Motherhood

Ain’t No Shame in my Weight Gain

May 3, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

Like many women, I have a constant love-hate relationship with my body. Honestly, since high school it’s been more of a hate-despise relationship. My weight has always fluctuated and I have always agonized over my overall appearance. Maybe this is the result of being raised by a mother from the Deep South where appearance (and money) is everything or the result of media scrutiny over female celebrities or maybe women are just predisposed to body obsession in way men just don’t seem to have time for. Whatever the reason, me and my body seem to be constantly at odds with one another.

Over the past 10 years, my weight and body shape have fluctuated from a size 0 to a size 16 (how’s that for honesty). Now granted 10 years ago I was 15 and my metabolism was at its prime. I was also in an incredibly unhealthy place when it came to my body–I would yo-yo from not eating anything to eating everything as quickly as I could. I would try to sustain myself on coffee and energy drinks and then fall apart and scarf down as many french fries as I could, but those size 0 denim mini skirts were still snugly hugging my 15 year old hips (weren’t those the days?).

1910479_1002593830449_3162_n — My Sweet 16 dress fit pretty well when we bought it…by the time I wore it, I was about to fall out of it- August 2007

After Josh and I started dating it was much harder to sustain my unhealthy eating habits as he was always hyperconscious of what I was eating or not eating. Our senior year of high school he started packing an extra bagged lunch for me so I’d stop trying to subsist on diet green tea and salt and vinegar chips. I was also in a loving, stable relationship with someone who was concerned with my health and well-being more so than how tight my clothing was or how little my waist was. I began to relax and I began to eat normally again.

1914076_1043332699428_4927815_n — Apparently in high school I only wore evening gowns. #boojie – October 2008

Then college came and along with it the freshman 15. While I was no longer able to squeeze into my pre-college era jeans, I was a more healthy looking, and feeling, girl. I finally felt really good in my skin.

October 2010

November 2010

Then the stress and pressure of college really hit. My sophomore year of college I started working at a coffee shop a few hours a week while I balanced an 18 hour course load and the demands of sorority life. Those few hours of work a week turned into more like 25-30 hours of week which combined with 18 hours of courses and taking a leadership position in my chapter really began to weigh heavily on me. I was being pulled in so many different directions that I didn’t have time to think about “healthy” eating. I started binging on cookies, milkshakes, sugary coffee drinks, and delicious Chicken-Bacon-Ranch sandwiches on a toasted croissant (you wouldn’t believe how good they were) during down times at work. And then after closing up at the end of the night, I’d go out for more food with friends and coworkers to blow off steam. Slowly but surely my wardrobe crept more and more into the yoga pants or leggings and oversized t-shirts that were gaining popularity on campus at the time. By the time the year was over I was becoming more and more unhappy with how my body looked, which led to more stress and more eating, as many women can probably relate to.

468263_2990592889256_301877863_o — Advice: If you’re trying to look slimmer, don’t wear white- April 2011

Fast forward to my senior year of college–Josh and I got engaged and then came the pressure of the wedding, specifically the wedding dress.

If I knew then what I know now….just kidding Josh- October 2012

I was resistant at first to my mother’s nagging comments about how much better I would feel and how much easier it would be for me if I just lost some weight before the big day. I really just wanted to go out with all my friends every night and pretend that college would never end, but reality hit when I went to try on wedding dresses and I just couldn’t get excited about it. I started hitting the gym several times a week and signed up for Weight Watchers. Lean cuisines, spin class and point counting became my best friends. And I felt amazing!! I was probably the healthiest I ever was in my life (even with a few weekends of slim eating so I could bar hop and still make my weekly points) and I felt so amazing on my wedding day. I wasn’t the thinnest I’d ever been, but I felt confident and beautiful and that was enough for me.

April 2013

June 2013

May 2013

Then came our abysmal stint in Florida (read about that here). I was so depressed and had no energy to cook that we ate out several times per week. I can remember one day that I had Chick Fil A for breakfast, lunch and dinner. All the progress I had made in preparation of the wedding was quickly lost and I gained even more.

10872858_10203825992755585_7352835919016562404_o — December 2014

After 6 months of Floridian life, we relocated to NC and I was happy again! But it took me another year and a half to lose the weight I had gained post-wedding. And I felt confident again. I bought shorts and dresses and felt amazing!

And then I got pregnant.

Christmas 2015 (3 of 3).jpg — She looks a lot cuter in person…- December 2015

I was so nervous about my weight gain and I was always excited when I went to my doctor appointments and hadn’t gained anything. I also had terrible all day morning sickness for the first 16 weeks. I thought, I could really do this thing without gaining very much weight but after a talking to by my doctor, I came to realize that weight gain was a positive and necessary thing for my baby to be healthy so I started to give myself a little more slack. Well a little more slack coupled with insane cravings led to a “wonderful” surprise of a final weigh in of 202 pounds before I gave birth. At 5’ 2”, 202 pounds is a lot to deal with. I was mortified, terrified even of what I was going to look like post-baby.

