closure

The hardest part about breastfeeding for me was the constant uncertainty that struck after I learned my child was not thriving by doing what was "supposed" to be natural.  Whether my milk ducts are too far back for my kids to stimulate until they have grown, I make glorified water, or whatever the case may be, there is nothing worse than looking at your child and seeing the jaundice return faster than it had crept away. 

The most difficult aspect of pumping was the roller coaster.  Knowing he was getting valuable antibodies, yet wondering if perhaps the next time he might suddenly start sucking effectively.  Finishing what seemed like a good feeding... latch looked good, I felt let down, and even saw milk in the corner of his mouth... yet he was truly hungry 20 or 30 minutes later (after a 45 minute or hour long nursing session.)  Knowing what I was trying to do was good for his health if it would work right, but recognizing that my other children needed me as they snuggled close with a book or grew frustrated because I couldn't do something they needed.  When Mommy's nursing 12 hours a day there is not much time left for the other kids.  When those 12 hours result in no visible benefits and frustration as the newborn exhibits signs that while he likes sucking, likes to be at the breast, the efforts are not fulfilling his needs, the emotional ride spins out of control.

I tried the combo.  I had hoped it would work longer term for us, but it did not.  Each pumping session served as a reminder that for whatever reason, my children did not get enough at breast.  Eventually, each nursing attempt resulted in dashed hopes that he would be satisfied by breast alone.  The Lactivists (nursing Nazis) tout the convenience and comfort of nursing, if you just try hard enough to make it work you will get there.  Maybe, maybe not.  That place in between where you are washing bottles and using nipple cream and your breasts hurt but baby is still not satisfied without supplementation nor relieving the pressure from them... that place is an emotionally and physically draining purgatory. To have to pump instead of meeting your family's needs?  As close to Hell as I want to get.  Drastic comparison, perhaps.  But that was my reality at certain moments during 2 of the 4 weeks doing the pumping and nursing attempt combo.  But that craziness is precisely the reason I came to my conclusion.  In spite of my desire to breastfeed and the encouragement from friends and family and my pediatrician, it was time to replace the dream of snuggling with my child at the breast as he nursed with the reality of snuggling my child at the breast as he is nourished in a different way.  And now that the stinging pain of weaning has passed, we are both on our way to being healthier and happier.  I can either continue to live in the struggle or move past it to a new beginning.

of milk and motherhood... part 2

I just typed my most recent Facebook status with tears streaming down my face:

Packed away the pump. For the 3rd time. If anyone dares ask questions that imply I did not try hard enough to feed my child in what they deem is the best way, the short answer is "it was not best for us."

 The long answer is 7 years in the making, probably longer if it were to be analyzed by a psychiatrist. One of the things I had most looked forward to about mothering was the miracle of breastfeeding.  

Episode 1: Child would not wake up, no matter what. When said child did wake up, she could not latch well.  Lactation consultant set me up on a regimen of finger feeding/pumping/supplementing with pumped milk.   Dear daughter did not gain weight until we began supplementing. When she did finally latch on, her suck was weak and she nursed for an hour and a half and was hungry 15 minutes later.  I ended up pumping and bottle feeding her breastmilk for 3 months.  I cannot remember having a truly successful nursing session with her ever, and the post partum depression that accompanied the struggle was as close to Hell as I ever want to get.  Two things stand out at me from the so-called professional support that I received.  At the hospital, I had overheard the nurse tell someone else "I told her what she needs to do, she just needs to do it" when I asked for additional help with positioning, etc.  When I returned the rental hospital grade pump to the Lactation consultant, she said something that implied I was doing something terrible.  The reality was that I was going to use another pump as long as I could.  She had a system in her mind, but given the crazy circumstances that surrounded our family, she had absolutely no compassion or ability to help me see past the struggle or communicate how her system could potentially help get my baby to nurse.

