To bestow without receiving a return is the meaning of giving. Christmas is a time when society puts a great deal of focus on helping others; I have tried to pay it forward when opportunities arise throughout the year. I am thrilled that Adam has this same outlook. We will raise our children with the importance of this understanding.
This year we gave 20 board games, two potato heads, Leap Frog Scout and some other toys to a local organization through O.I.W. Regardless of what we decide to give during the holiday we always drop a toy or two off for Toys for Tots. However, this year it seemed important to keep the giving in our local community. We discussed comforters for a shelter, sweaters and boots for a women’s shelter and even buying hygiene needs for the homeless. However, this year we really wanted to keep our gift local. These toys will be played with right here in Milwaukie.
Kaden is one and has far to many toys. Adam and I are firm that before each birthday and Christmas our children will have to round-up (perhaps a brown bag or garbage bag) toys they would like to donate. They will also take part in helping us to clean out closets and dressers at the end of summer and winter. They will participate in taking these items where we choose, as a family.
We want our kid’s character to be one of giving without asking. Fundamentally, we do hope this plan will help to incorporate the action. At first it will be a challenge for them to comprehend, but over time, conversations and repetition it will convert into an act of helping without even thinking of their own self gain (give to receive at Christmas/birthdays). As they grow they will have an appreciation for what they have as well as finding pleasure in simply paying their good fortune forward.
Adam and I count our blessings every day. If we had to choose only one lesson to impart on our children it would be that they too know their good fortune. Along with this they make the choice to pass along what they are able to afford in materials and/or time to those who are not as privileged because it is in their kind hearts not guilty minds.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
"Don't You Do It" List
I am amazed at some of the things I hear or read that I should not do while pregnant… I admit some make sense, but in fairness women have been having babies for a bit of time now and for years have been taking part in the list below. I have been making a list of some of my favorite “Don’t Do Its”.
DO NOT DRINK. Well, this may as well translate into you won’t get pregnant! Okay. Okay. Seriously, we created our children while using the ‘pill’ (yes, taken daily). Procreation had nothing to do with our lack of birth control. Although, I can’t write that liquor didn’t help in the act of intimacy which is needed to procreate.
What I really do not understand is the French drink wine daily. As a mother of a 15 month old in her 29th week of pregnancy I understand this cultural choice. It seems to be an intelligent social decision that is a tool used to keep peace and sanity among the community members and the home front.
Kudos to France.
DO NOT TOUCH CAT LITTER. No worries. The list is long as to why this “Don’t Do It” doesn’t pertain to me and sadly it has nothing to do with the disease and bacteria issues that are associated with the feline.
It is a boy job
I am totally allergic to felines
Cats gross me out
That being said, I agree with this statement. DO NOT TOUCH LITTER.
YOU ARE NOT EATING FOR TWO. Funny, I feel the baby all night long. I have seen photo after photo of the Sprite. I go to my prenatal appointments. I feel hungrier. Yet, said professionals have the bravado to say I am not eating for two? Do tell me what it is that I carry in my uterus. The old wives tale of the belief that pregnant women are eating for two, so eat according to your hunger has been nixed by medical professionals. They claim a measly additional 200 calories a day will suffice this living being. HA! I hate them.
I tend to go with the ole wives and their take on eating. If I followed the diet by increasing my calories by only 200 a day I would be practicing survival of the fittest and population control. Quite simply stated I would die. I would take Adam down too, for he would probably be my last meal due to starvation or purely from being irritated. Irritation and pissy behavior are side effects of starvation, which clearly and without question this diet would create.
NO INTIMATE RELATIONS. Did you read my first point that without the liquor there is little relations? All joking aside are ‘they’ kidding? If you don’t get the business in now it certainly isn’t going to happen as new parents! Intercourse is a proven way to move into labor… I plan to use this technique if we closely approach birth day without progress. Hell, I may even enjoy a glass of wine before and after.
DON’T EXERCISE. Well, this makes complete sense in reviewing what I have outlined above considering the calorie restriction. There really seems to be no need to work out. I shouldn’t have excess calories to burn! Plus nixing the Bedroom Olympics (a form of exercise, no?) reiterates this no-no. I wasn’t hip to exercising pre-baby, so no real loss here. Score for me! I do get in a great deal of daily Jane Fonda by being Kaden’s Mama. He is a mover, shaker and yes, dancer. Is dancing a “Don’t Do It”? I could be rebelling and not even know it.
SUSHI IS BAD FOR YOU & BABY. 911- Emergency: Close down Japan- STAT! I don’t think the Japanese know they are living life dangerously. Send an alert. I understand that certain fish may have more mercury or carry higher risks. That being said, in Japan it is a cultural experience to eat sushi as a dietary staple. For a country accepting abortions as being one of its major three methods of birth control and is considering a ZPG Plan I would say eating raw fish isn’t necessarily a huge concern. The Japanese are thriving in the (squished and tight quarters) people department. Maybe there is something to be said about eating shell fish…oooh la la.
WHO CUT THE CHEESE? So, I can’t eat raw fish and even certain cooked fish. There is now a list of cheese to avoid: Blue Cheese (a favorite), Feta, Brie and Mexican Style Queso. I am beginning to feel as if the American Society of Obstetrics and Gynecology is asking all pregnant women to hold tight to an embargo order. Basically, all pregos please note: If you are pregnant you may not follow the food culture of other countries. It is obviously hazardous.
Side Note:
So far, I have been told and shared that I am to eliminate certain foods from my diet that are exports from France, Switzerland, Mexico, Japan as well as a few states in the homeland Hawaii and Wisconsin. Oh, add China to the list because herbal tea is a “Don’t Do It”. Certain herbs such as red raspberry leaf are associated with contractions. I have noted this and may enjoy a cup of herb vs. the vino as the birth day approaches! Please know that I do feel better knowing I am allowed to eat a hot dog. The comedy!
RID THE NICCOTINE, CAFFIENE AND NARCOTICS. I don’t think there are more selfish acts then expectant women who smoke or use recreational drugs during pregnancy. Period. As a recovering smoker (hehe) I understand how difficult it is to stop, but it is our obligation to the life inside of us to do so. I was fortunate in not picking up the habit after Kaden’s birth. I don’t use drugs… Tums and Tylenol all the way baby. The caffeine is a toughie. I enjoy a ½ caffeinated Egg Nog latte weekly. I like a Pepsi here and there. I brew coffee very rarely. Ironically, it has been recommended by my midwives to have caffeine in order to eliminate or relieve my migraines. This comes from a conservative group of women. I guess if pregnant women have one of the above vices caffeine is so totally minor.
AVOID CLEANING. Done. I am home all day with a toddler… there is no longer such a thing as clean or tidy.
STEER CLEAR OF MICROWAVES & STRESS. Who is going to pay to board my toddler? Honestly, microwave and stress should be avoided during and only during pregnancy? Another ploy to keep us at 200 calories a day.
Well, sorry, Charlie. The microwave is the source that feeds my child and stress comes with my job as Domestic Goddess and Loving Mother. Considering microwave usage is evidence of lacking love and having stress is unlike a goddess I am sure to be demoted to being just a lowly domestic mother…
After creating and dissecting my “Don’t You Do It” List I can see I am losing my stripes…I am rejoicing in that pregnancy doesn’t last forever. I have hopes to be promoted back to my pre-pregnancy status of having goddess-love.
POST SCRIPT: Before the emails flow in about how I need to do this and you can’t believe I wrote that… remember I write with a little dab of humor and splash of sarcasm.
DO NOT DRINK. Well, this may as well translate into you won’t get pregnant! Okay. Okay. Seriously, we created our children while using the ‘pill’ (yes, taken daily). Procreation had nothing to do with our lack of birth control. Although, I can’t write that liquor didn’t help in the act of intimacy which is needed to procreate.
What I really do not understand is the French drink wine daily. As a mother of a 15 month old in her 29th week of pregnancy I understand this cultural choice. It seems to be an intelligent social decision that is a tool used to keep peace and sanity among the community members and the home front.
Kudos to France.
DO NOT TOUCH CAT LITTER. No worries. The list is long as to why this “Don’t Do It” doesn’t pertain to me and sadly it has nothing to do with the disease and bacteria issues that are associated with the feline.
It is a boy job
I am totally allergic to felines
Cats gross me out
That being said, I agree with this statement. DO NOT TOUCH LITTER.
YOU ARE NOT EATING FOR TWO. Funny, I feel the baby all night long. I have seen photo after photo of the Sprite. I go to my prenatal appointments. I feel hungrier. Yet, said professionals have the bravado to say I am not eating for two? Do tell me what it is that I carry in my uterus. The old wives tale of the belief that pregnant women are eating for two, so eat according to your hunger has been nixed by medical professionals. They claim a measly additional 200 calories a day will suffice this living being. HA! I hate them.
I tend to go with the ole wives and their take on eating. If I followed the diet by increasing my calories by only 200 a day I would be practicing survival of the fittest and population control. Quite simply stated I would die. I would take Adam down too, for he would probably be my last meal due to starvation or purely from being irritated. Irritation and pissy behavior are side effects of starvation, which clearly and without question this diet would create.
NO INTIMATE RELATIONS. Did you read my first point that without the liquor there is little relations? All joking aside are ‘they’ kidding? If you don’t get the business in now it certainly isn’t going to happen as new parents! Intercourse is a proven way to move into labor… I plan to use this technique if we closely approach birth day without progress. Hell, I may even enjoy a glass of wine before and after.
DON’T EXERCISE. Well, this makes complete sense in reviewing what I have outlined above considering the calorie restriction. There really seems to be no need to work out. I shouldn’t have excess calories to burn! Plus nixing the Bedroom Olympics (a form of exercise, no?) reiterates this no-no. I wasn’t hip to exercising pre-baby, so no real loss here. Score for me! I do get in a great deal of daily Jane Fonda by being Kaden’s Mama. He is a mover, shaker and yes, dancer. Is dancing a “Don’t Do It”? I could be rebelling and not even know it.
SUSHI IS BAD FOR YOU & BABY. 911- Emergency: Close down Japan- STAT! I don’t think the Japanese know they are living life dangerously. Send an alert. I understand that certain fish may have more mercury or carry higher risks. That being said, in Japan it is a cultural experience to eat sushi as a dietary staple. For a country accepting abortions as being one of its major three methods of birth control and is considering a ZPG Plan I would say eating raw fish isn’t necessarily a huge concern. The Japanese are thriving in the (squished and tight quarters) people department. Maybe there is something to be said about eating shell fish…oooh la la.
WHO CUT THE CHEESE? So, I can’t eat raw fish and even certain cooked fish. There is now a list of cheese to avoid: Blue Cheese (a favorite), Feta, Brie and Mexican Style Queso. I am beginning to feel as if the American Society of Obstetrics and Gynecology is asking all pregnant women to hold tight to an embargo order. Basically, all pregos please note: If you are pregnant you may not follow the food culture of other countries. It is obviously hazardous.
Side Note:
So far, I have been told and shared that I am to eliminate certain foods from my diet that are exports from France, Switzerland, Mexico, Japan as well as a few states in the homeland Hawaii and Wisconsin. Oh, add China to the list because herbal tea is a “Don’t Do It”. Certain herbs such as red raspberry leaf are associated with contractions. I have noted this and may enjoy a cup of herb vs. the vino as the birth day approaches! Please know that I do feel better knowing I am allowed to eat a hot dog. The comedy!
RID THE NICCOTINE, CAFFIENE AND NARCOTICS. I don’t think there are more selfish acts then expectant women who smoke or use recreational drugs during pregnancy. Period. As a recovering smoker (hehe) I understand how difficult it is to stop, but it is our obligation to the life inside of us to do so. I was fortunate in not picking up the habit after Kaden’s birth. I don’t use drugs… Tums and Tylenol all the way baby. The caffeine is a toughie. I enjoy a ½ caffeinated Egg Nog latte weekly. I like a Pepsi here and there. I brew coffee very rarely. Ironically, it has been recommended by my midwives to have caffeine in order to eliminate or relieve my migraines. This comes from a conservative group of women. I guess if pregnant women have one of the above vices caffeine is so totally minor.
AVOID CLEANING. Done. I am home all day with a toddler… there is no longer such a thing as clean or tidy.
STEER CLEAR OF MICROWAVES & STRESS. Who is going to pay to board my toddler? Honestly, microwave and stress should be avoided during and only during pregnancy? Another ploy to keep us at 200 calories a day.
Well, sorry, Charlie. The microwave is the source that feeds my child and stress comes with my job as Domestic Goddess and Loving Mother. Considering microwave usage is evidence of lacking love and having stress is unlike a goddess I am sure to be demoted to being just a lowly domestic mother…
After creating and dissecting my “Don’t You Do It” List I can see I am losing my stripes…I am rejoicing in that pregnancy doesn’t last forever. I have hopes to be promoted back to my pre-pregnancy status of having goddess-love.
POST SCRIPT: Before the emails flow in about how I need to do this and you can’t believe I wrote that… remember I write with a little dab of humor and splash of sarcasm.
The Mommy List
I keep a journal. Through this journal, I have marked tips that have made my life and family’s life a bit easier. As my girlfriends have entered the sisterhood of motherhood I have decided to list tips helping to pay forward all the kindnesses I received as a brand new Mom and include this in their card. I also include in their gift many of the items I list. My hope is in sharing this list my lady friends have been or will be able to pay forward the list adding their own tricks and know how. I am a believer that it doesn’t take a village to raise a child, but to care for a new mom.
As I re-enter this journey I have revisited my list. I have already forgotten some things! I am grateful I kept a record.
PRE BABY
Pack clothes for the hospital that fit you during month 4 of your pregnancy.
If you are not breastfeeding (or unsure) pack a bra without under wire one size smaller than your pre-pregnancy cup. Just as our pregnancy and labor/delivery are different experiences so is the process of the milk arriving and dry up.
Buy several frozen dinners or prepare many freezer friendly meals in advance. This allows a quick and easy (prep and clean up) when day suddenly turns to night. Food is so important it keeps your energy level up when you are sleep deprived. I actually am a fan of the 9x13 rule… anyone who visits must bring a meal in a 9x13 pan!
Have a healthy stock of thank you cards and stamps!
Every time you shop at the market buy one package of diapers beginning the second trimester. You will be so happy you did this. Mix it up between NB, 1 and 2. We didn’t buy diapers after Kaden was born for 4 months… at this time I started being one to two packages ahead.
Have formula at home regardless of breastfeeding choice.
Have ibuprofen in your home. You will probably take 800 mg (4 tablets) every 8/12 hours after returning home for a period of time. This will help the swelling and cramping.
Call pediatricians office: Does pediatrician make hospital calls to your delivering hospital? Perform circumcisions if it is a boy?
If pediatrician doesn’t perform circumcision does your midwife/OBGYN?
Know if your insurance covers the entire cost of a circumcision. Some companies consider this a cosmetic alteration and do not cover the procedure.
If insurance doesn’t cover the procedure is it less expensive to take baby to the doctor’s office? For example: Providence charges $600.00 for their midwife to perform. To use a pediatrician Providence charges a ‘use’ fee of $300 on top of the pediatrician’s fees. Going to the doctor’s office 3 days later cost a total of $100.00. We saved $500.00 from our pockets.
Buy a large package of pads and panty liners for your home.
Adjust the straps to the car seat and properly install in the car at week 38. You want to know how the seat works having it secure before going to the hospital. The nurse will not let you leave until it is inspected.
Pack insurance information to alert company of baby arrival. Bring pediatricians number to give to nursing staff if they are able to come to hospital to perform checkup.
BABY IS HERE
If Daddy chooses not to cut the cord who says Grandma or someone else can’t? Think of it symbolizing the circle of life! How remarkable to share with a grandparent that the family has come full circle.
If you are formula feeding let the nurse know the brand. They will begin baby on this formula.
Have the hospital call pediatrician to come to hospital for checkup. He/she will also perform the circumcision if they practice this procedure.
Dad can help the nurse with the foot and hand prints. It gives him something special to all his own.
Visitors come at all hours. Make the staff the bad people! If you become overwhelmed have a code that Dad (and other support people) knows when it is time to find a nurse to clear the room or turn away new comers. The nurse will find a reason.
This is your baby. Do not feel bad about your care choices! For example: ask people to wash their hands before holding the baby. Remind people not to be a baby ‘hog’ if others are there to see baby. If someone smells of smoke tell them to strip on down or come back later. If for whatever reason you do not want baby held by others speak up.
When at the hospital take (don’t even ask) 2 receiving blankets home. These are the best swaddling blankets as well as a perfect weight. Pack one right in your bag and the other will be wrapped around baby when you leave.
Ask for 2 (or more) hospital pacifiers. These can’t be beat.
If you're formula feeding ask the nurse for both formula and extra nipples for home. They will provide you with a fair amount.
When you pack to go home take the diapers and wipes too. These items are thrown out because they are no longer sterile. Take the aspirator, Johnson and Johnson baby soap, comb and etc. It all gets tossed. The blue hospital aspirator is superior to those in the kits!
Ask the nurse for a good supply of pads.
If you are uncomfortable wearing panties ask for a few pairs of gauze ones to take home. Be sure they are size small!
If you do not breastfeed do not stimulate your breasts in any way. Do not let any water in the shower pulsate. Keep your back to the water! I stayed wrapped for 3 solid days.
BRINGING HOME BABY
Always accept the help offered to you. If someone wants to clean a bathroom or fold laundry let them. It gives you time to spend with your baby or rest.
Have the 9x13 rule. If anyone asks what they can do or bring ask them to bring a 9x13 pan of something ready to bake. I am serious.
Rest. If you can’t sleep lay down and at least rest. Let Dad learn to comfort baby too. This pays off!
Have bottles measured with formula and the nipple upside down into bottle for night time. All you will need is to add the water, shake and feed. So much help.
Use room temp water for bottle prep. You will be so grateful when you are half asleep or on the go that baby drinks at this temp vs having to warm the water first.
If you do not want company tell them. But be honest, so people don’t worry. There is no shame or guilt in taking time to adjust. It is exciting to have your new family home!
Have at least one person (outside of Dad) you check in with every day. If you do not return anyone else’s phone calls always call or text this person back. Have this person be your safe person. If you have a bad day be honest. Feel free to talk to this person open and honestly. Postpartum is serious. It can be 6 months before it affects new moms. There is no embarrassment in postpartum. Be real about what is happening and seek help immediately.
The first few outings of running errands and/or shopping take someone with you. A new mother’s body is truly healing in needing its time to recover. You may physically tire easily; begin heavy bleeding or severe cramping without notice. I was exhausted my first real day out on day seven of postpartum.