Norah Leigh (1 of 18) — 39 weeks pregnant and fit to burst- June 2016

And then something amazing happened–I gave birth, and the months of aches, pains, fatigue, illness, heartburn, and weight gain seemed completely and totally worth it. There was the miraculous evidence of what my body had done laying warm and pink in my arms. Not only had my body created this wonderful thing out of nothing and pizza (and french fries and ice cream and strawberries), but it had delivered it into the world. My body had been pushed to its limits and had done incredible work. And then after doing all that, it continued to sustain my new daughter’s life as I learned to nurse her. Almost immediately my view of my body completely changed.

For the first time in my life I was in awe of my body and I was proud of it. Of course I’m not entirely impressed with my stretch marks and that crepey lower abdomen that comes post pregnancy, but they are a sign of the incredible work that my body did. I am mentally in a really healthy place with my body. I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been (not counting while I was pregnant) but I’m not obsessing over it. I’ve managed to lose half of my baby weight and I’m anxious to lose the other half, but I’m giving myself and my body some time to adjust and some room to breathe. I’m ready to work on a healthy diet and I’m ready to get back into making time to exercise, but while I’m doing that I’m more focused on what my body has given me than how it looks in my clothes.

Rachel- The Unfinished Mrs

In My Opinion...

Alternative Facts

January 26, 2017January 25, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

So I recently heard the term “alternative facts”. I’m not entirely sure where I heard this term (obviously I know, but for the sake of humor let’s pretend I don’t), but I know it was a new concept that I’d never heard before. I’ve been rolling it around in my brain and trying to decipher what an “alternative fact” might be and I think I came up with a definition:

What is an alternative fact?

An “alternative fact” is a statement given as fact, about which there is little, or no (mostly no), evidence to support it as true. Synonyms include: falsities, non-truths, made up nonsense, bologna, bull, falsehoods, fabrications, lies. Some examples of “alternative facts” are:

The Holocaust didn’t really happen
The world is flat
Groundhogs actually determine the length of winter
Babies have gills and that’s how they breathe while in the womb
9/11 was an inside job
Global warming was made up by China
Jesus was white and probably American
The moon landing was staged in Hollywood
The national language of the United States is English
Vaccines cause autism

If any of those things listed above strikes you as ignorant or outlandish, then you now have a grasp of what I think “alternative facts” are. If any of those things listed above strike you as possibly true, maybe do some research and limit yourself to research that is scientific and peer-reviewed (or stop using Facebook as your news source). Then go through this again until all of the above statements ring as false.

I have always been a “find it out for myself” kind of girl, which has caused me quite a bit of grief in my time, but it’s also given me a healthy skepticism when it comes to things people randomly espouse as fact. Even when confronted with some 100% true facts–like the fact that Venus Flytraps only grow natively in the coastal bogs of North and South Carolina, specifically within a 60-mile radius of Wilmington, NC (this is true!)–I find myself in disbelief and consumed with the need to verify it on my own.

I also happen to be very good at supplying people with what we’re now calling “alternative facts”. I am GREAT at coming up with things that sound true, but are in fact downright untruths that I made up. Ask my friends and family and you’ll soon find that I often speak with such authority on things I have no idea about that people can take what I said as fact. Now, my little “alternative facts” are nothing more than strong sarcasm veiled with a deadpan face. They’re harmless, as I’m quick to correct people when they take me seriously and they’re also harmless because I, personally, don’t confuse my “alternative facts” with things known as “actual facts”.

So, how can you tell if someone is providing “alternative facts” in place of “actual facts”?

Are they providing quantitative data without any evidence to support that quantitative data? It might be an “alternative fact”.
Does the quantitative data sound outlandish, and when confronted with the absurdity of that data, does the person become flustered, angry and defensive? It might be an “alternative fact”.
Does the information being provided to you contradict information that has previously been verified with actual science and is instead backed up by a lot of hot air and angry or dismissive rhetoric, not science? It might be an “alternative fact”.
Does the information sound hyperbolic or so crazy that it couldn’t possibly be true? It might be an “alternative fact”.
Does the information come from a source with little to no expertise in the field they’re giving information about? It might be an “alternative fact”.
Is the claim being made by a source who rejects information from credible and reliable experts in a given field? It might be an “alternative fact”.
Does it give you a weird feeling in your stomach that makes you feel like laughing or shaking your head while sighing? It might be an “alternative fact”.

Now that you know how to identify “alternative facts”, what should you do?

When confronted with someone spewing “alternative facts”, DO NOT ENGAGE THEM. This will only lead to headaches, frustration, thinking you’re on a television prank show, increased doubt in the ability of mankind to do good, and a slew of other terrible things. Simply, smile at the individual, thank them for “educating” you on the subject and back away slowly. Sadly, you cannot help that person as evidence has shown that when confronted with the falsity of “alternative facts” these afflicted individuals tend to only harden their stance and it may cause them to delve further under whatever rock they might be living under.

