Archive for the Family Category

A few things I don’t want to forget about Charlie right now-

1) He kissed a four year old girl that we know from the neighborhood at the farmer’s market two weeks ago while in line for ice cream. Three times on the cheek, asking her each time if it was ok. They held hands until he told her about picking his fingers after she’d asked about his band-aids. He kissed her again last week, just twice. She came and sat next to him while we ate dinner and happily proclaimed, “Charlie kissed me!”

2) Upon overhearing Harry and I say someone would be blown away by the changes in Charlie, Charlie said, “Oh no! They would blow away! We’d have to catch them…in an envelope…and sweep them back up!” Alrighty then.

3) I cried in his arms a few weeks ago and he kept patting me, hugging me and saying, “Cheer up, mama.”

4) He often uses a British accent and uses phrases like “Would you like to have a go at it?” thanks to Kipper cartoons.

5) He is quite fond of his new headphones and wears them when Miles cries. He always talks very loudly when he wears them.

17lbs, 8 oz (90th %ile)
25 1/2 inches tall (75th %ile)
17 inch head circumference (as if anyone cares)

Miles loves playing peek-a-boo, watching his parents make silly noises and faces, singing (seriously!), listening to music, gnawing on things and watching Charlie. He’s rolled from belly to back over a handful of times and sometimes gets up on his knees. Harry & I predict he’ll be crawling by 6-months. We sure have a lot of baby-proofing to do in this ridiculously baby unfriendly rental.

Since we started letting him cry (which we’ve chosen to stop the past few days because of the heat and his mild fever) our nights have improved dramatically. He’s only waking up twice to feed and he goes back down pretty quickly. Miles is better rested and getting what he needs and so am I. His daytime nap schedule is also regulating a bit, thankfully. I’m still tired and catching up, but I’m really hopeful that we’re through the worst of it. The doctor said babies his size can sleep 9 or 10 hours and recommended that we let him cry it out in the middle of the night at 5-months old to eliminate another night feeding. Hopefully we won’t have to do that and he’ll just drop it as he continues to get better rested.

Today was the first time Charlie has angrily and jealously yanked something out of Miles’ hands, making Miles cry. Once crawling starts, I’m sure we’ll see that a lot more often.

There is so much beauty in the truth being spoken. It is in the truth that we can accept grace. It is in the truth that we can identify with others. Without knowing the real experiences of others, we are so often left to think we’re alone in our challenges. I am able to share my truth because I know I’m not alone. Thanks to the vulnerability of those women in my life who’ve gone before me, I have felt supported.

So, here’s how I’ve been. Since most loveoirs readers are close enough with me to know, this will not be completely new information. For some, it will. Parenthood is hard! Now I realize that’s not news. But, the extent to which these past few months have worn on me might surprise some. After the first few weeks, Miles began waking every two hours and usually had at least one of those waking periods last for several hours. This meant that on good nights I would sleep 3-4 hrs of segmented sleep. To top it off, even if both boys were sleeping at the same time, I couldn’t nap most afternoons because the unit next door to ours had remodeling work taking place. Also, the neighbors on our other side have frequently been loud until 11pm and unwilling to change their ways despite our (kind!) requests. To say I was going looney is an understatement. I have had frequent headaches. I have had many days when I feel like I’m rocking on a boat. I have heard my babies cry in my head, even though all was well. I have left the oven on. I have nearly overboiled a pot of water. I have avoided driving many days because I knew I wasn’t safe. I am constantly echoing Anne Lamott’s famous cries of “Help me, help me, help me!” and sometimes I sound like a sailor.

Emotionally, I have had intensely difficult moments of wondering why I had ever become a mom, let alone to two children. I have had enormous guilt about how Charlie has suffered because of needing to put Miles first so frequently and how long getting Miles down for a nap could take…all while Charlie was left to watch DVDs or play computer games or, let’s face it, tear apart the house. I have had a short fuse. I have lashed out at Harry for no reason. I have been quick to anger with Charlie for his normal, healthy three-year old developing ways. After a night of decent sleep, I feel much better and these feelings fade. A bad night, I’m right back there. And I can’t get enough chocolate and coffee. I am experiencing all the signs and symptoms of postpartum depression but they are completely dependent on how rested I am.

