Tag Archives: family

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Now We Just Wait For The Plane To Land

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting across from my midwife. She said “this is the time of the pregnancy where it’s like an airplane circling around, waiting for the right moment to land. Now we wait”. Two weeks ago I was ok with the wait, all things happen when they’re meant to. I’m a patient person, I was a patient person. Then you realize how hard it is to be patient when you can barely move without wincing in pain. I’m not patient when I’m feeling miserably uncomfortable.

Last week, I had an appointment and I was dilated. That was exciting, and she proceeded to “start some contractions”. She succeeded, if her goal was to make me feel more physically miserable than I had previously. Now with my due date slowly crawling nearer, the discomfort is worsening to where if I could squeeze him out myself, I definitely would. I’m not sure if my impatience is worsening due to my being miserable feeling or that everyone else seems to be more impatient than I am. I don’t want him out now, I need him out now.

What they really don’t mention often enough in pregnancy books is you are incredibly drained at the end of the term. By 37 weeks, you’ve got a 6 pound or so baby with all its weight making everything impossible. You want to do all these things, but you can’t because you have this large stomach in your way. Soon you feel not just miserable because of how uncomfortable you are, but you feel miserable because of how you look at yourself with every weigh in or glimpse in the mirror. Finally, the toll it takes on your emotional state. That’s when the worst of it hits, because you’re torn between excitement of meeting this person you’ve been sharing your body with and the guilt of wanting the pregnancy to be done so you can get yourself back.

The misery is worth it though when you watch them grow up into incredible children. Then you forget about this emotional roller coaster they refer to as “the joys of pregnancy” when you decide to go for another one. The sadness and discomfort are as forgotten as the labor pains. I’m thankful I have it better than most, with a doting and fantastic partner that supports me and makes me feel a little less repulsive. I just hope that tonight I can go to sleep, and wake up in the hospital with my 3 boys.

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Just When You Realize How Time Flies…

… and realize how you’ve grown since then.

I’m not sentimental or romantic in the normal sense. I don’t have a ton of pictures, I have enough to remind me of certain events without being overwhelmed in a dozen boxes of pictures. I didn’t save my bouquet and if my wedding dress and veil weren’t in my closet, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you where it was. I could tell you how much it cost, but I don’t remember any detail about it. I couldn’t tell you what I wore on my first date or when it was. Even when I talk about my husband, I don’t think I express more than adoration for him hoping that my emotions are at least written in between the lines. I don’t feel like my best writing comes out with pure love, maybe love in a nonsensical idea but not in a romantic way.

I’d like to share something I wrote 9 years ago and I ended up marrying that person in the end, with no help of my own. I admit I spent most of the time foolishly defying whatever fate had been laid out for me. I screwed up a lot, mostly as a result of lacking a romantic bone in my body and fearing any sort of commitment. Most of all, I feared I was too damaged and felt I didn’t deserve the person that stood before me and promised to love me. I ran, and I’m ashamed to admit it. After a series of events, I did grow up and got smart about life. Maybe I was wrong the entire time I said that “love was nothing more than lust, and we’d lie if we denied it”. I could be right, because without several forms of lust we wouldn’t fall for a person. But love, love is what keeps those 2 people together because lust can fade. If you have to compromise the person you are and the beliefs you have 100%, you shouldn’t be in that relationship. True love is where you’re allowed to be exactly who you are without feeling like you’re a fool. True love lets you be free to do what you want knowing that you both come back to each other at the end of the day. If there’s any doubt in that, maybe you need to reconsider your situation. It’s all give and take, and you shouldn’t give more in a relationship than you get. That’s not love; that’s being walked on.

To close, I did promise to share something before I went into a long-winded rant. So here it is. I’m glad I got my head together and came back, our family is perfect and I’m pretty sure not having it would be my biggest regret. I’m glad we got our “reboot”, we’re stronger than ever and I’m sure that’s what makes our marriage as strong and happy as it is.