Keep a tote packed with diapers, wipes, outfits, burp cloth, bottle and etc ready to go in baby’s room. As baby stays for visits it is much easier to leave a bag other than your diaper bag which has your organization and knowledge of what is returned and what is dirty.
Keep extra diapers and wipes in all vehicles. Diaper bags only hold so much! Dad should have his own bag, too.
If baby will be spending great amount of time at someone else’s home have the typical items there for use. It makes life so much easier to go to Grandma’s when diapers, formula, a pacifier, blankets and etc is already there. You get to just go…
Keep a Tide pen in your diaper bag. This helps eliminate stains.
We love NB Pampers. There is a line that vertically that changes color when baby is wet.
Kirkland (Costco) wipes are great… a huge box of over 700 for $15.00.
Use a lingerie bag to wash baby socks. They will go missing in the laundry.
Vaseline is natural. It has been recommended (to me) by a few pediatricians to use this vs. ointments or creams. It shields wicking moisture. Kaden has had a run of tummy issues and never a rash. It is far more economical too.
If you warm the formula or baby food baby learns this expectation. What do you do when baby is hungry and there is no place to warm milk or puree? Hot tap water for milk as well as both fridge and room temp for purees eliminates a ‘picky’ eater.
I keep bottled water in the diaper bag. Kaden doesn’t mind room temperature formula! Easy.
Using different pacifier brands at the very beginning helps deter brand preference.
Baby will remove a pacifier from accidentally pulling on the loop. The Mam brand doesn’t have the loop. It saves all from frustration!
Have a professional bra fitting 4-6 weeks after bringing home baby. You don’t have to buy a bra at Nordstrom’s, but the ladies have proper training to fit you. They are proven to be the best fitters. It will make a difference.
Hanging a bag (i.e. mesh) on the highchair is a convenient way to store bibs.
Johnson and Johnson Vapor body wash is great to use for congested children.
Disposable washcloths are the best invention ever! It makes a bath easy when time is short or smelly baby needs say bath number 3 or 4 of the day! These are still a favorite of ours. We used during camping and times when Kaden has been ill.
For all baby items needing batteries write the size on the outside of the battery cover. Each toy, bouncer, mat and the like uses a different size. This will save you time from unscrewing and help with your battery stock.
If a toy can fit through the hole of a toilet paper roll or paper towel roll it can fit down baby’s throat.
In case of a diaper explosion or vomiting in the crib double-up and layer 2 fitted sheets. You can remove the dirty linens not having to remake the bed in the middle of the night! For example: mattress, sheet, mattress cover and sheet.
Shop a season ahead for Baby. For example: Summer apparel is a great price right now. Why pay $18.00 for a pair of shorts when it is $4.00 now? Regardless I will have to buy clothes every few months. I choose to be ahead of the game instead of buying now. It is worth the savings.
Also, if you know you will have an event requiring winter clothes in the summer or summer clothes in the winter stock up at the end of the season. Sweatshirts are hard to find come late spring and throughout summer, but we need these for camping!
Take your own time away from family. Go for a walk. Have a pop, coffee or water with a friend. You don’t have to be gone long, but take time. It will refresh you.
I receive incredible deals via the internet. Belong to a blog.
Celebrate your family every single day.
As I re-enter this journey I have revisited my list. I have already forgotten some things! I am grateful I kept a record.
PRE BABY
Pack clothes for the hospital that fit you during month 4 of your pregnancy.
If you are not breastfeeding (or unsure) pack a bra without under wire one size smaller than your pre-pregnancy cup. Just as our pregnancy and labor/delivery are different experiences so is the process of the milk arriving and dry up.
Buy several frozen dinners or prepare many freezer friendly meals in advance. This allows a quick and easy (prep and clean up) when day suddenly turns to night. Food is so important it keeps your energy level up when you are sleep deprived. I actually am a fan of the 9x13 rule… anyone who visits must bring a meal in a 9x13 pan!
Have a healthy stock of thank you cards and stamps!
Every time you shop at the market buy one package of diapers beginning the second trimester. You will be so happy you did this. Mix it up between NB, 1 and 2. We didn’t buy diapers after Kaden was born for 4 months… at this time I started being one to two packages ahead.
Have formula at home regardless of breastfeeding choice.
Have ibuprofen in your home. You will probably take 800 mg (4 tablets) every 8/12 hours after returning home for a period of time. This will help the swelling and cramping.
Call pediatricians office: Does pediatrician make hospital calls to your delivering hospital? Perform circumcisions if it is a boy?
If pediatrician doesn’t perform circumcision does your midwife/OBGYN?
Know if your insurance covers the entire cost of a circumcision. Some companies consider this a cosmetic alteration and do not cover the procedure.
If insurance doesn’t cover the procedure is it less expensive to take baby to the doctor’s office? For example: Providence charges $600.00 for their midwife to perform. To use a pediatrician Providence charges a ‘use’ fee of $300 on top of the pediatrician’s fees. Going to the doctor’s office 3 days later cost a total of $100.00. We saved $500.00 from our pockets.
Buy a large package of pads and panty liners for your home.
Adjust the straps to the car seat and properly install in the car at week 38. You want to know how the seat works having it secure before going to the hospital. The nurse will not let you leave until it is inspected.
Pack insurance information to alert company of baby arrival. Bring pediatricians number to give to nursing staff if they are able to come to hospital to perform checkup.
BABY IS HERE
If Daddy chooses not to cut the cord who says Grandma or someone else can’t? Think of it symbolizing the circle of life! How remarkable to share with a grandparent that the family has come full circle.
If you are formula feeding let the nurse know the brand. They will begin baby on this formula.
Have the hospital call pediatrician to come to hospital for checkup. He/she will also perform the circumcision if they practice this procedure.
Dad can help the nurse with the foot and hand prints. It gives him something special to all his own.
Visitors come at all hours. Make the staff the bad people! If you become overwhelmed have a code that Dad (and other support people) knows when it is time to find a nurse to clear the room or turn away new comers. The nurse will find a reason.
This is your baby. Do not feel bad about your care choices! For example: ask people to wash their hands before holding the baby. Remind people not to be a baby ‘hog’ if others are there to see baby. If someone smells of smoke tell them to strip on down or come back later. If for whatever reason you do not want baby held by others speak up.
When at the hospital take (don’t even ask) 2 receiving blankets home. These are the best swaddling blankets as well as a perfect weight. Pack one right in your bag and the other will be wrapped around baby when you leave.
Ask for 2 (or more) hospital pacifiers. These can’t be beat.
If you're formula feeding ask the nurse for both formula and extra nipples for home. They will provide you with a fair amount.
When you pack to go home take the diapers and wipes too. These items are thrown out because they are no longer sterile. Take the aspirator, Johnson and Johnson baby soap, comb and etc. It all gets tossed. The blue hospital aspirator is superior to those in the kits!
Ask the nurse for a good supply of pads.
If you are uncomfortable wearing panties ask for a few pairs of gauze ones to take home. Be sure they are size small!
If you do not breastfeed do not stimulate your breasts in any way. Do not let any water in the shower pulsate. Keep your back to the water! I stayed wrapped for 3 solid days.
BRINGING HOME BABY
Always accept the help offered to you. If someone wants to clean a bathroom or fold laundry let them. It gives you time to spend with your baby or rest.
Have the 9x13 rule. If anyone asks what they can do or bring ask them to bring a 9x13 pan of something ready to bake. I am serious.
Rest. If you can’t sleep lay down and at least rest. Let Dad learn to comfort baby too. This pays off!
Have bottles measured with formula and the nipple upside down into bottle for night time. All you will need is to add the water, shake and feed. So much help.
Use room temp water for bottle prep. You will be so grateful when you are half asleep or on the go that baby drinks at this temp vs having to warm the water first.
If you do not want company tell them. But be honest, so people don’t worry. There is no shame or guilt in taking time to adjust. It is exciting to have your new family home!
Have at least one person (outside of Dad) you check in with every day. If you do not return anyone else’s phone calls always call or text this person back. Have this person be your safe person. If you have a bad day be honest. Feel free to talk to this person open and honestly. Postpartum is serious. It can be 6 months before it affects new moms. There is no embarrassment in postpartum. Be real about what is happening and seek help immediately.
The first few outings of running errands and/or shopping take someone with you. A new mother’s body is truly healing in needing its time to recover. You may physically tire easily; begin heavy bleeding or severe cramping without notice. I was exhausted my first real day out on day seven of postpartum.
Keep a tote packed with diapers, wipes, outfits, burp cloth, bottle and etc ready to go in baby’s room. As baby stays for visits it is much easier to leave a bag other than your diaper bag which has your organization and knowledge of what is returned and what is dirty.
Keep extra diapers and wipes in all vehicles. Diaper bags only hold so much! Dad should have his own bag, too.
If baby will be spending great amount of time at someone else’s home have the typical items there for use. It makes life so much easier to go to Grandma’s when diapers, formula, a pacifier, blankets and etc is already there. You get to just go…
Keep a Tide pen in your diaper bag. This helps eliminate stains.
We love NB Pampers. There is a line that vertically that changes color when baby is wet.
Kirkland (Costco) wipes are great… a huge box of over 700 for $15.00.
Use a lingerie bag to wash baby socks. They will go missing in the laundry.
Vaseline is natural. It has been recommended (to me) by a few pediatricians to use this vs. ointments or creams. It shields wicking moisture. Kaden has had a run of tummy issues and never a rash. It is far more economical too.
If you warm the formula or baby food baby learns this expectation. What do you do when baby is hungry and there is no place to warm milk or puree? Hot tap water for milk as well as both fridge and room temp for purees eliminates a ‘picky’ eater.
I keep bottled water in the diaper bag. Kaden doesn’t mind room temperature formula! Easy.
Using different pacifier brands at the very beginning helps deter brand preference.
Baby will remove a pacifier from accidentally pulling on the loop. The Mam brand doesn’t have the loop. It saves all from frustration!
Have a professional bra fitting 4-6 weeks after bringing home baby. You don’t have to buy a bra at Nordstrom’s, but the ladies have proper training to fit you. They are proven to be the best fitters. It will make a difference.
Hanging a bag (i.e. mesh) on the highchair is a convenient way to store bibs.
Johnson and Johnson Vapor body wash is great to use for congested children.
Disposable washcloths are the best invention ever! It makes a bath easy when time is short or smelly baby needs say bath number 3 or 4 of the day! These are still a favorite of ours. We used during camping and times when Kaden has been ill.
For all baby items needing batteries write the size on the outside of the battery cover. Each toy, bouncer, mat and the like uses a different size. This will save you time from unscrewing and help with your battery stock.
If a toy can fit through the hole of a toilet paper roll or paper towel roll it can fit down baby’s throat.
In case of a diaper explosion or vomiting in the crib double-up and layer 2 fitted sheets. You can remove the dirty linens not having to remake the bed in the middle of the night! For example: mattress, sheet, mattress cover and sheet.
Shop a season ahead for Baby. For example: Summer apparel is a great price right now. Why pay $18.00 for a pair of shorts when it is $4.00 now? Regardless I will have to buy clothes every few months. I choose to be ahead of the game instead of buying now. It is worth the savings.
Also, if you know you will have an event requiring winter clothes in the summer or summer clothes in the winter stock up at the end of the season. Sweatshirts are hard to find come late spring and throughout summer, but we need these for camping!
Take your own time away from family. Go for a walk. Have a pop, coffee or water with a friend. You don’t have to be gone long, but take time. It will refresh you.
I receive incredible deals via the internet. Belong to a blog.
Celebrate your family every single day.
T MINUS 15 WEEKS
NOTE: This was written November 16th, 2009…
I had a moment of panic last night… I am 25 weeks pregnant. This means we literally have (give or take) 15 weeks until the Sprite comes home. What? 15 weeks? No. It can’t be. I lean over and grab my phone off the night stand and start counting backwards from Feb 28th, 2010 to current day. Yep, 13-17 weeks until shim is here.
OH MY GOD!
“Hey, babe you up?” I ask Adam. “What are you doing?” He answers. “Do you realize we are going to have a baby in like 15 weeks?” Calmly as if this isn’t a 911 emergency he answers ‘Yep”. I sit straight up in bed. My thoughts are spinning all out of sorts in disbelief. All I can say, “We have nothing! We have to start doing something!”
I have a moment of panic. I am a BAD mom. I mean with Kaden we were well on our way in having everything done. I think we were in our first trimester and he had a pretty complete room. I have not even purchased a package of diapers!
I had to count backwards again and guess what? The weeks don’t change.
I am a planner. I plan everything. I almost annoy myself in how far in advance I plan out activities. I mean, I literally have next summer planned out. The “Festival of December” is scheduled. I know what I am giving certain people for NEXT year’s Christmas. My unborn has no diapers or even a baby book started.
Call CSD right now. I am already failing this child’s needs. I am the worst mother.
So, what do I do today? I call Mom. I tell her about last nights anxiety. I mean, really I have not bought an outfit. I have not started making space. I have done nothing, zip, zero and zilch. Of course, she laughs at me. She says what do ‘we’ need? I have the baby and we shop according once shim is here. Oh, sure it sounds so easy. As if that is suppose to calm my nerves.
It does.
I realize that my lack of planning has nothing to do with my excitement level. It has everything to do with the fact that I am caring for an active toddler and buzzing around on a holiday high. And it is true that the after you have your first child things are a bit more mellow and easy going. It is a nice change of pace. Did I really just type that this new point-of-view or better described lackadaisical attitude is a nice change?
I hope that the sprite doesn’t come early. We are so totally not at all ready. To be honest, with the entire holiday hubbub I don’t see us stocking up on supplies in the coming weeks. However, here in the near future we may want to consider buying a car seat. We can’t take the baby home with out this necessity. I suppose Mom is right all the niceties can wait until the sprite is born; it just isn’t my style.
I go about my day and the panic subsides. I go to bed and diapers, bottles, strollers and car seats dance in my head…
It is 6:30 and Kaden and I wake up. I quickly feed him breakfast. Still in our pajamas I get my shoes on and I load him up into the car. Destination: Safeway. I can breathe a little easier because this afternoon sitting in our children’s room is a package of newborn diapers.
Slowly but surely we will get another pack of diapers, car seat, clothes, crib and yadda-yadda. For now, I find calmness in having our single pack of Pampers.
I had a moment of panic last night… I am 25 weeks pregnant. This means we literally have (give or take) 15 weeks until the Sprite comes home. What? 15 weeks? No. It can’t be. I lean over and grab my phone off the night stand and start counting backwards from Feb 28th, 2010 to current day. Yep, 13-17 weeks until shim is here.
OH MY GOD!
“Hey, babe you up?” I ask Adam. “What are you doing?” He answers. “Do you realize we are going to have a baby in like 15 weeks?” Calmly as if this isn’t a 911 emergency he answers ‘Yep”. I sit straight up in bed. My thoughts are spinning all out of sorts in disbelief. All I can say, “We have nothing! We have to start doing something!”
I have a moment of panic. I am a BAD mom. I mean with Kaden we were well on our way in having everything done. I think we were in our first trimester and he had a pretty complete room. I have not even purchased a package of diapers!
I had to count backwards again and guess what? The weeks don’t change.
I am a planner. I plan everything. I almost annoy myself in how far in advance I plan out activities. I mean, I literally have next summer planned out. The “Festival of December” is scheduled. I know what I am giving certain people for NEXT year’s Christmas. My unborn has no diapers or even a baby book started.
Call CSD right now. I am already failing this child’s needs. I am the worst mother.
So, what do I do today? I call Mom. I tell her about last nights anxiety. I mean, really I have not bought an outfit. I have not started making space. I have done nothing, zip, zero and zilch. Of course, she laughs at me. She says what do ‘we’ need? I have the baby and we shop according once shim is here. Oh, sure it sounds so easy. As if that is suppose to calm my nerves.
It does.
I realize that my lack of planning has nothing to do with my excitement level. It has everything to do with the fact that I am caring for an active toddler and buzzing around on a holiday high. And it is true that the after you have your first child things are a bit more mellow and easy going. It is a nice change of pace. Did I really just type that this new point-of-view or better described lackadaisical attitude is a nice change?
I hope that the sprite doesn’t come early. We are so totally not at all ready. To be honest, with the entire holiday hubbub I don’t see us stocking up on supplies in the coming weeks. However, here in the near future we may want to consider buying a car seat. We can’t take the baby home with out this necessity. I suppose Mom is right all the niceties can wait until the sprite is born; it just isn’t my style.
I go about my day and the panic subsides. I go to bed and diapers, bottles, strollers and car seats dance in my head…
It is 6:30 and Kaden and I wake up. I quickly feed him breakfast. Still in our pajamas I get my shoes on and I load him up into the car. Destination: Safeway. I can breathe a little easier because this afternoon sitting in our children’s room is a package of newborn diapers.
Slowly but surely we will get another pack of diapers, car seat, clothes, crib and yadda-yadda. For now, I find calmness in having our single pack of Pampers.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Top 10 Favorites
Favorite Things about Being Pregnant:
10. Missing out on my festive hot cocoa drinks with Teresa.
09. I can’t reach my toes, which means polish is overdue.
08. When I do sleep it is full craziness and disbelief dreaming.
07. Constantly pulling up my nylon band jeans is super hot.
06. Wearing sweaters and jackets adding bulk to areas not needing the help.
05. Buying new bras for my unnaturally fast growing breasts (DD to DDD, really?) only to know I will be back in a few months for an upgrade.
04. Going to the bathroom, standing up, lifting the belly to move baby off bladder and go potty again.
03. Shaving the bikini line.
02. Afraid I may pee my pants when I sneeze or laugh to deeply.
And the number one thing about being pregnant is…
Through all of this and more my husband still calls me beautiful.
10. Missing out on my festive hot cocoa drinks with Teresa.
09. I can’t reach my toes, which means polish is overdue.
08. When I do sleep it is full craziness and disbelief dreaming.
07. Constantly pulling up my nylon band jeans is super hot.
06. Wearing sweaters and jackets adding bulk to areas not needing the help.
05. Buying new bras for my unnaturally fast growing breasts (DD to DDD, really?) only to know I will be back in a few months for an upgrade.
04. Going to the bathroom, standing up, lifting the belly to move baby off bladder and go potty again.
03. Shaving the bikini line.
02. Afraid I may pee my pants when I sneeze or laugh to deeply.
And the number one thing about being pregnant is…
Through all of this and more my husband still calls me beautiful.