Instead, I challenge you to take anything labeled as “fact” or “true” and also anything labeled as “untrue”, “misleading”, or a “lie” and really think about what you’re hearing and measure it against what has been “verified” or “confirmed” by people with authority on the subject–that part’s important. That’s really the only way to protect yourself from this vicious cancer that seems to be taking over as of late.

Godspeed everyone.

Rachel- The Unfinished Mrs

The Best Part of Motherhood

January 23, 2017January 22, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

I sat down to write about my daughter, but everything I was writing felt trite and disingenuous. Obviously there’s no greater love than that of a mother for her child, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I can’t remember what life was like without her, she’s a precious baby angel, blah blah blah, etc. etc.

Aside from all of that junk, which is totally true, there is one really great thing about motherhood that I hadn’t expected when I was pregnant. For me, the best part of motherhood is getting to see Josh experience fatherhood.

Seeing the man I love, my best friend, my soulmate hold our daughter is the most beautiful experience. I have a front row seat to see him swing into action when she cries, to see his efforts to feed her without getting food everywhere, to watch him rock and cuddle her, to hear him read to her or tell her about his day, to see him give her a bath and wrap her in a towel, to be amazed by his love for her. And it is wonderful.

When I was pregnant, his voice always roused a fit of movement in her. When she was born, she was the spitting image of him. Now that she’s older, I can see his curiosity and his desire to know how things work replicated in her and I can tell that she has all of his sweetness.

I never imagined that I could love Josh more than I already did, but seeing him embrace fatherhood head on has made me fall even more in love with him, and that love is increased exponentially with every dirty diaper changed.

Josh, fatherhood becomes you. It won’t always be an easy task, and this is probably the easiest it’s going to be, but you are sure to rise to every occasion and amaze me with the guidance and love that you show our children.

I love you, and it’s evident that Norah does too. Thank you for being the father I always wanted for my children.
Rachel-The Unfinished Mrs

Real Life

Inauguration Day

January 20, 2017January 20, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

These thoughts are not meant to incite any sort of conflict. These are simply the thoughts that I had after this past November’s presidential election. I am not looking to sway anyone in their political beliefs and I am not seeking to be swayed in my own. I am simply expressing concerns that I have in raising my daughter under the current political climate.

I’m not one to openly share my political ideologies, but I’m also not one who actively hides them. I was raised in the Deep South where one of the greatest fears for some parents is that their children might one day become Democrats. When I was 10 we moved from the dark red state of Mississippi to the purplish state of North Carolina where I was exposed to a more diverse set of ideologies. Well, I’m an unaffiliated voter, but if I had to label myself I’d say that I lean liberal when it comes to social issues and conservative when it comes to fiscal issues which can sometimes be at odds with one another.

This past election cycle, I was immensely disappointed with the choices that Americans had in front of them and I often just shook my head. As November approached, it seemed imminent that our country was headed for a direction that I felt like I could live with, even if I didn’t necessarily like either of the candidates, so I cast my vote with my daughter in tow and waited with the rest of the country for what many thought a predictable outcome. Josh was ready to stay up until the election was called, but I figured that a full night’s rest (or as much rest as I could get with a 4 month old) was more important than waiting to see the results of an election that I thought was already decided. I told him to wake me when the race was called, so I could see the speeches.

I awoke that night to a dark house with a sleeping husband beside me and knew that he had not awoken me because things had not gone as the media had predicted. I looked at my phone and saw a news update “Donald Trump secures electoral college votes needed for presidency”, and I cried. I cried not because I was a die hard liberal who was in love with Hilary Clinton, I cried because just 6 feet away there was a sleeping baby who had no clue that anything had happened that night other than bathtime and bedtime. I cried because I was suddenly afraid of what it might be like for her growing up.

You see, Norah Leigh was born this past June into a country that was facing “difficult days ahead”, but there was the hope that justice, optimism and inclusiveness would and could prevail. On November 9th, I woke up to a country still facing those difficult days, but I had a hard time finding that hope that I had when she was born. I was suddenly filled with a number of questions that I didn’t think that I would have to navigate:

How do I encourage her to treat her neighbor with respect without exception or any qualification when the newly elected leader of our great nation has espoused hateful rhetoric and disparaging comments about those who were different than he and his base supporters?

How do I encourage her to work hard and to prepare for any challenges she might face through careful study and by listening to the words of others who may be more knowledgeable than she, when the new president chooses to confer with himself and ignore the hard work of others?

How do I teach her choose love and hope when the person who will be making decisions that could affect her for the rest of her life has chosen to embrace fear and hate?

How do I teach her to have respect for herself as a woman and to never let anyone, man or woman, tell her how she should feel about her body or her ability or her potential, when the highest elected official in the country has shown nothing but disrespect and vulgarity towards women?

