order to get a realistic and honest perspective of what we are up against.  It is mind blowing!  Here we go:

1. Wedding dress, dress alterations, accessories, shoes...
2. Tuxedo rentals for L and our little boy ring bearers.
3. Wedding rings for both L and myself.
4. Flower girl dresses, and my daughter's Jr. bridesmaid dress.
5. Hair, nails, and makeup costs for the day of the wedding.
6. Ceremony and reception venue rental costs.
7. Tables, chairs, and decorations such as table clothes, candles, draping, lighting...
8. Flowers.
9. Food.
10. The cake. 
    
    
    
    
    
11. Photography.
12. Stationary for the save-the-dates, invitations, postage, and programs.
13. The officiant's fees (the person who performs the wedding).
14. Marriage license.
15. Gifts for your wedding party members.
16. Honeymoon.

It makes my head spin!  I have come up with some ways to really save money on some of the above costs but I am always open to anyone else's thrifty money-saving ideas.  So far I have found a nearby park that could serve the dual purpose of a ceremony plus the following reception to save on a double rental fee.  I am looking at making rather than purchasing as much as possible in decor and even flower girl dresses.  If you have experiences or advice, I NEED it please!  Until Next Time...