Since Miles’ sleep, both daytime and nighttime, is not improving dramatically, and my ability to cope is rapidly deteriorating, Harry and I decided to use drastic measures. Last Saturday night, Miles was unable to be soothed to sleep. We tried for five hours and finally got him down at 12:45, only for him to wake at 5. We have a very similar night again last night, extreme difficulty soothing him to sleep and he was up at 3:30 until 6. And when I mean extreme difficulty soothing, picture Harry and I doing deep, rapid squats for hours because an up and down bouncing motion is the only thing that will calm him. I am beginning to have legs of steel to prove it. We simply can’t keep it up, though. We are worn out, physically and emotionally. Something’s gotta give.

Since Charlie has had significant sleep needs (eg, longer hours than most kids his age and a very regular schedule), we’ve been able to realize that Miles is also particularly sensitive to sleep deficits. He has simply not been able to handle all the times his naps have been cut short due to us being out and about while he’s sleeping and this was exacerbated by his difficulty falling asleep at night. It’s a vicious cycle. Seeing Miles fight so badly against what he really needed was our sign that we couldn’t get him the rest he needed. He needed to learn to do it. So, we have started to let him cry. This does not mean crying all night long, but rather to his first sleep. I am more than happy to feed him in the night and will gladly continue to do so for many more months. Geez, take a look at the kid. It’s obvious I am more than happy nurse him.

Anyways, this has been ridiculously hard for many reasons. It goes against every parent’s desire to comfort their crying baby. It subjects Charlie to more intense, frequent crying and often competes with his appropriate bedtime. Charlie has already had a really tough time with the adjustment to being big brother, but having a high maintenance younger brother has only made that worse. We are having to proactively fight against some challenging and heartbreaking behaviors related to his anxiety. Plus, Miles hasn’t been quick to learn and we’re often having to change poopy diapers, which sabotages his learning all the more.

My attachment parenting friends might be horrified to hear that we’re letting a baby cry. I would’ve been horrified to hear this, too, until I experienced Charlie’s horrid sleep from months 5-9 and saw how it impacted our family, Harry and my marriage, and my general ability to enjoy motherhood. Once Charlie learned how to sleep on his own we ALL were much happier. Charlie wouldn’t fight bedtime and he’d often even request naps by leaning towards the crib. He knew he needed it. But, Charlie was 9-months old! Miles is only nearly four, which has made this all the harder. Basically, it’s awful and I would never wish this on anyone.

So, if you see Harry, Charlie, Miles or I, give us an extra hug and a kiss. Pray for us. Come play with us. Come hang with us. Send us an email. Call us. We need all the love we can get right now. And thank you for being gracious enough to hear our truth and know we’re trying to do what’s best for our family.

Both our boys are in their bedrooms! Time to write a bit…

Charlie is really into playing games lately. While they may be titled in familiar terms, the way he plays them will make anyone laugh. Hide and Seek involves the standard seeker role, but the hiding person has quite a bit more leeway with Charlie’s version. In fact, hiding might be simply standing by a wall in plain sight. Or pretending you’re a part of the stairway, simply because you’re on it. And, just in case you’re having a hard time spotting him in his incredibly stealthy spot, he’ll give you a “pssst” every once in awhile to help you out. The “pssst” started after we had to help him find us because his seeking skills are just about as good as his hiding skills.

The other hilarious game is hiding plastic eggs, which we’ve been doing since Easter. We take turns hiding and seeking, but Charlie always needs help seeking if they’re not visible. When he hides them he often picks the spots you just used, particularly if they were new and cool. He also thinks it’s a part of the game to tell you where he’s hidden the eggs (because, surely, you must need the same help he did with spotting eggs, even if they’re right in front of you on the coffee table). We don’t even get a chance to look before he’s told us where they are. And he loves it. So we play over and over and over again.