How do I show her that our country is made richer in its character by embracing diversity, challenging isolationism and working together as a nation and with other nations around the globe, when our leading diplomat has stated that America should shut its doors and only help those nations that can afford it?

How do I teach her to honor the sacrifice of the men and women who have fought so hard to provide her with the liberties that our nation is supposed to stand for, when the Commander-in-Chief believes that the ultimate sacrifice paid by some of those men and women isn’t worth it because of their religion?

How do I explain to her that the color of her skin has nothing to do with the color of her character or her ability to color the world in a more positive light, when the new president expresses doubt about the character and abilities of those whose skin is different than his own?

How do I teach her humility when the new president believes that bombastic, self-serving megalomania is the way forward?

How do I explain to her the decision the country made in a way that will still leave her proud to be an American? How do I make sure that the example that is being set by the newly elected President of the United States is not behavior that is acceptable in the eyes of her mother and father even when the country I love so much has resoundingly said that it is ok and should be rewarded?

How do we as a nation face this new year and new political climate and continue to move forward in the progress that has been made in the last several decades? How do we find the light and the love to drive out the darkness and the hate? What do I tell my daughter when she asks how we got here?

I know some of you will disagree with my fears or think perhaps that I’m a sore loser or that it doesn’t matter who the president is when it comes to raising a child, but my fears and concerns are my own and for my child (all children really) and not you. You are not tasked with raising her, her father and I are. And who is president and how that leader behaves does have an impact, whether you see it now or not.

I don’t know what our country and our new President will face over the next 4 to 8 years. All I can do is pray for wisdom and discernment for our country’s leaders, and for wisdom and discernment for me as a mother as I try to raise a strong, independent, compassionate, and able young woman in a country whose leadership does not seem to outwardly value those traits.
Rachel- The Unfinished Mrs

Real Life

Coffee: A Love Story

January 13, 2017January 12, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

At our house, we drink a lot of coffee. Every morning Josh and I consume, between us, 7-8 cups of coffee. And then, sometimes in the afternoon, we have 1-2 more.

Our family obsession with a good cup of joe is so deeply ingrained that we have no less than 6 ways to brew the stuff. We have a drip coffee maker, a Keureg, a French press, 2 different sizes of Moka pots, and an AeroPress. We have 2 coffee grinders and a milk frother. We buy drip coffee in bulk from Amazon and espresso from a local roaster here in town.

I would go so far as to say that coffee is at the heart of our marriage. We both worked at a coffee shop in college. Josh proposed with a cup of coffee (still have the cup). My bridal shower had a Starbucks theme. After our wedding we smoked cigars, threw back George Dickle Rye, and topped the evening off with a cup of coffee before we headed out. Neither one of us will get up in the morning until we’ve heard the sweet, sweet sound of the coffee maker announcing that the coffee is hot and ready, gently waking us with the aroma of chicory coffee. We plan our road trips and hotel stays around coffee shops, and our favorite date night destination is a coffee shop/bakery downtown. At this very moment, there are coffee ice cubes taking up precious freezer space, just in case we need to rapidly cool our coffee without the risk of watering it down with ice. Coffee is what keeps us together and it’s the thing that almost tore us apart.

When I first found out that I was pregnant with Norah, I knew that my coffee consumption would have to go WAY down. 300 mg of caffeine was the maximum amount that was recommended for pregnant women. I could have a cup of coffee, maybe a cup and a half if I really needed it. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but for the sake of my child I was willing to make great sacrifices. And at first everything seemed to be going well. One cup of coffee a day was great! Somehow I didn’t seem to need more than that to survive, something I hadn’t, until that time, realized was humanly possible. Then, the morning sickness hit.

The tiny creature inside of me began to rebel against me and threatened to turn me inside out every morning and for most of the day. Things I had once loved began to betray me. The smell (or even the thought) of frying bacon would reduce me to a huddled mass next to the toilet. Even being in a house where bacon had been fried days earlier was almost more than I could bear. Every morning, I dragged myself out of bed and hurried to the kitchen to try and eat something to placate the tiny creature before it demanded fealty to the porcelain throne. I started to notice that the rich, inviting smell of the coffee I so loved began to seem overpowering and repulsive. The smell was awful! How could I ever have put that stuff anywhere near my nose, much less actually consume the stuff?!

One morning while getting milk out of the fridge for cereal, I commented to my dear husband that the coffee was making my stomach turn. He laughed and began to pour his coffee so that the fumes wafted in my direction. In an almost primal reaction, I dropped the milk and sprinted to the bathroom where evidence of the tiny creature’s disgust and rage were displayed to the horror of my husband who gaped open mouthed with a coffee mug in his hand. He looked from the coffee to me and back again with fear in his eyes. I asked him in the nicest way possible to “pour that *expletive* out” and open a window.

