August 15, 2014

Anna Reese Handley

On Friday, August 15, 2014, I left work around 2:00 p.m. because I was very, very uncomfortable with a lot of back pain.  I asked Jackie, one of my amazing office mates, to send two emails on my behalf.  Both emails were to let key team members know that I was out and that they'd need to pick up the ball on a couple of time-sensitive projects.  I didn't think I was in labor, but I knew I was not going to be able to get any more work done.

I called Ray on my way home and asked if he could take off early and come home with me.  I felt like what I was experiencing might be the beginnings of labor, and I wanted someone to hold me accountable.  I was so ready for Anna to be here, but the back pain was pretty awful.  I was worried I'd go home and lay down to get relief instead of staying on my feet and walking to encourage the progress of labor, and I knew that Ray would keep me motivated.

When Ray got home, he went into serious preparation mode, gathering the hospital bag and making sure it had everything he thought it would need.  He also decided he should pack an additional bag or two with an air mattress and supplies to make his stay in the hospital comfortable.  He also changed into a blue Columbia shirt and khaki shorts and said, "You better have this baby.  I'm putting on my hospital clothes."  He wore the exact same outfit (except the Columbia was green) when Juliet was born.

Around 3:45, Elizabeth came to the house to see how things were going.  I didn't realize it at first, but she'd begun timing my contractions.  To be honest, I didn't even recognize that I was having contractions.  Every thing you read and see on t.v. talks about contractions in your abdomen.  You see women clutching their bellies and hear them saying dramatic things like, "It feels like someone's ripping me apart!"  I was bent over the coffee table trying to get some relief from the intense pressure in my lower back and saying things like, "F@*!" Yeah... Apparently, all that back pain was actually contractions, but the pain in my back was so intense that I never registered any contractions in my abdomen.  (I still think this is just really weird.  I'm sure it's not unique, but I really have not read or heard any other woman saying anything like this.)

By 5:00, Elizabeth had texted Dr. Dixon to let him know we'd be coming in for delivery, Ray had loaded up the car with everything he felt was essential, and it was time to get moving to TMH.  By the time we got checked in, I'd given up any notion I'd had of going without an epidural.  My goal was to try to do it naturally, but I'm not going to lie.  The back pain broke me, and it broke me quickly.  There is a part of me that's somewhat disappointed that I got an epidural, but as Susie Morris so wisely stated, "They don't give trophies for doing it naturally."  Other than being a little disappointed that I wasn't as tough as I wanted to be, I'm happy with my choice.  Kevin, the anesthesiologist, was great, and it was a totally different experience than my epidural with Juliet.  I maintained more feeling with this epidural, and I'm glad.  I also think that this made the recovery time in those hours immediately after birth much shorter as I was able to use my legs more quickly.  The only drawback to the epidural was that it did slow my progression some.  But after my water broke, things picked back up.

I have no idea what time I started pushing, but I know I didn't push for long.  At 11:48 p.m. Anna Reese Handley was delivered by her father with Dr. Dixon supervising.  She weighed 7 lbs 7 oz, and her official length was 19.5 inches long.  Ray said the nurse measured her short, and at Anna's check up on the 18th, she measured 20.5 inches long, so I'm inclined to believe him.  I know babies grow fast, but an inch in three days seems like a lot - even for our amazing child.

She had a head full of black hair just like I did when I was born.  She is perfect.  She is healthy and happy and wonderful, and we are so, so in love.  Tired.  But in love.

37+

 

As of tomorrow, I will be 38 weeks pregnant.  The picture above is from earlier this week, when I felt certain I would be going into labor at any moment.  It's so funny how pregnancy brain works.  I was utterly convinced last weekend that I'd have the baby within the week.  Today, I am convinced she won't come until we induce like we did with Juliet.  Honestly, I'm fine if she doesn't show up this week.  Dr. Dixon is out of town, and because of silly hospital regulations, I am apparently required to have a doctor in the room when the baby comes.  I'm not interested in having another doctor there.  If it's not going to be Dixon, then I don't need/want a doctor.  (More signs of craziness?  Possibly.  I can admit that.)

