Balance and lack there of

Wow. What a week it's been. Lately I find myself wondering: why it is so hard to balance the various curveballs and uppercuts life throws at us? Why can't I just magically make everything WORK? Speaking of work. That is something I did very little of this week. But I'll get to that.

Little man came down with a fever on Monday morning which landed us in Urgent Care that evening at 9:30pm when he could barely catch his breath. He slept okay after a nebulizer treatment and some Children's Motrin, but by the next afternoon he sounded like Darth Vader so we ran over to the pediatrician to find out he had croup, which I had suspected by that point. The doc put him on an oral steroid to keep his airway from swelling shut.

It worked really well. By Wednesday morning he was much better, but Baby girl had contracted his lovely virus. Luckily (I thought at the time) her airway sounded fine and I thought she'd escape with just a cold.

Yeah. Not so much.

She had a fever off and on all day yesterday and her breathing started sounding worse and worse. Last night I had my husband stop at Target on his way home from work to buy a new humidifier and she slept fine with it running to steam up her small room. But I knew right when I picked her up this morning that she needed that same med that the doc gave her brother. I didn't even bother to take a shower. Instead I threw on clothes, brushed my teeth and asked my husband to stay home with our son while I rushed her over to the pediatrician (so thankful to live within 3 minutes driving distance from the office and for their established patient walk-in sick hours from 7:30-8:30am).

There was a line 8 patients long by the time I arrived at the office at 7:30. A kind mother in front of us who heard my daughter's Darth Vader breathing let us go ahead of her and her son.

We didn't have to wait long at all, which was such a blessing. And all the excess activity in the waiting room actually distracted baby girl, so that was helpful.

The P.A. took a quick look at her and put her on the same med just in a liquid form. They even gave her the first dose (along with a dose of Children's Motrin) in the office to get her feeling better ASAP.

We headed home to give her breakfast. Hubby left for work. Little Man was still in jammies. At least he was eating, that was a start.

I gave her a breathing treatment after she ate while the kids watched an episode of Super Why. Then it was upstairs for mommy to have a quick shower before we rushed out the door again.

We had to drop off her prescription at the pharmacy and luckily there was a Starbucks in the strip mall because my head was about to start throbbing from my lack of my usual 2 cups. Then we hit the barber so that Little Man could get a haircut before his big first day of preschool.

After that we had plenty of time to make it to my eye doctor appointment across town. The kids were amazingly well-behaved while we waited the extra 15 minutes before the doctor was ready to see me to check if the trial lenses she had set me up with were working (they weren't). She said she'd order me a new pair to try and sent us on our way.

Back home we ate lunch and got Little Man ready for school. Baby Girl was jealous of his new backpack, so I found his old butterfly backpack which satisfied her for a little while when I told her she could pick out some toys to stuff in it. We got his snack together to take to school and took some pictures (okay, a lot of pictures) at the front door before hitting the road for what felt like the tenth time today. At this point, Baby Girl is starting to tear up at the mere sight of the car.

Drop off at his new preschool went so well! The only thing that is tough about it is the timing - he starts school at 12:45, which is usually the time his sister is napping. So I'm hoping over the next couple of weeks she'll get used to napping later. For now, she fell asleep on the way to school, woke up when we had to get out and walk him to his classroom, and was up on the drive home. I prayed she would go back to sleep in her crib once we got home. Little Man was so excited and jumped right into meeting his teachers and new friends. It was really cute.

Now if I could have just let her sleep until I had to pick him up, it wouldn't have been that bad. But, of course that's not what happened today. She was asleep in her crib from 1pm while I worked, until I realized I had my psychiatrist appointment at 2pm (thankfully, she's in the same building at the pedi) so I let her sleep until the very last minute I could and we made it to the appointment on time.

All the running around today was not very conducive to Baby Girl resting to kick this damn croup.

We were back home from 2:45pm (when I gave her a dose of Children's Tylenol because she was so uncomfortable) until we had to leave to pick up her brother at 3:30. Thank heavens for carline pickup!! Seriously, it's so convenient. Five cars line up at a time, the teachers walk those 5 kids (radioed from the Directors whose parents were there to get them) to their parent's cars. Baby Girl got to snooze on. Little Man had such a fun day, but got annoyed with me that I kept asking him to tell me more. He gets such an attitude sometimes when he skips his nap, but we could only get PM preschool, so he'll have to just make up for those M/W/F naps on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I treated the kids to McDonald's strawberry milkshakes for the rough day we had.