From that morning on the coffee was brewed an hour before I woke up, was promptly poured into an airtight container, the grounds thrown into the garbage can, and the pot scoured and returned. I mourned the loss of my morning coffee like I would a dear friend, but I knew that my loyalty must lie with the tiny creature.

Throughout my entire pregnancy I didn’t get near a cup of coffee, though after 16 brutal weeks I was able to be near others who had coffee. And surprisingly I felt pretty great. How had I lived the past 10 years of my life a slave to coffee? I didn’t need it and I thought that I would never again drink coffee. I started to drink hot tea and felt somehow superior to those poor souls who were still chained to their coffee pots. When the temperature started to rise in conjunction with my increased pregnant state, I switched to iced tea and nothing seemed more refreshing or perfect in my whole world. Josh looked on in disbelief as I shunned coffee and boasted about how I thought I’d probably never be a coffee drinker again. Then the tiny creature made her entrance into the world and my worldview shifted again.

My sweet daughter came home from the hospital and decided that we should give up sleeping, she didn’t need it so why should we? Josh and I were roaming our home like zombies. Every time the baby cried in the middle of the night, we would look for her under the sheets of our bed or under our pillows rather than in her bassinet a few feet away. Josh attempted to change a diaper on his phone rather than on the baby. I would often be convinced that I was breastfeeding my baby and couldn’t move, when it was in fact a pillow. Our dog abandoned us and retreated into quieter spaces to get sleep. I was going to have to do something drastic or I wasn’t going to make it–I’d be another casualty in the war on new parents. I asked Josh to make me a cup of coffee.

I’m assuming that he thought he was hallucinating, but I repeated my request and he brewed a pot. In one of the periods of blissful silence that Norah granted us just a few moments of every day, I sat on my living room couch and stared down a steaming cup of coffee. As carefully as I could after untold hours of sleeplessness, I studied the contents of the cup with wary curiosity. Could the stuff held within be my ticket back to sanity and functionality? I didn’t know for sure, but I was desperate and ready to try anything. I took a deep breath, then sipped. And nothing happened. I wasn’t hit with a wave of nausea or revulsion. I took another sip and felt the warm embrace of my old friend slowly envelop me.

I met Josh’s anxious gaze and smiled. Our merry trio was back together again and it seemed that we could tackle anything, even a restless wiggle worm of a new baby, because we had each other.
Rachel- The Unfinished Mrs

Real Life

My Battle with Anxiety

January 11, 2017January 10, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

So with my “rebranding” of this blog I made the decision to be “honest” and to give you a look at my real life or what real life might look like (generally) for a lot of people. In an effort to be honest, I’ve decided to let you in on a little secret I’ve been keeping: I’m currently being treated for Generalized Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I’m still searching for a therapist to work with, but I am presently taking medication to help treat those issues. I wanted to share that with you because I know that so many people, but women in particular, deal with mental health issues for which they do not seek treatment. People don’t seek treatment for a number of reasons including the idea that their problems aren’t important, they don’t have time to deal with them, or the stigma that’s associated with mental health problems. Women are notorious for leaving themselves off their list of priorities, placing other things or people before themselves meaning that many busy women “don’t have time” to seek help when they need it.

I have always dealt with some level of anxiety and OCD tendencies, but I have always been able to manage those issues. While I was pregnant, my level of anxiety increased to an uncomfortable level. I was constantly terrified that something was wrong with the baby or that something would happen to the baby. I was so worried about genetic issues or handicaps. I was always trying to prepare myself for the worst case scenario so I would be able to handle it–If I had a miscarriage how would I tell everyone? If some complication arose during delivery and I died, how could I prepare Josh for fatherhood without me? If something happened and we never got to take Norah home, how would I deal with her nursery staring me in the face? I was constantly barraged with thoughts like these, so much so that I really couldn’t enjoy being pregnant most of the time. I wouldn’t settle on the name of the baby until she was born because I was afraid that if I named her and we lost her, it would be even more devastating.

All my worrying and preparation for the worst was blessedly unneeded–Norah was born easily without complication (other than my water breaking before I went into labor) happy and healthy, perfect and pink. I praised God and tried to assure myself that all my concerns and prep work were normal, that all mothers mentally plan their own funerals or work out how to tell loved ones bad news. I pushed those thoughts aside to focus on my sweet baby.

That calm and happiness lasted for all of two days before my anxiety returned. I couldn’t sleep for fear that something terrible would happen while I rested. When Josh went back to work, I sobbed and begged him to stay because I was afraid to be alone with Norah–I was afraid to be held responsible if something happened to her. She lost weight, as all babies due post birth, and I blamed myself for not making enough milk, not being patient enough when she nursed, for being a bad mother. She was jaundiced and couldn’t get rid of enough bilirubin and I just knew something was wrong with her liver. It took weeks of concentrated effort to relax and focus on how perfect she seemed before I was able to rest, to sleep, to settle myself into mothering her. And once again I chalked all of those worries up to normal fears that every parent has when they have a new baby.