Support
It is time. It is time to buy one of my least two favorite items: bras. I think the market has women cornered. I mean we have to wear them. Okay, some women don’t have to and others choose not to wear one. I choose to wear one. They can charge us an ungodly amount of dollars for this ‘necessity’ and how do I know which is really best for me? There are so many styles and materials. It is an exhausting experience of both the mind and bank account.
Anyway, last week was time for the fitting, so off to Nordstrom’s I went.
I try to go in for a fitting annually. It is my upper half’s annual exam to make sure the girls are being housed correctly for the sake of my posture and back/shoulder support. I am an advocate. Every woman should go and do this. It is a surprising and life changing experience. I kid you not. I could tell over the last couple of weeks it was time to recheck the status. I drug my feet as long as I could. There are women who love to shop for bras and panties. I am not one of these women. I prefer to spend the $60 or so dollars on shoes or three weeks of Eggnog Latte’s.
Kaden and I took the Nordstrom lingerie department by storm; and the fitting gal took my by storm.
It is amazing how I have let go of many different inhibitions after giving birth and again being pregnant. I have a different view of the world and reality is reality. So, I warn the fitting gal that I am way pregnant and hope she enjoys the maternity pants hiked up under my bra line. She giggles and enters.
She measures me, excuses herself and brings me a fit bra. She asks me to face the wall, remove my shirt and bra. I am to put the fit bra on and she will clasp and fit it. I am then to bend down and ‘put my breast tissue’ into the cup. I do. As I follow her orders I see Kaden looking at me dancing with his arms up over his head to Madonna. Perfect.
It is a fit. I am officially a 34/36 DDD. Are you kidding? What happened to the other double alphabet letters like EE, F or GG? I just skip right on into the triplets? I don’t know, but this growth seems unnatural. No wonder I have been so uncomfortable. I should call Guinness Book of World Records. She shops the floor as I sit in the fitting room entertaining Kaden in my maternity pants and fit bra. She brings back several different choices. Each one looks as though the cup will swallow my head whole.
I try on a few options. I am disappointed because the selections don’t tack correctly or the cup won’t lay flat against me. I question the fit and/or size. Am I really a DDD? Are you sure a full cup is my best option over a demi or blah blah blah. We keep repeating the turn around and place my tissue in the cup routine and as if things couldn’t get more uncomfortable she asks her manager to come and take a look. I feel my face redden. I breathe repeating in my head that this is their job. They see women of all shapes, sizes and styles. Maternity pants belly and all is part of the gig. Poor things.
I eventually am fit with the PERFECT bra. It is beautiful. I am in love. I look like a super model or as I later tell a few select people I look like a porn star… In the middle of my admiration I realize that this beauty costs one hundred and four dollars. What? I whip around and laugh towards the fit gal. I am carefully holding the tag under my arm pit as I look at it. I repeat out loud, “I am not frugal, but this bra costs one hundred and four dollars! Is this a digit per D?” She giggles. She seems to giggle a lot. I explain that although it is like a second skin I would like to keep shopping…
The end result is three bras for $148.00 and the ‘girls’ that I now refer to as the ‘wild women’ have never been happier. In learning about this rapid rate of growth I have a fear of what will come after I deliver. I wonder if postpartum I will be able to support what is to come physically, emotionally and within our bank account.
Anyway, last week was time for the fitting, so off to Nordstrom’s I went.
I try to go in for a fitting annually. It is my upper half’s annual exam to make sure the girls are being housed correctly for the sake of my posture and back/shoulder support. I am an advocate. Every woman should go and do this. It is a surprising and life changing experience. I kid you not. I could tell over the last couple of weeks it was time to recheck the status. I drug my feet as long as I could. There are women who love to shop for bras and panties. I am not one of these women. I prefer to spend the $60 or so dollars on shoes or three weeks of Eggnog Latte’s.
Kaden and I took the Nordstrom lingerie department by storm; and the fitting gal took my by storm.
It is amazing how I have let go of many different inhibitions after giving birth and again being pregnant. I have a different view of the world and reality is reality. So, I warn the fitting gal that I am way pregnant and hope she enjoys the maternity pants hiked up under my bra line. She giggles and enters.
She measures me, excuses herself and brings me a fit bra. She asks me to face the wall, remove my shirt and bra. I am to put the fit bra on and she will clasp and fit it. I am then to bend down and ‘put my breast tissue’ into the cup. I do. As I follow her orders I see Kaden looking at me dancing with his arms up over his head to Madonna. Perfect.
It is a fit. I am officially a 34/36 DDD. Are you kidding? What happened to the other double alphabet letters like EE, F or GG? I just skip right on into the triplets? I don’t know, but this growth seems unnatural. No wonder I have been so uncomfortable. I should call Guinness Book of World Records. She shops the floor as I sit in the fitting room entertaining Kaden in my maternity pants and fit bra. She brings back several different choices. Each one looks as though the cup will swallow my head whole.
I try on a few options. I am disappointed because the selections don’t tack correctly or the cup won’t lay flat against me. I question the fit and/or size. Am I really a DDD? Are you sure a full cup is my best option over a demi or blah blah blah. We keep repeating the turn around and place my tissue in the cup routine and as if things couldn’t get more uncomfortable she asks her manager to come and take a look. I feel my face redden. I breathe repeating in my head that this is their job. They see women of all shapes, sizes and styles. Maternity pants belly and all is part of the gig. Poor things.
I eventually am fit with the PERFECT bra. It is beautiful. I am in love. I look like a super model or as I later tell a few select people I look like a porn star… In the middle of my admiration I realize that this beauty costs one hundred and four dollars. What? I whip around and laugh towards the fit gal. I am carefully holding the tag under my arm pit as I look at it. I repeat out loud, “I am not frugal, but this bra costs one hundred and four dollars! Is this a digit per D?” She giggles. She seems to giggle a lot. I explain that although it is like a second skin I would like to keep shopping…
The end result is three bras for $148.00 and the ‘girls’ that I now refer to as the ‘wild women’ have never been happier. In learning about this rapid rate of growth I have a fear of what will come after I deliver. I wonder if postpartum I will be able to support what is to come physically, emotionally and within our bank account.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Under Water Adventures
I wonder at what point it will end. I am beginning to fear bath time. And it looks like in my job description bath time is one of my job duties. No escape. There was a time when it was so much fun… I would say, “It’s bath time for Kaden.” He would start in the direction of the stairs ready to swim and splash around. It was a time of giggles and relaxation, for us both. However, like most jobs the newness has worn off and I have grown bitter.
He used to get in the tub play with his toys and lay on his tummy as though he was doing butterfly laps. I would be three steps away doing my makeup and hair. I could see every move he made in the reflection of the mirror. I could he was sitting up and what toy he had, but what I didn’t know was what was happening under the water line. And this is what has changed bath time forever.
It is an ordeal. I have to get extra towels and Lysol. I keep these extra supplies near the tub. I have to keep them out of his octopus reach, but close enough for my immediate reach. I don’t dare step away even the three steps to the mirror. The dreaded may happen at any time. He may poop in the tub at any moment and I will miss it. What happens under the water line stays under the water line if I am not by the tubs ledge. God forbid I won’t know that his matter is floating around.
Yes, my son has taken up pooping in the bath tub. God help us.
Okay, it happens. I get it. I think he is a gold medal winner and has taken this to a whole other Rardin level.
The first unpleasant incident happened a few months ago. I laughed and shook it off. It was gross, but I was thankful for bleach. We moved on. It happened a few more times. It wasn’t so funny. I adjusted the morning routine: Boy must poo in diaper before a bath is given. Boy poo’s and is rewarded with bath. Now boy continues to poo in the tub regardless of his morning bowel movement. I am at a loss. Does boy never bathe again?
It is an Olympic event and quite frankly I am in no condition to keep up. In a quick movement I hit the drain to suck down the water while I swoop him up and out of the tub. I lay his now toxic body on a towel. Please, he is a pre-walker so lying down isn’t a viable option. I then have to straddle over the top of him. Yes, a 5 month pregnant woman is sitting on top of her fifteen month old son as she cleans and sterilizes the tub. To set the boy free would put toxic waste all over the bathroom! I think about this and move quicker.
The tub is scoured with Lysol and bleach. I now have to double, no, triple rinse it with water. My five month pregnant body is still straddled over this little boy. The humor is gone. I am no longer laughing. I move hastily as I try to keep the cleaner away from us in spillage and reach. He is no longer laughing. He begins to tantrum. I have to give Kaden another bath; I have to clean him of his own filth. I question if the bleach is safe, but I figure it has to be safer than having him contract a form of Hepatitis or Salmonellas. So, in he goes.
I admit as a new Mom I have a learning curve. There is a lot I didn’t plan or prepare for. How can we? It is a job that we roll with the punches every new day, for the new day brings new challenges. I never in my wildest dreams dreamt I would be dealing with a serial bath pooper. Never.
I just want to know: when will the under water adventures end?
He used to get in the tub play with his toys and lay on his tummy as though he was doing butterfly laps. I would be three steps away doing my makeup and hair. I could see every move he made in the reflection of the mirror. I could he was sitting up and what toy he had, but what I didn’t know was what was happening under the water line. And this is what has changed bath time forever.
It is an ordeal. I have to get extra towels and Lysol. I keep these extra supplies near the tub. I have to keep them out of his octopus reach, but close enough for my immediate reach. I don’t dare step away even the three steps to the mirror. The dreaded may happen at any time. He may poop in the tub at any moment and I will miss it. What happens under the water line stays under the water line if I am not by the tubs ledge. God forbid I won’t know that his matter is floating around.
Yes, my son has taken up pooping in the bath tub. God help us.
Okay, it happens. I get it. I think he is a gold medal winner and has taken this to a whole other Rardin level.
The first unpleasant incident happened a few months ago. I laughed and shook it off. It was gross, but I was thankful for bleach. We moved on. It happened a few more times. It wasn’t so funny. I adjusted the morning routine: Boy must poo in diaper before a bath is given. Boy poo’s and is rewarded with bath. Now boy continues to poo in the tub regardless of his morning bowel movement. I am at a loss. Does boy never bathe again?
It is an Olympic event and quite frankly I am in no condition to keep up. In a quick movement I hit the drain to suck down the water while I swoop him up and out of the tub. I lay his now toxic body on a towel. Please, he is a pre-walker so lying down isn’t a viable option. I then have to straddle over the top of him. Yes, a 5 month pregnant woman is sitting on top of her fifteen month old son as she cleans and sterilizes the tub. To set the boy free would put toxic waste all over the bathroom! I think about this and move quicker.
The tub is scoured with Lysol and bleach. I now have to double, no, triple rinse it with water. My five month pregnant body is still straddled over this little boy. The humor is gone. I am no longer laughing. I move hastily as I try to keep the cleaner away from us in spillage and reach. He is no longer laughing. He begins to tantrum. I have to give Kaden another bath; I have to clean him of his own filth. I question if the bleach is safe, but I figure it has to be safer than having him contract a form of Hepatitis or Salmonellas. So, in he goes.
I admit as a new Mom I have a learning curve. There is a lot I didn’t plan or prepare for. How can we? It is a job that we roll with the punches every new day, for the new day brings new challenges. I never in my wildest dreams dreamt I would be dealing with a serial bath pooper. Never.
I just want to know: when will the under water adventures end?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Girl Talk
Adam and I are fortunate for we have been blessed with two nieces both named Brooklyn. These little girls adore Kaden and are an intricate part of his childhood. I am sure this will hold true for Littlest Rardin too. You three (four) children are so close in age that there is so much fun ahead. I look forward to watching the dynamics and hearing the stories of your adventures. I am sure that the girls will star in many of our shared stories. I don’t think your journal would be complete if these young ladies were excluded from these pages. This particular story is not one I want our memory to lose…
On Wednesday I went to the Church’s to drop off Kaden. Before I left Grandma and I were visiting in the kitchen. The conversation quickly took a turn. The following conversation is recorded (below) as remembered and unedited:
“Auntie Nicole…” Brooklyn interrupts.
“Grandma and I are in the middle of a conversation. Please do not interrupt. We are almost finished” I reply.
Brooklyn morphs into a cat heading back into the family room.
(3-5 minutes passes. Grandma and I are still engrossed in conversation.)
Brooklyn enters the kitchen standing in front of me staring. It is clear she has something she really wants to say.
“Brooklyn, thank you so much for being so patient and waiting to talk to me! Do you still have something you want to share?”
“Oh, AUNTIE NICOLE” she squeals. Her eyes are sparkling with true excitement.
I can tell she has something big to say.
She looks up at me with such sincerity. “I already know who my husband is!”
I look up to Grandma to make sure I heard her correctly.
Confused I need clarification. “Excuse me? You know who your husband is?”
“Yes. His name is Conner.”
I am intrigued. “How do you know Conner? Does he go to your school? Is he in your (Kindergarten) class?”
“Conner is in my class.”
“Oh. So, ummmmm, why do you want to marry Conner?”
I continue, “I mean why him? Is he cute? Nice? Funny? Why do you want Conner to be your husband?”
She starts to become coy, turning circles and twirling her hair.
She giggles, “Auntie Nicole. I don’t want to tell!”
She stops. She turns and looks at me. “I am in love with him. That’s why!”
I shake my head and feel my eyes widen. Am I really having this conversation with my five year old niece? How can I disagree with love?
“Brooklyn, you are in love with him?” I am now totally engrossed in the conversation.
“Yes.” She jumps up onto the bench to stand behind Grandma.
I have to keep probing.
“How did he ask you to marry him?”
“Oh, I asked him. Well, I told him he was marrying me.” She goes on to explain, “My friend Jaden said she was going to marry Conner. I told her (voice starts to whine) that I was marrying Conner.”
I raise the question as to what then happened…
And with a smile and her hands raised above her head she rejoices. “Conner said he would marry us both!”
“And you know what?”
“What?” I answer.
“You know what my Daddy is going to do?”
“What is Daddy going to do?” I ask.
She leans in towards me over Grandma’s head and very frankly announces: “Daddy is going to walk me down the aisle!”
Wait. Wait just one minute. I need to wrap my brain around this. Did she just start planning her wedding day?
She waltzes into the family room. “And I will walk down the aisle with rose petals on the ground.”
In the very next breath she morphs back into a cat. I guess the girl talk is over.
It is officially confirmed that women begin planning their wedding as little girls.
Brooklyn, you have my word: rose petals it is.
On Wednesday I went to the Church’s to drop off Kaden. Before I left Grandma and I were visiting in the kitchen. The conversation quickly took a turn. The following conversation is recorded (below) as remembered and unedited:
“Auntie Nicole…” Brooklyn interrupts.
“Grandma and I are in the middle of a conversation. Please do not interrupt. We are almost finished” I reply.
Brooklyn morphs into a cat heading back into the family room.
(3-5 minutes passes. Grandma and I are still engrossed in conversation.)
Brooklyn enters the kitchen standing in front of me staring. It is clear she has something she really wants to say.
“Brooklyn, thank you so much for being so patient and waiting to talk to me! Do you still have something you want to share?”
“Oh, AUNTIE NICOLE” she squeals. Her eyes are sparkling with true excitement.
I can tell she has something big to say.
She looks up at me with such sincerity. “I already know who my husband is!”
I look up to Grandma to make sure I heard her correctly.
Confused I need clarification. “Excuse me? You know who your husband is?”
“Yes. His name is Conner.”
I am intrigued. “How do you know Conner? Does he go to your school? Is he in your (Kindergarten) class?”
“Conner is in my class.”
“Oh. So, ummmmm, why do you want to marry Conner?”
I continue, “I mean why him? Is he cute? Nice? Funny? Why do you want Conner to be your husband?”
She starts to become coy, turning circles and twirling her hair.
She giggles, “Auntie Nicole. I don’t want to tell!”
She stops. She turns and looks at me. “I am in love with him. That’s why!”
I shake my head and feel my eyes widen. Am I really having this conversation with my five year old niece? How can I disagree with love?
“Brooklyn, you are in love with him?” I am now totally engrossed in the conversation.
“Yes.” She jumps up onto the bench to stand behind Grandma.
I have to keep probing.
“How did he ask you to marry him?”
“Oh, I asked him. Well, I told him he was marrying me.” She goes on to explain, “My friend Jaden said she was going to marry Conner. I told her (voice starts to whine) that I was marrying Conner.”
I raise the question as to what then happened…
And with a smile and her hands raised above her head she rejoices. “Conner said he would marry us both!”
“And you know what?”
“What?” I answer.
“You know what my Daddy is going to do?”
“What is Daddy going to do?” I ask.
She leans in towards me over Grandma’s head and very frankly announces: “Daddy is going to walk me down the aisle!”
Wait. Wait just one minute. I need to wrap my brain around this. Did she just start planning her wedding day?
She waltzes into the family room. “And I will walk down the aisle with rose petals on the ground.”
In the very next breath she morphs back into a cat. I guess the girl talk is over.
It is officially confirmed that women begin planning their wedding as little girls.
Brooklyn, you have my word: rose petals it is.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
I Woke Up Pregnant
Today I woke up pregnant. I mean whoa belly pregnant! Yes, I am in my 23rd week, but who knew? My tummy wasn't telling! Well, ta-da…the bump is a hump. I am still confused as to how I can go to sleep in one body form and wake up with a completely different one.
I felt my midsection ‘stretching’ as though it was being pulled by a vice all night long. It must be indigestion. When anything happens to your midsection during pregnancy it is always indigestion. Why is nothing digestible while you are pregnant? Anyhow, as my stomach has been pushed upwards, bladder bent in half and rib cage separated the baby made its home. As Adam recites from a favorite movie, “What my baby wants my baby gets…”
What this baby got was me right on out of my ‘regular’ jeans and straight into maternity jeans in a record breaking eight hours. I am in awe that the human body can stretch to ungodly limits in such a short amount of time. Since this is round two of the pregnancy lineup I don’t worry that my skin will become translucent or tear. I do worry that my body will not return to my pre-baby pod days. Then again, that was all before I was thirty. Do I blame the pregnancies or turning the BIG 3-0?
I have realized that much like our children differ, so do our pregnancies. We don’t know what to expect. I admit that I had expectations that this pregnancy would be similar in growth and milestones to when I was pregnant with Kaden. We know what we know and thus this is what we set our expectations to. I have been quickly corrected, for much of this pregnancy is different.
The most significant difference is the baby’s movement. I don’t feel Littlest Rardin move throughout the day, but as soon as I turn off the lights to go to bed the womb becomes the next big dance joint. It is when the (what feels like) Macarena begins. The little one is all over the place. We still don’t feel the moves outside of my body; I am the only one who feels this life. How can an almost 12” fetus not be felt by the outside world? Regardless, it’s evident that there is life in there by my proud growing hump, which greats the world straight on.