Episode 2:  Because the lactation consultant had partially attributed my daughter's lethargy and inability to nurse to the pitocin that had been in her system, I was determined to give breastfeeding another shot and to minimize interventions.  My son was born at 40 weeks 6 days in his own time.... and with a natural vaginal delivery.  We did it.  He seemed to start out nursing ok.  About 10 days in I could tell looking at him that he was jaundiced.  (My daughter had had minor jaundice that resolved itself in sunlight.) Someone brought me a meal and commented how orange he looked, and I freaked.  I was determined not not let him fail to thrive like his sister had, and to not fall into PPD again.  He began nursing longer and getting hungry more quickly after feedings, and I decided to pump.  My 3 year old walked in on me pumping one day and I heard the newborn crying in the background and I knew the ideal of feeding my baby breastmilk was not working.  His jaundice cleared up when I fed him his breastmilk from the bottle, and pumping interrupted my valuable time with my kids as their Mom.  Again, I pumped 10-12 weeks, mostly out of guilt because I still thought "breast is best."

Episode 3:  We induced this baby due to gestational diabetes.  Yes, I know there are differing opinions regarding whether or not induction is necessary.  Yes, I chose to do it anyway.  He seemed to latch on well at first, peed and pooped sufficiently at the hospital.  Bilirubin was 7.8 the morning we went home, not bad.  Weight was down to 6 lb 12 oz from 7 lb 7 oz.  By the time we went to the pediatrician for a checkup 2 days later, he had dropped another ounce and his bilirubin level was 18.4... indicating a need for phototherapy.  Phototherapy=heat=potential for dehydration.  Finger feeding, here we came again.  This little guy's suck and latch were better than the other two, I felt my uterus contracting, etc.... however that did not mean he was gaining weight.    We followed directions, finger fed, did just one night of phototherapy and his bilirubin dropped down around 15.  AND he gained up to 6 lb 15 ounces.  I began to think that perhaps I could do this and the pediatrician said I could stop supplementing and give it my all.  That mean long nursing sessions... on demand.  Gradually I noticed his diapers were not as wet.  He was pooping more infrequently.  When it came time for his 2 week checkup, I was not sure if I was imagining things, but I thought he looked more orange.  I told myself I was being paranoid, he was fine.  But he was also becoming increasingly less satisfied after feedings.  Nothing is more heartbreaking to a mother who wants to feed her child "the way God designed" than to have her baby crying out of hunger 15 minutes after a feeding session has ended.  Sure enough, bloodwork showed his jaundice level was back up to 17.4... not bad enough for phototherapy, but not good in light of the fact he should have been flushing it out with all the nursing we were doing.  And he had gained only 1/2 ounce in 4 days... up to 6 lb 15 1/2 ounces.  Even all the pro-breastfeeding sites like kellymom.com say to get help if your baby is not back up to birthweight in 2 weeks.  I knew that "help" would say to pump for 10 minutes after every feeding.  I knew that I could not logistically do that.

So there I was again.  Little M loved nursing.  But it wasn't nourishing him.  All that time... 12 hours of nursing a day... futile efforts.  The closeness and snuggles were not doing what he most needed.. they were not helping him grow.  So I decided to combo it as long as I could.

That meant about 4 more weeks for us.  He was inevitably hungry within  an hour and a half after a 3 or 4 ounce bottle of breastmilk.  And a slow sucker on the bottle as he had been at the breast.  So with pumping, feedings were still long.  I began to wean of pumping around 6 weeks and by 7 weeks was down to a session or two a day. Now, just past 8 weeks, I have not pumped in several days and have cleaned and packed the machine up and put it away.

Some women can emotionally hook themselves up to a milking machine with confidence that their body is supplying their child's physical needs.  I can't.  I also can't believe that insurance does not cover lactation support, but it doesn't... or else my insurance reps are clueless.  I should not have to chase down provider ID numbers and in the midst of fluctuating hormones beg for help.  Our local chapter of the La Leche League meets at 6 pm once a month.  Um, I have a first grader and a 4 year old and evenings are my baby's fussy time.  Really?  No, it's not worth it to me to drive 30 minutes for support under those circumstances.  If meeting were at 10 am I might have considered going to the meetings.

I have friends who came out of the woodwork and internet offering support and encouragement, and for that I am thankful.  I am feeding my son the last 20 ounces of pumped milk this week.  I am still leaking a little bit and may even latch him on for comfort if all else fails, because dang it if I have to wear a nursing pad then there must be something there... some amount of antibodies he gets from it.