For months I fought my negative, worried thoughts but they didn’t seem to be easing up or going away. I was irritable. I was quiet when I would normally be engaged and lively. I didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I just wanted to sit at home and think about everything that could go wrong or everything that I was doing wrong. And then the picking started.

I have had a very bad habit of picking at my cuticles for years–I used to bite my fingernails but braces cured me of that nasty habit. I will pick at my cuticles until they are raw and bloody, then wrap them in neosporin and band-aids and start again. I started chewing the inside of my cheeks, mostly absentmindedly but I began to realize I was doing it in public and that people could see me make funny faces as I manipulated my mouth to get to new places. I pulled and picked at the skin on my lips when they were dry. And then one day I was getting ready and I looked in the mirror. I had a ton of flyaways and baby hairs due to postpartum hair growth–little hairs were just sticking up everywhere. I decided to take a pair of tweezers and just pull out a few that were really shooting out at odd angles. What followed was a calculated attack on my hair line. Before I knew it I had plucked at least a dozen hairs from my head. I paused and thought “Why am I doing this?” then proceeded to pull a few more that were sticking up from my part. This process of hair plucking became the finishing touch on my daily routine for a few days before I again thought “Why am I doing this? I’m going to make myself bald!” I immediately put down the tweezers and left the bathroom.

I needed something else to focus on, so I turned my attention to Norah who was suffering from a few spots of baby acne. I could see her little clogged pores and thought, “I can just push just a little bit and I can take care of that blackhead. Or maybe if I just scratch the surface I can pick it out with my nails.” RED FLAG. I wanted to pick at my precious, pink, perfect baby girl’s face and that’s when I realized I needed help.

I made an appointment with my family doctor and after talking with her about everything that was going on, she agreed that literally pulling one’s hair out and wanting to perform facials on my baby were not good things. That planning for my own funeral or literally losing sleep over the idea that something could happen to my baby were not good thoughts to be having. We decided that best course of action would be to immediately start me on medication for anxiety and OCD. She explained that OCD isn’t well treated through medication alone and she recommended some counselors. Then she thanked me for seeking help. She thanked me for putting myself on my priority list. She thanked me for coming in before someone had to cart me in because I’d pulled all of my hair out. And she sent me on my way with a follow up appointment after the holidays.

I tell you all this to say real life is challenging even when everything seems to be going your way. That real, everyday people can deal with mental health issues–they aren’t reserved for celebrity meltdowns, addicts or people facing trauma or tragedy. Mental health issues probably affect someone you know, even if you aren’t aware of it. And while these issues aren’t “normal” per say, they aren’t something that we need to be fearful of talking about or seeking out help for. I’m of the opinion that everyone could benefit from therapy (even if I’m hesitant to actually start that process myself) and that if there is a treatment available that could help you live a more fulfilling life, why wouldn’t you take advantage of that? If you are struggling with anxiety, depression or any other number of mental health related issues, please seek help. Relief won’t be immediate (it hasn’t been for me) but treatment can help if you give it a shot and give it some time. If you’re a new parent, newly married, in the middle of school or have just graduated, starting your career or planning your retirement, or simply living in this fast paced world, you don’t have time to try and shoulder the burden of mental health alone and you’re probably exhausted anyway, so find someone who can help you. And if someone comes to you for help or someone confides in you that they may be dealing with some of these issues, be open and receptive. Don’t push them away or write them off as dramatic–you could be the difference between them seeking professional help or continuing to suffer alone.

Above everything, love yourself and love others without hesitation and without judgement. We’re all real life people living our lives as best we can and that should be enough.

Rachel-The Unfinished Mrs

Real Life

New Year, New Priorities

January 9, 2017January 9, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

How is it already the New Year? I feel like 2016 just started not too long ago. I mean I’ve had a crazy busy year what with having a baby and all, but I mean really, we’re doing 2017 now?

I’m not particularly fond of New Year’s. I’m not one that deals with change easily, just ask my mother– sometimes I think she used to rearrange the living room furniture while I was away at school just to mess with me.

There’s just something sad about saying goodbye to another year in our life. To me it feels like we’re just inching closer and closer to old age and death. Maybe that’s the reason I don’t get a lot of NYE party invitations…

2016 brought me one of my greatest joys and one of my biggest losses, so I’d say that I came out pretty even if not slightly ahead. 2017 will undoubtedly bring with it more change, more challenges, more laughter and more tears, so I’m trying to meet it head on.

I’m very rarely, if ever, optimistic (that’s my husband’s job), but I’m working on giving 2017 the benefit of the doubt. I’m also so over the whole New Year’s Resolutions thing. I’m too old (even at 25) and too tired to make a list of things that I’ll either forget about or be disappointed in come December, but I do have a list of New Year Priorities, something I just invented but you’re free to take advantage of.