The worst part about this crazy, hectic, so-over-my-kids-being-sick-and-cranky day? I completely forgot to call my mom and wish her a happy birthday.

I suck.

My phone rang at 6:58pm and when it was my Dad on the caller ID I didn't even think of it then. Not until I answered and heard my mom's voice instead.

"Hi honey! How was your day? Little Man feeling better?" she asked, cheerily.

"Okay. Yeah, he's better, but I was at the pedia-OH MY GOSH! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I AM SOOOO SORRY, MOM!!!"

My heart sank. I wanted to cry, but instead spewed off all the things we did today only to feel even worse that I was making excuses for why I almost forgot.

Oh, and her card is also running a day late. Daughter-of-the-year over here.

I'm so sorry Mom. Please know that I'm still trying to figure out how to balance it all.

I know that things will never be perfectly aligned, that there will always be kids that get sick, work hours to put in, a house to clean, etc, etc. I just hope that I don't ever potentially  forget another birthday in the future. (I like to think that I would have realized my mistake tonight after the kids were in bed, so let's just give me the benefit of the doubt to make me feel a smidge better, okay?)

I love you to pieces and can't wait for our beach trip in November where you'll have a luxurious, relaxing facial at the spa to enjoy as your birthday gift from me. Thank you for being my mom. You mean the world to me.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

xoxo

An honest letter to my babies

July 12, 2012

To my dear Mister Man and Sweet Pea,

Been thinking about writing a letter like this to you two for awhile now. Given the fact that you both conked out early tonight and I got my workout finished before 9pm, now is as good a time as ever.

These past four years with the two of you in our life, have been the best (and most challenging) years your Daddy and I have ever experienced, and they have not passed without some majorly scary ups and downs. When I say "ups", I really mean manic. My "downs" were before you both were born.

You see, your mommy has Bipolar Disorder.

It's something I probably won't explain to you until you are much older. You don't see me take my medication every day, but you have been with me to see my psychiatrist. You both just love the toys she has there at her office, and now when I tell you that "Mommy has to go to the doctor," you always ask if you can play with the toys at the office. Last time I had to go "to the doctor" I was referring to my gynecologist and she only had a plastic uterus to play with which wasn't as fun, was it?

Right now my illness is mainly hidden from you, but there are times its characteristics creep out of me in the ways I sometimes respond to your behaviors. There are times when I may yell a little too loud, or in a nasty way complete with a scowl on my face. Maybe it's just part of being a little worn out from the whole Stay-At-Home-Mom thing, but I believe that my occasional outbursts have something to do with my condition. My patience is so thin you could poke a hole in it with a feather. Not all the times, but sometimes. Especially when it's the week before my period. Not fun. Not fun for anyone in this household.

Your Daddy and I have worked so hard together to manage this thing though. We're beating it, he and I. We're doing it together. He, by tolerating my moods and by hugging and holding me when I need the extra love and feeling of security only his arms can provide. And me, by taking my meds, seeing my doctor and therapist, and eating right and exercising.

Whenever I do have a moment where I lash out and am unkind to either of you, I immediately feel full of regret and wish I could go back 10 minutes in time to re-do what happened again so that I could handle the situation differently, more lovingly. But I guess that's kindof what parenting is all about; learning from our mistakes and doing things better next time.

I try to make up for any mean/sad/bigfatwettearsrollingdownthecheeks situations by smothering you with hugs and kisses after we've resolved whatever we were arguing about. In fact, I read an article recently online that said that kids need 12 hugs a day and I have started to work hard to exceed that with each of you. I feel so complete when I have your arms wrapped around me, and the funny thing about it is that when I ask one of you for a hug, the other usually immediately runs over and joins in and we have a group hug going on which is so special to me. Love, love, LOVE those moments. I crave more of them every day that goes by.