But we are basically done.  3rd time, it's time to let go and move forward.  It's time to not wonder if his weight will be down at his next checkup and to only have to go in for monthly visits instead of 3-4 times a week like I did the first couple of weeks.  

It's past time for my older kids to have their Mommy back and my husband to have his wife back.  The emotional and physical roller coaster of breastfeeding just does not work for my children or me.  If we ever have a 4th child, I may not even bother trying again, even though I know how beneficial the antibodies are for my baby and was once convinced that "breast is best" and I would never have chosen to give my baby formula. Funny how experience changes you.

My baby boy is now thriving on mostly formula, and I will gladly snuggle him during feedings and have my older children turn pages while we read a book together. 

I will wholeheartedly encourage women in whichever birth choices or feeding choices they make, because I have learned that the ideals don't always work out and options are there for a reason. 

 

of milk and motherhood....

I have been meaning to blog our most recent birth story for over a month now.  I cannot believe how quickly this month has flown by!  Our 7lb 7 oz baby boy who dropped down to 6 lb 11 ounces is now thriving.

If I have learned anything from becoming a mother and all that entails three times in seven years, it is flexibility.  When I was a Teacher many years ago, I learned to adapt my lesson plans in order to help my students learn. Ok, in all honesty, I often flew by the seat of my pants or deviated from my plans anyway, but don't tell anyone.  I have learned that adaptation is critical for survival as a Mom, too, and more importantly, for my children.  In my next few posts I hope to revisit my ideals, preconceived notions about labor and delivery, breastfeeding, and post-partum life and share how my reality has become a unique and beautiful blend of ideas and practices.


If you are still checking my blog, thanks. :)  I hope to come back a little more often, but we'll see.  I am full of good intentions, it's the follow through that often eludes me.

healthy experimentation

Creamy broccoli lentil soup

In my efforts to eat a more healthy diet for this baby and myself, I searched the internet for some healthy soup recipes.  I came across one for Creamy broccoli lentil soup and added it to my list of things to make when my husband, who is slightly less adventurous than I am with food, would be gone.

The recipe came together fairly easily.  I made a few minor adjustments... I used 3 minced fresh garlic cloves, 2 tsp grated parmesan, and ended up adding at least 2 cups of water at the end because it was so thick.  (I may have left too many broccoli stems on, but I couldn't let good broccoli go to waste.)  I sipped on the broth throughout the simmering process, and it tasted delicious.  But I knew the kids would not eat it if they saw all the chunkiness.  Sure enough, my daughter declared that it smelled delicious, but when she peered over the edge of the pot, she wince.  "Mom, it looks like cow poop!"  She did have a point.

So, my final adjustment to the recipe was to puree the soup in my blender.  I then poured the soup back into the pot and rinsed the blender, adding the water to the soup and returning to a simmer.  It turned out perfectly smooth and edible. We garnished our bowls with oyster crackers and called it a meal, much to my relief.  After calling it "guacamole soup, "  my 3 1/2 year old boy even had a small second helping. (No, it does not contain avocado.)  It reminded me a bit of split pea soup, but with more flavor. (And minus the fat from ham.)

Paradigm shift

I am one of those people who has never been on a diet on 35 years of life.  I lack the self control, and up until this point, I have lacked the need.  Dubbed "chicken legs" by some of the other RA's in my dorm during college, even after both of my first two children were born I managed to (slowly) shed the pounds with basic exercise and common sense cutting back on junk food.

Apparently the glory days are over.  I have joined the other 3-5% of pregnant women who has been diagnosed with gestational diabetes.    I never had it with the other two, although I vaguely remember that I may have been borderline with Buddy... but obviously not borderline enough to cause too much concern, and he was born healthy. 

I am still waiting for the diabetes clinic to schedule my appointment with the nutritionist, but in the meantime, I've been following tips on the Diabetic Mommy's page for gestational diabetes.  Or trying to.  I've joined a board with other Moms who are due around the same time, and have gotten some really good ideas from them.

And while I have FINALLY cracked open the prenatal exercise dvd's that my friend Jodi brought to me... 2 months ago. 

Other than this, my pregnancy has gone well so far.  So here's to a happy and healthy 12 1/2 more weeks.

more choices

Struggling here lately.  I weaned off some meds, perhaps a little earlier than I should have, but that was just how it worked out.  For some reason it is even harder to make those little choices that add up and determine the flow and attitude of the day.  Coincidence?  I think not.
So off I go to make better choices, one minute at a time, and pray for patience in the areas which I cannot control.