We are almost completely prepared for ARH.  Bags are packed.  The nursery is ready with two exceptions.  Using Pinterest as my inspiration, I had this great idea for how to display ARH's name in her nursery.  And it went almost flawlessly... But the second letter of her name, for whatever reason, will not hang right.  So, I pulled it all down and am still trying to work out a solution.  And then, Ray decided this week that he might want to change her name.  Really?  Really?!?  She's going to be here in a matter of weeks, it took us months to agree upon a name, and now you want to change it?  Sigh.  If it's that important to him, then okay.  I'm just going to let it ride until she's actually here.  Babies are born every day without a name settled upon. We'll figure it out.

Most nights, I have a hard time going to sleep because I feel such a sense of excitement about ARH coming.  I told Ray one night, "I feel like tomorrow's Christmas or something!"  Maybe all this anticipation is good for me.  It will remind me of what it's like to be a small kid around Christmas.  You know this awesome thing is coming, but you really have no idea when.  

It's going to be great!

 

35 Weeks

Tomorrow, I will be 35 weeks pregnant with ARH.  Everyone says that every pregnancy is different, and at this point, I'd day I agree.  There are some major similarities, but this pregnancy is definitely different than my pregnancy with Juliet.

Similiar:

• Nausea
• Very active, very strong baby in terms of movement
• Braxton Hicks fairly early
• Perks: nicer nails and better hair than my non-pregnant self

Differences:

• I still have nausea and vomiting - at 34/35 weeks.
• I think ARH might actually be stronger than Juliet in terms of her movement.
• Less severe heartburn
• In addition to the tightening BH, I also have strong contractions
• I'm way more tired this time around. 
• My fingers haven't swollen. 

At 35 weeks, I'm feeling pretty good (most days) about how prepared we are. We've gotten most of the things that I felt like we needed to purchase for ARH, and I've washed everything in Dreft for her.  Her nursery is almost completely done.  We're reusing Juliet's nursery items that Aunt Stacey helped me make, and I really love that both of the girls will have had that.  The BowStern crew threw me a very bizarre but very sweet and totally appropriate (given who they are) surprise shower and stocked us up on wipes and diapers.  And then a group of my girlfriends threw me a wonderful "sprinkle" that really just reminded me how fortunate I am to have such an amazing group of women in my life and in the lives of my girls.

I'd be lying if I said I was feeling great about Ray deploying so soon after ARH comes.  There is a part of me that hopes she will arrive late July / early August to give him more time with her (and with me).  But, at the end of the day, she will come when she is ready.  And I read in a yoga book I've been reading that stress is a lack of trust.  I think that's a pretty accurate statement.  When I'm stressed about things, it's typically a lack of trust in myself to be able to handle it without him. Will it be hard?  Of course.  But it's always hard without him.  We've been together for almost ten years, though, and I've got plenty of experience in finding a good groove when he's gone.  The same will happen this time.  Other times, I feel anxiety and stress about Ray not having enough time to bond with ARH before he leaves.  But that is ultimately a lack of faith in him as a dad, and I know that's simply wrong.  He is the most amazing dad I've ever seen - this will  not change just because he has to leave quickly.

Juliet's vocabulary is expanding daily, and we've been working with her on her pronunciation of both "sister" and the name we'll be using for ARH.  It's not perfect, but she's only 21 months old.  I think it's excellent considering her age.  Given how much she loves other children and babies, I think she will be a good big sister.  She sometimes indicates that she knows that her sister is in my growing belly, but other times, she seems utterly clueless, so it will be interesting to see how it all plays out.

I talked earlier about how both of the girls were very active and very strong.  Juliet had her own way of moving around - sort of the same type of movement on a frequent basis (usually stretching her legs out in an L-sit fashion).  ARH also has a standard sort of movement, but it's different from Juliet's.  ARH kicks big kicks on my right side, kind of towards my back.  These kicks are strong enough to be very visible to others, to knock my cell phone or the remote I've set on my side off (if I'm lying down), and to move my arm (if it's resting at my side) so much that others think I've flinched.  She also pokes her baby butt out just under my left ribs and then sort of rotates around.  I feel very much like she's got her own personality already based on how she moves and responds to me.  Maybe that makes me Crazy Pregnant Lady, but I can live with that.  I love her so very, very much already and can't wait to meet her.  Well, yes I can.  I can wait a couple more weeks so that she'll be "done cooking" when she arrives. We're almost there!