I love my time at home with you two and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. I'm feeling nervous about going back to work next week, even though it is from home and it's only part-time, because it's going to take away from precious hours I spend with my loves. Mister Man, I may not get to sneak into your room at the end of naptime, when I see that you're just starting to stir on the monitor, to curl up with you and snuggle and take long whiffs of your hair and neck. Sweet Pea, I may not get to sing you "Twinkle, Twinkle" before naptime, and rock you until your sleepy eyelids start to drift closed. I'm hoping that by working my part-time hours right smack in the middle of the day that the only thing I'm going to be missing is naptime, but the more I think about it, the sadder I get because even when you don't sleep, Little Man, I still enjoy the quiet time we have together while your sister is snoozing. Even if I seem frustrated that you're awake because I'm not able to get my housework done. I secretly don't mind.

There is so much more I want to say about how I'm living with this illness every day and how I'll explain it all to you in the future, but this first installment of my letters to you both is just the beginning, just what is on my mind at this moment in time. How you both have made our family so much richer even in the midst of learning to cope with something as complicated and intense and draining as a mental illness. I am so incredibly thankful that your Daddy and I took the leap we did back in the fall of 2007 to start our family. I couldn't imagine us any other way now.

I love you both to the moon and back, and am loving watching you grow up more and more every day.

Try to slow down a little because it seems like it's going by just a smidge too fast. 'Kay?

Keep loving me back, even if we may have our tough days. The days when we yell at each other. The days when there may be tears. Because the good days far, far outweigh the bad ones. And they always will.

All my love and kisses,

Mommy

xoxoxo

Just Write

She just hasn't been herself lately. Her bubbly, sweet as a fresh, juicy strawberry personality has all but disappeared and in its place has left a cranky, clingy, super sad toddler. This has been going on for two days now. The piles of dishes on my kitchen counter are evidence to all of the cuddling we've been doing. It is so much more important to me than the housework right now. My baby's tears make my heart sink. I cannot stand seeing her in pain. The first dose of infant pain medicine took effect after twenty minutes, but it's now wearing off again. And we're right back where we started this day: lots of crying and even more comforting. Big brother and I do everything we can to distract her. We try playing with the wooden toy food and plastic plates on the fuzzy new family room carpet. That helps for a few minutes, but before we know it she's crying again, asking to be picked up by her mama.

We head upstairs so I can get a shower and get us all dressed for the day. I plop her in the portable playpen that has been stationed in our master bedroom for us to be able to accomplish tasks like showering and dressing, as her brother assumes his position next to it with the ipad in front of him. He chooses a fire truck show and I turn on the water full blast.

Five minutes later, as I'm blow drying my naturally curly hair straight, I peek over to find my footie-pajama-clad baby girl laying on her tummy clutching her lovie {paci in her mouth, of course}, fast asleep while her brother's noisy video blares two feet away from her.

Sleep, sweet baby. Rest and let those stubborn new teeth break through your swollen gums so that you're back to my bouncing bundle of trouble and giggles again.

I miss you, Sweetie.

Just Write: Making memories

Why is it that whenever we're on a family trip, I neglect to take the pictures I so desperately want to see when I get home and download my camera's memory card to my computer? The past six days we spent visiting the two sides of my husband's family. Despite the heaviness of fatigue that was pulling at my shoulders and making me ache to be in my bed sleeping off the travel, once the kids were in bed I rushed to my computer to dump my camera's contents out so that I could see what I had collected.

My heart sank when I realized that I forgot to get a picture of my father-in-law and his brother with his mom. I missed the chance to get a picture of my husband with his grandma. I barely got any photos of my mother-in-law with her grandkids. And there weren't any pictures of my husband's aunt or his cousins and their kids.

Being the pessimist I am {yet wish I could say the opposite} who always tends to look at the glass half empty, I couldn't help but wonder if that might have been our last visit with his grandma. It may have been our last chance to take pictures with her. Our last chance to see her sweet smile and hear her soft voice tell us stories about when she was a girl.

I'll never know, but I will hold tightly onto the memories of the time we spent together this past week. I will try to think less about the pictures we forgot to take and more about the time we spent together making memories that will last in our minds as long as we can hold onto them.

Just Write

Yesterday morning both kids were completely quiet on the monitor as I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes enough to drag myself out of bed. I took a quick peek at the screen to see my little man sound asleep in his bed, laying on his side towards the wall, and my baby girl silently tracing her cheek with the knotted corner of her super soft lovie blanket. I was excited at the chance to get her up and fed {if I was lucky} before her big brother woke up. He needed the extra sleep since he missed his naps over the weekend. I tip-toed into her room and peered over the rail at the front of her crib. She lay flat on her back, paci securely in her mouth, with her lovie tucked under her arm and its head in her chubby little grip. I smiled and said my usual "Good Morning, my love!" to which she replied with a happy grunt and a quick flip over onto her belly. She popped her bottom in the air and pretended to not want to be picked up.