These are things that I’d like to focus on more this year, things that I will try to make a priority in my life.

In 2017 I want to:

Make time for myself

Women, mothers especially, are notoriously bad at making time for themselves. We are often more concerned with other people and we often feel responsible for the happiness of the other people in our lives. This year I’m going to try and take just 20-30 minutes a day to myself to just recharge. If I’m going to be the wife, mother, friend, daughter, employee and person that I strive to be, then I have got to just take a minute (or 20-30) to refocus and remind myself of who I am.

Listen to my husband more

It will come as a surprise to most people who know us because I often monopolize conversation (sorry), but my husband talks a lot. He loves to give me tidbits of knowledge he’s picked up during the day. He loves to fill me in on what’s going on his work or what project he wants to do at home. He loves to share things with me that he finds interesting or to show me how something works. He wants to engage me in the running of the household that’s within his domain. And while I hear him talking, I’m guilty of not always listening. I’m a big multitasker and normally when my husband is trying to tell me something, I’m too preoccupied with something else to truly listen. And I’m also bad about not listening because, in all honesty, I’m more interested in something else. Josh doesn’t always pick the “best time” to try and tell me something, but he’s my partner and I owe him more of my attention that I’ve been allotting him.

Disengage from technology

For someone who’s intending on publishing a blog online, this seems like a contradiction I’m sure, however I find that my interaction with technology has become more consuming than is healthy. We are living in the digital age where screens and devices take up the majority of our professional and personal lives. This year I want to make time to just shut off from technology and decompress. I want to read actual books and write physical words down on paper. I want to turn off my phone and watch my child interact with the world without needing to document it for everyone to see. I want to eat a meal without the television on in the background. We’ll see how this one goes.

Cultivate relationships outside my home

Over the past year and a half I’ve had very little time to develop relationships with anyone who doesn’t share one of my last names. This year I’d love to reconnect with old friends and even make a few new ones, although since I never leave the house other than to go to the grocery store, pediatrician or work I’m not sure where I’ll find a new friend. But this woman can no longer be an island–I definitely need other people to talk to and confide in, so I want to cultivate relationships with people who aren’t forced to interact with my weirdness due to blood relation or by law. Let me know if you want to hang out sometime. I like eating, drinking coffee, gossiping and long walks on the beach. Just kidding, I don’t like walking, but I don’t mind the beach.

Embrace the trash can

I am an emotional hoarder. I hate throwing away birthday cards or trinkets that I think have some sort of sentimental value, and that has cluttered my life. Why I feel the urge to keep every magazine I’ve ever subscribed to just because there might be a reason for me to reread it (there never is–in fact most of them are in a box in a room of my house we don’t use) I will never know. I want to declutter my house and declutter my mind and just throw all that crap away. Yes, some things have sentimental value but those things are devalued by the years of birthday cards that all say, surprise, happy birthday. I want to really take a look at the things I have and identify what’s worth keeping and what’s just taking up space.

Do those sound like resolutions? Whatever. Those are the things I want to prioritize this year and maybe by writing them out and sending them out into the universe I’ll be more likely to stick to them. What are you looking to prioritize this year? Let’s check back in June and see how we’re doing, you know if I’m still actually writing this thing.

Rachel-The Unfinished Mrs

Chit Chat

Reintroduction

January 6, 2017January 8, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

I was trying to decide how to bridge the gap between December 2014 and now (January 2017) and I might just have to admit defeat and come to terms with the fact that 2 years is a very long time to try and fill you in about. So I’m not going to. We’re starting from scratch here, right? So I’ll just tell you a little about me and we’ll probably cover some of the stuff that happened over the last 2 years along the way.

I’m a 25 year old wife and mother working in municipal government.

Let’s dissect that a little:

I’m a wife, specifically the wife of Josh, a mechanical engineer.

Wedding 2013

Prom 2009

We met in high school where Josh very quickly became my best friend and I vowed to never live without him. As my senior yearbook would reveal to you, Josh seemed pretty confident we would break up (thanks babe), but as evident by my above title of “wife”, we didn’t. We both went to college at NC State where he obviously studied to be an engineer and I studied how to graduate without going to class. Unfortunately I did in fact have to go to class and after four years, I graduated with a bachelor’s in psychology and a bachelor’s in public relations–I know, I went a little double or nothing when it came to my education. While at NC State, I rushed and joined Chi Omega and proceeded to have the most fun time while dragging Josh along for the ride. After graduating we got married (which you can read all about here) and moved to Florida where we lived for 6 months before we moved right back to our hometown of Winston Salem, NC (you can read about that here).

After 3 years of marriage (and I mean RIGHT after 3 years of marriage–Wedding: 6/15/13) we welcomed our beautiful baby girl Norah Leigh on June 16, 2016 (6/16/16) making me a mother.