28 Weeks - For ARH

Dear ARH,

Today, I am 28 weeks pregnant with you.  Lately, I have been thinking about how different things have been for our family, and I have wanted to find the time to sit down and write you a letter.  Your older sister will have a ridiculously complete chronicle of my pregnancy with her, and you will not.  The lack of a chronicle is in no way a reflection of how much your daddy I want you or are looking forward to your arrival.  Our lives are simply so vastly different than they were two years ago.  This time around, we have a toddler (your big sister whose nickname these days is "Monster"), and I am working a job that keeps me very busy.  While I love my job, I do miss working at a place where I had the free time to sit and write like I did with Juliet.  I hope this letter to you will help you know what it was like while your daddy and I waited on you to come.

How I Feel
This pregnancy has, in a lot of ways, been harder than when I was pregnant with Juliet.  I was nauseated just like before, but the nausea has hung around.  At twenty weeks, I began vomiting a couple of mornings each week.  Although the vomiting seems to have subsided, I do still get nauseated (as recently as yesterday morning, in fact).  My skin is extremely dry, and I have some issues with bleeding in my nose.  These are new side effects for me.  But, a positive difference is that I don't seem to struggle with heartburn quite as badly this time around, so thanks!

What You Are Like
You are a very, very, very active baby.  You throw dance parties frequently, especially if I lie on my side.  Your kicks are very strong and have been visibly moving my stomach for a while now.  In fact, more than a month ago, Juliet was snuggled up next to me on the couch and was resting her head on my belly.  You began kicking so hard that her little head literally bounced with every kick.  She didn't seem to notice, though, and I thought it was pretty amazing to see you interacting with her already.  And speaking of you interacting with your sister... You do not seem to like it when I hold her.  I can pretty much guarantee that I want to feel a hard, painful kick just to make sure you're still okay in there, I can just pick Juliet up.  When I hold her to me, you do everything you can to make your presence known.  I love this spirit of yours (even though it has, on more than one occasion, taken my breath away or caused me to swear)!

Your Name
Your daddy and I have had quite a difficult time choosing a name for you.  We simply could not agree.  The main issue was your daddy's insistence on naming you ridiculous things and my unwillingness to allow it.  For example, he tried to convince me to name you Kimber because he "thought it was really pretty."  I explained that Kimber was no good because it was like we were going to name you Kimberly but just got lazy.  Furthermore, Kimber sounds kind of like a stripper's name (no offense to any future friends named Kimber you may have), and I could just hear kids teasing you by saying, "Kiiimmmmmbeeerrrrr!" like a tree cutter or something.  Your father told me I was being ridiculous, but I stood my ground.  And do you know what I found out later?  Kimber is the name of a gun manufacturer.  Seriously, your daddy wanted to name you after a company that makes guns.  Not. Happening. 

After the Kimber debacle, we continued to go back and forth on names.  I threw out names I liked, and he vetoed them all.  He threw out names he liked, and I vetoed most of them.  He's suggested one that I wasn't vehemently opposed to, Piper, but it just didn't feel right to me.  So last weekend, I told him that I felt like it was important for your name to have significance because Juliet's name was so meaningful.  This seemed to make sense to him, so we began working on a plan for a name for you that was as meaningful as your sister's. A couple of hours later, we'd finally agreed on your name, which we will reveal to everyone after you're born.  For now, we'll just let everyone know that your initials will be ARH.  You'll have my first initial and your daddy's second initial.  We're still not totally settled on what to call you.  Daddy says first name.  I like middle name, but first name could be okay, too.  I'm not sure it's a battle I really want to fight because I like both names very much.  I jokingly told him we could call you AR-15 since he seemed to want to name you after a gun, but he didn't seem to find that nearly as funny as I did.  (I promise I won't let people call you AR-15, baby girl.)

Your Arrival
You are due August 17, 2014.  Your daddy is scheduled to deploy two weeks after you come.  The Army was kind enough to give him "birth + two weeks" as his deployment date.  I am very worried and a little scared about how I will manage without him.  You are so lucky to have him for your dad because he is very involved and is a huge help.  I am sure we will be fine, though, as we have an excellent support system of family and friends.  And I read something a couple of days ago that I thought was very interesting: "stress is a lack of trust."  My stressing about what things will be like when you come is a lack of trust.  It's a lack of trust in my own ability to manage, it's a lack of trust in those who support our family, and it's a lack of trust in God to take care of us.  I haven't quite managed to get to where I'm stress-free about it all, but it's something that I'm working on.