We bought Charlie Chutes and Ladders to celebrate Miles’ birth because of his growing interest in numbers and counting. He’s also made up his own rules for this game, which basically involve using the spinner and going wherever you want to, for as many squares as you desire. And nobody wins or loses. It’s quite easy to play. Come over and join us someday!

An older girl ran up to him at the playground a few weeks ago and said, “Let’s play tag.” She then tagged him and ran away. Charlie thought he’d been hit at first, and then ran the other direction. We might let him have his own rules to this one for awhile, too, just to keep other kids guessing.

Birth stories are magical for me. Three years after delivering Charlie, I still love telling the story. Miles’ will no doubt be the same. I regret not writing about Charlie’s earlier because I know many of the details are forgotten. I will write about it soon. But with the experience so fresh in my memory and the sweet smell of my newborn near me, this is Miles’ birthday story. (If you can’t handle details of labor, don’t read this.)

Beginning around week 39, I started doing nearly everything under the sun to attempt to encourage labor. I didn’t start this ridiculousness until my mom had been present at our home for several days, making sure we would have time for a few fun dates and Charlie’s adjustment to her presence. In an effort to laugh about all the labor inducing myths, I solicited on Facebook. Pistachio ice cream, eggplant Parmesan, wine, spicy food, primrose oil, acupuncture, castor oil, sex, and bikini waxes were among the suggestions. While I didn’t try all, I did a bunch of these recommendations knowing there was no harm in eating some spicy mango curry. I had a pleasant experience with acupuncture and learned that is has several studies backing it for decreased labor time and cervical ripening, so I would recommend it as a legitimate tool for those willing to face the needles. Plus, I walked away with a great packet of acupressure points which ended up being an invaluable part of my pain management during labor.

The funny thing is, I don’t even believe in most of these techniques that I tried and am aware that placebo effect doesn’t work without that factor! I guess that’s desperation for you. The pressure was on with my mom leaving April 21 and knowing that week 42, and definite induction date, was April 24. The closer we got to her flight date, the harder it was to relax about it. I was sad at the thought of her leaving without meeting Miles. I was also really concerned that Charlie would be adjusting to her departure and staying with someone less familiar while we were at the hospital. Once we discovered that Harry Senior would be willing to fly up and be with Charlie if we got to that point, I felt comfortable with whatever would happen.

In the end, genetics probably won out as the timing was just like Harry’s middle brother (and Charlie was like Harry, the firstborn). The first weak, irregular contractions started on Saturday, the beginning of my 41st week of pregnancy.  At 2am Sunday they were strong enough to wake me and keep me up.  In the morning I called my friend and doula, Kari, to help me get through them.  They were about five minutes apart and rather strong.  We went on a walk to get Harry some coffee and Kari some food and they slowed a bit but not much.  By noon they had become irregular and I was discouraged, thinking we were headed down the same path as Charlie’s labor (40 hours).  I sent Kari home and got a nap in.

Contractions were back shortly. By dinnertime I was barely making it through them by myself and Kari arrived just in time for Harry to start the bedtime routine with Charlie (which lasted a couple hours because of his sadness at us leaving for the hospital). I was relying strongly on breathing techniques, relaxation, visualization, prayer, and acupressure to get through them. (Thank you, Hypnobirthing book!) I also kept getting the image of my child being placed in my arms, which helped tremendously. That ended up being my primary prayer and motivator through the contractions.

Around 8pm I called our midwife to let her know we’d be coming into the hospital. My contractions had mostly been three to four minutes apart but we’d had some longer gaps. Because of those, she said we could wait a bit and reassess or go on in. Quickly, my contractions were getting closer together and we decided to head in. I wanted time to settle in to the hospital before they were too hard to focus on anything else.