But first, here's a quote shared by Kristin Russell, author of the blog "Hair In My Coffee."

I'm not OK, you're not OK, and that's OK. ~ Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

 

baby checkup #3

17 weeks

It's a boy!

HB 144 bpm

Mommy's up to 148 lbs. (From 139 pre-pregnancy)

The placenta is anterior, so I can't feel as much movement yet as I'd like.  But if I remember correctly, it was similar with the other 2.  I have felt where baby is laying on occasion... not too many flutters or kicks, though.

The kids are excited.  I am excited, but tired.  

choices

If you knew me in person when my daughter was born, you know the struggles we had following her birth... she was born with what I call "the works" medically speaking... induced with pitocin and we had an epidural.  All seemed to go well until it came time to nurse.  The child would not open her mouth.  All she wanted to do was sleep.  When she did want to eat, she still would not open (could not open wide enough) to get a good latch... combined with the stresses of our situation at the time, it really was a hellish experience.  I hate to call it that, but it was, in spite of the wonderful family and friends who surrounded me.  I spent 12 weeks feeling like a failure before I called it quits and decided what we were doing (pumping and attempting to nurse) was unhealthy for both of us.  I look back and realize I should have gone on meds for PPD sooner than I did, and I am simultaneously thankful that we breastfed and that I gave up when I did.

Baby #2.  Since the lactation consultants swore pit lips/too many meds lingered in Bear's system and contributed to the difficulty (in addition to the fact she has a smaller jaw and, well, couldn't open big enough to latch onto the areola well), I determined 2 things.  1) I would do whatever I could to keep medications from interfering with my baby's health (i.e. no epidural or pitocin 2) I would not let myself repeat the mental/emotional hell that I went through.  Buddy was born, he started out nursing well, but when he started repeating patterns of nursing for an hour and a freaking half and being hungry (yes, truly hungry) 15 minutes later, I refused to watch him not gain weight, or worse, lose weight as his sister had.

But in the process of aiming for a natural vaginal delivery, which we succeeded at, I learned something so important... I learned that my body is a lot stronger than what I give it credit for.  In the process of trying to nurse, twice, I learned to trust my instincts and that it's okay if what I thought was ideal does not happen.

So here comes baby #3 in several short months.  Now that I know the meds were not the sole cause of my baby's failure to thrive, I am less afraid of them.  But on the flip side, now that I have felt every contraction, faced my fears of pain associated with childbirth inste,ad of lying numbed up and being told what my body needed and when, I am also confident that I could try again.  Quite frankly, I know one two many people who still have nerve pain where their epidural was placed.... and the risk of c-section increases something like 30% with a medicated childbirth.  So why is it that the norm in our country is to be afraid of the pain instead of to face it?  Why is it that people are afraid of trying to deliver without meds in a hospital for fear that they will be forced into a labor they don't want (interventions before they are necessary)?  Why is it that I feel out of place in the natural camps because I actually feel safer in a hospital just in case of emergency than I would in my own home, but I feel out of place among those who don't understand my choice to aim for a delivery without "the works?"

Why do choices regarding childbirth and delivery and child-rearing often seem so polarized?  If I've learned anything from all this, both babies and mommies are resilient.  It takes a lot to break us physically.  And we have medical technology and food to give when things don't go quite as planned. 

I was once told that I think too much.  If the person meant "worry,"  I can't disagree there...
I have thought it through, and yes, I will aim for a delivery without the epidural and pitocin again, or at least a lighter dose if I need it, because that whole numbing-over-medication was over-rated.  I will do it in a hospital because, well, insurance covers it and I don't want the mess of childbirth in my bedroom and the "what ifs" would make it hard for me to relax.

And I have thought the feeding difficulties through, and yes I will try again.  Every ounce of breast milk my babies get is better than none, and every child is different so it would be unfair to not try this time around.  How long will I try?  Depends.  If this one takes after big sis, not as long as I did with her. But if this one takes after big brother, I will probably not give up as easily as I did with him... I will not assume failure at the first bump in the road.