I snuck out of her room as she was lying face down, and waited a few seconds for her to notice I was missing. She started to whine and I peeked my head into the doorway so she could see me. Instant smiles.

I picked up my little bundle who was zipped up in her sleep blanket, and placed her gently on her changing table. I asked her if she "had a good sleep?" as I normally do. The corners of her pouty mouth crept up slowly into a warm grin {paci still in her mouth} as she pointed to her chin and said, "Mama".

I had spent months watching her point to her head and say, "Dada" ~ her own unique way to use baby sign language to ask for her Daddy.

But today was my day. And I couldn't think of a more fitting day than the day after Mother's Day. I'll treasure that moment forever.

From my little man & Five Things Friday

Little man brought this home from preschool yesterday in honor of Mother's Day.  I guess my new healthy eating routine is rubbing off on him. :) The other side is a poem about his fingerprints, along with a purple glittery impression of his little paws. I'd type it out for you, but I think it would make me cry again, so I'll leave it up to your imagination. My mom still has something similar to this from when I was in preschool. I will treasure it and will keep it forever. This is one for the baby book, for sure.

To go with this beautiful paper treasure, he presented me also with a door hanger that says "Do Not Disturb" which he decorated with stickers so that I could use it "when you need your quiet time, Mommy". AWESOME gift. I am in love. And feel so very blessed.

My Five Things for Friday:

1. We're going to our first outdoor concert of the year tonight and I cannot wait!
2. Tomorrow our new carpet gets installed and I'm thinking it might feel like we're living in a new house since I just finished painting the dining room yesterday. Pretty cool!
3. The weather is gorgeous and I'm excited for the beginning of summer. Who isn't?!
4. I am so over baby girl's canine teeth. Come in already, suckas! Poor baby is so fussy, I can't imagine what she's going through. Hopefully another week and they'll have cut through her sore gums.
5. Sunday is Mother's Day {as I'm sure you're all aware} and I'm excited to be participating in Postpartum Progress' 4th Annual Mother's Day Rally for Moms' Mental Health. Just finished my letter last night and I'm really proud of it. Look for it here on Sunday, and also on Postpartum Progress at 5am. A huge thank you goes out the Katherine Stone for creating the rally and being the driving force behind advocating for women with mental illnesses related to pregnancy and childbirth.

Happy weekend everyone!

The most important words

{Words} I am the type of person that needs to hear certain words at times in my life. If I don't, I feel lonely and sad. If I do, I am able to persevere, no matter how difficult the challenge I am faced with.

{I am sorry}

{I support you}

{It's going to be okay}

{I missed you}

{Money is not important}

{We can get through this}

{I am here for you, no matter what}

{I love you}

To me, those last three words are the most important, by far. They can substitute, in a pinch, for all the others, and they make those other phrases even more warm and fuzzy when said together.

But for me, if I never heard any other words in my life but "I love you", I'd get along just fine.

I make it a point to say it to my husband and kids throughout the day because it makes everyone feel good. To know you are loved has got to be one of the best feelings in the world. I know it is for me.

Linking up with two amazing blogs:

and

Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

I'm pretty sure my sucky methods of potty training are going to force my son into therapy.

Back when we decided he was "ready" to be potty-trained, we took the week during Thanksgiving vacation to stay home, put him in underpants and take him to the potty on 30-minute increments after coaxing him to drink lots of water and eat more fruits and veggies. I thought for sure it was going to be months and months of cleaning up poppy underpants and washing tons of urine-soaked pants. I was pleasantly surprised. There were stickers and celebrations every time he pooped on the potty. I even pulled out a wrapped gift leftover from Christmas the first time he dropped a deuce in his little boy potty.

In one week he went from ten accidents a day to going consistently on the potty day after day.

I rejoiced! I felt free! We could go on outings during the day and I only had to worry about changing one diaper instead of two!