Driving to the hospital was agonizing. First of all, contractions in that position suck and nobody could help relieve them. Secondly, I was facing the knowledge that my cervix would be checked and needed to decide whether or not I wanted to know where I was at. I knew a 3 or 4 would discourage me and continued to fear that I was going to have as long of a labor as I did with Charlie.  I didn’t think I was in enough pain or having a difficult enough time to be in transition yet.

Once we arrived there, I ended up crying to Harry and Kari about this decision. I didn’t think I could manage without an epidural if it was going to be that long (let alone care for the two boys on so little sleep after a week of minimal sleep to begin with due to Charlie’s illness and pregnancy woes). I was so conflicted because of my intense desire to labor without drugs. I realized how many different things (good and bad, including pride) were packed into this desire, which made it even harder. Mia, our fabulous (Lake Charles native) midwife entered, and joined in the discussion. She checked me and immediately said, “Well, there isn’t a decision to be made. You’re at a 7 or an 8 and all we have to do is get this baby farther into your pelvis and you’re going to be pushing him out.” I sobbed with tears of joy. This felt like an enormous gift to me and I was completely re-energized to continue labor without intervention.

So we continued for three more hours. I had to drink a lot of water to get Miles’ heart rate down (somehow I was dehydrated despite the 200+ ounces of water I’d had that day). Nurses performed what felt like exploratory surgery on my hand to find a vein to take my blood. And contraction by contraction Harry and Kari pushed on my back and other pressure points, talking me through, encouraging me on. I just focused like crazy and did my best to take them one contraction at a time. I also added humor to the scene by burping up gardenburger fumes after every contraction. And these burps weren’t masked. We’re talking bachelors drinking beer kind of burps. Labor does that to you. It’s a bit raw.

By the end of my transition period and throughout pushing I was groaning and yelling. Loudly. I felt really bad for the women just being admitted to the unit or put in the room next to mine. I was definitely the scary laboring woman if they were hoping for a nice calm experience. I had a hoarse voice for about 24 hours afterward and laughed to myself that some SLP out there would scold me for that and want to do vocal therapy for laboring women.

By the time I was pushing, Miles’ heart rate was hard to find and occasionally slow. I had to lay on my left side to push so that more blood flow would get to him. Two nurses held my right leg. Mia had said something about wanting to get him out as soon as possible, which worried me, so I pushed as hard as I could. Harry & I don’t recall exactly, but we think it was probably about eight to ten pushes for about 20 minutes. My bag of waters never broke, so they all got to see that push out a bit first and ended up breaking it while part of it was outside of me (which I wish I could’ve seen! Harry said it looked a bit like a white water balloon.). The nurse joked about how they all instinctively turned their heads away because they’ve all been splashed before! As Miles’ head finally came out, he stuck one of his fists out, too, just like Superman. Apparently, I wouldn’t have torn had he not done this. It’s such a cute way for him to exit that I don’t mind so much. Anyways, he was quickly brought to my arms, just as I had envisioned, and we got to experience that magical moment of meeting our son face to face for the first time. After lots of telling him how beautiful he was, exclamations of wonder and oohs and aahs, I checked in to make sure he was a boy and ask when his birthday was. I couldn’t believe it was still Sunday. I labored in under a day. 22 hours! Woo-hoo!

I am so thankful for this experience.  The beautiful, warm spring day filled with blue skies, flowers, and several walks with my husband and a dear friend.  All the time between contractions provided space for conversation that is rare and treasured.  I was in awe of Harry’s support this time.  Last round he was knocked out due to strep but still provided incredible support.  This time, he acted like he was a certified doula- truly phenomenal.  Plus, he held Charlie together all day, too.  Thinking of Harry’s presence will always be part of the intense joy I feel when I reflect on April 18th.  I also felt like God surprised me with a great gift by being so far along.  I truly felt blessed to know I could continue on med-free and was immediately freed from the fears I had as a result of Charlie’s labor and my recovery from it.  Of course, the end result is the best part of it all.  Seeing your child, whom you carried for 41 weeks, being brought to your arms couldn’t be sweeter.  Every challenge of pregnancy is suddenly washed away by the pure beauty of the precious baby.