“My Adonis”

If I could, I’d give you the stars. And if you would, I’d like a few minutes of your time, to sit and tell you a story. A story of a beautiful man, worthy of his own galaxy; whose mind equals in beauty. I’d share with you my dreams of him, and moments I wish for.

I’d tell you how he laughs and his radiant smile. I’d tell you how he makes me feel, and how I wish he felt.

I’d tell you how I fancy to dance with him under the stars, and share a most perfect kiss. I’d tell you how I saw him, in the stars’ light.

I’d tell you how I wish he held me. I share with my hopes of ‘us’. I’d share that I wish that he saw me as I saw him.

If I could, I’d hold him close, and hear his heart beat. I would listen to each breath, and wish that he breathed me.

.. Most importantly, I’d tell you that you’re the beautiful man my whole story was about.

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The Summer is Over… Almost

Last week I received a letter from my son’s school to tell me who’s class he’s in with other notes about the start of the school year. That means only one thing: summer is nearing its end. It’s funny how as parents, the summer ends the minute “Back to School” shopping begins. Of course there’s also that moment of “is he really in the fourth grade?” reminding us that not only do our children get older, we’re getting a lot older. Soon, we’ll find ourselves waiting at the bus stop and rekindling the school year friendship we have with neighbors that share the bus and sending our ever-growing kids off to school.

People think that this time of year is a vacation time for stay at home parents of school aged kids. I actually thought that way myself until I became one. It’s more work than summer vacation, it really is. On vacation time, you can all sleep in and just relax. The school year hits, and at 6-7 am you need to go into “get everyone ready mode”. Breakfast needs to be on the table, the kids need to be dressed and groomed and then sent off hopefully in time for the bus in the morning. If you’re really lucky, you’re spending that time also making sure you pack the lunches and that all the paperwork needed to be sent into school that day is in the backpacks. Then you can continue on a day where you make sure you’re available in case the school calls, and make sure you’re there to pick them up in time. And you get to do that over and over for 120 some odd days, give or take. Don’t forget all those after school activities, and keeping track of them. Then you crash at 9pm when your child does and realize how old you’ve really gotten. I can’t wait.

As tiresome as it is, you can’t help to feel excited. So what your life revolves around conferences and open houses? It all seems worth it no matter how exhausting it is. We’re doing what kids need to be successful in their life every time we help them with their homework or show up to school events. This time of year we need to remember the teachers and staff that takes care of our precious cargo during the day to make sure they are educated not just by books, but the interactions with classmates and adults to shape them into people we want them to be. Besides, we need to hold onto this now because soon our skinny jeaned fashion plate children will be standing in front of us with their diplomas and we realize how time flies.

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Reading Books About Nursing: Part 2

On Monday, I discussed a book from the La Leche International about breastfeeding. The book emphasized things I hate about even watching the news: not enough information but a ton of biased propaganda. I don’t mind people having a point of view different from mine; I mind them judging that I don’t agree. This book scared me about the other book I bought at the same time, entitled The Essential Guide to Breastfeeding by Marianne Neifert, MD. I looked at it, flipped through the pages, hoping to work up the mental strength to read it. Finally I decided to dive in.

And I was pleasantly surprised. My favorite part about this book is that it has a ton of information with no filler stories or commentary. The book gives you all the information you could need, and encourages you that if you try and aren’t successful no matter how hard you try, that you’re not a failure as a mother. After the first few chapters, I was encouraged to try this out without any guilt of failure. It doesn’t just give a ton of information on feeding, but it also gives a ton of information on newborns and infants in general. This book was everything I wanted when I went to the store that day.

Most importantly to me, this book seemed to speak to certain things that I’m practiced in from my first time around that the other book seemed to find “more harmful than good for your child”. If swaddling with a pacifier works to help your child be content, shouldn’t we do it and not feel guilty about it? While the La Leche League book mentioned how every time the baby cries, offer a boob and don’t swaddle. Just sit around topless with a baby on your chest with a blanket over him and that’s all he needs. Neifert tells says that comfort comes in many forms and to try what works for both the parent and child. In general, my ideals closely match the ones she presents in her book.