I felt my midsection ‘stretching’ as though it was being pulled by a vice all night long. It must be indigestion. When anything happens to your midsection during pregnancy it is always indigestion. Why is nothing digestible while you are pregnant? Anyhow, as my stomach has been pushed upwards, bladder bent in half and rib cage separated the baby made its home. As Adam recites from a favorite movie, “What my baby wants my baby gets…”
What this baby got was me right on out of my ‘regular’ jeans and straight into maternity jeans in a record breaking eight hours. I am in awe that the human body can stretch to ungodly limits in such a short amount of time. Since this is round two of the pregnancy lineup I don’t worry that my skin will become translucent or tear. I do worry that my body will not return to my pre-baby pod days. Then again, that was all before I was thirty. Do I blame the pregnancies or turning the BIG 3-0?
I have realized that much like our children differ, so do our pregnancies. We don’t know what to expect. I admit that I had expectations that this pregnancy would be similar in growth and milestones to when I was pregnant with Kaden. We know what we know and thus this is what we set our expectations to. I have been quickly corrected, for much of this pregnancy is different.
The most significant difference is the baby’s movement. I don’t feel Littlest Rardin move throughout the day, but as soon as I turn off the lights to go to bed the womb becomes the next big dance joint. It is when the (what feels like) Macarena begins. The little one is all over the place. We still don’t feel the moves outside of my body; I am the only one who feels this life. How can an almost 12” fetus not be felt by the outside world? Regardless, it’s evident that there is life in there by my proud growing hump, which greats the world straight on.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Who Are You?
Kaden, if someone asked me who you are at 14 months of age I would answer a perfect mix of your Dad and myself. You have developed a personality all your own; and you definitely own your personality! Daily I am in awe as to who you are becoming as a person.
You are first and foremost funny. You have a sense of humor that is quick and in time. You have silly looks and gestures. A child’s laugh is always contagious, but to hear your laughter turn into hysterics is something I cannot even describe. I can’t wait for you to share your jokes. I have a feeling you too, much like me, will be quick witted.
Much like your father and me, you are a study coming around in your own time attempting to try something new when you believe you can accomplish the task. I think you practice all your tricks in your crib before you unveil what you can do. It surprises me what you ‘do’ without notice. And by the way, Daddy and I are patiently waiting for your shock and awe walking abilities.
A stranger you have never known, for you are the epitome of a ‘people person’. It doesn’t seem to faze you that an unknown person may hold, look or speak to you. As long as you are gaining attention you are thrilled and befriending of them. Mister, I don’t think you know the meaning of separation anxiety! When you do learn to talk I imagine all the secrets you will share to the lady in front of us at the check out line. I see you spending time with Dad in the garage only to see all the people who will come and go from our home.
There are so many things I love about who you are, but what I like about you is your tender heart. As a busy explorer you will take time to come find me to give me a hug. I will feel your little arms wrap around my calf squeezing as your head lay against me. You may sit on a lap for 30 minutes without moving- if it involves a good cuddle. You love to be touched and love to feel. A sure sign that you are ready for bed is you begin to twist your hair. Dad use to do this as a child too!
Without a doubt you are stubborn or as I like to call you, determined. You have to get this headstrong trait from your father. You know exactly what the meaning of “no”, after all, I do say it 50 times a day. You even shake your head at me when I say “no”. Does this stop your actions? Nope. You keep towing the line and even look over at me as you do it. You, much like your father, know how to press my buttons!
You have strong interests too.
As Grandma Church and Grandma Rardin say, “You must belong to this family because you loooooove food.” You eat everything and I mean everything. If it is food you will eat it without question. There is very little you spit out or throw over your high chair (which indicates you are finished). You have inherited my sweet tooth and I indulge it far more than I should.
You enjoy to be read to. When we read you will sit and listen to three to four books at a sitting. You will turn the pages and point to different images on the page. I hope you keep this sense of wonder and enjoyment for words. Vocabulary is a powerful tool and when used correctly will bring you so much in life (education, communication, adventure, creativity and etc). When I finish reading you will often pick up a book and hand it to me, which I translate into wanting to hear me story tell once again. And of course we read it again.
As William Stafford once said, “Kids: they dance before they learn there is anything that isn't music.” Music and dance go hand-in-hand. So many of your toys play music (thanks to your loving family) and you will bounce and wiggle to the tune. You will be exploring and stop in your tracks if music is heard from the television. I can look at you and there you are bouncing and swaying. We can be driving and the music in the car has your head bobbing. Your ‘wiggle-wiggle’ as we call it makes me smile. It amazes me that a baby learns to dance before walking or talking. How do you know this pleasure comes from music and even more so, how do you know timing? If we adults took time out of our days to dance our world would be a happier place. I believe this!
You like a schedule. I don’t run a tight schedule, but we do have a schedule. You know that breakfast is followed by a bath. You will have your morning nap around the same time every day and your afternoon nap within the same hour each afternoon. “Night-night” is a strict 7ish. Dad and I don’t veer often from this bedtime, nor do you. You love to sleep. I love that you love to sleep.
The water is a real joy for you. I pour water over your head with a cup to wash your hair. As the water runs down your face you look at me with delight and laugh leaning forward for another douse. It makes me nervous how at ease you are in the water. I will suddenly find you splashing around as you lay there on your tummy and if I put you on your back to ‘float’ you think this is the best thing since bottle feeding. You simply have no fear of the water. I fear water and especially over my face. This is one reason that your Mama doesn’t know how to swim. I do hope this will change by the time you read this. It flabbergasts me every single day that you enjoy having water trickle down your face.
As I write this you are a little person; I think the little guy I see before me is a small version of the man who will one day read this. It is exciting to think of your future disposition and interests. Will there be parallel’s in today and tomorrow? In my professional Mom opinion the answer is yes. You are today a small version of who you will become tomorrow.
How lucky are we? Extremely.
You are first and foremost funny. You have a sense of humor that is quick and in time. You have silly looks and gestures. A child’s laugh is always contagious, but to hear your laughter turn into hysterics is something I cannot even describe. I can’t wait for you to share your jokes. I have a feeling you too, much like me, will be quick witted.
Much like your father and me, you are a study coming around in your own time attempting to try something new when you believe you can accomplish the task. I think you practice all your tricks in your crib before you unveil what you can do. It surprises me what you ‘do’ without notice. And by the way, Daddy and I are patiently waiting for your shock and awe walking abilities.
A stranger you have never known, for you are the epitome of a ‘people person’. It doesn’t seem to faze you that an unknown person may hold, look or speak to you. As long as you are gaining attention you are thrilled and befriending of them. Mister, I don’t think you know the meaning of separation anxiety! When you do learn to talk I imagine all the secrets you will share to the lady in front of us at the check out line. I see you spending time with Dad in the garage only to see all the people who will come and go from our home.
There are so many things I love about who you are, but what I like about you is your tender heart. As a busy explorer you will take time to come find me to give me a hug. I will feel your little arms wrap around my calf squeezing as your head lay against me. You may sit on a lap for 30 minutes without moving- if it involves a good cuddle. You love to be touched and love to feel. A sure sign that you are ready for bed is you begin to twist your hair. Dad use to do this as a child too!
Without a doubt you are stubborn or as I like to call you, determined. You have to get this headstrong trait from your father. You know exactly what the meaning of “no”, after all, I do say it 50 times a day. You even shake your head at me when I say “no”. Does this stop your actions? Nope. You keep towing the line and even look over at me as you do it. You, much like your father, know how to press my buttons!
You have strong interests too.
As Grandma Church and Grandma Rardin say, “You must belong to this family because you loooooove food.” You eat everything and I mean everything. If it is food you will eat it without question. There is very little you spit out or throw over your high chair (which indicates you are finished). You have inherited my sweet tooth and I indulge it far more than I should.
You enjoy to be read to. When we read you will sit and listen to three to four books at a sitting. You will turn the pages and point to different images on the page. I hope you keep this sense of wonder and enjoyment for words. Vocabulary is a powerful tool and when used correctly will bring you so much in life (education, communication, adventure, creativity and etc). When I finish reading you will often pick up a book and hand it to me, which I translate into wanting to hear me story tell once again. And of course we read it again.
As William Stafford once said, “Kids: they dance before they learn there is anything that isn't music.” Music and dance go hand-in-hand. So many of your toys play music (thanks to your loving family) and you will bounce and wiggle to the tune. You will be exploring and stop in your tracks if music is heard from the television. I can look at you and there you are bouncing and swaying. We can be driving and the music in the car has your head bobbing. Your ‘wiggle-wiggle’ as we call it makes me smile. It amazes me that a baby learns to dance before walking or talking. How do you know this pleasure comes from music and even more so, how do you know timing? If we adults took time out of our days to dance our world would be a happier place. I believe this!
You like a schedule. I don’t run a tight schedule, but we do have a schedule. You know that breakfast is followed by a bath. You will have your morning nap around the same time every day and your afternoon nap within the same hour each afternoon. “Night-night” is a strict 7ish. Dad and I don’t veer often from this bedtime, nor do you. You love to sleep. I love that you love to sleep.
The water is a real joy for you. I pour water over your head with a cup to wash your hair. As the water runs down your face you look at me with delight and laugh leaning forward for another douse. It makes me nervous how at ease you are in the water. I will suddenly find you splashing around as you lay there on your tummy and if I put you on your back to ‘float’ you think this is the best thing since bottle feeding. You simply have no fear of the water. I fear water and especially over my face. This is one reason that your Mama doesn’t know how to swim. I do hope this will change by the time you read this. It flabbergasts me every single day that you enjoy having water trickle down your face.
As I write this you are a little person; I think the little guy I see before me is a small version of the man who will one day read this. It is exciting to think of your future disposition and interests. Will there be parallel’s in today and tomorrow? In my professional Mom opinion the answer is yes. You are today a small version of who you will become tomorrow.
How lucky are we? Extremely.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Family
Family, what is it? How is family defined? I often wonder when Adam and I became a ‘family’. Did this happen when we were engaged? Was it on the date of our wedding? Did it happen the day we found out we were pregnant or perhaps the day Kaden was born? When did we all the sudden become a ‘family’?
In thinking about family I immediately think of dysfunction! I really do. But, okay, I also think of my (our) fundamental group of people. I extend my family to a lineage of friends, not just the heredity of ancestry. It is said you don’t choose your family, but I disagree. I think I have hand picked my family. Granted, those I was born into I had no say (although, I have been blessed!), but those I grow with I surely do.
In choosing Adam as my life partner I was certainly choosing family. I was not only marrying Adam I was choosing to spend my life surrounded by both the Rardin’s and the Church’s. Adam and I would not live in an isolated bubble; it was important we had a natural fit. A natural fit for not only me, but him as well. There had to be a connection shared, which ran deeper then simply between us. I felt this almost immediately.
I have this same theory with our friends. Throughout our lives people come and people go with each individual serving a special purpose. Those friends who bury themselves into my heart are family. Mom has gifted me with great women who are defiantly central to my core. They have themselves time-and-time again to lend comfort, support, wisdom, love. I have a select group I will forever be bonded. Adam has a particular core group as well. We interchangeably use the word friend and family when talking about special people.
Collectively, all of these people make up our family. We have known them for years and many beyond a time our memory allows us to remember. They were there and continue to be here.
Again, I am brought back to my question: As defined by society, when did Adam and I become a (traditional) family?
I have epiphanies all of the time. I am a thinker. I think deeply bring meaning and thoughts to ideas others may have not entertained. This is heightened as I have become a mom and became pregnant this second time. I see a splendor that moves one thought into seven degrees of separation. Of course, this happened recently, which is why I am thinking of family.
Kaden’s First Annual Pumpkin Decorating Party was Saturday. He invited all his little people (who belong to our favorite big people) to enjoy play, pumpkins, cupcakes and more play. The candles flickered behind Halloween lanterns as Halloween music played in the background. Pumpkins lined the entrance for his guests. As each came they chose their pumpkin. The fun began as children giggled demanded stickers, paint, pens and other supplies for their individual pumpkin project. They enjoyed juice and cupcakes too.
Once our friends left with their pumpkins and party gifts there was a warmth in the house. I felt a little bit happier and more in love with Adam. Kaden was an absolute doll: I remember telling him how much I like him. I do. I like him so much, which came over time from loving him. The house was in disarray, but as I looked around it was a home and not just a house.
Was it the aspect of hosting our first annual event that lent me feeling a deeper sense of family? I don’t know. I do know I have discovered we are indeed a family. I think it is something that uncovers and develops over time. It is comparable to falling in love. It happens over the course of time and without notice. A day will come when it is realized it has been this way for quite sometime.
There will come a time when our children will ask, “What is family?” If Kaden asked me today I would answer, “Every family is different, but your family includes all the people you love. It is all the people you choose to share your life with.” As our children grow they will come to learn my favorite quote, which ironically goes nicely with my definition! Jane Howard said, “Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.” Boy how we do; and for some it is found within and outside of our nuclear pod. This is what I want my children to understand.
Family is as simple and complex as this!
In thinking about family I immediately think of dysfunction! I really do. But, okay, I also think of my (our) fundamental group of people. I extend my family to a lineage of friends, not just the heredity of ancestry. It is said you don’t choose your family, but I disagree. I think I have hand picked my family. Granted, those I was born into I had no say (although, I have been blessed!), but those I grow with I surely do.
In choosing Adam as my life partner I was certainly choosing family. I was not only marrying Adam I was choosing to spend my life surrounded by both the Rardin’s and the Church’s. Adam and I would not live in an isolated bubble; it was important we had a natural fit. A natural fit for not only me, but him as well. There had to be a connection shared, which ran deeper then simply between us. I felt this almost immediately.
I have this same theory with our friends. Throughout our lives people come and people go with each individual serving a special purpose. Those friends who bury themselves into my heart are family. Mom has gifted me with great women who are defiantly central to my core. They have themselves time-and-time again to lend comfort, support, wisdom, love. I have a select group I will forever be bonded. Adam has a particular core group as well. We interchangeably use the word friend and family when talking about special people.
Collectively, all of these people make up our family. We have known them for years and many beyond a time our memory allows us to remember. They were there and continue to be here.
Again, I am brought back to my question: As defined by society, when did Adam and I become a (traditional) family?
I have epiphanies all of the time. I am a thinker. I think deeply bring meaning and thoughts to ideas others may have not entertained. This is heightened as I have become a mom and became pregnant this second time. I see a splendor that moves one thought into seven degrees of separation. Of course, this happened recently, which is why I am thinking of family.
Kaden’s First Annual Pumpkin Decorating Party was Saturday. He invited all his little people (who belong to our favorite big people) to enjoy play, pumpkins, cupcakes and more play. The candles flickered behind Halloween lanterns as Halloween music played in the background. Pumpkins lined the entrance for his guests. As each came they chose their pumpkin. The fun began as children giggled demanded stickers, paint, pens and other supplies for their individual pumpkin project. They enjoyed juice and cupcakes too.
Once our friends left with their pumpkins and party gifts there was a warmth in the house. I felt a little bit happier and more in love with Adam. Kaden was an absolute doll: I remember telling him how much I like him. I do. I like him so much, which came over time from loving him. The house was in disarray, but as I looked around it was a home and not just a house.
Was it the aspect of hosting our first annual event that lent me feeling a deeper sense of family? I don’t know. I do know I have discovered we are indeed a family. I think it is something that uncovers and develops over time. It is comparable to falling in love. It happens over the course of time and without notice. A day will come when it is realized it has been this way for quite sometime.
There will come a time when our children will ask, “What is family?” If Kaden asked me today I would answer, “Every family is different, but your family includes all the people you love. It is all the people you choose to share your life with.” As our children grow they will come to learn my favorite quote, which ironically goes nicely with my definition! Jane Howard said, “Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.” Boy how we do; and for some it is found within and outside of our nuclear pod. This is what I want my children to understand.
Family is as simple and complex as this!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Shooter
I volunteered for the shooter to give me the seasonal flu vaccine. Every other year I have opted out. However, to be the best pod for our baby it was a necessary evil. The things you do for your unborn. I don’t usually get mixed into the winter bug hype, but after last year’s head-on experience with the flu I am onboard to be vaccinated. I have also been advocating this to friends and family.
When I was admitted we learned area hospitals have a new flu season policy: only (2) two other people in the delivery room and no one under the age of 18 to be allowed in the ward. I am not sure if visitors will be allowed. If people are allowed to come after the birth (but not be present) the policy will makes no sense!
Okay, so only two helpers during labor and delivery? One word: ludicrous. How will this change my birthing experience?
When I learned of this change my thoughts instantly went to my support group. The people in my room were key to my comfort and success of natural labor. Adam relied on Mom when he needed relief and visa versa. I can only imagine it being difficult to watch and offer the ‘right’ support to a fully induced laboring woman opting for natural labor who swiftly changes her needs just as quickly as the contractions come. Towards the end there was great relief in the room when Teresa and Auntie L arrived. I think Adam and Mom needed new support for themselves and for me. When it was time to push all hands were on deck. All four (Adam, Mom, Teresa and Auntie L) team members had a job. I feel dependant on having them with me for this birth.
Having support to help me move positions, talk, laugh, wipe my tears, hold the vomit bucket, walk with me, feed me chips as I white knuckle the bed rail was all important. Having someone looking me in the eye, counting down the contractions and reminding me to breathe slowly was imperative to my natural childbirth. While this person is focused (and occasionally lying!) regarding the contraction reads someone else is getting a wash rag or updating the family.
The room had a well oiled team. I was so proud of them and so honored to feel their love. The support was central to my birth plan choice and it is again. I feel my options are being stripped. I get two freaking people! Really, only two people in that room with me? Considering that after Kaden was born our midwife gave Adam an honorary ‘doula’ title I will allow him in. It clearly has nothing to do with the fact he is the father, for this seems so old fashioned. It is kind of like birthing with out say, a team! Two people; only two people in the room will be allowed. Sigh.
Women have labored alone or with just a midwife for centuries. I know it can be done. But in a time when medicine and midwifery has evidence that support is essential to a better birthing experience support our chosen should be allowed. I can have a home birth. I am sure this would please the masses. Okay, what if each person of my team had proof of vaccination for both the seasonal flu and H1N1? Could I have my birthing party?
I am all about hope and compromise. I will keep the hope that visitors will be allowed to meet our new addition. I have no doubt I will try to compromise to have more people into my room throughout the process. I will happily line up a shooter to vaccinate my much needed team.