No matter what happens, I hope I will trust my Mommy instincts and enjoy the journey, because babies don't stay tiny very long.  

All it takes is a little rainbow

As I drove home this morning after dropping Bear off at her school (running late as usual), I saw the end of a rainbow to the south, just beyond a hill.  It was just the tail end, there was no arch visible from my perspective.  I smiled.  Rainbows are unexpected in January.  I think of them as a Spring or Summer occurrence.   Well, it is Spring-like with out daffodils and tulips and hyacinths peeking through the ground here in the Southeastern US, but that's not the point.  We could, in theory, get a snow storm tomorrow.  Because it's winter.  But I digress...

I continued toward home, and the other end of the rainbow was visible slightly north, not very far from our neighborhood.  The sky was dark and ominous in between the two ends, yet the colors I saw were pretty vibrant and made me smile.  Rainbows remind me of hope.  God gave a promise of hope to Noah, and after Noah's obedience the rainbow shone across the sky.  Noah would have missed it had he disobeyed and failed to build the ark. (In addition to what have been his obvious demise.)

At that point I was in a great mood by the time I got back to the house.  My mental list of things to tackle was ceasing to overwhelm me, my determination was growing.  About an hour later, it was time to take Buddy to his preschool.  I pressed the button on the remote in the garage for the opener... grind.... scrape... grind.... the door didn't budge, the chain did not even look like it was moving.   The house is 18-ish years old, and the garage door opener is original.  We had the springs and cables professionally replaced after we moved in.  Sigh.  Had we wasted our money?  Irrelevant right now, as I pondered how to get the SUV out of the garage.  I contemplated pulling it forward and trying to back it out of the other side, but the risk of hitting my husband's motorcycle or worse, the wall between the two garage doors, was not appealing.  (I do think it was possible.)  I looked at the manual release.  Some idiot had tied it out of reach.  (I later realized I was calling my husband an idiot on the phone when I vented to him. Oops.)  So I grabbed the step ladder and a bamboo skewer, and used the skewer to loosen the knot.  It worked.  Opening the door was still tricky, that thing is HEAVY... but I got it open enough to back out.  Which I did.  (All the while my 3 year old thought it was an adventure.  "Mommy, be careful on the ladder!") After backing into the driveway, I closed the beastly door (it kind of slammed in spite of my efforts to control it).  Buddy was only about 30 minutes late to school, no biggie...
So, we'll be calling the garage door service to come back out and figure out what happened... in the meantime, I get to park in the driveway.  In the rain.

It's easy to let a little thing like this ruin my day. Especially considering the house seems to be full of things that keep wearing out or breaking, not to mention the relatively minor damage caused by a natural disaster followed by the frustration over the poor workmanship in the repair process. (That's another story, don't ask.)

But this morning there was a rainbow.  A glimmer of Spring in the bleak midwinter. (The rainbow has disappeared and there's a nice drizzle falling outside now.) So my big girl panties have been pulled on, and I am tackling little projects one at a time, taking care of what I can, thanking God for my many blessings (including my home and the challenges it thrusts at us), and making it a good day.

mid-afternoon melancholy

This is the time of day where I want to take a nap or cry for no good reason.  I am exhausted.  I'm sure growing the little shrimp in my belly has something to do with it, but not all.  The weeks where my other half works out of town are the hardest, and after having him home for a month his absence is even more noticeable.

Can the kids and I just eat out every night so I don't have to worry about dishes to clean up?  Pretty please?

Baby Checkup #2

We (the whole family) went to my 12 week 4 day check-up today.  My new OB/Gyn likes utilizing technology and I knew we would get to have another ultrasound.  Part of me worried a bit because the nurse practitioner called it a viability scan, as though something last time may have indicated the need.  I am not used to numerous scans.

I have felt tired, but good overall.  Yes, some nausea and a little vomiting on occasion, but considering I spent what felt like hours over the porcelain throne with both Bear and Buddy (especially Bear), the lack of eventfulness was beginning to worry me.  My appointment came just in time.  Just yesterday I shared about my anxiety with some friends at MOPS.

