IS Forty truly the new F-word?

32190982_10156285436059210_5014120013066403840_n

“You’re turning 40! We should have a party!” My husband exclaimed! “HELL NO!” I responded before the thought barely left his lips. Honesty the popularity of my “friends list” on Facebook stops there. My besties live in Vegas and Virginia for crying out loud. I don’t have the group of friends that I can just say “come over and help me kick off my midlife crisis in style.” Hell, I don’t even have a group of friends I can invite over to buy the newest beauty craze or amazing clothing line. So side note: PLEASE STOP ASKING ME! Honestly, it’s like a constant reminder that I don’t have a tribe of wine drinking mom friends to party with. And if I did have the clientele I would be selling it myself. Mama needs money to put her kids through dance classes after all! And although it’s a sad reality, I’m now okay with the lack of a true tribe. Well, maybe on the surface I’m not, but deep down I am coming to terms with the former girl who needed the spotlight to shine now being okay just standing in the wings applying the frills to let others have their moment.

I have always been a people-pleaser. I push myself to go above and beyond because I want everyone to like me. But recently I learned that I have been breaking my own heart to keep everyone else happy. Some people think that I do this to make myself look like I am better than them. I guess I will never get that. This could be further from the truth. Can’t people just be kind for the sake of being kind? No! Honestly, I do it because I want to be accepted by them. Noticed. Not left out. Seriously sometimes being an adult trying to find friends is worse than middle school! But guess what, people just don’t care as much as we think they do. They are going to go on with their lives, have their parties, sometimes invite you and sometimes not. And that is okay. Because in my new reality, I most likely don’t want to go anyway. Sure it’s nice to be included but I am perfectly happy staying in my house, no bra, no pants, no judgment. Well that’s a lie, my children are very judgmental but screw them, they are toddlers, if they don’t like my new “boy hair” it will break my heart for a minute, but I’m happy with it and that’s what truly matters. Besides, I need to have easy hair so that I can spend every waking minute styling theirs with their obnoxiously big bows. God forbid we leave the house without them. I know that is a monster I created blah blah blah… my husband reminds me of this daily! *insert eye roll emoji here*

So, I am now looking at 40 like shedding my skin. Like the caterpillar turning into a butterfly, it’s kind of like that. Only it’s not changing into something beautiful. Just beginning to feel okay with revealing what was always underneath. I want to scream, “Man, I’ve been through some shit!”, but with a smile, because I made it through! My brain doesn’t work like a lot of people. I am messy yet creative, I am outgoing but have social anxiety. I am lonely but not alone. I am a mother, but a hot mess. I am a wife, but a terrible housewife. I am funny but sad. I’m not the hottest, the youngest, the skinniest or sexiest but that’s okay because I NEVER HAVE BEEN and NEVER WILL BE! The difference is, now I just don’t care. Okay, that’s a bunch of BS I do care obviously. I wish I could win the lottery and have my excess skin removed from my wings, I mean arms. But for now, I will just tuck them into my sleeves and dream of the day I will be confident to wear something sleeveless in public again.

Now let’s get one thing clear, this blog isn’t about having a pity party for myself. It’s about putting it out there. I am just as guilty as the next mom (if not more) who creates this picture perfect image of my life on social media. But spend one day in my shoes and you will see that is far from the truth. Yes, the moments I share are real but they are almost always surrounded by crying, yelling, and DRAMA! Seriously, we really do need a camera crew to follow us around. The daily fights my toddlers have with ALEXA not understanding them and playing the wrong songs is some very entertaining footage on its own, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Can I start a gofundme for the vlogging camera now? Seriously, I can’t afford one on my own… please refer back to the dance class and big bow obsession references previously stated above.

Yes, I have been fearful of turning 40. But I decided to make a list of Pros & Cons of what life in my 30’s was truly like. I will share it now:

Pros:

Meeting My Husband

Getting Married

Getting Engaged 

Buying two homes

Having two beautiful healthy daughters

Having weight loss surgery 

Still having my mom in my life to call my best friend

New Kids On the Block reunited and have been going strong for the past 10 years with no sign of stopping.

Cons:

Two rounds of cancer

Miscarriage

Two high-risk scary pregnancies

Hysterectomy 

Loss of loved ones & Myself

Social Anxiety

Depression

Panic attacks

As you can see my list of Pros are all wonderful celebrations of life in my 30’s. BUT the list of Cons was some majorly heavy stuff! To put it in simple terms, physically and emotionally MY THIRTIES SUCKED ASS! I honestly don’t know why I am morning them. It’s time wave my middle finger goodbye to the funk of 39 & be FORTY-LICOUS! After all having that hysterectomy got me out of menopause so there’s that silver lining! And if I get to meet a few new friends as I travel over the hill, then that is just an added bonus. But seriously still don’t ask me to host a party!

32244139_10156285436434210_7382204124965634048_n-1

Love, Sunshine, & Lollipops,

Melissa

“The Stay At Home Mama Drama Mama” 

Advertisements

My Listen To Your Mother Piece…

248-756a3134cr2-ltym-lv2016

 

Listen To Your Mother Was such a powerful experience for me. I honestly am still trying to wrap my head around all the impact it has made on my life. I will blog about the experience soon but I don’t want to rush the process because I want to find the right words. For now I am going to share my piece with you. I am very proud of it and hope that the humor comes across to you the reader in the written form. Of course once the performance video is up on YouTube I will share that as well. Boy it felt good to have the audience laugh along at the craziness that seems to go hand and hand with my life! Oh here is a fun tidbit to add to your reading experience… The “young good looking surgeon” was actually in the audience for the performance! How hilarious is that!