Dr. Dixon is the D.O. who will be delivering you, and he also delivered Juliet.  I hope that when you are old enough, you find a doctor who is as good as he is.  He is the perfect combination of Western medicine and crunchy "listen-to-your-body" kind of stuff.

Along the same lines as "crunchy," you might find this interesting.  I have had a very difficult time with you because you don't seem to think there's enough room in there for you.  For more than a week, you had your foot lodged under my left ribs, and it was very painful.  Additionally, you were doing a lot of other things that made me very uncomfortable, which made me tense, which seemed to exacerbate the Braxton Hicks contractions.  The BH only seemed to make you mad because when my belly would be contracting, you'd be in there throwing punches and karate kicks.  Out of sheer desperation, I went online to spinningbabies.com and read up on some natural theories regarding baby positioning and all sorts of things like that.  I learned a lot and decided that I'd give it a shot - really, I'd do just about anything so that we can live comfortably together for the next three months.  I'm amazed at the difference it's made. I can tell you're not hanging out on your back as much (you're more on your side), and your kicks are now just fun instead of very painful.  I still feel cumbersome because of my belly, but I feel like you're happy inside, and I've really been enjoying your movements these days.  This morning, you were kicking pretty good on the right side, and your daddy was able to feel and to see.  He asked if it hurt, and I was so happy to say, "Nope.  It's all good right now."

I will try to do a little more writing for you before you get here.  There really is so much to tell you about your nursery and the sprinkle some amazing women are throwing for us and about all the wonderful people who can't wait to see you. In the meantime, know that your daddy and I already love you to pieces, and we are so happy to have you.

Love you, baby girl!
Mama

Look Up, Look Down, Look All Around

Dear Juliet,

Today, I lost a dear friend and teacher.  The day after you were born, Cheryl Snipes Smith (also known as "Miss Cheryl") found out that her cancer had returned.  She'd already beaten it twice, but as some cancers are prone to do, hers returned with a vengeance.  Miss Cheryl was a really funny - and slightly crazy - lady who taught me so much.  I had her as a teacher when I was in middle and high school.  Then, when I began teaching, she was my coworker.  Over my eight years of teaching, she also became one of my mentors and a very good friend.  She taught me so many valuable lessons, many of them outside the classroom.  I thought I should take the time tonight to remember the most important lessons she taught me and write them down.  I want to make sure I remember them, and I hope that I can teach you as effectively as she taught me.

Lesson 1: Sometimes, the little things really do make all the difference.
Take the time to say kind things to people and be genuine about it.  The two seconds it takes you to give someone a real smile and let her know you're glad to see her can have a tremendous impact.  So slow down and show kindness.

Lesson 2: "Think outside the box."
This is now, unfortunately, a cliche.  However, when Miss Cheryl said it to her students, she was urging us all to find our "A+ answer."  Don't just give the easy answer - be creative.  Think deeply.  Look at the question another way.  Find answers and solutions that are innovative.  Don't settle for the easy way out. By thinking outside the box, you'll set yourself apart from the pack.  You'll get the job.  You'll get the raise. 

Lesson 3: It's okay to say no.
I don't know if it's people, women, Southern women, or small town women... but it seems that a lot of us have a hard time telling others no.  Cheryl taught me this lesson when we were teaching together.  It's okay to say no to teaching an extra class for no extra money.  It's okay to say no when you're asked to take on your fifth extra curricular activity.  It's okay to say no to people in order to take care of yourself.

Lesson 4: Take care of yourself.
Take time off from work to recover.  Take time to do something that rejuvenates your mind and spirit.  Take care of yourself because if you don't, you won't be of any use to anyone because you'll simply be too tired and worn down to do anything well.

Lesson 5:  Don't be afraid.
There are so many times she taught this lesson that I can't recall them all.  However, I think the ones that stand out most in my mind are about taking risks.  Don't be afraid to try to speak another language, even if you know you can't do it well.  Chances are the person you're trying to communicate with will appreciate your effort and work harder to help you.  Don't be afraid to leave home.  Travel the world (or the country or the state) and absorb as much as you can.  You can always come home, and chances are, you'll appreciate home that much more.  Don't be afraid to chase your dreams.  You might fail, but it's better to have taken the chance than to spend your life doing something you don't enjoy and wondering "What if..."
 