So, ladies, get in line.
When I was admitted we learned area hospitals have a new flu season policy: only (2) two other people in the delivery room and no one under the age of 18 to be allowed in the ward. I am not sure if visitors will be allowed. If people are allowed to come after the birth (but not be present) the policy will makes no sense!
Okay, so only two helpers during labor and delivery? One word: ludicrous. How will this change my birthing experience?
When I learned of this change my thoughts instantly went to my support group. The people in my room were key to my comfort and success of natural labor. Adam relied on Mom when he needed relief and visa versa. I can only imagine it being difficult to watch and offer the ‘right’ support to a fully induced laboring woman opting for natural labor who swiftly changes her needs just as quickly as the contractions come. Towards the end there was great relief in the room when Teresa and Auntie L arrived. I think Adam and Mom needed new support for themselves and for me. When it was time to push all hands were on deck. All four (Adam, Mom, Teresa and Auntie L) team members had a job. I feel dependant on having them with me for this birth.
Having support to help me move positions, talk, laugh, wipe my tears, hold the vomit bucket, walk with me, feed me chips as I white knuckle the bed rail was all important. Having someone looking me in the eye, counting down the contractions and reminding me to breathe slowly was imperative to my natural childbirth. While this person is focused (and occasionally lying!) regarding the contraction reads someone else is getting a wash rag or updating the family.
The room had a well oiled team. I was so proud of them and so honored to feel their love. The support was central to my birth plan choice and it is again. I feel my options are being stripped. I get two freaking people! Really, only two people in that room with me? Considering that after Kaden was born our midwife gave Adam an honorary ‘doula’ title I will allow him in. It clearly has nothing to do with the fact he is the father, for this seems so old fashioned. It is kind of like birthing with out say, a team! Two people; only two people in the room will be allowed. Sigh.
Women have labored alone or with just a midwife for centuries. I know it can be done. But in a time when medicine and midwifery has evidence that support is essential to a better birthing experience support our chosen should be allowed. I can have a home birth. I am sure this would please the masses. Okay, what if each person of my team had proof of vaccination for both the seasonal flu and H1N1? Could I have my birthing party?
I am all about hope and compromise. I will keep the hope that visitors will be allowed to meet our new addition. I have no doubt I will try to compromise to have more people into my room throughout the process. I will happily line up a shooter to vaccinate my much needed team.
So, ladies, get in line.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Little Hot Hands
There comes a time in every parent’s journey when we have to sit down with our child to discuss right from wrong explaining that there is a difference in sharing, yours and there’s. And continue in more detail that it is wrong to take what is not yours or what is not offered to you. However, how does a mom of a thirteen-month-old do this?
Seriously, I am at a total loss; Adam is at a loss. How do we explain to our son that he cannot have little hot hands?
Kaden is not the best shopper. He has a 20 minute span of time he allows for any shopping cart expedition. I think he times it from the moment he is seated and buckled… ready, set and go! Mom has exactly 20 minutes starting at this point until all shoppers and employees witness (visually and/or hear) a complete toddler melt down.
Tick-tock… we are off.
I have to gather party supplies for the upcoming First Annual Pumpkin Decorating Party, which of course Kaden has asked us to host. We love a good social so Adam and I obliged. Anyway, I have my list until it is ripped out of my hands. It is half in Kaden’s mouth while the other half floats out before the cart.
I grab my list from his mouth and try to maneuver within a very tight aisle. As I am nearing the front of the cart starting to bend over I see Kaden has set himself free. He has come out of his buckle! He is peering over the front of the cart. It is as though he is thinking of jumping overboard. I yell, “Kaden sit!” as if he is one of our dogs. “Kaden sit!” doesn’t exactly work. I finagle my way to save the day rescuing the boy who doesn’t even know he is in distress.
I am Mom of the day. I can’t take a bow, for I know I have to keep the flow. The clock is against me.
I am busy trying to make out the bleeding ink from the partially eaten list. I hear the rustling of plastic and then a soft noise on the side of the cart. Kaden is taking it upon himself to reach behind him tossing out of the basket items he doesn’t believe we need for his party. According to him, we needed to scratch: paper plates, napkins, crayons and a large plastic bowl. The large Halloween bowl was pitched several times; I finally put it on his head like a hat. It stayed there.
A fellow shopper observes the battle. At this point, I know my time is very limited and the meltdown is only minutes away. The fellow shopper hears our conversation as Kaden garbles back at me as I explain he needs to sit tight. She interrupts, “Oh, wow. Your son is much like my husband. He doesn’t think I need to purchase most of the stuff that I buy either!”
I am picking out the products as he realizes the aisles are narrow and as a bonus his arms have grown. He reaches out… voila! He is able to grab this-and-that. He looks at me with his mischievous smile and softening brown eyes as he holds tight his new found treasure… a towel. I try to remove the towel from his grasp and he begins to white knuckle it. I am bigger. I win. He cries. I walk faster.
I begin to move quicker. I am no longer shopping. As he tosses items out of the cart it feels as though I am back in our living room picking up his toys. I pick up a toy and he focuses on something he shouldn’t have i.e. the laptop or a remote. I continue to pick up packaged napkins and plates he has chucked and he grabs goods off the shelf. I confiscate the items from his dimpled hands. It is a horrible and tiring cycle.
I think the cart tossing game is his decoy to shop for himself.
Thanks to all of his game play obstacles and fake outs we are 10 minutes into shopping overtime. I head straight to the checkout. Whew! We made it to the finish line and he hasn’t started to fuss. I am safe. I unload the cart onto the belt. I pay and we leave.
Little Mr. Hot Hands was such a good little shopper!
We go home and I show Adam the party supplies. I am unpacking the bags as I share the statement from the fellow shopper. I pause. I know this isn’t ours. I didn’t buy this, did I?
I locate the receipt and scan down the items column. I surely did! I bought a package of two toothbrushes and a pack of gum. Hmmmm. I didn’t put this on the belt. Oh, wait! I left Kaden alone all the way at the other end of the cart as I was waiting to run my debit card. I left him leering at all the compulsive buys hanging on the narrow shelf at the checkout lane.
The plus is he isn’t a kleptomaniac. We have hope; we did pay for the items. Is the next step a pat down upon leaving the store? He is THIRTEEN MONTHS of age for crying out loud!
I guess he taught me the lesson of sharing, yours and there’s as best a one-year-old can. If you buy something it is yours…even if you sneak it. Funny, much like a Kleptomaniac he hasn’t remembered the items he just had to have.
I have been waiting for the day when his little hot temper allows me to complete a shopping trip without timed agility and aerobic energy. I now add to the wait for his little hot hands to refrain from ‘buying’ on his parent’s credit.
It is true, what is ours really is their's.
Seriously, I am at a total loss; Adam is at a loss. How do we explain to our son that he cannot have little hot hands?
Kaden is not the best shopper. He has a 20 minute span of time he allows for any shopping cart expedition. I think he times it from the moment he is seated and buckled… ready, set and go! Mom has exactly 20 minutes starting at this point until all shoppers and employees witness (visually and/or hear) a complete toddler melt down.
Tick-tock… we are off.
I have to gather party supplies for the upcoming First Annual Pumpkin Decorating Party, which of course Kaden has asked us to host. We love a good social so Adam and I obliged. Anyway, I have my list until it is ripped out of my hands. It is half in Kaden’s mouth while the other half floats out before the cart.
I grab my list from his mouth and try to maneuver within a very tight aisle. As I am nearing the front of the cart starting to bend over I see Kaden has set himself free. He has come out of his buckle! He is peering over the front of the cart. It is as though he is thinking of jumping overboard. I yell, “Kaden sit!” as if he is one of our dogs. “Kaden sit!” doesn’t exactly work. I finagle my way to save the day rescuing the boy who doesn’t even know he is in distress.
I am Mom of the day. I can’t take a bow, for I know I have to keep the flow. The clock is against me.
I am busy trying to make out the bleeding ink from the partially eaten list. I hear the rustling of plastic and then a soft noise on the side of the cart. Kaden is taking it upon himself to reach behind him tossing out of the basket items he doesn’t believe we need for his party. According to him, we needed to scratch: paper plates, napkins, crayons and a large plastic bowl. The large Halloween bowl was pitched several times; I finally put it on his head like a hat. It stayed there.
A fellow shopper observes the battle. At this point, I know my time is very limited and the meltdown is only minutes away. The fellow shopper hears our conversation as Kaden garbles back at me as I explain he needs to sit tight. She interrupts, “Oh, wow. Your son is much like my husband. He doesn’t think I need to purchase most of the stuff that I buy either!”
I am picking out the products as he realizes the aisles are narrow and as a bonus his arms have grown. He reaches out… voila! He is able to grab this-and-that. He looks at me with his mischievous smile and softening brown eyes as he holds tight his new found treasure… a towel. I try to remove the towel from his grasp and he begins to white knuckle it. I am bigger. I win. He cries. I walk faster.
I begin to move quicker. I am no longer shopping. As he tosses items out of the cart it feels as though I am back in our living room picking up his toys. I pick up a toy and he focuses on something he shouldn’t have i.e. the laptop or a remote. I continue to pick up packaged napkins and plates he has chucked and he grabs goods off the shelf. I confiscate the items from his dimpled hands. It is a horrible and tiring cycle.
I think the cart tossing game is his decoy to shop for himself.
Thanks to all of his game play obstacles and fake outs we are 10 minutes into shopping overtime. I head straight to the checkout. Whew! We made it to the finish line and he hasn’t started to fuss. I am safe. I unload the cart onto the belt. I pay and we leave.
Little Mr. Hot Hands was such a good little shopper!
We go home and I show Adam the party supplies. I am unpacking the bags as I share the statement from the fellow shopper. I pause. I know this isn’t ours. I didn’t buy this, did I?
I locate the receipt and scan down the items column. I surely did! I bought a package of two toothbrushes and a pack of gum. Hmmmm. I didn’t put this on the belt. Oh, wait! I left Kaden alone all the way at the other end of the cart as I was waiting to run my debit card. I left him leering at all the compulsive buys hanging on the narrow shelf at the checkout lane.
The plus is he isn’t a kleptomaniac. We have hope; we did pay for the items. Is the next step a pat down upon leaving the store? He is THIRTEEN MONTHS of age for crying out loud!
I guess he taught me the lesson of sharing, yours and there’s as best a one-year-old can. If you buy something it is yours…even if you sneak it. Funny, much like a Kleptomaniac he hasn’t remembered the items he just had to have.
I have been waiting for the day when his little hot temper allows me to complete a shopping trip without timed agility and aerobic energy. I now add to the wait for his little hot hands to refrain from ‘buying’ on his parent’s credit.
It is true, what is ours really is their's.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Dreams
There is a magic about dreams and a mass interest in learning the meaning of dreams. Is it a prediction? Is it my past? Is it a symbol? I have dreamed so vividly it was as though I was actually outside of myself returning to my body as the alarm buzzed. I rarely consider the meaning of my dreams. Sure it is interesting, but I don’t lose sleep over why the caped man sits with me on a park bench sharing a scoop of Camel Gelato while it rains in front of us and remains perfectly sunny behind the bench. I wake up and usually after an hour can barely remember the rain or the ice cream. I don’t dissect it. I chalk it up to my mind in overdrive mixing many of my day’s events into one thought.
Being pregnant takes dreams to a whole different level. It is almost as though when my eyes are shut I am hallucinating! It is an 8 hour acid trip of some very strange ideas and situations. I remember being pregnant with Kaden. I had several irrational dreams...
I gave birth to a very long blackberry bush. I decided this was preparing me for the overall length of labor and painful delivery. My favorite was one of an ultrasound. I was in a very large and sterile room with my ultrasound seen on an old television. You know the kind of televisions that have the two turn dials this was my ultrasound monitor! The tech kept changing the channel to get a better view of the baby. I learned I was having a puppy. The puppy stared right at me with its adorable white fluffy hair happy as could be. These are just two of my favorites…
It is interesting that pre or post pregnancy I typically can’t recall what I dream an hour after I am awake; however, I can recall a year and half later, very vividly, dreams I had 18 or so months ago. The brain is a mysterious sponge.
Pregnant again and the dreams have resurfaced, which keep getting better.
A few nights ago I dreamed I was trapped in an oversized IV bag hanging from the stand. I was facing the door and the fluids kept me from making any noise for visitors to save me. I just doggie paddled in the bag and with exhaustion. It was strange because as I looked down over the room with a birds-eye-view the room appeared oversized. Although, as a character in my dream, as my swimming self, I seemed tiny. What does this mean?
A few nights later the IV dream elaborated from its original version. I was in the IV bag floating in a liter of fluids holding my passport! What? I admit I have given this dream more thought. Does this suggest that once my water breaks Adam and I will no longer travel?
Last night my dream took on a script and illustration all of its own. I dreamed we are having a daughter. She comes out dressed in a beautiful lavender and purple tulle skirt with a perfectly adorable silver threaded buttoned cardigan with buttons of crystal hearts. Her toe nails are painted a pale pink. She even has a little silver bow gathering her few sprouts of hair. That’s my girl who is all dressed up for her party!
Fascinating is all I can say.
The dreams are at least entertaining to share with others. I have 19 more weeks of these deliriums; and with each dream I can’t help but wonder why pregnant women dream the suggestions we do. I know I have an active imagination and a dramatic personality, but these dreams are even over the top for me!
I wononder what the sandman has in store for me tonight...
Being pregnant takes dreams to a whole different level. It is almost as though when my eyes are shut I am hallucinating! It is an 8 hour acid trip of some very strange ideas and situations. I remember being pregnant with Kaden. I had several irrational dreams...
I gave birth to a very long blackberry bush. I decided this was preparing me for the overall length of labor and painful delivery. My favorite was one of an ultrasound. I was in a very large and sterile room with my ultrasound seen on an old television. You know the kind of televisions that have the two turn dials this was my ultrasound monitor! The tech kept changing the channel to get a better view of the baby. I learned I was having a puppy. The puppy stared right at me with its adorable white fluffy hair happy as could be. These are just two of my favorites…
It is interesting that pre or post pregnancy I typically can’t recall what I dream an hour after I am awake; however, I can recall a year and half later, very vividly, dreams I had 18 or so months ago. The brain is a mysterious sponge.
Pregnant again and the dreams have resurfaced, which keep getting better.
A few nights ago I dreamed I was trapped in an oversized IV bag hanging from the stand. I was facing the door and the fluids kept me from making any noise for visitors to save me. I just doggie paddled in the bag and with exhaustion. It was strange because as I looked down over the room with a birds-eye-view the room appeared oversized. Although, as a character in my dream, as my swimming self, I seemed tiny. What does this mean?
A few nights later the IV dream elaborated from its original version. I was in the IV bag floating in a liter of fluids holding my passport! What? I admit I have given this dream more thought. Does this suggest that once my water breaks Adam and I will no longer travel?
Last night my dream took on a script and illustration all of its own. I dreamed we are having a daughter. She comes out dressed in a beautiful lavender and purple tulle skirt with a perfectly adorable silver threaded buttoned cardigan with buttons of crystal hearts. Her toe nails are painted a pale pink. She even has a little silver bow gathering her few sprouts of hair. That’s my girl who is all dressed up for her party!
Fascinating is all I can say.
The dreams are at least entertaining to share with others. I have 19 more weeks of these deliriums; and with each dream I can’t help but wonder why pregnant women dream the suggestions we do. I know I have an active imagination and a dramatic personality, but these dreams are even over the top for me!
I wononder what the sandman has in store for me tonight...
Thursday, October 15, 2009
We Are Having A...
Thursday, October 8, 2009, we had your 20 week ultrasound. It was a long week and this was exactly what Daddy and I needed. We needed to see you, our Littlest Rardin, in all your 20 week glory!
The hardest part of the ultrasound was actually not peeing my pants. I had been given so many liters of fluids throughout the week and still I had to drink 32oz of water in completion the hour before our appointment! I thought for sure my pores were going to leak or you would burst out of my naval. The tech gelled my tummy up and started probing. I had to ask. I just had to. “Do women ever pee their pants when you began putting pressure on their abdomen to locate the cervix and bladder?” To her knowledge and to my surprise the answer was no. I was almost the first! However, she did relieve me early. She could see via the ultrasound how full my bladder was and had no worries it would quickly fill up again. I didn’t let her down. She started again and within moments my bladder was totally bulging full again!
We see both your feet and arms. Your four chamber heart beats away. Your little head is tucked under into your body as far as you can get it. It seems that you like to have your head tucked under as you bend in half. This was your position much of the ultrasound. I held back tears; This was my best medicine. Daddy asks me why I am so quite, for if you haven’t already you will learn this is abnormal. I tell him I am just watching the screen. But between you and me, I was counting my blessings over and over. There you were appearing healthy and flourishing. I was reflecting on the last few hardships and seeing you gave me a sense of peace. Thank you for this gift, little one. Thank you for thriving and staying where you need to be, which for now is right under my heart.
You were a wiggler. We could see it on the screen, but I am still not feeling you at this time. How can you be 7 inches from head to rump and I don’t feel you? Seriously, this boggled me. The answer is simple. The placenta attached itself to the anterior of my uterus. Due to the fibrous makeup it takes a bit longer to feel you swim.
The nice lady asks us to close our eyes. It is time… it is time to see between your legs. There are three (okay, 4) of us in that room and one of us knows the gender! I don’t think at 20 weeks you have this identity, do you? We all make light that she is quite the secret keeper. She doesn’t slip once after knowing. She still calls you ‘baby’. She is good...
We sit in a room with many photos of you being printed off. We know in the mix is a gender picture. She leaves the room with the photos.
Daddy and I are still not certain if we will learn of your gender before your birth. I believe in the surprise. Parents use the ‘must plan’ as the reason they find out. I think this is a copout! Obviously, parents have done fine for years and years not knowing and still planned fine. Parents should be comfortable with the decision of learning during the ultrasound owning the reason of simply just wanting to know. Our reason to wait and the reason of wanting to know are both okay!
Daddy is a bit more anxious to learn your gender. I remember the moment he shared with the waiting family when Kaden was born. He announced we had a boy. I would love for Dad to have this moment again. It is totally up to him. And I will support the decision. I have my secret hopes to wait, but you will learn love is a balance of give and take.
She returns with your photos and a white sealed envelope. On the outside of this envelope is written: And It Is A…. Inside the envelope is your gender photo and a white slip of paper. On this paper I wrote boy (Curtis Ashton) girl (Aurora Grace) and asked the tech to circle the correct gender and name. In this envelope your photo sits with your chosen name. Hope you like it!