Another plus from this book is it’s easy to navigate through because of the set-up. Because this book lacks the story telling from La Leche League’s book, you get to the information quicker and can go back to it easier to help you along. The way the book is arranged, both the chapters and the information within the chapters, you can easily skip over a section that doesn’t really apply to you. I wanted a book that not only was informative at the first read, but easy to go back to and reread the information I need at a specific time.  Added bonus? A ton of web resources in the back of the book. I like the idea if I can’t find help in her book, I have 7 pages of resources that might be able to help me.

I recommend Marianne Neifert’s The Essential Guide to Breastfeeding to mothers that are attempting to nurse for the first time. The information in there seems to be beyond useful. It’s not enough that she gives us “how to” information, but she gives a detailed “why”. Every bit of information she gives has a purpose, no filling to make the book longer. Her pictures give a nice subtle detail on positionings for feedings and why each position works. Another great part of the book was how she didn’t just write about breastfeeding, she gave great information about other newborn issues like sleeping routines, colic, solid foods, and how to get yourself emotionally and physically back to your normal. I’m very happy with this book, and I would recommend it highly to anyone who asked. Luckily, you guys didn’t need to ask.

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Just Say No

Before kids, I hated going out and dealing with other people’s kids. I’ve considered even tripping the out of control brats running around while their parents either didn’t care enough to pay attention or even know where their kids were. Instead, I had enough self-control to just mutter “parents of the year” and accept that I would never have kids because based on these outings, I thought kids were more annoyance than they were worth. Then I had a kid and he wasn’t annoying. It wasn’t the child I had a problem with, it was the lack of parenting.

After all that I learned that those parents lacked one ability as a parent, and probably the most important: they didn’t know how to say “no”. “You want to run around the store and knocking things off the shelf and tripping other people in the store? Sure!” It’s easier to let your kids act like annoying brats and make yourself look like an ass than it is to use a simple word from the start. In raising my son, the word I put the most emphasis on was “no”. If he didn’t listen, I still remember the time out corner he sat in with his little Spider-Man chair. Taking him out was great, because I knew my son wasn’t going to act like a spoiled brat because I raised him to behave.

I don’t understand why at 18 I was able to do that successfully and how people twice my age couldn’t. I don’t understand now why I can walk through the store with my son and say “no” and have it be no big deal while another kid has an extreme full on melt down. It seems so simple just to teach them from the start how to behave properly, and going out into public makes me wonder if I have this all wrong. I think it would be easier to start from the minute the child understands what no means to say “no”, before they grow up to be tantrum monsters. I think there should be a public service announcement telling people to “not let other parents let their children be brats”.

I don’t feel guilty for rolling my eyes at people that make me sit back and wonder how that child is going to turn out. I don’t feel guilty judging them. They could have been trying to raise a kid with a person they might not agree their parenting. I know what that’s like, and you know what? My kid knows what no is and what it means. Being the good guy is training your children how to be good children. If I can do it at 18, I’m sure that others can do it at a later age. Parents need to just say no, it’ll be better for your child in the future and for your wallets now.

 

 

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When You Count Down The Days

Soon enough we’ll meet the ever active little boy that’s been cozily growing for about 9 months now. Well, maybe not soon enough because soon enough seemed like a little while ago when the major discomforts of carrying a child started. The idea that he’ll come when he wants to occurs to me more on days where I feel the most miserable. He’ll be here when he wants, which I hope is soon. Physically I’m beyond ready for him. Now we have everything we could need for him, so we’re definitely ready for when he wants. Which I’ll repeat, I hope is soon.