Lesson 6: Be grateful.
Miss Cheryl kept a gratitude journal for a while, and every day she would write the things she was thankful for.  It helped her keep perspective and focus on the positive things in her life when she was struggling to see them.  It's easy to get distracted by the things that aren't going right and lose sight of our countless blessings.  If you find yourself struggling, start counting your blessings.

Lesson 7: Read.  And write, too.
Read books, magazines, maps, road signs, blogs, and menus.  Read read read.  Read good stuff that will teach you things, but read trash (or what I call "brain candy"), too, just to laugh.  Write letters, journal entries, notes to yourself, blogs, and lists.  Miss Cheryl was always writing in large, bold print.  (She had really distinctive handwriting, too.  I wish I had a sample.)

Lesson 8: Be a perpetual student.
You will never know it all.  Spend your life learning new things - random facts, humanities, new skills - and your mind will always stay sharp.  That's where the title of this entry comes from, by the way.  She chaperoned the eighth grade trip to Washington, D.C., for years (decades maybe - seriously, it was a long time), and she always told her students to "look up, look down, look all around" because there are lessons and facts to be learned everywhere, not just right in front of your face.

She taught these lessons and countless others.  She raised two beautiful, independent daughters whom she was incredibly proud of for a variety of reasons.  And she made a really delicious peanut butter icing that she put on cupcakes for my birthday one year.  I'm sorry you won't have the opportunity to know her well, but I am so grateful for her impact on my life.

Love,
Mama

Handley Halloween 2013

The Sunday before Halloween, I decided to take Juliet to the pumpkin patch closes to our house.  Ray and I took her last year, when she was just a couple of weeks old, and took pictures.  I thought it might be a nice to try to start a tradition of going to that same pumpkin patch for as long as we can.  And, to be honest, Juliet was having a rough afternoon in terms of her fussiness, and I was hoping a change of scenery would lead to a change in her attitude.  So I changed her into something that might look cute in the pumpkin patch and loaded her into the car.  At first, she was pretty excited about the pumpkin patch.  But then I set her down in the midst of the pumpkins.  And all hell broke loose.  Juliet was not excited about the pumpkin patch.  But I took pictures anyway... I didn't want to walk away pictureless just because she was crying.  And, let's face it. Some of these pictures are hilarious.

Oh my God! I hate these orange things!  They are as big as I am!

Please don't make me hold this pumpkin, Mama.

I'm holding this tiny pumpkin, but I'm not happy about it!

This is as close to smiling as I'm going to get, Mama.  Deal with it.

I saw lots of families at the pumpkin patch, some with babies as tiny as Juliet was last year.  I cannot believe how much she has grown since then.  I'm kind of looking forward to having this pumpkin patch tradition.  Since Halloween is just 30 days after Juliet's birthday, it should be a neat way to track her growth in pictures.

Halloween is Ray's mom's favorite holiday, so every year, she hosts a Halloween party.  All attendees are expected to be in costume, and the kids trick or treat on Ty Ty and walk down to the festival at the nearby church.  Juliet is still too young for trick or treating, but she is definitely old enough for costumes.

I am trying to stay sane and not go over the top with costumes and parties.  (It's tempting, though, to go nuts with costumes because it's been so long since I've been able to craft.)  So I decided to that Juliet would just be a ballerina.  This gave me a great chance to make a tutu, and it also was very cost-effective.  Black onesie + pink ribbon + one spool of pink tulle = baby ballerina! 

I need to give some credit to Cheryl Smith for Juliet's costume.  She taught me eighth grade English, Spanish I, Spanish II, Spanish III, and Creative Writing.  Each year, she'd do a lesson on Halloween and the Day of the Dead.  Part of the lesson included an exercise designed to stretch our imaginations by seeing how many costumes we could come up with using a black sweat suit as the base.  When trying to plan something simple for Juliet, I started with that basic concept, asking myself what baby-appropriate costumes I could make using a black sweat suit or onesie.  So thanks, "Miss" Cheryl, for helping me keep it simple. :)

 

She doesn't have enough hair to do a dancer's bun, so I just let her rock her crazy baby hair.  I thought it would accentuate her pink Chucks pretty well. 

 

 

 

 

Ray and I got home from his Warrant Officer Candidate School graduation at 2:30 a.m. on the 30th, so he didn't have a lot of time to pull together a costume.  I think his outfit of "cowboy who waited too long to get a good costume" worked well for the amount of time he put into it.  I made myself a poodle skirt and went as a 1950s high school girl.  Although I think my costume was pretty decent, I am more proud of the fact that I remembered the mathematical formulas for finding diameter and radius when given circumference.  And not only did I remember the formulas, I was able to do the correct math and cut my circle skirt properly the first time around.  Thanks, Mr. Knight!  