We have the envelope hanging on the front of our fridge. It has been there a week; I still have not had an urge to open it. If we do I can’t take it back. I fear I will later regret finding out vs waiting to hear your Daddy’s announcement and meeting you in my arms.
One day you may ask why we chose to keep the results in an envelope instead of asking the midwife if we decide to know? The answer is simple. To learn if we will welcome a son or daughter into our family is an event. It should be shared by our loving family. It is not something Daddy and I want to learn in a dark room with a goopy tummy not able to completely celebrate the joy. It is not something I want to learn at the clinic without Dad. I didn’t want to tell people our joy over the phone. Kaden’s gender was a surprise and unique (not finding out at the ultrasound) to our times. We want you to have your story.
If we decide to find out what oh what you are we will invite our family to dinner. We will be surrounded by full hearts and anticipation. Daddy and I will open the envelope and he will announce if you are a boy or a girl. We will all see for the first time your gender together. If we don’t wait for your birth you too will have your own unique story.
I want your (life) story to be majestic. Your introduction plays the first act of this story. This is your beginning and so far it is so darn good. I make this promise-throughout your life I will do my best to help with your life’s beauty helping to create it unique to you according to what you will want to fill your pages. I will be honest in that I am sure I will lose sight, but only for your best interest, I am sure!
Since the ultrasound, I have felt you move (see a previous blog). Sprite, we have 19 weeks left of you and me. I can hardly believe how quickly this mark arrived. I imagine what our life will be like. I don’t romanticize a family of four with two children under two. I know there will be challenges, but in thinking of a creating a home filled of giggles, messes and silly times the challenges will be well worth the efforts. Daddy and I chose this journey and we are so excited! We can’t wait to see what unravels for our growing family. Daddy and I look forward to meeting our little person.
I feel you. I love you.
Mom
The hardest part of the ultrasound was actually not peeing my pants. I had been given so many liters of fluids throughout the week and still I had to drink 32oz of water in completion the hour before our appointment! I thought for sure my pores were going to leak or you would burst out of my naval. The tech gelled my tummy up and started probing. I had to ask. I just had to. “Do women ever pee their pants when you began putting pressure on their abdomen to locate the cervix and bladder?” To her knowledge and to my surprise the answer was no. I was almost the first! However, she did relieve me early. She could see via the ultrasound how full my bladder was and had no worries it would quickly fill up again. I didn’t let her down. She started again and within moments my bladder was totally bulging full again!
We see both your feet and arms. Your four chamber heart beats away. Your little head is tucked under into your body as far as you can get it. It seems that you like to have your head tucked under as you bend in half. This was your position much of the ultrasound. I held back tears; This was my best medicine. Daddy asks me why I am so quite, for if you haven’t already you will learn this is abnormal. I tell him I am just watching the screen. But between you and me, I was counting my blessings over and over. There you were appearing healthy and flourishing. I was reflecting on the last few hardships and seeing you gave me a sense of peace. Thank you for this gift, little one. Thank you for thriving and staying where you need to be, which for now is right under my heart.
You were a wiggler. We could see it on the screen, but I am still not feeling you at this time. How can you be 7 inches from head to rump and I don’t feel you? Seriously, this boggled me. The answer is simple. The placenta attached itself to the anterior of my uterus. Due to the fibrous makeup it takes a bit longer to feel you swim.
The nice lady asks us to close our eyes. It is time… it is time to see between your legs. There are three (okay, 4) of us in that room and one of us knows the gender! I don’t think at 20 weeks you have this identity, do you? We all make light that she is quite the secret keeper. She doesn’t slip once after knowing. She still calls you ‘baby’. She is good...
We sit in a room with many photos of you being printed off. We know in the mix is a gender picture. She leaves the room with the photos.
Daddy and I are still not certain if we will learn of your gender before your birth. I believe in the surprise. Parents use the ‘must plan’ as the reason they find out. I think this is a copout! Obviously, parents have done fine for years and years not knowing and still planned fine. Parents should be comfortable with the decision of learning during the ultrasound owning the reason of simply just wanting to know. Our reason to wait and the reason of wanting to know are both okay!
Daddy is a bit more anxious to learn your gender. I remember the moment he shared with the waiting family when Kaden was born. He announced we had a boy. I would love for Dad to have this moment again. It is totally up to him. And I will support the decision. I have my secret hopes to wait, but you will learn love is a balance of give and take.
She returns with your photos and a white sealed envelope. On the outside of this envelope is written: And It Is A…. Inside the envelope is your gender photo and a white slip of paper. On this paper I wrote boy (Curtis Ashton) girl (Aurora Grace) and asked the tech to circle the correct gender and name. In this envelope your photo sits with your chosen name. Hope you like it!
We have the envelope hanging on the front of our fridge. It has been there a week; I still have not had an urge to open it. If we do I can’t take it back. I fear I will later regret finding out vs waiting to hear your Daddy’s announcement and meeting you in my arms.
One day you may ask why we chose to keep the results in an envelope instead of asking the midwife if we decide to know? The answer is simple. To learn if we will welcome a son or daughter into our family is an event. It should be shared by our loving family. It is not something Daddy and I want to learn in a dark room with a goopy tummy not able to completely celebrate the joy. It is not something I want to learn at the clinic without Dad. I didn’t want to tell people our joy over the phone. Kaden’s gender was a surprise and unique (not finding out at the ultrasound) to our times. We want you to have your story.
If we decide to find out what oh what you are we will invite our family to dinner. We will be surrounded by full hearts and anticipation. Daddy and I will open the envelope and he will announce if you are a boy or a girl. We will all see for the first time your gender together. If we don’t wait for your birth you too will have your own unique story.
I want your (life) story to be majestic. Your introduction plays the first act of this story. This is your beginning and so far it is so darn good. I make this promise-throughout your life I will do my best to help with your life’s beauty helping to create it unique to you according to what you will want to fill your pages. I will be honest in that I am sure I will lose sight, but only for your best interest, I am sure!
Since the ultrasound, I have felt you move (see a previous blog). Sprite, we have 19 weeks left of you and me. I can hardly believe how quickly this mark arrived. I imagine what our life will be like. I don’t romanticize a family of four with two children under two. I know there will be challenges, but in thinking of a creating a home filled of giggles, messes and silly times the challenges will be well worth the efforts. Daddy and I chose this journey and we are so excited! We can’t wait to see what unravels for our growing family. Daddy and I look forward to meeting our little person.
I feel you. I love you.
Mom
It Takes a Village...
I have spent the last few days catching up to time. I have realized the time is gone, so I am wasting current time trying to get back fragments of the time I lost last week... It seems foolish to continue this cycle.
Last week was a long week. It was a sad and scary week.
When you are ill having a one-year old and an unborn it becomes difficult to make a rational decision as to what is important to do. I have to care for both of my children. I was forced to choose: If I continued my daily routine the stress could harm the baby, but if I was on bed rest who would care for our son? I ran through our ‘People List’ and everyone has a seemingly full plate and how selfish to add my issues to it. Adam I agreed that this time we had to be the selfish ones and reach out for help. Of course, we reached out to family.
Adam and I had to make the hard decision: I take care of the baby and he takes care of Kaden. PERIOD. There are two kids and two parents. It has to be done.
The week leading up to my admittance Adam worked long days and took care of Kaden as I rested upstairs. We were trying to avoid admittance. I know these days were difficult in caring for Kaden and worrying about us upstairs. Thank goodness for Curt who checked in on my boys keeping them company and bringing laughter to our son! Adam made me follow all the orders. I was under his house arrest.
Last week I was overfilled with gratitude.
I was supposed to work and without question Toni was happy to go in for me. This was a huge relief, for someone has to feed the burger hungry microbrew seeking population. I worried Mom would have to work (much past her already) longer hours due to me. In my book this was unacceptable. So, I am very appreciative to Toni for picking up those days so I could concentrate on us.
Monday, my first day of full bed rest. What a miserable day. I thought the previous week was stinky being on moderate rest. How wrong I was. I felt fine, but forced into bed and was able to get up to use the bathroom. Sex and the City Marathon it was.
Thank goodness for Lynda. She came at 9 Monday staying until 3:30. All day I heard her playing with Kaden. During the moments he was upset I was only steps away and could do nothing. It is surreal to watch someone else care for your child as you stand there doing nothing. It was emotional to tell my son I couldn’t pick him up as he is crying and reaching for me. I pass him off to someone else. It makes my stomach uneasy even a week later.
Tuesday, after nap Inz and Josh came for Kaden. One more day of full bed rest to (hopefully) stop the ailments. I can tell I am not fairing well. I feel weaker and weaker. I am surely not going to tell anyone this. I know Providence is just waiting to win this battle. And they win. I have to go in. I am not calm and Adam is at work. Perfect. What do we do with Kaden? What do I do with me? Oh gosh… I recite our mantra and remind Adam of it as well.
Keeping to our promise I went to Providence and Adam stayed behind to see Kaden and take over some necessities needed for a longer stay. Adam met me up there after the 3rd and successful IV poke, but just in time for the blood draw. I want out and do anything to be released. The medication and fluids make me feel so much better. My throat is no longer dry. My lips do not fix together like they have been glued. The cramping is lessening; I am able to hold down water. Good signs mean I go home. WOOT.
Auntie Lynda took a personal day on Wednesday to help if needed. I was optimistic. And soon, I was calling in the favors! I reverted with my ailments. I had a couple r/x’s and needed some simple foods from the market. It has to be such an inconvenience to come just for those tasks. And she did so with a smile and good conversation. I wasn’t good company, but I enjoyed having her here as I was still laid out.
Lynda leaves and I rest. I give it 8 hours and it becomes more intense.
As each of my days became harder Mom answered phone calls day and night also helping Adam with his uneasy and anxious feelings. She listened calmly as my whimpering became more difficult to understand. And no she were never “helpless” I needed her voice and it did what it was supposed to, for it reaffirmed that the hospital is where I needed to be not where I should be avoiding. Her mommy job was soon known once I had orders for my second admittance.
Mom was my chauffer, sense of calm, humor and love on this night. She held my hand during all three IV attempts. Okay, so she left to feed her hungry pains and left me alone as the IV therapist arrived to poke me. But this last round was quick and painless, so I forgave her. The 5 attempts at my blood draw were almost too much for me; I could see this in her eyes as phlebotomist repeatedly poked at me moving the needle around under the surface of my skin and had the never to call in a new poker person. Thank goodness for the nurse and midwife who even said enough is enough and I couldn’t take this anymore. And bam, the blood was taken. I was continuously calmed by Mom’s tender touch and conversations. She was a definite help to me.
Adam came later sitting in the lobby for most of the ‘fun’. The room was buzzing with too many people. I was starting to feel like a lab rat wanting it over vs. waiting for someone to enter the room so we could resume. He waited patiently to see us. I was relieved to tell him the dilation had stopped. We cried. He stayed until I began to fall asleep. He wanted to sleep in the room, but we have our mantra. I would see him in the morning.
The Church’s oh the Church’s. I am constantly telling Adam how lucky he (we) are to have the grandparent’s he (we) do. They came on Tuesday to take Mister for the day. They didn’t know they would have him through Thursday afternoon. SURPRISE! Between grandma, grandpa and Josh’s treatment I am sure Kaden felt like he was at Summer Camp. Kaden had long sleepless nights of being off schedule and in a different crib. Josh and Inez took turns caring for him through these hard nights and never have they grumbled. They helped to eliminate the anxiety of Kaden’s care so we could focus on my care. Grandma made us a couple homemade dinners and filled the freezer with quick dinner options. How awesome! What a gift to give after having our child for three days. I didn’t have to worry about the lack of groceries in the cupboard or if Adam was eating. He tends to not eat during times of stress.
Come to find out Great Grandma Rardin called NINE times to check on our status. When she couldn’t get Adam called Curt and the Church’s to ask about, “Our girl,” which is touching. We received so many wishes and blessings during the week. Our little family is surely wrapped in love.
It was several solid days of worry and concern. Today, we are doing well. My brusing has almost disappeared. I can hold Kaden without tender wrists or cramping. Life is moving forward while we PATIENTLY wait out the fullterm birth of Littlest Rardin.
It takes a village to raise a child. It does.
Over the last year I tweaked this proverb: “It takes a village to raise a new Mom.”
I am tweaking it again: “It takes a village to raise a family.”
My family is grateful for all the love, support and prayers sent our way from our village.
Last week was a long week. It was a sad and scary week.
When you are ill having a one-year old and an unborn it becomes difficult to make a rational decision as to what is important to do. I have to care for both of my children. I was forced to choose: If I continued my daily routine the stress could harm the baby, but if I was on bed rest who would care for our son? I ran through our ‘People List’ and everyone has a seemingly full plate and how selfish to add my issues to it. Adam I agreed that this time we had to be the selfish ones and reach out for help. Of course, we reached out to family.
Adam and I had to make the hard decision: I take care of the baby and he takes care of Kaden. PERIOD. There are two kids and two parents. It has to be done.
The week leading up to my admittance Adam worked long days and took care of Kaden as I rested upstairs. We were trying to avoid admittance. I know these days were difficult in caring for Kaden and worrying about us upstairs. Thank goodness for Curt who checked in on my boys keeping them company and bringing laughter to our son! Adam made me follow all the orders. I was under his house arrest.
Last week I was overfilled with gratitude.
I was supposed to work and without question Toni was happy to go in for me. This was a huge relief, for someone has to feed the burger hungry microbrew seeking population. I worried Mom would have to work (much past her already) longer hours due to me. In my book this was unacceptable. So, I am very appreciative to Toni for picking up those days so I could concentrate on us.
Monday, my first day of full bed rest. What a miserable day. I thought the previous week was stinky being on moderate rest. How wrong I was. I felt fine, but forced into bed and was able to get up to use the bathroom. Sex and the City Marathon it was.
Thank goodness for Lynda. She came at 9 Monday staying until 3:30. All day I heard her playing with Kaden. During the moments he was upset I was only steps away and could do nothing. It is surreal to watch someone else care for your child as you stand there doing nothing. It was emotional to tell my son I couldn’t pick him up as he is crying and reaching for me. I pass him off to someone else. It makes my stomach uneasy even a week later.
Tuesday, after nap Inz and Josh came for Kaden. One more day of full bed rest to (hopefully) stop the ailments. I can tell I am not fairing well. I feel weaker and weaker. I am surely not going to tell anyone this. I know Providence is just waiting to win this battle. And they win. I have to go in. I am not calm and Adam is at work. Perfect. What do we do with Kaden? What do I do with me? Oh gosh… I recite our mantra and remind Adam of it as well.
Keeping to our promise I went to Providence and Adam stayed behind to see Kaden and take over some necessities needed for a longer stay. Adam met me up there after the 3rd and successful IV poke, but just in time for the blood draw. I want out and do anything to be released. The medication and fluids make me feel so much better. My throat is no longer dry. My lips do not fix together like they have been glued. The cramping is lessening; I am able to hold down water. Good signs mean I go home. WOOT.
Auntie Lynda took a personal day on Wednesday to help if needed. I was optimistic. And soon, I was calling in the favors! I reverted with my ailments. I had a couple r/x’s and needed some simple foods from the market. It has to be such an inconvenience to come just for those tasks. And she did so with a smile and good conversation. I wasn’t good company, but I enjoyed having her here as I was still laid out.
Lynda leaves and I rest. I give it 8 hours and it becomes more intense.
As each of my days became harder Mom answered phone calls day and night also helping Adam with his uneasy and anxious feelings. She listened calmly as my whimpering became more difficult to understand. And no she were never “helpless” I needed her voice and it did what it was supposed to, for it reaffirmed that the hospital is where I needed to be not where I should be avoiding. Her mommy job was soon known once I had orders for my second admittance.
Mom was my chauffer, sense of calm, humor and love on this night. She held my hand during all three IV attempts. Okay, so she left to feed her hungry pains and left me alone as the IV therapist arrived to poke me. But this last round was quick and painless, so I forgave her. The 5 attempts at my blood draw were almost too much for me; I could see this in her eyes as phlebotomist repeatedly poked at me moving the needle around under the surface of my skin and had the never to call in a new poker person. Thank goodness for the nurse and midwife who even said enough is enough and I couldn’t take this anymore. And bam, the blood was taken. I was continuously calmed by Mom’s tender touch and conversations. She was a definite help to me.
Adam came later sitting in the lobby for most of the ‘fun’. The room was buzzing with too many people. I was starting to feel like a lab rat wanting it over vs. waiting for someone to enter the room so we could resume. He waited patiently to see us. I was relieved to tell him the dilation had stopped. We cried. He stayed until I began to fall asleep. He wanted to sleep in the room, but we have our mantra. I would see him in the morning.
The Church’s oh the Church’s. I am constantly telling Adam how lucky he (we) are to have the grandparent’s he (we) do. They came on Tuesday to take Mister for the day. They didn’t know they would have him through Thursday afternoon. SURPRISE! Between grandma, grandpa and Josh’s treatment I am sure Kaden felt like he was at Summer Camp. Kaden had long sleepless nights of being off schedule and in a different crib. Josh and Inez took turns caring for him through these hard nights and never have they grumbled. They helped to eliminate the anxiety of Kaden’s care so we could focus on my care. Grandma made us a couple homemade dinners and filled the freezer with quick dinner options. How awesome! What a gift to give after having our child for three days. I didn’t have to worry about the lack of groceries in the cupboard or if Adam was eating. He tends to not eat during times of stress.
Come to find out Great Grandma Rardin called NINE times to check on our status. When she couldn’t get Adam called Curt and the Church’s to ask about, “Our girl,” which is touching. We received so many wishes and blessings during the week. Our little family is surely wrapped in love.
It was several solid days of worry and concern. Today, we are doing well. My brusing has almost disappeared. I can hold Kaden without tender wrists or cramping. Life is moving forward while we PATIENTLY wait out the fullterm birth of Littlest Rardin.
It takes a village to raise a child. It does.
Over the last year I tweaked this proverb: “It takes a village to raise a new Mom.”
I am tweaking it again: “It takes a village to raise a family.”
My family is grateful for all the love, support and prayers sent our way from our village.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Butterflies
I was wrapping up my evening and as I was getting up I felt a butterfly. I felt the sweet flutter of our unborn child! This extraordinary first can’t be explained. It is shared only by women who have felt this flurry. As expectant Mom’s we try to give illustrations as to this feeling. Frankly, I don’t think the examples come close.
I am so happy to finally feel the Sprite!