It didn’t occur to me sooner, that I wasn’t the only one who was anxious. My parents since leaving for vacation calls daily, sometimes twice daily. Each call is started with a “how are you feeling? Trip to the hospital yet?” Part of me wonders if they are anxious for him to be born or anxious that he would be born before their vacation ended. My son, who’s also with them since we didn’t think it was fair he missed our usual trip because I couldn’t go, also is excited and anxious to meet him. So anxious that he admits that he doesn’t want to be gone when it happens. He assures me that his brother will wait though, because he’s too awesome of a big brother.

Then there is my sweet and overly excited husband. This is the same person that the day after the baby shower had to go out and buy everything else we needed because “you never know when he’ll come”. Then proceeded to spend the rest of the night assembling everything even though he had to wake up early in the morning to drive across state for a class for his job. It seems every hour I get a call or texts of “just wondering how you’re feeling”. I don’t translate that as a concern for how I’m actually feeling; it’s a way to ask “are you in labor yet?”.

As the time comes closer, you realize that everyone is just as anxious as you. All your family and friends want to meet your newborn almost as much as you and your partner do. He’ll arrive when he’s ready however he’s ready. For me, I’m convinced after my first one that all my children are going to make an exciting entrance into this world. I hope I’m wrong, and the only exciting entrance he makes is the excitement of meeting him and not that I give birth on the side of the street while out for a walk.

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Deep Breathing Isn’t Just For Labor

Eventually growing up you hear “the first reaction is generally the best one”. I’ve basically applied that principle every time I face something and wonder “did I overreact?” Though I think I usually under-react, at least I walk away feeling like I handled it appropriately. At least in my adult life, I wouldn’t think half my teenage years I handled anything as appropriately as I could have but really what teenager does? The excuse of out of control teenage hormones are generally used at the excuse for that.

Hormones are the answer then. Or the excuse. Or the excuse to not take someone seriously. I suppose when it comes down to it, hormones are offered up as a blame, the scapegoat. You thought it was bad as a teenager, it apparently gets worse as an adult female. Then it gets worse when you’re pregnant. How many times do we have to listen to “must be that time of the month” when we get mad? Can’t we just be pissed because someone was an idiot without having to be accused of it just being biology. I admit though, I’ve definitely told a female or two… dozen… to “take a Midol and go away”. Mostly because when they were annoying me, I knew exactly what to say to get them angry enough to not argue with me and leave. The worst part is when you’re pregnant. You can’t cry at anything without someone comforting you and saying “don’t worry, it’s just the hormones”. Maybe I’ve just been upset and needed to vent, not working off whatever hormonal trick you think the hormones are playing on you this time.

The main point of this isn’t to say “stop accusing us of acting out because we can’t control ourselves”, I can control myself just fine pregnant and normally. My problem isn’t I think hormones are taking over my life, my problem is worrying that every emotion I may or may not feel could be passed off as nothing important just because I’m pregnant. It’s annoying when you don’t have to second guess whether you’re being rational, you have to second guess if people will act like you are irrational because they just assume being pregnant means you’re not actually feeling that way. You just think you are. I think the way people patronize you for being upset is far worse than actually being upset because you realize they aren’t being supportive, they are placating you until they think your next mood will come. I don’t like that I should feel bad because something bothered me, but luckily I’m good at keeping things quiet in my head so I can just shrug it off until it passes. Unhealthy? Yes, but I suppose I’ll take unhealthy over ending up punching someone square in the face. Which I’ll assure you has nothing to do with hormones, I’d end up punching them in the face over it either way.

Think of that next time you pretend there are eggshells on the ground when you walk around your pregnant relative or friend. If you keep pretending it’s a passing moment, beware for the glass you might have to walk on afterwards. Sure, hormones can make people a little crazy, but the idea that you treat every emotion someone has as merely a hormonal imagination makes us a little crazier. It’s more healthy to let us say what we want without judgement than make us feel like we have to keep our mouths shut so we don’t feel like a china doll about to break when we’re really stronger than that. Take a deep breath and don’t stress, it really does help. You’ll have enough to stress about soon.