I forgot to pack one of my meds before we went to Memphis for Christmas, and just never resumed taking it when we got back, so I am carefully monitoring my motions and asking hubby to do the same.  I would have to wean off in the 3rd trimester anyway, and with the influx of pregnancy hormones I am actually feeling much happier off the meds than I expected... minus the aforementioned mild anxiety.

So, we arrived.  The ultrasound tech decided to go ahead and try a normal abdominal u/s machine since I am halfway between weeks 12 and 13, and she was able to get a clear view of our baby.  Well, except for the fact that the little one was literally doing flips inside my belly.  The baby's heartbeat was 146 BPM and we saw the nose, brain, spine, arms and legs, and heart... that is one of the coolest things to me.

Big Sis was excited, Big Bro just wanted to be free and run around, but what surprised me was how the miracle of seeing your baby never gets old.  In fact, I think the awe and wonder grows with each pregnancy.  People who don't know me well cannot tell I have a baby bump, which is par for the course with my long torso.  And with the lack of morning sickness, I have often wondered if it was real, the first ultrasound was becoming a distant memory.  So to see and hear that heartbeat and watch a very active little baby move around on the TV screen, and then to have the u/s tech and nurse practitioners confirm that everything looks perfect is very overwhelming.  In a good way.  Baby looks like a tiny person in there, not just a belly bean with nubs, but a fully developing human being.  It truly is a miracle.

Here's Belly Bean!

Taken 12/2/11, measuring 7 weeks 3 days, EDD July 16th, 2012.  Heart beat of 163bpm.

Part of me is ecstatic.  Part of me is a bit afraid.  Apparently God knows I can handle more than I think I can.  But, I am 35 and I would rather go ahead and have our third while I am still young. ;)  There's the saying that 2 is the perfect # of children because you have 2 hands... with 3 you are outnumbered.  Perhaps.  I have observed our 3 year old boy around babies recently, and he seems captivated by them.  Now, I am not naive.  We will have to watch him closely because he switches form affectionate to way to playful and rough without notice.  But as we have contemplated getting pets, the thought, "I would rather have another kid" crossed my mind.... and guess what, it looks like we are having another child!  Bear is already an awesome big sister, and I am sure Buddy will be a good big brother, too.

Now, I have to admit that I ended up being resentful when my sister was born... I really am not sure how it happened, because she was cute.  I have my theory.  Anyway, fortunately we have grown closer with time, especially since become Moms 7 weeks apart back in 2005.  I always said I wanted 2 or 4 kids because I disliked being the middle child... now I am pretty sure 3 will be just fine.  We'll just have to work hard to make sure each one gets that special individual attention from Mom and Dad that they need.  Somehow.

Operation Preparation

Thanksgiving is at our place this year.  We are looking forward to the echoes of footsteps, the sound of the kids laughter, and time with hubby's side of the family for a few days.  Hubby and I are fighting sinus stuff, but that did not stop him from kicking into gear and helping to prepare the house.  I helped Buddy pick up his room, Daddy helped sissy with hers (the more difficult of the two).  I then tackled the bonus room... which is also know as the playroom.  I am so thankful for that space, because we can just shut a door and ignore it from time to time.  (Which I do.)  However, it will be the girls' slumber party room again in a few days, so I had some picking up to do.   Buddy helped clean up blocks, Bear occasionally brought in a few things from her room to add to the collection.  I really should have taken pictures, because even though they are not perfect, all 3 rooms are so much better.  Grandma and Mom and Dad T. will arrive on Tuesday, the rest of the gang comes on Wednesday. 

I have a secret.

Except it's not really a secret because I have told a handful of friends and my sister.  This post shall remain in my drafts until I decide to not make it a secret anymore, but I am fighting a little bout of insomnia and decided to post some thoughts.

A week and a half ago on a Friday afternoon, I took a little test.  According to prior experience and www.peeonastick.com, The Dollar Tree has these little tests that work better than some of the more expensive tests.  I THOUGHT I saw the tiniest pink line, but it was hard to tell if I was imagining things, in spite of the fact that my cycle was a week late.  So I retested the next morning.  And the line was slightly darker.  At this point, I still didn't believe it, so on Monday  11/7 I called my doctor and asked them to add "pregnancy test" to the list of topics to discuss at a check-up scheduled for the next day.