I am the first to admit: I do not find pregnancy and delivery beautiful. It could be my track record, but I just don’t. I never have. However, I do find joy in its newness. I have a different appreciation this ‘round’. When I know I will not experience an event or occasion again I have a different perspective and appreciation. We do not plan to have any more biological children. So, all these flutters and flurries are cherished just that bit more.
As I feel Littlest Rardin move I realize it is something only the two of us share. It is our secret. When I was pregnant with Kaden I couldn’t wait for Adam to feel his kicks and somersaults. This time I am being selfish; I delight knowing this is our moment. Life is chaotic right now. The Sprite’s flutters will be a great reminder for me to slow down and enjoy these long days.
I cannot feel Littlest Rardin’s moves externally, but each internal move has forever imprinted my heart. It is exactly 20 weeks to the day. I think this week Mom said it best, “Thank God for Mud Pies and Butterflies.”
Amen.
I am so happy to finally feel the Sprite!
I am the first to admit: I do not find pregnancy and delivery beautiful. It could be my track record, but I just don’t. I never have. However, I do find joy in its newness. I have a different appreciation this ‘round’. When I know I will not experience an event or occasion again I have a different perspective and appreciation. We do not plan to have any more biological children. So, all these flutters and flurries are cherished just that bit more.
As I feel Littlest Rardin move I realize it is something only the two of us share. It is our secret. When I was pregnant with Kaden I couldn’t wait for Adam to feel his kicks and somersaults. This time I am being selfish; I delight knowing this is our moment. Life is chaotic right now. The Sprite’s flutters will be a great reminder for me to slow down and enjoy these long days.
I cannot feel Littlest Rardin’s moves externally, but each internal move has forever imprinted my heart. It is exactly 20 weeks to the day. I think this week Mom said it best, “Thank God for Mud Pies and Butterflies.”
Amen.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
What Makes ME Happy
A seasonal bouquet of flowers for no reason
My son’s laughter
Hearing the sprite’s heartbeat
Taste of fresh hot jam
Family days
My Dyson vacuum
The smell of rain on warm pavement
A chat over coffee with my Mom
My husband opening my doors (car, home and public) every day
A day of exploration with Auntie L
The first signs of vegetables in my garden
A date night thought out and planned by my husband
Family dinners with Adam’s (our) entire family
Warm sand on my feet
A long uninterrupted visit with my girlfriends
Definite change of the season
Planning surprises
Hosting parties and dinners
Baking a new dessert
Enjoying the dessert so much I bake it again
The color purple
A hug that lasts a little longer than the usual
Children sharing knock-knock jokes
Reading a child’s book
Uploading pictures off of our camera
Pumpkin Spice and Gingerbread Latte’s from Mocha Express
Tulle skirts on little girls
Weddings
Homemade pizza
Dancing in my kitchen
Chocolate Cake… triple layered chocolate cake
Gelato
Double Margaritas on the rocks, no salt with a splash of OJ and Amaretto on the side
Crisp white wine on a warm afternoon
Sharing a glass of Shiraz in candle light and talking late in the night
Sunday morning breakfasts
Showers before 9:00
Uninterrupted sleep
Flip flops
Getting Kaden up for his day or from a nap… when he is smiling
A new dress
Pedicures
A new haircut style
Writing
Gift giving shopping
Candles lighting our home
Festival of December
Witnessing and experiencing the goodness of people
Papa’s Bean Dip
Freshly washed sheets on the bed
Hot chocolate
A text from Binks
Our cards from the Cowan’s
Lengthy texting conversations across time zones
As I write this, I have learned so very much brings me happiness…
There are days we need to be reminded in the simple happiness’s of our daily life. I had not realized how many there were in my life. I quit typing out the list, which was quickly taking on a life all its own. Let me be honest, as Domestic Goddess and Loving Mother I put my happiness towards the bottom of the list. Writing this list serves as a great reminder bringing ME back to the forefront, even if for only a few minutes. In starting the list I smiled and the smile grew as did the list. As I smiled I admit that I closed my eyes imagining I was experiencing some of these gifts. I was able to hear Kaden’s laugh even though he is not with me. I saw our family sitting around the Church’s dinner table. I smelt a Pumpkin Spice Latte. I felt warmth in my the summer sand as I wiggled my feet. I laughed at a recent knock-knock joke. I reflected on our favorite children’s book. I looked out the window in thinking about my time zone friends. All in all, it opened a flood gate of 'feel goods' in writing a silly and simple happiness list.
I hope my children know what makes them happy taking nothing for granted. I am not naïve. I know this is something learned over time and it is learned through teaching. I believe this lesson has great value in not only becoming a grateful human being, but knowing who they are as individuals. As their mother, I promise to do my best to instill appreciation in nature, family and every day kindnesses. I am not religious, but I am spiritual. I think to know ourselves we must know what makes us ‘tick’ able to recognize what forms our inner core. May my children realize happiness is found all around them; and it is their responsibility to take time (schedule it if needed) to smell their own roses even picking a few for their lasting enjoyment.
My son’s laughter
Hearing the sprite’s heartbeat
Taste of fresh hot jam
Family days
My Dyson vacuum
The smell of rain on warm pavement
A chat over coffee with my Mom
My husband opening my doors (car, home and public) every day
A day of exploration with Auntie L
The first signs of vegetables in my garden
A date night thought out and planned by my husband
Family dinners with Adam’s (our) entire family
Warm sand on my feet
A long uninterrupted visit with my girlfriends
Definite change of the season
Planning surprises
Hosting parties and dinners
Baking a new dessert
Enjoying the dessert so much I bake it again
The color purple
A hug that lasts a little longer than the usual
Children sharing knock-knock jokes
Reading a child’s book
Uploading pictures off of our camera
Pumpkin Spice and Gingerbread Latte’s from Mocha Express
Tulle skirts on little girls
Weddings
Homemade pizza
Dancing in my kitchen
Chocolate Cake… triple layered chocolate cake
Gelato
Double Margaritas on the rocks, no salt with a splash of OJ and Amaretto on the side
Crisp white wine on a warm afternoon
Sharing a glass of Shiraz in candle light and talking late in the night
Sunday morning breakfasts
Showers before 9:00
Uninterrupted sleep
Flip flops
Getting Kaden up for his day or from a nap… when he is smiling
A new dress
Pedicures
A new haircut style
Writing
Gift giving shopping
Candles lighting our home
Festival of December
Witnessing and experiencing the goodness of people
Papa’s Bean Dip
Freshly washed sheets on the bed
Hot chocolate
A text from Binks
Our cards from the Cowan’s
Lengthy texting conversations across time zones
As I write this, I have learned so very much brings me happiness…
There are days we need to be reminded in the simple happiness’s of our daily life. I had not realized how many there were in my life. I quit typing out the list, which was quickly taking on a life all its own. Let me be honest, as Domestic Goddess and Loving Mother I put my happiness towards the bottom of the list. Writing this list serves as a great reminder bringing ME back to the forefront, even if for only a few minutes. In starting the list I smiled and the smile grew as did the list. As I smiled I admit that I closed my eyes imagining I was experiencing some of these gifts. I was able to hear Kaden’s laugh even though he is not with me. I saw our family sitting around the Church’s dinner table. I smelt a Pumpkin Spice Latte. I felt warmth in my the summer sand as I wiggled my feet. I laughed at a recent knock-knock joke. I reflected on our favorite children’s book. I looked out the window in thinking about my time zone friends. All in all, it opened a flood gate of 'feel goods' in writing a silly and simple happiness list.
I hope my children know what makes them happy taking nothing for granted. I am not naïve. I know this is something learned over time and it is learned through teaching. I believe this lesson has great value in not only becoming a grateful human being, but knowing who they are as individuals. As their mother, I promise to do my best to instill appreciation in nature, family and every day kindnesses. I am not religious, but I am spiritual. I think to know ourselves we must know what makes us ‘tick’ able to recognize what forms our inner core. May my children realize happiness is found all around them; and it is their responsibility to take time (schedule it if needed) to smell their own roses even picking a few for their lasting enjoyment.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Choices
Life is full of choices, which seems tenfold as a wife and mother. Choices are made without even realizing I have made one. I am pretty darn certain that I do not always make the right picks, but I make the choice I feel best for my family. I will be honest… at times it simply comes down to what is the very best choice for me.
We get married making the choice to be someone’s life partner. We are choosing one person to be our friend, partner and lover. These gifts are to be held in high esteem tenderly promising loyalty and truth to this single person. We choose to build a life found upon the same dreams with an understanding our paths may find a different curvature, but our direction will remain the same. In times of misdirection we have to make a choice as to the path we come back to.
We choose to have children. And as these children grow inside the mother’s womb many decisions are completed. We decide on finding out the sex. Please note: Adam and I have not decided to do so! We name our child before s/he is born. Please note: We have. We choose a nursery theme. Expectant moms may choose a healthier lifestyle. These examples may be shallow, but each is still a choice we make. The choices are abundant seeming never ending.
A child is born. When Kaden was born we had not decided if I would breastfeed or formula feed. In a split second we chose to formula feed. To choose to do one over the other didn't put me on the 'bad mom' list. We made the best choice for our family. This holds true for our birthing plan. A woman who chooses natural childbirth isn’t more of a woman than those who go completely medicated. The choice to be a stay at home mom vs the working mom is not easily made, by anyone. A couple chooses to have mom stay home or go back to work. It isn’t easy. It may be a financial burden, but it is still a choice to live a certain lifestyle. Both are hard jobs and doing one is not better than the other. It is about being secure in our choices, as women, to do what is best for our families. There comes a time when moms have to make the above decisions. It is sad that in choosing we have trepidation simply due to the judgment of others.
Families grow and life goes on. We are faced with obstacles and challenges. In a short time, as wife and mother, I have looked fear in the face. I have had to make choices that effect our short and long term goals. I have to do what is best for my family. The choices don’t always come easy. In this journey I have learned judgment is hardest on me by me. The opinion of others simply doesn’t matter. Some of us may have similar experiences, but our circumstance is different. This is the key. I am happy I finally realize this.
The key to choice is circumstance. It isn’t the obstacle. What we do for our families differs not because of the occurrence, but our condition. It is that simple. I for one am thankful for the choices we as wives and mothers have to make. It was not that long ago we didn’t have this right. We did what was the social norm and dictated approrpriate by our husbands. I can attest I am my hardest critic. I accept not only being wife and mother, but being my own judge at the end of the day. After all, my husband, children and I are the ones who ultimately have to live with the decisions made.
We get married making the choice to be someone’s life partner. We are choosing one person to be our friend, partner and lover. These gifts are to be held in high esteem tenderly promising loyalty and truth to this single person. We choose to build a life found upon the same dreams with an understanding our paths may find a different curvature, but our direction will remain the same. In times of misdirection we have to make a choice as to the path we come back to.
We choose to have children. And as these children grow inside the mother’s womb many decisions are completed. We decide on finding out the sex. Please note: Adam and I have not decided to do so! We name our child before s/he is born. Please note: We have. We choose a nursery theme. Expectant moms may choose a healthier lifestyle. These examples may be shallow, but each is still a choice we make. The choices are abundant seeming never ending.
A child is born. When Kaden was born we had not decided if I would breastfeed or formula feed. In a split second we chose to formula feed. To choose to do one over the other didn't put me on the 'bad mom' list. We made the best choice for our family. This holds true for our birthing plan. A woman who chooses natural childbirth isn’t more of a woman than those who go completely medicated. The choice to be a stay at home mom vs the working mom is not easily made, by anyone. A couple chooses to have mom stay home or go back to work. It isn’t easy. It may be a financial burden, but it is still a choice to live a certain lifestyle. Both are hard jobs and doing one is not better than the other. It is about being secure in our choices, as women, to do what is best for our families. There comes a time when moms have to make the above decisions. It is sad that in choosing we have trepidation simply due to the judgment of others.
Families grow and life goes on. We are faced with obstacles and challenges. In a short time, as wife and mother, I have looked fear in the face. I have had to make choices that effect our short and long term goals. I have to do what is best for my family. The choices don’t always come easy. In this journey I have learned judgment is hardest on me by me. The opinion of others simply doesn’t matter. Some of us may have similar experiences, but our circumstance is different. This is the key. I am happy I finally realize this.
The key to choice is circumstance. It isn’t the obstacle. What we do for our families differs not because of the occurrence, but our condition. It is that simple. I for one am thankful for the choices we as wives and mothers have to make. It was not that long ago we didn’t have this right. We did what was the social norm and dictated approrpriate by our husbands. I can attest I am my hardest critic. I accept not only being wife and mother, but being my own judge at the end of the day. After all, my husband, children and I are the ones who ultimately have to live with the decisions made.
Never Too Old
This week has been truly trying. It has taken me past what I thought I was not only emotionally able to handle, but physically. It is amazing what four days can bring into your life. It can bring gifts, sadness and surprise. In these kinds of days we learn what we are so called ‘made of’. I begin to ponder, are we really only given what we can handle? Does what not kill us make us stronger? I think these are said to give comfort; I am not sure how much truth is really behind the shared ‘wisdom’.
I have slowly watched our son grow more and more independent. It seems that even at one year of age little-by-little he needs my help less and less. Of course he still needs me, but he is learning to do many things on his own. He gets frustrated with a task and I lend a helping hand; look out for the upset! We go through this each day.
At the end of every day he reverts to a need of comfort and nurturing. He requires holding, cuddling and extra love. He can’t read, so he listens to my voice. We just sit and soak up the moment. I immerse myself in these times of need and to be honest I find it irresistible that he doesn’t only need me, but wants me! When will this end? When will he find his days challenged and take it on alone? When will he be too old for his Mom?
In the times of illness I have to remember he can’t tell me what hurts. He can’t say he is hungry or tired. He screams and we begin the guessing game of what he needs. The screams become more intense. And it is during these moments I have to remember he needs me. He absolutely cannot comfort himself or communicate any other way. He doesn’t want to have this reaction, but has no other tools. And I have to dig deep to find the right Mom tools to continue to be who he needs. When will he no longer have this need? Will he learn to comfort himself?
I go on day in and day out. We find our way to the moon lit sky and rest our weary minds and body gearing up for the next day. We reach a day when the day doesn’t seem to have an end. And I don’t feel I have much left to offer to properly meet what is required of him. I call Mom and she (as always) gives me reassurance that what I am feeling is normal. Again, she reiterates that we can’t always do it on our own. I hear her unsaid words. She is saying that we need other people. We need people to pull together to get us through the times we can’t do it ourselves. The next thing I know is she is here.
I consider myself an independent person. I am a strong being. And during these days I find my message. It isn’t that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. The message I hear is that you are never too old. I am never too old to find the comfort of my Mom’s voice and words. I am never too old to accept my Mom’s help. I am never too old to need Mom. And I know that I want Mom during my difficult times, for she has the much needed tools to help make it better.
Since I am never to old, I will continue to think my child(ren) will not become too old. Moms bring something to their children that others cannot. They bring a sense of magical comfort not given by anyone else. Who said, “You cannot go home again” is clearly mistaken. I get to go home, to her arms, any time I need or want. It is a human need to find comfort in others. We are never too old to find this much needed comfort in our Mom’s.
I have slowly watched our son grow more and more independent. It seems that even at one year of age little-by-little he needs my help less and less. Of course he still needs me, but he is learning to do many things on his own. He gets frustrated with a task and I lend a helping hand; look out for the upset! We go through this each day.
At the end of every day he reverts to a need of comfort and nurturing. He requires holding, cuddling and extra love. He can’t read, so he listens to my voice. We just sit and soak up the moment. I immerse myself in these times of need and to be honest I find it irresistible that he doesn’t only need me, but wants me! When will this end? When will he find his days challenged and take it on alone? When will he be too old for his Mom?
In the times of illness I have to remember he can’t tell me what hurts. He can’t say he is hungry or tired. He screams and we begin the guessing game of what he needs. The screams become more intense. And it is during these moments I have to remember he needs me. He absolutely cannot comfort himself or communicate any other way. He doesn’t want to have this reaction, but has no other tools. And I have to dig deep to find the right Mom tools to continue to be who he needs. When will he no longer have this need? Will he learn to comfort himself?
I go on day in and day out. We find our way to the moon lit sky and rest our weary minds and body gearing up for the next day. We reach a day when the day doesn’t seem to have an end. And I don’t feel I have much left to offer to properly meet what is required of him. I call Mom and she (as always) gives me reassurance that what I am feeling is normal. Again, she reiterates that we can’t always do it on our own. I hear her unsaid words. She is saying that we need other people. We need people to pull together to get us through the times we can’t do it ourselves. The next thing I know is she is here.
I consider myself an independent person. I am a strong being. And during these days I find my message. It isn’t that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. The message I hear is that you are never too old. I am never too old to find the comfort of my Mom’s voice and words. I am never too old to accept my Mom’s help. I am never too old to need Mom. And I know that I want Mom during my difficult times, for she has the much needed tools to help make it better.
Since I am never to old, I will continue to think my child(ren) will not become too old. Moms bring something to their children that others cannot. They bring a sense of magical comfort not given by anyone else. Who said, “You cannot go home again” is clearly mistaken. I get to go home, to her arms, any time I need or want. It is a human need to find comfort in others. We are never too old to find this much needed comfort in our Mom’s.
Friday, September 25, 2009
I Survived
I survived. I survived natural childbirth 13 months ago. So, can someone (anyone) explain to me why I panic for my prenatal blood draw? I had my 17 week appointment yesterday and was a wreck all morning long! I am 31 years old and in tears driving down the freeway to my appointment. I have to call my Mom at work to sooth me. I know it is busy hour for her, but I call anyway. It is a 911 emergency! I ask her to tell me, “You can totally do this. You will be fine.” I don’t think it helped, for I almost started hyperventilating down the freeway and could barely see through my blurry eyes. I soon realize I am white knuckling the steering wheel. I let go and my hands were cramping. A needle has this much control over me?
I survived. I survived the waiting room. I make it to my 2:00 appointment seven minutes early. I give the Maternal Care clinic kudos, for they are always timely, well, except for today. They give me an extra 20 minutes to think about the blood draw. I can barely sit with any ease as one-by-one other pregos are called in before me. And I think to myself that all of these women have their blood drawn and are all fine!
I survived. I survived the weight check. I have gained 3 lbs. I started in on the poor nurse how this was possible with asking her to check my chart. I wanted a comparison of this week to my 18 week appointment when I was pregnant with Kaden. As soon as the midwife came in it was the first topic I wanted to cover. We dissected my diet; I dissected my diet. Fruit juice has to be the culprit! The midwife told me that at almost 18 weeks I was actually under the average gain by about 5lbs. Oh, okay, this is great news! Amazing how all the sudden this silly tidbit gave me comfort.