{I may have bragged a teeny bit on Facebook.}

Wow. How things can change in a few months. He did so well from December to the beginning of April. Today? He refuses to poo on the potty. And I can tell when he's holding it in - he gets this "deer in the headlights" look on his face and I just know. His belly gets so distended after not having taken a dump for five days that we end up having to give him Miralax or a glycerin suppository to help him get it out. I push water daily and he is good at eating fruits and vegetables, even though he's become a bit of a picky eater lately.

I tell him to go use the potty when I notice him holding it in. He refuses. I carry him kicking and screaming to the potty. I demand he does his business on the potty and to not come out until he does. I yell. It makes me so sad after I do, but I can't take it back.

{Loud crying screams go on for 10 minutes behind the closed bathroom door.}

I have reverted back to Pull-ups because I am so sick of cleaning poopy underpants. I am so sick of potty training drama, I can't stand it.

So yeah, that's my Secret Mommy-hood Confession for today. Sorry for so many mentions of poop.

On friendship

"A day without a friend is like a pot without a single drop of honey left inside."

~ Winnie the Pooh

I remember a conversation I had with my mom about friendship back when I was in high school, probably about 16 years ago or more. I was describing to her how my relationship with one of my friends had changed, and how it made me sad.

She sympathized with me and explained that as the years go by, my friendships will evolve. Some people would remain in our lives forever, and we would grow closer and closer. And others would slowly fade away, leaving only the memories behind to savor.

Looking back now, I can understand exactly what she was trying to teach me.

I have several friends - people I have known for fifteen or more years - who I don't get a chance to see more than once a year if I'm lucky given the distance between us. The best man from our wedding and his wife are two of them. He had a work conference this week and so they came to visit and stay with us this past weekend so that we could catch up and visit with each other. We hadn't yet been able to meet each other's youngest, and our two older ones had only ever met once before that.

The beautiful thing about our friendship with them is that it's easy. We can come together after not having seen each other in a few years, and it's like we haven't skipped a beat.

Those are the absolute best friendships to have, in my opinion.

We talked and laughed and reminisced. Took hundreds of pictures and stayed up late playing board games. Our daughter was smitten with our friend and would walk over to him with her head back and arms lifted high up towards his head to be picked up. She doesn't do this to anyone other than me or my husband. We hung out on the deck and had drinks and dinner. We threw all four kids in the big tub and watched them splash around in the bubbles, smiles all around. We shared little stories about them, our favorite iphone/ipad apps, and had lots of quality playtime.

In short, it was the best weekend ever.

We're both celebrating ten years of marriage next year. The guys were each other's best man. To honor this milestone, they invited us to join them on a vacation sometime in the Spring of 2013. Adults-only. The kiddos will get some quality time with the grandparents. {get excited, grandparents} Oh yeah. We're in.

We're so in.

And although we may not get the chance to get together again before then, it won't make a difference. We'll pick back up right where we left off.

Because that's what great friends do.

"Friends are the most important part of your life. Treasure the tears, treasure the laughter, but most importantly, treasure the memories." - Dave Brenner

Things my kids can teach me

My kids can teach me to appreciate the little things. That it can be really fun to:

• Enjoy a cool fruit popsicle on a hot summer afternoon. {Or better yet, an ice cream sandwich.}
• Build a tower from wooden blocks. {Then promptly knock it down. Repeat many times.}
• Splash around in a warm bubble bath at the end of the day.
• Run around the playground without a care in the world.
• Chase and pop bubbles floating in the breeze.
• Get super excited for holidays like Valentine's Day and Halloween; the excitement surrounding the big ones is just out of control.
• Walk around and admire {and smell} animals at the zoo.

But most of all, each and every day, my babies can remind me that pretty much everything can be fixed with a hug and a kiss. {Mostly thanks to sibling spats that I am constantly breaking up every fifteen to twenty minutes, every day of every week.}

But hey, it's the little things. Right?

Linking up with Kathy of Mama's Losing It!

Making the most of time

Do you ever wonder how much time you have left? Not to sound morbid, although there isn't really another fitting adjective, but I tend to think fairly often about life and our time on this Earth. I often wonder if I'm making the most with the time I've been given. God, I sure hope so.

I mean, of course, I am first and foremost a loving (and often nagging) wife and mother to the three most important people in my life. I'm also a daughter, sister, granddaughter, aunt, cousin, and friend to so many special people who I love. And I love these roles with all of my heart and then some. But yet, there is still a part of me longs to be something more. To do something incredible with my life.