Enjoy!

There’s No Modesty in Motherhood!

By Melissa Bigelli

I wrote this sitting on the toilet, in between the few moments I could sneak away from my two adorable yet clingy children. Of course, they opened the door on me and attempted to climb on my lap several times, but I’m a mother, so I take anytime I can to multitask and writing this piece was no exception.

Thank God I wasn’t really born with a major sense of modesty because when it comes to being a mother, any type of privacy and dignity has to be thrown out the window. This happened long before our little blessings are placed into our arms.

Yes, from the moment you get that plus sign on the pee stick, you know that your lady parts are now officially public domain. And if you are a high risk mama like I was, then you know that no matter how much you “spruce up down there” something in you just clicks and you think, “Screw it! I’m not even shaving my ankles for this next appointment, let alone worry about having to deal with the bumps, itchiness, & regrowth rash.”

Three months before my wedding, I was diagnosed with an early stage of cervical cancer. Thank God we caught it when we did. After three surgeries that left me with a tiny part of my cervix, I was told I was cancer free for now, but any chance of carrying a baby was slim to none. Well, a few short months after my wedding, I was able to conceive and carry my beautiful daughter Molly Mae to 35 weeks. She was tiny, but perfect and I loved every moment of being a mommy. A few short months later we found out to our shock and surprise, we were expecting again. Sadly, that baby was not meant for this earth. That was a crushing blow and my heart still struggles to this day. However, that is not the story I am here to tell.

My story for you all begins 6 months after our second sweet baby was taken to Heaven. My husband and I decided it was time to try again. After all, they said having Molly was a miracle and we hoped that we could give her a sibling to share her life with before I was forced to under go a hysterectomy to ensure the cervical cancer would be gone once and for all. Wouldn’t you know it, we conceived on the first attempt! Way to go honey! Now if only he could remember to put the toilet seat down! At 37 weeks, we welcomed our sweet little Madeline Mary into the world. Getting her here was not an easy journey for my body, my mind, or any more modesty that I may have had left in me! By this point all the appointments I had, the cervical cancer, Molly’s pregnancy, the miscarriage, the check ups, and weekly internal ultrasounds, I was sure that the whole Lehigh Valley had seen my vagina (in a strictly medical way of course) and there was nothing else left to surprise me. Well, all that went out the window once I was told I would have to receive a cerclage.

For those of you who don’t know what the cerclage is, it’s when they stitch you “inside” to  keep the baby cooking where it belongs. Kind of what Grandma used to do to keep the stuffing in the Thanksgiving bird! Sounds fun, right? This procedure is done in an operating room where they give you an epidural to numb you from the waist down. Since I was “a special case” they decided that they needed two surgeons to get my cerclage in. The head surgeon decided that this job called for what they called the candy cane stirrups. Sounds like fun I thought. How can anything that’s called the candy cane stirrups be terrifying? Well, let’s put it this way, they were not red and white stripes liked I hoped. Nope, they were a dingy gray, surgical metal and they were connected to the end of the operating table. I guess at some point, unbeknownst to me, my legs were hoisted up in the air by my ankles and I dangled spread eagle in front of a room full of strangers. Now, any of you who have had an epidural before probably know that you can’t feel anything, so I thought I felt my legs still down on the table. That’s until they asked me to move my arms, which were bundled in a warming blanket, so they could strap me down like Jesus. My hand hit something that I thought was a balloon or something. Nope, to my surprise it was just my meaty thigh dangling high above me.

I was shocked to finally have my eyes focus and realize the spectacle that my body was now putting on.  I began to nervously laughed so hard that, like most pregnant women, caused me to have to relieve myself. “I’m going to PEE!”I exclaimed!

“Oh go right ahead, Melissa,” they said, “you have a catheter in!”

It didn’t feel like I did, but I figured they have that epidural working so well that I didn’t know that my thighs were literally dangling over my ears. Still I questioned, “Are you sure? I don’t want to pee on you!” They assured me it was OK and what I was feeling was normal. So, I peed. I Peed like I’ve never peed before. And I peed all over the sterile operating room floor! I watch the doctors scamper away as it splashed around their surgical booties. “I told your so!” I whined!

“It wasn’t you, it was me!” proclaimed the younger, good looking, might I add, surgeon trying to make me feel better.

“Well, then that is very unprofessional of you,” I teased back. But as mortifying as it was, it kind of broke the ice.

After a quick cleanup, they assumed their positions between my two outstretched unshaved ankles.

The one doctor said, “See how great these candy canes are? Now we can both fit in here!”

To which I replied, “Gee! That’s what every girl wants to hear! My parents will be so proud!”  The room once again erupted in laughter. At that point I also realized that if I angled my head just right, I could see them working in the reflection of the surgical lights above. I felt like Mary Poppins carpetbag down there! Things were being put in and things were being pulled out. It was terrifyingly comical. I prayed that the stitch would work. I prayed for the baby that was in my womb but couldn’t feel right now because of the epidural. And I really, really prayed that they were not going to leave anything up there inside of me! They didn’t, thank God! But they did provide my body the opportunity to become the mother of two beautiful girls who are 18 months apart.

So now as I sit on the toilet with those two little girls bouncing on my lap, I think about the journey that has brought them here and I couldn’t care less about my unshaved legs or my over grown lady parts. I hope my husband really doesn’t care either because one day we will have the energy to actually touch each other again and he’s just going to have to get used to it like every doctor and nurse and the entire Lehigh Valley who has experienced my vagina (in a medical way of course).

Now if you will excuse me I’m going to be in the ladies room for the rest of the evening, enjoying an uninterrupted “sit”! Thank You!