I survived. I survived my blood draw. I explain to my nurse that less is more a.k.a. don’t tell me anything just get own to business and get what you need. A midwife comes over noticing I am nervously slapping my flip flops against the bottom of my feet as I am sinking lower and grasping my arms. She offers to hold my hand. Screw bravery and embarrassment. I gripped her hand and told her to start talking. We reviewed the diet plan and discussed our upcoming ultrasound. She asked me to follow her breathing pattern.
I start getting hot. I hear the nurse say, “Slow down your breathing.” The midwife soon says, “Nicole in through your nose and out through your mouth. You have to slow down.” I am taking shallow quick breaths. The voices start to become gibberish. Uh-oh, spots are floating in front of me… It is over when I wake up. I am the 3rd fainter in the nurses (what I would guess looooong) career. I call it a success. The leach took all she needed. The mission is accomplished
Now, I just have to survive one more draw in two months (roughly nine weeks and more precisely 60 days). This test didn’t go so well when I was pregnant with Kaden. The sweet drink didn’t settle, so up it went on the walls and down all across the floor. Eck. I can’t wait to survive that one, yet again.
I survived. I survived the waiting room. I make it to my 2:00 appointment seven minutes early. I give the Maternal Care clinic kudos, for they are always timely, well, except for today. They give me an extra 20 minutes to think about the blood draw. I can barely sit with any ease as one-by-one other pregos are called in before me. And I think to myself that all of these women have their blood drawn and are all fine!
I survived. I survived the weight check. I have gained 3 lbs. I started in on the poor nurse how this was possible with asking her to check my chart. I wanted a comparison of this week to my 18 week appointment when I was pregnant with Kaden. As soon as the midwife came in it was the first topic I wanted to cover. We dissected my diet; I dissected my diet. Fruit juice has to be the culprit! The midwife told me that at almost 18 weeks I was actually under the average gain by about 5lbs. Oh, okay, this is great news! Amazing how all the sudden this silly tidbit gave me comfort.
I survived. I survived my blood draw. I explain to my nurse that less is more a.k.a. don’t tell me anything just get own to business and get what you need. A midwife comes over noticing I am nervously slapping my flip flops against the bottom of my feet as I am sinking lower and grasping my arms. She offers to hold my hand. Screw bravery and embarrassment. I gripped her hand and told her to start talking. We reviewed the diet plan and discussed our upcoming ultrasound. She asked me to follow her breathing pattern.
I start getting hot. I hear the nurse say, “Slow down your breathing.” The midwife soon says, “Nicole in through your nose and out through your mouth. You have to slow down.” I am taking shallow quick breaths. The voices start to become gibberish. Uh-oh, spots are floating in front of me… It is over when I wake up. I am the 3rd fainter in the nurses (what I would guess looooong) career. I call it a success. The leach took all she needed. The mission is accomplished
Now, I just have to survive one more draw in two months (roughly nine weeks and more precisely 60 days). This test didn’t go so well when I was pregnant with Kaden. The sweet drink didn’t settle, so up it went on the walls and down all across the floor. Eck. I can’t wait to survive that one, yet again.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
I Love Our Love The Most
We all have those moments that touch us. It seems as though we will never forget ‘that’ moment. It is so special it is as though it will remain in memory forever. How could we forget what we wore the first time we met our spouse? But we do. We think we will always remember our prom dates name. But we don’t. The forgetful list goes on and on. Time moves forward and that special moment have not only disappeared into time, but memory too. It may be lost forever or down the road an experience, smell, story, place or something triggers a spark taking us back to this special memory that has otherwise been forgotten.
Does forgetting these times mean that subconsciously it is not special or important to us?
I have had too many of these times. I wish I could remember every key part to my happiness, but I don’t. We are given the gift to build from these seconds. Sunday I experienced, yet what I am sure will become one of these moments, which will become lost in my memory’s collection.
It was a simple day. Adam and I were completing a long over due list of things around the house. We were making serious head way. There was nothing about it that made it stand out. We were working on the last item on the list. Kaden was under foot and Adam was hanging a heavy mirror. Our partnership came into play and I knew it was time for Kaden and me to leave the room!
Adam went into the garage to grab mollies.
Kaden and I stayed in the living room. We danced. We dance all of the time. I held him close to me and we swayed while hearing Eric Church in the background:
”Yes I Love Good Cold Beer
And Mustard On My Fries
I Love A Good Loud Honky Tonk
That Rocks On Friday Night
And Hell Yes I Love My Truck”
I smile. This song always reminds me of my husband. We continue dancing.
I feel Adam wrap his arms around us beginning to take the lead in rocking back and forth. I feel his breath on my skin as he tenderly whispers along with the song:
“But I Want You To Know
Honey I Love Your Love The Most”
He grabs us a bit closer slowing our sway…
”Man I Love How Redman Taste
And Damn I Love My Nascar Race
Any Song Sung By George Strait
Is Country At It's Best
Yes I Love Good Cold Beer
And Mustard On My Fries
I Love A Good Loud Honky Tonk
That Rocks On Friday Night
And Hell Yes I Love My Truck
But I Want You To Know
Honey I Love Your Love The Most”
Adam’s head is forehead-to-forehead with our son’s and he begins rubbing the small of my back. We continue our dance…
”Yeah I Love Scuffed Up Cowboy Boots
And Broken Tore Up Jeans
A Four Wheel Drive Eight Point Bucks
And Rocky Road Ice Cream
And Hell Yes I Love My Dog
And Jack D In My Coke
But Honey I Love Your Love”
I feel Adam’s head bury against me as we continue with Kaden in our arms. Tears are beginning to roll down both our cheeks…
”Yeah I Love Your Love The Most
I Love Your Love The Most”
Adam looks me in the eyes and with a soft voice says, “Baby, I love our family. I so love our family.” He had more to say, but stopped speaking. I heard everything he had to say through his eyes. They speak volumes to me.
I feel my throat cramp. I kiss him. We hug our baby. I squeeze his hand and lead the way up the stairs back into Kaden’s bedroom.
It is time to finish hanging the mirror. We go about our day. I wonder to myself if at this time next year either of us would recall this dance. Is this spectacular moment in the middle of a very mundane day going to flash by us?
It very well may get misplaced in the memory bank. And this is okay. I believe that to forget these moments is a blessing. Think about this: In forgetting these shared times means we have had so many of these joys in our life that we are unable to store each one to recall it later. It is only humanly possible to turn so many short term memories into long term memories. To have a life so full of happiness not remembering each single one is a blessing that I wish for us all.
I do know Sunday’s dance, touch and look was important to our path. It keeps our love front and center moving us forward.
And, baby, "I love OUR love the most."
Does forgetting these times mean that subconsciously it is not special or important to us?
I have had too many of these times. I wish I could remember every key part to my happiness, but I don’t. We are given the gift to build from these seconds. Sunday I experienced, yet what I am sure will become one of these moments, which will become lost in my memory’s collection.
It was a simple day. Adam and I were completing a long over due list of things around the house. We were making serious head way. There was nothing about it that made it stand out. We were working on the last item on the list. Kaden was under foot and Adam was hanging a heavy mirror. Our partnership came into play and I knew it was time for Kaden and me to leave the room!
Adam went into the garage to grab mollies.
Kaden and I stayed in the living room. We danced. We dance all of the time. I held him close to me and we swayed while hearing Eric Church in the background:
”Yes I Love Good Cold Beer
And Mustard On My Fries
I Love A Good Loud Honky Tonk
That Rocks On Friday Night
And Hell Yes I Love My Truck”
I smile. This song always reminds me of my husband. We continue dancing.
I feel Adam wrap his arms around us beginning to take the lead in rocking back and forth. I feel his breath on my skin as he tenderly whispers along with the song:
“But I Want You To Know
Honey I Love Your Love The Most”
He grabs us a bit closer slowing our sway…
”Man I Love How Redman Taste
And Damn I Love My Nascar Race
Any Song Sung By George Strait
Is Country At It's Best
Yes I Love Good Cold Beer
And Mustard On My Fries
I Love A Good Loud Honky Tonk
That Rocks On Friday Night
And Hell Yes I Love My Truck
But I Want You To Know
Honey I Love Your Love The Most”
Adam’s head is forehead-to-forehead with our son’s and he begins rubbing the small of my back. We continue our dance…
”Yeah I Love Scuffed Up Cowboy Boots
And Broken Tore Up Jeans
A Four Wheel Drive Eight Point Bucks
And Rocky Road Ice Cream
And Hell Yes I Love My Dog
And Jack D In My Coke
But Honey I Love Your Love”
I feel Adam’s head bury against me as we continue with Kaden in our arms. Tears are beginning to roll down both our cheeks…
”Yeah I Love Your Love The Most
I Love Your Love The Most”
Adam looks me in the eyes and with a soft voice says, “Baby, I love our family. I so love our family.” He had more to say, but stopped speaking. I heard everything he had to say through his eyes. They speak volumes to me.
I feel my throat cramp. I kiss him. We hug our baby. I squeeze his hand and lead the way up the stairs back into Kaden’s bedroom.
It is time to finish hanging the mirror. We go about our day. I wonder to myself if at this time next year either of us would recall this dance. Is this spectacular moment in the middle of a very mundane day going to flash by us?
It very well may get misplaced in the memory bank. And this is okay. I believe that to forget these moments is a blessing. Think about this: In forgetting these shared times means we have had so many of these joys in our life that we are unable to store each one to recall it later. It is only humanly possible to turn so many short term memories into long term memories. To have a life so full of happiness not remembering each single one is a blessing that I wish for us all.
I do know Sunday’s dance, touch and look was important to our path. It keeps our love front and center moving us forward.
And, baby, "I love OUR love the most."
Friday, September 18, 2009
Clean vs Tidy
In the past I have used both clean and tidy interchangeably. According to Webster there is a definite difference in the meaning of these two words:
Clean: 1 a : to make clean: as (1) : to rid of dirt, impurities, or extraneous matter (2) : to rid of corruption b : remove, eradicate —usually used with up or off
Tidy: a: neat and orderly in appearance: well ordered and cared for
I have a one year old. The two of us are home most of the day. He has the attention span of a squirrel. A squirrel has an attention span on normal things nearly a second and roughly four minutes on its food. Ironically, so does my son. Needless to say, a tornado of swirling toys surrounds us as he quickly moves on unless there is food feeding his almost 24lbs body. So, surprise: our house is not tidy!
Really? I know. It shocked me too. There is little order in the family room at any given waking hour, so I should have known. The question remains, is my home clean?
I admit after reading tidy and clean it seems the two are not intermixable I had to walk the rooms of my home. I would ask to have someone define clean, but I can scan up and refer to it on my own, thanks. I have to admit this is in the eye of the cleaner! On a regular basis I dust, vacuum, over work the: washing machine, dryer and dishwasher. I Lysol the kitchen counters 4 times a day. The bathroom is cleaned daily… I love my son’s bath time! I feel like I slave away within this house and yet would anyone know? Is how clean my home is my dirty little secret?
So, actually the words are intermixable versus interchangeable. It takes one to have the other. You won’t notice the cleanliness of a home through all of the clutter. Eek. I think I am in trouble.
Well, I guess in this house I see the ‘forest for the trees’. I see the cleanliness through the tornado. While others may see ‘the tree in the forest’ taking notice of only the play land and unfolded laundry. I am okay forgoing tidy… I love a good secret.
Clean: 1 a : to make clean: as (1) : to rid of dirt, impurities, or extraneous matter (2) : to rid of corruption
Tidy: a: neat and orderly in appearance: well ordered and cared for
I have a one year old. The two of us are home most of the day. He has the attention span of a squirrel. A squirrel has an attention span on normal things nearly a second and roughly four minutes on its food. Ironically, so does my son. Needless to say, a tornado of swirling toys surrounds us as he quickly moves on unless there is food feeding his almost 24lbs body. So, surprise: our house is not tidy!
Really? I know. It shocked me too. There is little order in the family room at any given waking hour, so I should have known. The question remains, is my home clean?
I admit after reading tidy and clean it seems the two are not intermixable I had to walk the rooms of my home. I would ask to have someone define clean, but I can scan up and refer to it on my own, thanks. I have to admit this is in the eye of the cleaner! On a regular basis I dust, vacuum, over work the: washing machine, dryer and dishwasher. I Lysol the kitchen counters 4 times a day. The bathroom is cleaned daily… I love my son’s bath time! I feel like I slave away within this house and yet would anyone know? Is how clean my home is my dirty little secret?
So, actually the words are intermixable versus interchangeable. It takes one to have the other. You won’t notice the cleanliness of a home through all of the clutter. Eek. I think I am in trouble.
Well, I guess in this house I see the ‘forest for the trees’. I see the cleanliness through the tornado. While others may see ‘the tree in the forest’ taking notice of only the play land and unfolded laundry. I am okay forgoing tidy… I love a good secret.
Family
It is week 16 and I have to say (knocking on wood) that all has been calm. It has been unfamiliarly trouble-free that I worry if this is the calm before the storm? Looking back on the day I learned of this pregnancy it seemed I was doomed to have a gray cloud follow me for the next nine months. It was the stereotypical crawl in a hole and start drinking at 9:00 in the morning kind of day…
I took two pregnancy tests at Fred Meyers (Recap: I took eight for Kaden). I guess I finally have faith reading the little pink line. Yay; baby on board! We had a plan. We knew we wanted to be done having children before I was 32, but two babies so close together is quite honestly, bloodcurdling. Eh, Semantics. Finally, one of my many plans stayed true to my life’s calendar. Woot. Woot. So, where you may wonder is the gray cloud? Ah, it is developing.
It was July 2nd and 100 plus degrees. It was just plain hot outside. A busy bustling day ahead, so I was taking Kaden to his Great Grandma’s. The cloud begins to stir. CRASH! We are rear ended. Super. So, do I tell Adam we are having a baby before or after this news? I go with the car bulletin. It needed to be timelier.
As the heat continues to make me feel as though my skin is sloughing I meet my husband at our non air-conditioned home. It isn’t just Fourth of July weekend or a Thursday, but Moving Day! Perfect. I probably do not have to share that regardless of how joyous baby news is it is deflated after being rear ended on moving day in 100 degree heat constantly surrounded by others. Simply stated, the baby news is becoming my personal irritation. I want to share it, but when?
My husband is lifting our life into the bed of his truck. I am emotionally exhausted as well as reaching the days physical limitations. He is on a mission of moving and in time grows grumpier and grumpier. Hey, I am not too proud to share these are not our best moments. We are not a good team because we always work well together. Oh, no-no. We are a good team because we know when to call it an individual activity. Trust me; loading of the truck is a solitary job for this family. I don’t have the patience for it and he doesn’t have the patience for me. It is a match made in Heaven.
Anyway, the day moves forward and the news is eating at me. It is eating at me literally. I am starving. I am tired. I want to scream the news into his face. I don’t, but I really really want to. We are rarely alone making it that much harder. I grow edgier. Will he be upset that so much time has passed between me knowing and sharing our news? Is it selfish I share this during life’s third most stressful event? It is a no win. Misery loves company, so I opt to tell him.
We are driving and I finally get the nerve, “Hey think you could pull over some where so we could talk for a minute?” I was totally gesturing in a female sort of way with my index finger slightly pointed up doing circles, which clearly meant the park one street over to the right. In man verbiage this meant pull over NOW as though the truck is on fire! Here we are tired and exhausted curbside on Gloucester. Me being me I tear up and nothing is said from mouth. At this moment we come back together as a team. He says, “Babe, we are having a baby, aren’t we?” He knows me. He takes my hand and congratulates us both. At this moment the cloud lifts and there is light.
We breathe and immediately start talking about baby names. We have a two mile drive to our new home and in this short time discuss if we want to find out the gender and we chose the names. It is official: we are a family of four.
I took two pregnancy tests at Fred Meyers (Recap: I took eight for Kaden). I guess I finally have faith reading the little pink line. Yay; baby on board! We had a plan. We knew we wanted to be done having children before I was 32, but two babies so close together is quite honestly, bloodcurdling. Eh, Semantics. Finally, one of my many plans stayed true to my life’s calendar. Woot. Woot. So, where you may wonder is the gray cloud? Ah, it is developing.
It was July 2nd and 100 plus degrees. It was just plain hot outside. A busy bustling day ahead, so I was taking Kaden to his Great Grandma’s. The cloud begins to stir. CRASH! We are rear ended. Super. So, do I tell Adam we are having a baby before or after this news? I go with the car bulletin. It needed to be timelier.
As the heat continues to make me feel as though my skin is sloughing I meet my husband at our non air-conditioned home. It isn’t just Fourth of July weekend or a Thursday, but Moving Day! Perfect. I probably do not have to share that regardless of how joyous baby news is it is deflated after being rear ended on moving day in 100 degree heat constantly surrounded by others. Simply stated, the baby news is becoming my personal irritation. I want to share it, but when?
My husband is lifting our life into the bed of his truck. I am emotionally exhausted as well as reaching the days physical limitations. He is on a mission of moving and in time grows grumpier and grumpier. Hey, I am not too proud to share these are not our best moments. We are not a good team because we always work well together. Oh, no-no. We are a good team because we know when to call it an individual activity. Trust me; loading of the truck is a solitary job for this family. I don’t have the patience for it and he doesn’t have the patience for me. It is a match made in Heaven.
Anyway, the day moves forward and the news is eating at me. It is eating at me literally. I am starving. I am tired. I want to scream the news into his face. I don’t, but I really really want to. We are rarely alone making it that much harder. I grow edgier. Will he be upset that so much time has passed between me knowing and sharing our news? Is it selfish I share this during life’s third most stressful event? It is a no win. Misery loves company, so I opt to tell him.
We are driving and I finally get the nerve, “Hey think you could pull over some where so we could talk for a minute?” I was totally gesturing in a female sort of way with my index finger slightly pointed up doing circles, which clearly meant the park one street over to the right. In man verbiage this meant pull over NOW as though the truck is on fire! Here we are tired and exhausted curbside on Gloucester. Me being me I tear up and nothing is said from mouth. At this moment we come back together as a team. He says, “Babe, we are having a baby, aren’t we?” He knows me. He takes my hand and congratulates us both. At this moment the cloud lifts and there is light.
We breathe and immediately start talking about baby names. We have a two mile drive to our new home and in this short time discuss if we want to find out the gender and we chose the names. It is official: we are a family of four.
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