Apparently their test was also positive, because they asked how I felt about this baby.  Being a practice made up of women and one man who was not in the office at the time, I loved their honesty and caution.  Once they knew I was excited, they shared in my excitement and congratulated me.

"Cautiously optimistic."  Though we were not technically trying yet, one instance of not avoiding pregnancy is all it takes, so the parents tell their unwed teenage daughters.  Turns out, the same holds true for married couples.  I should know by now, Buddy was conceived the first month off the pill.

So yes, we are cautiously optimistic with a healthy dose of excitement.  I couldn't resist and even told the kids, and big sister is ecstatic.  She keeps bringing me water or milk for the baby and rubs and kisses my tummy, which seems to be growing.

However there is a part of me that is anxious, scared perhaps.  Not because of the added expense and logistical issues of having more kids than you have hands with which to hold them.  But because of what happened early in 2007... I finally believed the positive pregnancy tests and then the cramping bleeding started. We never met that sweet, teensy tiny little person.

Other than some extra fatigue and occasional spells of nausea, I feel fine.  And I know it's early, at 6 weeks 4 days or something like that, but that scares me.  I keep reminding myself that I didn't start feeling pregnant with Bear until closer to 8 weeks, and then it hit like a bad storm. "IT" being the nausea and puking... lots of it.

So I pray.  A lot.  And wonder if I can make it to Thanksgiving.  Hubby wants to surprise the family.

I am excited that our nephew who is due early next year will have a cousin relatively close to his age.  I am excited that our son will get the opportunity to be a big brother. (Though he keeps asking of we are going to the baby store at the hospital to get a baby.)  I am thrilled that my daughter keeps asking to watch a video on babycenter about the first 9 weeks of development.  I have avoided the "how does the baby get in your tummy?" question and am open to suggestions on how to tell the truth without telling more details than a 6 year old needs to know.

So there you have it.  Our little secret.  If all is progressing well, baby should be about the size of a blueberry this week.  The intricate details of the human design amaze me more every pregnancy, and I just pray that we get to meet this little one.

parenting is heart work

I think it's time to dig through my boxes of books and find our copy of "Parenting is Heart Work" to read again.  About halfway through Bear's 5th year, sassiness began getting stronger and stronger and stronger.  now that she is 6, her strong will is also strengthening.

The challenge as a parent is not to just punish, but to teach consequences for actions.  Punishment without somehow conveying the reason for the punishment is futile and, in my opinion, will only lead to rote feigned obedience and sneaking around as they get older.

Helping a 6 year old learn proper behavior is not as easy as just telling her the golden rule.  It forces me to examine my heart as I choose the best form of discipline for the situation. 

Some days, like today, it's really hard to fight anger and frustration (on both sides).

Parenting IS heart work... on my part as the parent, then on my children's.  Or maybe I should say also on my children's, as only God can truly change our hearts.

observations....

My daughter and I have some personality similarities.  I have a hard time remembering my early childhood.  I remember bits and pieces, some highs, some lows.  I remember some toys and activities, etc., but I don't remember what "I" was like as a person.  So I asked Mom this weekend, shortly after a confrontation with my non-cooperative 6 year old.  She said I held things in more than my girl does.  Later on during the weekend, Dad mentioned that they were harder on us than we are on our kids.  Hmmmm... in light of the fact that I now have a tendency to share too much, perhaps THAT's part of why I held things in.

Parenting is tough.  You have to make decisions about discipline, etc... in areas that are far from black and white.  YOU have to decide when to extend grace or mercy, or when to be strict and what some might call just.

One of my goals is to make sure that my kids know that our relationship is more important than the hierarchy.  Respect is important, but I want them to trust me as well.  I don't want them to be afraid to talk about things, and when the need for discipline arises, I want it to be productive, not demeaning. Finding that balance is hard.

reprieve

After I finished last night's post, I read a few Palms before bedtime.  Then I slept more soundly than I have in a while.

reflections of a weary mom

I would like to say that I came back from almost 48 hours at MOPS convention completely rejuvenated and inspired.  The convention was refreshing and inspiring, after all. It was easy to cast my worries aside, by thankful, worship God, and soak up encouragement from other women and Moms.  Lisa Harper, Mandisa, Lauren Dungy, Travis Cottrell (ok, he's a dad, but he led worship)... those are just some of the big names.