I guess I want to be remembered for making a difference.

I'm reading an amazing book right now - A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller. It's all about how he learned how to edit his life to create a better life for himself simply by using the tools storytellers use to tell great stories. Early on in the book there was a part that struck me. It talked about how we have so many memories that we create throughout our lives, but how many of them actually stick with us? I know that for many of us, the memories that stand out are probably the unique experiences we've had and the people we shared them with. And I also know that life can't always be full of extraordinary events such as skydiving or swimming with dolphins or the birth of your children or the loss of a dear friend to cancer.

In my reality it's full of diaper changes and messy breakfast dishes in the sink, rushing off to preschool mid-week. There is laundry to be washed and folded and groceries to be unloaded from the car while sleepy babies doze in the backseat. After naps in the afternoons the kids bring me books to read and they both plop down on my lap, one on each leg until my foot falls asleep, and we read Goodnight Moon and Green Eggs and Ham and they never get tired of it. Neither do I. I love to smell their soft necks and kiss their chubby pink cheeks. I say, "I love you" to each of them so many times throughout the day and I never get tired of it. These are the little moments I wish I could bottle up tight and revisit from time to time.

And yet, they pass by so quickly, without time to document them all as I would like. Keeping my journals is one way I've captured some intensely stressful and emotional periods in my life and I am so grateful to have them to look back at to remind me how far I've come.

I do want to I want my life to be a great story.

But for now, I'll immerse myself in the sweet precious moments of my everyday life. Because so far I feel like it is a really great story. And it only gets better with time.

Mommyhood has been good to me

The year after I was diagnosed, I found a support group for those suffering from Bipolar Disorder and I joined. I started attending meetings weekly and got to know some of the group members. Each week there were regulars and newbies. I found the group meetings helpful in my recovery process and my journey to accept this illness that I will be dealing with for the rest of my life. We would basically just go around the circle and each person would take a few minutes to talk about how their week was, how they were feeling, and then the group would offer suggestions on any issues they were struggling with. We weren't supposed to talk about meds, but of course everyone had opinions on them so that often came up. It was before we had started thinking about having kids. I was just trying to figure out what was going on with me and how I could best handle my severe anxiety and depression now that I was out of the state of mania that caused my hospitalizations. The last thing I was ready to think about was throwing kids in the mix, sometimes I felt like I could barely take care of myself. How would I ever be able to handle one baby, let alone the two I had always dreamed of. Yet I still knew it was something I wanted for us, and my husband had said he was ready to try whenever I felt that I was. He was (and is) always so patient about things.

If there is one thing I remember looking back on those meetings, it is this one woman. I can recall her so vividly, and find myself thinking of her from time to time, even though it's been years since I've attended one of those meetings. She was very petite and seemed so frail, often shaking as she spoke during her time to talk at the meeting. She had two kids and if I remember correctly they were about 6 and 9 or something along those ages - a boy and a girl. And she was married too, it seemed her husband was pretty supportive and caring. But it made me so sad to listen to her talk. She was on such a potent cocktail of meds and yet, she was still struggling so much with her anxiety and depression. She often spoke of how she could barely get out of bed in the morning to fix her kids breakfast and get them off to school. I found myself wondering if that would be what it would be like to be a mom who had bipolar disorder and two kids.

I am so lucky. Her situation is the complete opposite of my life as a mom.

Sometimes when I put the kids to bed at night I'll wish it was morning already so I could get them up to play again. Usually as they are walking up the steps to head up for bathtime, I think about how much I love being their Mommy. It's the best job I could have ever asked for and I never want it to end. Today I found joy in the midst of changing a poopy diaper which had leaked. I had my 10-month old daughter all clean and as I propped her up, naked on the bottom half, so that I could wrap up the dirty diaper, she peed all over the hardwood floor while holding onto the baby gate. I couldn't help but crack up laughing. It's the little things. I should have taken a picture, but I was too busy laughing and cleaning up the mess.

I hope that my friend from the support group has been able to find a good doctor who found the best combination of meds and therapy for her to improve her situation. Because really, that is what it comes down to when you are living with bipolar disorder. A good doctor, the right meds, regular therapy and a solid support network.