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Then You’re Showered With Gifts

At some point in the pregnancy, you might get lucky and have someone throw a shower. Then you start putting on clothes to attend and criticize everything you put on because each thing makes you look fatter than the others. At least at the hair salon before hand, people said I looked small for how far along I was. I took comfort in their obvious lie for the sake of my self-esteem. Eventually you just realize that you’re almost 9 months pregnant and nothing will make you look skinny for the next year unless you’re blessed with Jessica Alba genes. I’m not; I’d be more ok with it if I were.

It’s hard to express gratitude at times like that. There are so many people and so many gifts. It’s very overwhelming when you realize the love and support you have from your family, all your family. The idea that they have to show up to an event to show their love is false, the thought is the most important. With this love and support, the day becomes overwhelming. To me, it was probably the most overwhelming point so far in the pregnancy. Luckily I didn’t have to be center of attention, that would make the situation much more anxious than it would’ve been. And I made away with only one person touching my stomach, which I’ll let slide because she’s her.

Even more overwhelming than the ritualized event, is when you see the car packed full when you leave. It then becomes, “oh crap, where am I going to put all this stuff”. You think about all the clothes you’re going to need to wash. (Take comfort, baby clothes are small and you can generally fit most of them all in one load.) Then you think of all the stuff your husband is going to have to put together, and avoid reading instructions, because that’s what men do. It was a long but rewarding and productive weekend, and now we can sit back and just wait for this little person to grace us with his presence. Hopefully soon, I’m done being pregnant. I feel like I’ve run out of room in my body for him, or I’m just really uncomfortable and hopeful. At this point, I’m sure everyone feels that way.

In the end, it’s worth it. More important than the gifts you received at the event, you realize that you have an incredible support system of people that are going to love their new family member. The more love that surrounds your little bundle, the healthier and happier he’ll grow up to be. Plus, imagine all the advice he’ll have to sift through the rest of his life. He’ll be an individual that grows into various generations and cultures, and that with love is priceless for your child.

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The Breast Thing To Do?

Admittedly, I giggled writing the title. Some days I think I’ve never matured from high school. Back to the topic at hand: breasts, well in this case breast-feeding. With my first son I didn’t breast feed. The idea of having someone attached to my nipple several times a day actually disturbed me, plus I worked way to many hours to even consider breast-feeding as an option. This time around I’ve decided to give it a try, despite the idea of it still disturbing me. Before I get an applause from those fanatics of lactation, the sole reason for this decision comes down to the fact that I’m cheap and this is the cheapest way to feed a child. It just so happens it’s incredibly healthy for them.

I have problems with breast-feeding more than just the idea of it making me cringe. The idea that my husband can’t be hands on in the most bonding experience of a newborn upsets me. It doesn’t upset me enough to want to become a cow that solely attaches to a machine to make milk, but enough that I consider it. There was two of us that created a child, why shouldn’t both of us be able to adequately bond with it. Plus, that means I’m the only one crawling out of bed every two hours to make sure he’s fed. I like the shared duty idea.. because I’ve grown fond of sleep lately and would like to be able to enjoy at least four hours of it.

I also don’t think that there’s anything wrong with formula feeding your child. My first-born was formula fed and outside of bad genetics, grew up just fine. I don’t think that there’s really much of a difference nutritionally between the two. I understand how breast-feeding provides for immunities and such, but when you get down to the real vitamin and mineral content is there really a difference? Obviously not really, as like I said my first-born grew up just fine and I know more people who formula fed than breast-fed and their kids are perfectly fine too.