And, for the first time ever, Ninja was without a costume.  I'm a bad dog mama.  Next year, Ninja.  I'll do something spectacular.  I promise!

Although we were still a little tired from the crazed trip home from WOCS graduation, it was so very wonderful to have Ray home for this.  I'm already looking forward to next year when Juliet should be big enough to trick or treat!

Untitled

Over the past two years, I have been pregnant, given birth, and mothered a little girl.  In these same two years, I've read countless articles, message boards, blogs, and social media posts on pregnancy, labor, and parenting.  I've watched and listened to other women interact with each other about these three things, and I have found that, by and large, we aren't supportive of each other.  Instead, we tell horror stories to instill fear.  We judge and criticize women who make choices different from the ones we made for ourselves.  We compete with other women while pregnant and after we become moms.  We start many sentences with "You need to..." or "You can't..."  Rarely are statements couched with, "Well, my experience was this, but yours might be different..."

Yes, there are exceptions, but by and large, women tend to tear each  other down in subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) ways.  This bothers me because I am a woman, but it bothers me more when I think about raising a woman.  I feel like it took me a while to learn how to have a healthy friendship with other women, and perhaps because of that, I want Juliet to have good, supportive friends and to be one herself. I have no doubt that teaching Juliet the qualities of a good friend will include a lesson in competitiveness.  By nature, I'm extremely competitive.  I don't like to lose.  And  I believe a sense of competition is good: it pushes you to do your best and to work hard.  But that same sense of competition can drive you to tear others down in order to build yourself up.  I don't want Juliet to feel that kind of competition with others.


Last week, a Facebook friend posted a picture of her six-pack.  In her caption, she mentioned that this was her post-baby body.  For about 30 seconds, I felt awful about myself.  I don't have a six-pack.  I don't look like I did pre-baby.  I am a failure as a woman, and my husband will likely never find me attractive again.  And as I scrolled through the comments praising this woman and how "hot" she looked (all, by the way, from other women), I stumbled across the comment of another mom.  This other mom was clearly feeling like a failure.  She asked how to do it and said she'd been working on diet and exercise herself.  That one comment shifted my entire perspective.  In the time it took me to read a stranger's comment, I went from feeling like a failure to feeling downright angry on behalf of all recent moms.

How dare anyone post something online that would make other mothers feel like they weren't good enough?  How dare this woman post such a vain picture about her post-baby body knowing full well how many new moms she was friends with who don't have a six-pack?  How dare anyone make me or any other woman feel like we're somehow inferior because we don't have six-packs?  I work a full-time job and function as a single parent!  It's a miracle I can find time to participate in a burpee challenge or do 15 minutes of yoga a couple of nights a week after I put Juliet down!

So what would drive a woman to post a picture of her six-pack with a caption about how awesome her post-baby body is?  It's probably a combination of things.  There are certainly societal pressures.  But if we're to be totally honest here, what likely drove her to choose to share that picture with that caption is her sense of competition.  It was, after all, a victorious post.  And that is what I think is so damaging about it.  It wasn't about her hard work.  It was about the end result, about how great she looked.  There was nothing about the help she had getting there (a husband or nanny to watch the kid so she has time for herself).  Because the nature of the post was about how great she is, there is an implication that others who don't have a six-pack are somehow lesser.

After I got over my initial anger, I started thinking.  If the woman who posted that picture of her six-pack needed to do that to feel affirmed, fine.  If her appearance is the ruler with which she measures her success, who am I to tell her that's wrong?  It's certainly not the standard by which I measure my success as a mom, as a wife, as a friend, or as a human.  But it's not my place to tell her (or anyone else) what matters.  Instead of sending her a scathing message about her post, I should take a deep breath and move on.  Her values are her own, and she's entitled to have them. I will say, though, that it makes me sad that she places such importance on such a shallow thing. 


I don't know.. That one Facebook post has left me more determined than ever to be supportive of other women because I don't want anyone to feel like I felt after seeing that post.  I want to model for Juliet how to be honest and real, and I want her to value her mind, her friends, and her health more than her appearance.  Looks are just a bonus, icing on a delicious red velvet cake!