Yet my reality was that the closer I got to home, the more aware I was that my other half would have to leave on Monday and I would have a few days with the kids by myself.  Again.

The thing that disturbs me most is the fact that I HAVE what I always wanted.  I have a loving, devoted husband and two beautiful, healthy children.  I worked toward my education degree thinking I might homeschool, for crying out loud.

And then reality hit.  I DON'T do stress well.  It's genetic.  That's the core of my struggle.

Add in the stress of dealing with a contractor who shows up at the door unannounced to "follow-up," just when the boy is actually sitting on the potty and not spraying the hallway or the floor or just his clothes.  I tried to tell big sis not to even go to the door, but she either did not hear my voice at all or just did not process the words I said, because there she was standing at the deadbolted door with just enough glass for the unexpected visitor to be able to hear her and see her.  Drat.  Where is the ugly solid metal door that you can't see through except for a peep hole when you need it?  Add "don't open the door for anyone except family" to the list of things I've somehow failed to teach her - because were it not for the deadbolt out of reach, she would have opened it wide.

I am having a hard time finding the joy in the journey right now.  I am so thankful for the friends God has put in my life who help me refocus and know I am not alone in this journey, even on the days it feels like a bad dream and I say things that I really don't mean to my kids out of sheer frustration.

God, grant me some extra grace.  I really need it right now.  My family needs it.

"Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it."

addictions come in many forms

Fortunately, FB is my worst time waster, I mean, there are far worse addictions to have.  With our return to having a yard and the return of Spring, my addiction to playing in the dirt and trying to grow things has also been revived.  It is fun seeing what we got in our yard when we bought the house in the bleak midwinter. :)

Our variegated hostas were HUGE until the hail flattened them, they are coming back nicely, along with some purple salvia.  Fortunately, the tiger lilies did not lose all their buds and we have 3 open with 3 more on the way.  Then there was the pink creeping phlox, spirea shrub, azaleas (salmon and white), japanese maple, and a few other shrubs.

The pansies we planted did not take off as well as I had hoped.  I am too frugal to pull them out and replace them, so I continue to water and fertilize in hopes that they will do ok.  My dear friend Anna brought me some iris from her yard- yay!  There are new leaves sprouting, so I know they will bloom next Spring.  The white candytuft must like being picked by the kiddos, because even though it is an early bloomer, more keep coming.  It is a perennial that should rebloom every year.  We'll see if the hyacinths or tulips I planted come up next spring, I plan to add daffodils to the mix in the fall.


we have just 1 big boy tomato plant and it seems to be doing well, the cucumber seeds resulted in 15 sprouts so I should probably thin those out in their pot.  I love having basil on the deck, fresh herbs add so much to my feeble attempts at cooking.  The oregano I planted is sprouting slowly, I hope it grows.

Mom brought me a wandering jew in a hanging pot along with a fern, and the swing area under the deck still screams, "landscape me!"

And then there are the lilies.  A few weeks ago I used a groupon and ended up with 4 plants.  I bought a couple to give as gifts yesterday, and one was a big enough clump that I was able to split part of it off for myself.  We have buds on the yellow "betty woods" variety, and Bear's "Bela Lugosi" which was a gift from the lily farmer. I had picked one plant out to give as a gift, and then when I saw another in bloom yesterday, I HAD to buy both.

"Singing His Praises" is the one I picked out to be a gift... reminds me of a peony! 

The farmer had the first "Northern Nocturne"of the season in bloom and I could not resist.  Gorgeous! 


I have a lot of things I would like on my mental list.... but some of them need flower beds in the back yard, and I am not quite motivated enough to dig through the thick grass.


Yes, I am addicted.  When my flowers multiply enough to split, I will be glad to share them on a first come first serve basis.  It will probably take a couple of years, though! 

I just need to remember to wear my sunscreen.

Friday Felicities

• kiddos painting watercolors
• kitchen table is old, they can't hurt it
• none of the eggs cracked during boiling process for egg dying
• kitchen floor is still not sticky (washed it last night)
• family members coming to visit tomorrow
• friends from high school stopping by next week as they pass by to their destinations
• Jesus loves me and the Holy Spirit helps me overcome my unbelief.