In my lovely state of Massachusetts, they have recently banned the formula give-aways you would get in the hospital after giving birth to your child. Sorry, they didn’t legally ban it. It just so happens that all the hospitals mutually agreed to voluntarily stop providing this to patients to force.. sorry, encourage breast-feeding to new mothers. They say these freebies encourage mothers to skip breast-feeding and formula feed their children. I’d hate to break it to the world, but news flash: if a mother doesn’t want to breast feed, she’s not going to do it. In fact, forcing her into something that’s uncomfortable for her is probably worse for them and pushes them more towards formula feeding. We also can’t forget that, and I know that this might be a complete shock, that some women actually can’t physically breast feed. There are some mothers that adopt their kids, use surrogates or just have various other medical complications with breast feeding. So let’s have the great idea of making them feel less like a real mother. Because only real women breast feed right?

I don’t like being pressured into anything. Ever. It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to fail at breast-feeding and have swarms of lactation crazy women saying “I didn’t try hard enough.” Yeah, that’s going to do wonders for my self-esteem. This idea that a group of people can come together and tell me, “yeah, I know if you work this might be hard for you. And there are places online where you can buy other people’s breast milk if you can’t offer your own.” Thanks guys! I love the idea that my only options are my breast milk or some stranger I don’t even know’s breast milk. This idea actually disgusts the tiny bit of feminist in me. Next all women will be forced out of work because them being home is the best thing for their child. I heard the 50’s were such a great time for women. I like advice on how to raise a healthy child. Advise me to breast feed all you want, but my boobs are my business.

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And I Thought A Turkey Was What Everyone Wanted for Thanksgiving

It’s Friday again, and this week I decided to skip ahead and embarrass myself with the story of how the 18-year-old me told my family they were going to have another grandchild.

I had every intention of inviting my mother out to eat at the hotel I worked at to tell her. At first, I just got too busy taking every shift my bosses would let me take in every part of the hotel to make money that I knew I’d need for my bundle of joy. Then it was getting too late and I figured by avoiding it this long, I would’ve made the situation worse for us. Not only would I have shamed them from getting in that position to begin with, I hid it from them for so long. I knew I had to do it, but we were all young and stupid once.

Originally my first son’s due date was on Christmas Day. Soon they realized he was a month older than they thought and gave him the due date of November 29th, the day after Thanksgiving that year. In my gut, and I told everyone, that my son was destined to be born on a holiday. I knew he’d be that “look at me I’m here” personality. (I’d like to say, 10 years later he still is that personality.) I didn’t think women had instincts that were right about that, so I agreed to Thanksgiving dinner with my family and since my huge stomach couldn’t be hid at that point, I realized I could just say “don’t hate me, it’s Thanksgiving” and be done with it. Of course, that’s never how things work out.

At 4am Thanksgiving morning, contractions came 5 minutes apart for 2 hrs. After being examined I wasn’t ready and I just walked around, running up and down stairs before realizing I had to make the call. Shortly after something I won’t mention happened, but a sign you’re about to pop a kid out, I called my parents and while the conversation does sound like something out of a sitcom, I assure you it’s 100% true. Everyone still laughs at me for it, but I’m me.

“Mom, I’m pregnant, I won’t make it to dinner.”

“Well we knew this would happen, just come by and we’ll talk about it.”

“No, mom…. I can’t, I need to go to the hospital. He’s coming.” I informed her where and went off to face the culmination of these last 40 weeks happen.

It wasn’t the blow out I expected. I realized I was stupid in not just saying something sooner, and my mother held my hand when my first-born son came into the world. Aside from my brother considering killing my son’s father, nothing eventful happened. 1  hour after the phone call, there was a new child in the world unaware of anything that happened before that point in time. Thankfully, we all realized that nothing before that really mattered. Everyone was happy, and while my family still never let’s me forget my stupidity, I think they let it slide now that my son is running around amusing them. Plus, I did tell them pretty much as soon as I found out I was expecting again. Maybe that gave me brownie points.

I don’t regret it. He made me learn a lot even before he could speak. I learned that I wasn’t the settling sort, and did everything I could to make him proud. I didn’t want him growing up in a studio apartment eating rice and whatever food I could get from the state. I wanted him to be proud. Next week, my epiphany and how my life changed from there.