Being a mother is something I have always dreamed about and while the reality is quite a bit different from the dream, I am head over heels for this little girl. She has given my life a purpose and meaning that I didn’t realize I was looking for or needed.

I work in municipal government as the Communication Specialist for the town of Lewisville, NC where I grew up. It isn’t the glamorous PR life I thought I would lead when I, on a whim, decided to study PR, but it is rewarding and satisfying in a way that I was craving for a long time. I have spent time in the world of non-profit development (fundraising) and marketing and then did a stint as a professional child wrangler as the director of an after school program for elementary school children before landing in government. While I think I imagined working in government as an Olivia Pope-esque role, it’s actually a lot more like Parks and Rec which is probably best for my health and safety.

We also have a dog, Penny, and two cats, Simon and Eloise which took up the bulk of my Instagram feed (along with food) before the birth of my child.

While my life isn’t the most exciting, it is normal and really that’s what I’m going for right now. Normal everyday life is something I really think seems to be lacking in our newsfeeds these days. So even though you didn’t really ask for it, you’re welcome for your dose of normal.
Rachel-The Unfinished Mrs.

Just Saying Hi

Diving Back In

January 5, 2017 rdominicoLeave a comment

Sometimes you just have to step back, take a moment and recharge before you dive back in. Sometimes you need to hit pause and reassess your direction. Sometimes the pressure you put on yourself weighs so heavy that you have to just stop before you drive yourself crazy. Sometimes all of that stepping back, pausing, and reassessing takes more than a moment. In my case, it took about two years.

I started this blog at a time in my life when I was craving a creative outlet and a way to focus some energy into something positive, and for a while it was refreshing and exciting and cathartic. I wanted this blog to be a space for me to be imperfect and to allow myself some room to make mistakes and flesh out a sense of self. I had such good intentions when I started out–check out how naive I was here. But slowly it became another thing in my life for me to try and “make perfect”. I began to obsessively nit-pick things about it. Rewriting every post until I felt like it was “perfect”, tweaking photos (or bullying my husband to do it because I just didn’t have the patience or the eye) until they were “just right”. Stressing myself out when I didn’t feel creative and didn’t have anything “unique” or “new” to say. Feeling overwhelmed because I didn’t have a new post ready or didn’t have any content that I felt like would resonate with anyone. It became a burden and it became the exact thing I was trying to escape from, so I quit. I just stopped trying and left this page to sit in a state of expectant limbo. And time went on, as it always does.

So why come back? Why pick up the figurative pen/literal keyboard and write again? Because now, more than before, I need a way to focus my energy into something positive and “creative”. I am useless when it comes to crafting or anything artsy—that gene, which gifts my mother and sister, sadly skipped right over me–, but I do enjoy writing. While I’m pretty good at storytelling, I don’t see myself as a fiction writer. I’d rather write essays, but who wants to read essays unless they were written by Mindy Kaling or some other celebrity with something interesting to say? But then what is a personal blog if not a collection of essays dressed up with photos? So I decided to give it another try.

I’m still looking for my “voice”. Clearly I am not a fashion blogger because I have very little sense of style. I am not a beauty blogger because I cannot for the life of me get my eye shadow to look the same on both eyes and I have yet to master the winged liner trend. I’m not a photographer, I’m not selling anything, I’m not particularly adept at cooking or baking, and I don’t know that I can teach you to DIY anything. What I can do is honestly, with my own brand of humor, tell my own story as I live it in the hopes that I can make you laugh, lighten your day, or help you feel like someone else out there is living a real, non-Instagram worthy life just like you. I’ll be posting when I have something to say, and while I’m hoping to be consistent I’m not really going to be pushing myself to keep to a schedule. And really who’s got time to be blogging all the time while trying to live their life?

So here we go my friends, here is my work in progress. Thanks for joining me (again).

Rachel—The Unfinished Mrs

Just Saying Hi

Waking Up for Spring

April 6, 2015 rdominico1 Comment

Have you ever felt like hibernating? During the winter, that’s all I ever want to do—just crawl into a pile of blankets and only come out once the thermometer hits 65. While I personally wasn’t able to do that, it seems The Unfinished Mrs did.

Writing this blog has been so much fun, but right before Christmas it started to feel like a burden. In my very first post, I mentioned that I was a perfectionist with an obsessive attention to detail—and writing each and every post started to become one of those details I’d obsess over. I started this blog to be me without having to worry about the details.

With spring blossoming all around me, I’m ready to give this space another shot.

I’ll be revamping some things (as you can probably already tell) and trying new things out. For now, I’ll just be posting a couple of times per week, but as we head into summer I’m hoping to pick up the pace. If you have an idea about something I should write about, let me know! I’d love to hear from you!

I’m so happy you’re here with me and thanks for coming along for the ride.

See you soon!

Mrs. Dominico

The Unfinished Mrs.

A work in progress

Author: rdominico

Ain’t No Shame in my Weight Gain